Now.
He lit the match, crouched down, and held the tiny flame to a piece of kindling. It nearly singed his fingernails. A trail of sulfur hung in the air once he shook the match out. Then another, and another. The branches caught fire almost immediately, and the circle went whoosh, up in flames like a domino chain of red heat. Then, crackling and popping, the familiar sounds of a campfire. He walked backward, taking in the scene.
“JD!” Melissa yelled, scrabbling toward the center. “What the hell? Where are you going?”
“I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay, Mel.” JD tried to keep his voice calm. He yelled so she could hear him over the distance and noise of the fire. “It’s like a spell. I promise I won’t let it get out of control. You have to trust me.”
Melissa nodded, but she was shaking, and he could tell she was trying not to cry. In the light of the flames, her cheeks were pink-orange; her blue shirt looked black. Her eyes glistened, like tears were on the brink of spilling.
“Shhhh,” he said. “Just a few minutes. You’re safe.”
JD looked around, waiting for the Furies to appear. Praying that they would, yet dreading the moment they did. When they showed up—if they showed up—what would happen then? Mr. Feiffer’s letter hadn’t included a spell or a chant. . . . JD felt sweat beading on his brow. What if he’d missed something? What if this wasn’t right?
There was crashing in the underbrush nearby. Someone was coming. He and Melissa locked eyes, and he braced himself for impact. He waited to see Ali or Ty or Meg emerge from the trees. He spun in a circle, searching the darkness, his eyes already bleary with smoke, trying to guess where they would come from.
Then, a scream. Melissa. The crashing hadn’t come from below. It was from above. A branch, falling from the tall maple tree next to the fire circle. He ran toward her in horror, but he wasn’t fast enough—the branch slammed against the top of Melissa’s head, and she collapsed in a heap in the center of the flames.
Oh god oh god oh god. He edged close to the flames, trying to get past them, but they were as high as his waist and he couldn’t get to her. “Melissa!” he cried out. But she didn’t move.
The fire was licking up into the tree now, racing over its branches. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to charge through the flames. But just then another sound came from behind him. A racing footfall. Thump-thump-thump. He whirled around, expecting the Furies to be at his back.
But it wasn’t them.
It was Crow.
“What are you doing?” Crow’s face was wild; fire-shadows danced across his face and deepened the black craters under his eyes. “You’re going to ruin everything!”
“What are you doing?” JD barked back. “Go away! Stay away! It’s under control!”
Crow pushed past him, looking around frantically for something. Crow began to stomp on the fire with his boots.
“Stop!” JD bellowed, diving toward him. It wasn’t time yet. He landed on the dirt, and a sharp spray of dust hit his eyes and his mouth. But he brought Crow down with him. JD spat pieces of grit from his tongue.
Crow’s elbow went into JD’s ribs, so deep it felt like cracking. They were inches from the fire. JD could feel the sweat all over him—on his forehead, his arms, the back of his neck.
“What are you doing,” Crow said, shoving a calloused hand against JD’s face and pushing him down toward the ground. JD strained against it, feeling his muscles stretch like elastic, so taut that they might snap. No. Let go. He had to trust Walt. Crow was on the wrong side.
“I know you’re part of this,” JD panted. He reared back and kneed Crow right in the stomach, feeling his kneecap make contact, hearing Crow’s sharp intake of breath. JD had knocked the wind out of him, at least for a second.
He flipped Crow over, felt his weight shift, taking the advantage. He pinned Crow to the dirt. He looked down and tried to catch his breath. There was a smear of blood on his right hand. It was red-brown and ugly. “I saw you with them. You’re with the Furies.”
Crow turned his face to the side and spit blood onto the ground, trying to catch his breath. “I’m not working—with them. I was—trying to—strike a bargain.”
“A bargain?” JD huffed. The air was getting smoky and his lungs were tight from exertion. He was worried about Melissa. Maybe he should put out the fire after all.
“I offered myself,” Crow was saying between frantic gasps. “Instead. I thought it would save her. I saw it in a vision.”
“Instead of who?” JD increased the pressure on Crow’s chest. The heat of the fire was starting to scorch his face. A vision.
“Her,” Crow gasped. “They wanted her. Em.”
JD didn’t know what to think, what to believe.