by Molly Tanzer
“I need a partner, and I couldn’t bear to have you as nothing. I’m sorry I left you alone when you needed me, but what I did, I did for us as well as everyone else who lives here. If we die, we can’t be together, and I want to be with you.”
He kissed her then, and it was wonderful. Ellie had a moment’s worry that her breath would be terrible after her long night, but if it was he didn’t seem to mind. He, too, seemed simply happy to be there, with her.
“Are you two going to come inside and figure out how to save the world,” said SJ, “or are you just going to stand outside necking?”
Ellie and Gabriel fell apart like two guilty teenagers. Leave it to SJ to put the finest point possible on something. Ellie didn’t know if she was more embarrassed to be called out by SJ or by the expression on Jones’s face, for he was there too, that one eyebrow quirked and that smirk on his face.
“Aw, SJ, leave the lovers be,” he drawled, never looking away from Ellie. “Who knows if they’ll get another chance to make it.”
“Chances’ll be a hell of a lot better if we do something,” muttered SJ, pushing past Jones back into the house. Jones gave Ellie a lingering sardonic look before beckoning to her with a crooked finger before he too walked off.
“I guess, uh . . .” said Ellie.
“Yeah,” said Gabriel. He looked after Jones with a contemplative expression. When he noticed Ellie watching, he grinned.
“He seems nice” was all he said, before swatting her playfully on the bottom to get her moving. “I can see why you like him.”
“I don’t . . .” But she stopped herself before she told a lie.
“I like him too.”
Inside, things were much less confusing; or at least, differently so. Fin had been telling them about her adventures over a bottle of liquor—early in the day for it, but desperate times and all that. Fin invited Ellie to chime in, but frankly she was happy to let her friend take the lead. Fin had more of a way with words anyway, and had also slept at least a little the night before. Ellie had not, and sitting down on Gabriel’s familiar sofa made her aware how tired she was. She let herself drowse against his solid bulk as Fin finished up relating everything.
“Hey,” said Gabriel, shaking her a bit. “Wake up. We’re trying to figure out what to do tonight.”
“Sorry,” she said, rubbing her aching eyes and rousing herself.
“Not at all,” said Fin. “We knew a little sleep would do you good, but we’re about to make some decisions and thought you’d want to be a part of them.”
“I still say we don’t wait for night,” said Aaron. “This mushroom-thing—the vessel—if it’s all connected, poison should poison it regardless of whether or not we dump a bunch of sulfur and other stuff on it.”
“Yes, but how quickly will it die?” argued SJ. “We need to kill it, not set it back a little. Pouring poison when it’s . . . blooming, or whatever Fin says happens in her vision, that seems like the fastest way to make sure.”
“But also the riskiest. If we wait for them to be almost successful, they might, you know . . . succeed.”
“Yeah, but we’re talking about poison coursing through some sort of subterranean fungus for miles,” said Jones. “We need it to take effect as quickly as possible, especially since we don’t know where the other nodes are. We don’t want anything to survive.”
“Or we could kidnap one of the cultists, and ask.” Aaron had a point. “I mean, we know this Hunter person is at the center of it all, and we know where he lives. We grab him, and then she”—he cocked his thumb at Fin—“makes him tell the truth about the rest of the deaths once we’ve got him.”
“It’s not a bad idea; I just don’t know if we can barge into Hunter’s house in broad daylight and ‘grab him,’” said Jones. “No telling who’s over there, how they’re armed, what’s in that house we’d have to contend with . . . Out in the open, at least we can see where we’re at.”
“It’s true,” said Ellie, and thinking of Hunter’s odd daughters, said, “at the very least he has his kids in there with him, and I don’t want to hurt them. At least, not his daughters. His oldest son is one of his generals.”
Thinking of his daughters, Ellie wondered if their oddly similar appearance was yet another manifestation of Hunter’s abilities. He had changed the faces of his cohorts into masks . . . Had he practiced on his children? She had seen little of the Hunter girls until recently, and had no idea what they had looked like before Mrs. Hunter had sickened and her husband had started down this path.
