“Is that your highest concern? That she was a virgin for you?” Miss Granger rolls her eyes. “So provincial, Clay. But yes, Ali saved herself for you, poor wretched cow. Our lord works in mysterious ways.” Her smile deepens. “Blessed be the seed,” she exclaims. “Satan chose you to deliver his seed. And you chose Ali. It’s the highest honor.”
I don’t want to believe it, any of it, but when I look at Ali writhing on the breeding platform, the witnesses gathered around, I know it’s true. I have to get Ali out of here, to the hospital, so they can abort this monstrosity growing inside of her. I look back at her and my heart is breaking. How could I have been so blind … so stupid? The seed … I was the seed all along. That’s why my dad tried to kill me that night. He knew. He saw something in me … something evil. I remember the bull kneeling before me. All this time, I thought someone else killed the golden calf, but it must’ve been me. I started it all. I brought him here.
Ali holds out her hand to me, beckoning me closer.
I sink next to her on the breeding platform. “I’m so sorry … I didn’t know … I didn’t und—”
“The prophecy,” she grunts through the pain. “Only the chosen one will be able to care for the lord. As the chosen one, you’re the only one who can touch him … maybe the only one who can hurt him, too.” She looks up at the ceiling pointedly.
I follow her gaze to the flash of silver glinting in the candlelight—an upside-down crucifix hanging from the neck of one of the priests.
“I can’t.” I shake my head rapidly, thinking about what she’s asking me to do.
She grips my arm. “If you don’t stop this … we’re all going to die. Think of Noodle.”
I push her damp hair back from her face. Acid floods my throat, my shoulders start to convulse, but I choke it back. I choke back everything. Grabbing a bail of hay, I climb up and jump, snatching the crucifix from the priest’s neck.
As I stand over her belly, the crucifix at the ready, I glance nervously at the horde behind me, but no one moves to stop me. They just keep smiling.
“Do it,” Ali pleads.
“God help me,” I whisper, my entire body trembling.
As I raise the crucifix over my head, ready to impale the child, something reaches inside of me, grabbing hold of my heart. My mind wants to, but my body won’t let me. “I can’t,” I cry out. “I can’t do it.”
“There, there, now,” Miss Granger says as she places her hand on my shoulder. “Do you think the Devil would let you stand in his way? You were nothing more than the seed.”
Burning with rage, I whip around, plunging the crucifix into Miss Granger’s neck, her warm blood splattering across my face.
“The ninth will be for goodness’ sake,” she sings in a childlike voice as she sinks to her knees.
“W-wait.” I grab on to her. “How do you know that song? That’s Noodle’s song.”
“Thanks to you, he’s coming, Clay. He’s coming for all of us. There’s only one more sacrifice to make.” Her gaze settles on Ali.
I look at Ali and all I can see is her climbing out of the cow, split right down the middle. The rebirth ceremony, that was real. All of it was real.
“If they need another sacrifice, take me,” I plead. “Take me instead of her.”
“You still don’t see.” Her final words gurgle from her throat as she slumps over onto the ground.
“Clay…” Ali writhes in the bed of wheat. “It’s coming,” she screams. I run to her side as a ripping wet sound, like something’s tearing through bone and muscle, fills the air. I watch in horror as a tiny hand bursts from her stomach. The thing slithers out of her body, to rest on the wheat, covered in blood and viscera.
The crowd takes in a collective sigh as the infant takes its first breath, but no one steps forward to claim it.
“Cut me free, but don’t touch it,” Ali cries.
I wrench the crucifix out of Emma’s neck and use it to sever the umbilical cord. The baby coos. It’s a boy. I try not to look at it, but I can feel its power trying to lure me in.
People are kneeling down to pray before him. People I’ve known my entire life—the reverend, Dale. They don’t see what’s happening … that this is the end.
I crawl back to Ali’s side, pulling her farther down the platform, away from the child, her body leaving a wide swath of blood in the wheat.
“I have to get you out of here … to the hospital,” I say as I try to pick her up, but she stops me.
“It’s too late,” she says. “Maybe it was always too late for me. Whatever you do, don’t touch the baby. I remember from the prophecy. Only the chosen one will be able to care for the lord. If you don’t pick him up, no one else will be able to—he’ll die.” She reaches out to touch my cheek. “You didn’t forget me. You’re good, Clay,” she whispers as her eyes turn to glass.