Delphine had been silent, but she couldn’t believe what her mother was saying. She couldn’t turn her sister away. “Mamma, it’s Izabel! We have to help her!”
Emmaline looked at Izabel, remembering the day she was born. The day Emmaline had silently chosen her child’s true name. She had imagined the moment she would share it with Izabel—staring into her daughter’s green eyes and tucking her black curls behind her ear as she whispered the name.
Emmaline stared into her daughter’s glowing yellow eyes, then turned away.
“Her name isn’t Izabel anymore. It’s Sarafine.”
The real world came into focus slowly. Lena was standing a few feet away, still holding the box. I could see it shaking in her hands, her eyes wet with tears. I couldn’t imagine what she was feeling.
In the vision, Sarafine was just a girl whose fate was decided for her. There wasn’t a trace of the monster she was now. Was that how it happened? You opened your eyes and your whole life changed?
L? Are you okay?
Our eyes met, and for a second she didn’t answer. When she did, her voice was quiet in my mind.
She was just like me.
9.15
The City That Care Forgot
I looked down at my sneakers in the darkness. I could feel the moisture seeping through the canvas, then my socks, until my skin was numb with cold. I was standing in some kind of water. I could hear it moving, not so much rushing as rippling. Something brushed against my ankle and then moved away. A leaf. A twig.
A river.
I could smell the rot, mixed with mud. Maybe I was in the swamp near Wader’s Creek. The dark fringe in the distance could be swamp grass, and the tall forms, cypress trees. I reached up with one hand. Fluttering feathers, tickling long and light. Spanish moss. This was definitely the swamp.
I crouched low and felt the water with my hand. It felt thick and heavy. I scooped a handful and held it to my nose, letting it trickle through my fingers. I listened.
It didn’t sound right.
Despite everything I knew about pond rot and bacteria and larvae, I stuck one of my fingers in my mouth.
I knew the taste. I’d know it anywhere. Like sucking on the handful of coins I’d stolen from the fountain in Forsyth Park when I was nine.
It wasn’t water.
It was blood.
Then I heard the familiar whispering and felt the pressure of another body knocking into mine.
It was him again. The me who wasn’t me.
I’M WAITING.
I heard the words as I fell. I tried to respond, but when I opened my mouth, I began to choke on the river. So I thought the words, though I could barely even think.
What are you waiting for?
I felt myself sinking to the bottom. Only there was no bottom, and I kept falling and falling—
I woke up thrashing. I could still feel his hands around my neck, and the dizziness—the overwhelming feeling that the room was closing in on me. I tried to catch my breath, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. My sheets were smeared with blood, and my mouth still tasted like dirty pennies. I wadded up the top sheet and hid it under my bed. I’d have to throw it away. I couldn’t let Amma find a blood-soaked sheet in my hamper.
Lucille jumped onto the bed, her head cocked to one side. Siamese cats had a way of looking at you like they were disappointed. Lucille had it down.
“What are you staring at?” I pushed my sweaty hair out of my eyes, the salt from my sweat mixing with the salt from the blood.
I couldn’t make sense of the dreams, but I wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep.
So I called the one person I knew who would be awake.
Link climbed through my window twenty minutes later. He hadn’t worked up the nerve to try Traveling yet, ripping through space and materializing wherever he wanted, but he was still pretty stealth.
“Man, what’s with all the salt?” A trail of white crystals fell from the windowsill as Link swung his leg over. He scratched his hands. “Is that supposed to hurt me or somethin’? ’Cause it’s really annoyin’.”
“Amma’s been crazier than usual.” An understatement. The last time I found this many bundles of herbs and tiny handmade dolls around, she was trying to keep Macon out of my room. I wondered who she was trying to keep out this time.
“Everyone’s crazier than usual. My mom started talkin’ about buildin’ a bunker again. She’s buyin’ up every can at the Stop & Steal, like we’re gonna hole up in the basement until the Devil gives up or somethin’.” He dropped into the swivel chair next to my desk. “I’m glad you called. I usually run outta stuff to do by one or two in the morning.”
“What do you do all night?” I’d never asked him before.
Link shrugged. “Read comics, watch movies on my computer, hang out in Savannah’s room. But tonight I sat around listenin’ to my mom on the phone with the pastor and Mrs. Snow all night.”
“Is your mom really upset about what happened to Savannah?”