“But how can we even know when they’ll be ready to perform the ritual?” Aaron still wasn’t giving up.
“The tunnel,” said Fin. “We’ll all go in through the tunnel, and listen in.”
“Or,” said Ellie, “I could go in through the tunnel and distract Hunter while you all sneak up on the outskirts, sort of like Lester and I did the night SJ and Aaron were attacked. We surprised them, and I think it helped . . . I can’t see how it wouldn’t work even better this time, since Fin and SJ are good with their bows, and I assume you’re competent with a gun, Jones?” He did not deign to respond to this, but then again she hadn’t expected him to. “Once you’ve picked off a few of them, in the confusion we can throw in all the fungicide and mop up the rest.”
The silence that followed reminded Ellie that her friends might not be quite so casually comfortable with murdering a bunch of strangers as she’d become. As it turned out, that’s not why they were stunned.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Jones, the first to recover his wits. “You’re not going in there alone.”
“But I’m the only one who can,” said Ellie. “Hunter can’t bewitch me. I can hold out for as long as it takes for him to get the mushroom-thing ready to bloom, without falling under his spell.”
“He can’t bewitch you?” asked Jones.
“I forgot to tell them that part,” said Fin. “Ellie’s immune to demonic influence. For whatever reason, they can’t affect her.”
“Too stubborn, is my guess,” said Gabriel. Ellie glared at him as Jones laughed. “Regardless, you’re not going in alone.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Jones. “These cowards will most likely balk at killing a cop no matter how many of my coworkers were or are in his inner circle.” He chuckled. “I’ll plug my ears with wax like in The Odyssey. He won’t get to me.”
Gabriel didn’t fight him on this, to Ellie’s surprise. “You definitely shouldn’t do this on your own, Ellie,” he said. “Not when there’s no need to.”
“Pop said after moonset was when they’d act.” Ellie leaned forward, excited again. “We can’t know how long after moonset, but if I’m there, I can holler when the time is right.”
“It’s a plan,” said SJ doubtfully, “but I don’t know. I still say we light the thing up after we poison it, just to make sure.”
“Didn’t you say sulfur gas could suffocate us all?” Aaron poked his sister. “I’m all about saving Long Island, but I’d like to be alive to appreciate my efforts.”
“We’ll just get away from there and we’ll be fine. I can light a rag and shoot it with my crossbow, or Fin here can do the same if for some reason I can’t.”
“I can’t let you,” said Jones quietly. “I’ve seen what sulfur gas can do.”
SJ stared at him for a long moment. “All right,” she said, and argued no more.
“We also don’t know what would happen,” said Fin, in an attempt to revive the conversation. “If poison or blood could spread to its extremities, why not fire?”
“Couldn’t travel underground,” said SJ matter-of-factly. “It’d go out.”
“Under normal circumstances,” said Fin, “but we’re talking about demons here.”
This reminder brought them all up short. Ellie looked around the room at her friends, contemplated their various expressions. Gabriel looked determined; Aaron, doubtful. Jones mostly seemed distant and thoughtful. Fin was the hardest to read—Ell
ie couldn’t tell what she was feeling. She’d been different ever since the summoning, cooler and more confident, but she also seemed to have the bright, intense look of someone who was worrying. The odd thing was, Ellie got the sense that whatever it was, it wasn’t what they were all worrying about.
SJ was obviously just annoyed by it all. “Demons,” she muttered. “The nerve of these people.”
“So . . . we’re agreed?” asked Gabriel. “The plan sounds good to everyone?” He looked to Aaron. “I want us to all be on the same page.”
“I’m not going to side against my sister,” he said with a shrug. “If we come through this, I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Time to mix up the fungicide, then,” said SJ, with palpable glee. At first it seemed strange to Ellie that she’d be excited about any of this . . . But then again, she got to play mad scientist and also destroy the plans of the men who’d burned down her business and home. Of course she’d be pleased.
