“No, Ali, no,” I cry as I gather her in my arms. “Help me.” I look to the heavens only to find the bodies of the priests suspended from hooks, hovering like macabre party decorations.
The child makes a cute gurgling sound. I look at it with such hatred, but it quickly fades. I can feel its power. I can feel him pulling me in, my arms aching to hold him. But I know if I pick up that baby, my life will be over, the world will be over. I’ve seen the death and destruction left in its wake. I think of my father, lying here, bleeding out as he tried to prevent this from happening, and I know what I have to do. There will be one more sacrifice.
“I plead the blood,” I whisper as I tighten my grip on the metal crucifix and open my veins.
I lie down next to Ali, lacing my fingers through hers. My blood warms her hand. If I close my eyes, I can pretend she’s still alive, that we’re just sleeping in my bed, but I know it’s a lie. I thought I could die in peace knowing I made the ultimate sacrifice for mankind … that I did something good … just like Noodle and Ali said I would, but I’ve never felt so hollow and alone. I’m angry about everything that’s been taken away from me. I’m sad about all the things I’ll never see. I glance at the infant one last time, with Ali’s dark hair and my stubborn chin, and try to take comfort in the fact that I went up against the Devil and I won … but this doesn’t feel like winning. It just feels like dying.
The crowd begins to shuffle, followed by hushed whispers. I open my eyes to see a girl with long blond hair.
“Noodle?” I whisper. I haven’t seen her with her hair down in years.
She drops the mangy baby doll that’s covered in blood at her feet and steps toward me.
It kills me that she has to see this, but I’m grateful I get to say goodbye.
I hold out my hand to her, but she doesn’t come to me. Instead, she walks straight for the child.
“This is what I’ve been practicing for,” she says.
As she leans over to pick up the child, I see the unmistakable mark on the side of her scalp, the upside-down U with two dots above and below. It looks like an old scar. Is that why she never wanted anyone to touch her hair?
“No,” I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “Not Noodle.”
As she cradles the child in her tiny arms, she sings to him, a nursery rhyme from long ago.
“The first to fall will pray.”
Jimmy.
“The second to fall has come to play.”
Ben.
“The third to fall will shiver and burn.”
Tammy.
“The fourth to fall, a lesson to learn.”
Jess.
“The fifth to fall will eat his words.”
Tyler.
“But six and seven will go to heaven.”
The priests.
“Eight will be a grave mistake.”
Sheriff Ely.
“The ninth will be for goodness’ sake.”
Miss Granger.
“The final one to fall, the tenth will be the one to bind them all.”
Ali. My sweet Ali.
*
NOODLE’S COUNTING song—it’s about the ten sacrifices. She made it up years ago. Is that how long she’s been one of them … preparing for this moment?
“I think I’ll call him Clay,” Noodle says as she swings around. The swoosh of her long blond hair brings me right back to that day in the fields—the day I ran over the golden calf with the combine. It was her … crouching low in the wheat. I saw blood on her hand that day, but she said it was a paper cut. She slit the calf’s throat and left it there. She whispered to me in my dreams, told me to plow the invitation into the crops … she was there before each one of them turned, before they killed themselves … at the Harvest Festival, the practice, the bonfire, the lake, the breeding barn. She drove Mom mad … pushed Jess into Lee’s arms.
Tears sear down my face.
“It’s you … you’re the chosen one,” I whisper, barely holding on to consciousness.
She turns and steps toward me, a sweet smile on her face.
“Rest easy, brother. The last harvest is finally over.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I’d like to thank my editor Melissa Frain for going on this gruesome, bloody, and sometimes uncomfortable journey with me. She gave me the artistic freedom to explore every dark corner and brought a lot of tenderness to the story. I couldn’t be more grateful.
Seth Lerner is responsible for the gorgeous cover. Thank you.
Standing O for Amy Stapp, and everyone at Tor for embracing my weird, and making this such a joyful experience.
Special thanks to Josh Adams for making this love connection.
To my fearless agent, Jaida Temperly, and everyone at New Leaf, thank you for taking such good care of me.
I owe a huge amount of gratitude to my beta readers/friends, who gave me the encouragement I needed to tackle this story. April Tucholke, Virginia Boecker, Jasmine Warga, Rebecca Behrens, Jenn Marie Thorne, Lee Kelly, Erin Morgenstern, Bess Cozby, Veronica Rossi, Lauren Oberweger, Nova Ren Suma, Libba Bray, Maggie Hall, Jodi Kendall, and last but not least, my muse, Gina Carey, who inspired Noodle.