As it was Gabriel’s mother’s recipe, he joined SJ when she went outside to mix the chemicals. Fin, Jones, and Aaron remained inside to discuss tactics and strategies for their part in the plan. Sensing she would not be missed, Ellie slipped away from the sitting room and went upstairs to Lester’s bedroom.
She eased open the door, and a little sound escaped her, part gasp, part moan. The room was as her brother would have left it if he’d just stepped out for a moment. The coverlet on the bed was perfectly smooth and the pillow crisply set on top, the desk neat and tidy, all the pencils and pens in one cup, his eraser right in front of that. The only thing out of place was the open textbook on his desk. He’d been reading about the types of fractures of bones and how to set them.
It was too much for Ellie, and she sat down on his bed. Jones’s handkerchief came in handy again, but large as it was it could not contain her tears. Once she began to cry she could not stop, and casting it aside she gave in entirely to her sorrow, lying down on Lester’s bed and burying her face in what had been his pillow.
“Ellie.”
Ellie startled awake, disoriented and confused. It was dusk outside, and her body was a mass of aches and pains in strange places. It was warm in Lester’s bedroom, but Fin’s hand was cool on her shoulder.
“What time is it?” she asked. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“We all did. SJ wanted to test out the fungicide, but since we have no idea if that would alert the demon to our plans we decided to rest a little instead. Aaron’s cooking now; come and eat.”
Ellie’s stomach didn’t much like that idea, but it was still a good idea to get up and move around before their endeavor. Moonset wouldn’t come until deep into the night, after eleven; they had time.
Even before she entered the kitchen, Ellie had reconsidered her aversion to food. It smelled good—really good. Aaron had fried some fish, and Gabriel had made dumplings. As she entered, SJ was pouring lemonade out of a pitcher. For a moment, Ellie thought about her promise to have SJ and Aaron over for dinner; this wasn’t how she’d imagined it, but it also wasn’t so bad. Jones was even folding the napkins as he set the table.
“What can I do?” she asked, coming up behind her fiancé.
“Grab the salad,” said Gabriel.
“Salad!”
“We have a garden, you know.”
“Right.” Mostly, Ellie was amazed by the idea of something wonderful and nourishing coming out of the earth after all this talk of demonic tendrils, but she didn’t say that. The mood in the room was good, almost festive, and she wanted to enjoy these moments: the light conversation they had over the meal, the taste of food, the feel of company in the house.
Everyone remained surprisingly cheerful as they ate, and as they cleaned up, and the feeling continued even as they loaded the fungicide and everything else they thought they’d need into the back of Jones’s pickup—everything else being Fin’s and SJ’s bows and ammunition, as well as Aaron’s grandfather’s Civil War–era sword. He’d spent some time sharpening it with a whetstone earlier that day.
“I guess it’s time,” said Ellie as she checked once more to see if her flashlight was working. She looked up at Gabriel. “Good luck.”
“Good luck, huh?” He lifted her chin with a finger. “How about—”
“I love you,” she said, and stood on her toes to kiss him.
“You better come back,” he said. “I have plans for us.”
“Plans, huh?”
“A man has needs.”
That he could think about something like that at a time like this . . . It was at once outrageous and deeply comforting. Clearly, Gabriel believed they would win.
“I’ll do my best,” she assured him.
Jones said, “Ready, Miss West?”
Ellie nodded. She and Jones were going to walk, in order to approach Hunter’s house as quietly as possible. While his daughters and younger sons would probably be abed at this hour of the night, the sound of an automobile would be much more noticeable than two sets of footsteps.
“Goodbye, everyone,” said Ellie.
“We’ll see you soon,” said Fin, taking Ellie’s hands in hers. Ellie squeezed back. She didn’t know what to say; she wasn’t any good at mushy stuff, but Fin seemed to understand. Maybe it was the demon inside her seeing the truth of Ellie’s soul, or maybe they were just friends. It didn’t really matter.
Behind Fin, SJ just shrugged.
“Hey,” Ellie said to SJ, after letting Fin’s hands go, “thank you—”
“Don’t you dare thank me,” snapped SJ. Her dark eyes flashed in the light from Jones’s truck’s headlights. She was not smiling, and there was no warmth in her expression. “This is my island I’m saving.”
“It is,” agreed Ellie. “Then I’ll just say . . . stay safe. You’re my oldest friend, SJ, you know? Who else is going to keep me from getting too big for my britches if you’re not around?”
“I’d think your future husband ought to be in charge of that.”
“Look at him,” said Ellie, glancing at Gabriel. “Do you really think he has what it takes?”
SJ didn’t crack a smile, but her derisive sniff said volumes. “Go on now. It’s time.”
Ellie had taken many a moonlit walk in the woods around the old saltbox, but never had the trees seemed so thick or the night so dark. Even though the moon was still visible over the tops of the trees, and the night sky was clear, the air itself seemed thicker, harder to see through, almost like fog.
“I wonder how many people are praying like Hunter told them to,” whispered Ellie.
“Makes me more than a little uncomfortable,” said Jones. “That flyer . . . it was being passed around more than it ought to be, I guess, if even you saw it too. Someone showed it to Gabriel at the hardware store. It’s good SJ had chosen to wait outside . . .”
“I can only imagine,” said Ellie. “She’d be in jail right now.”
“Who knows, maybe we all will be by the end of this,” said Jones. “I can’t imagine they’ll give me my job back, at the very least.”
“Why, were you fired?”
“No, but I didn’t come in today.”
“I thought you said you had the day off.”
“I lied. Easier than arguing with everyone. Anyway, I can say I was sick, but if people find out I broke into someone’s property and killed a bunch of men, claiming demons made me do it . . .”
“I’m guessing there aren’t going to be any survivors to squeal on you, if we win,” said Ellie.
Jones glanced at her. “That’s cheerful.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I know what they’re capable of.” His tone was mild, but Ellie knew exactly what he was thinking about. She hadn’t mentioned it, but Jones didn’t seem the same without the prick-eared mutt walking beside him.
Before long, Hunter’s house came into view beyond the low fence that marked off his property, and the all-important shed on the north side; beyond that was the small, dark wood wh
ere lurked their objective. Fin, SJ, and the rest would be coming at it from the other side. They had a longer walk ahead of them, and a more treacherous one, for they did not know what guards Hunter had posted, if any.
A single light shone out into the darkness from the second story of Hunter’s house. Jones cursed when she pointed at it, but Ellie wondered silently who it was, sitting there, waiting . . . and for what. What did he or she believe—that a glorious new era was soon to be ushered in? Or were they anticipating the end of everything and unable to sleep from fear?
“We’ll have to be extra quiet,” murmured Jones. “Glad we didn’t take that ride.”
“They brought us a pot roast,” said Ellie, thinking back. “Hunter’s daughters, I mean. Weeks ago, right after all of this began.” But as she said it, Ellie knew that’s not really when all this had begun—that was only when it had begun for her.
Jones was short and had put on a bit of weight since his military days; even so, he hopped the fence and scampered across the lawn like he did it all the time. As she watched from the shadows he picked the lock on the shed door with unsettling speed, then waved for her to come along after him.
As for Ellie, she managed to snag the leg of her coveralls getting over the fence. The sound of tearing denim was terrifyingly loud in her ears and she paused, straddling the fence and feeling like an idiot, but there was no apparent reaction from the house. She exhaled, relieved; it was so late even the cicadas had gone to bed, so there wasn’t much noise that would provide audible cover if she caused a ruckus.
“Real smooth, Miss West,” said Jones as she eased the shed door shut behind them. Ellie didn’t even glare at him; she was too busy looking at the damage to her pant leg in the dim light that filtered in through the lone dirty window. There was a big gash in the fabric, but her thigh had escaped with just a scrape.
“Just flash that at Hunter; he’ll see the error of his ways and we can all just go to bed,” he said. “I know it’d change my mind.”
“About what, though?” asked Ellie. Jones didn’t reply—not that she’d expected him to. “Come on; let’s find this trapdoor.”