by Kim Liggett
“They’re alchemy symbols.”
I looked up at him curiously.
“I’ve seen Katia drawing symbols in the dirt like that. Did your mother teach you?”
I shook my head. “She never wanted me to learn. I picked up what I could,” I said as erased the symbol. “My mother’s a perfumer.”
“What’s in the perfume you wear?”
“I don’t wear perfume.”
He narrowed his eyes and turned away.
We sat in silence, watching the kindling burn. I could almost see the small flame take in a deep breath of air right before spreading its tendrils to engulf a piece of cedar. That’s exactly how it felt to sit next to Dane. I kept waiting for the breath to come.
I’d begun drawing again in the dirt when he took the stone away from me, pressing it into the palm of his hand, making it disappear.
“That’s impressive,” I said as I pulled my legs to the side so I could face him. “What’s your secret?”
Dane rubbed his hands together dramatically, making the stone reappear.
“Some people think not knowing is the best part. It’s in our nature to want to be fooled. We put up blinders all the time. Illusion is a way to hold on to our innocence. Do you really want to give that up, Ashlyn?”
I reached in to take it back from him, but didn’t want to remove my hand. Just the slight touch of my fingertips against his palm was euphoric. That seemed to be exactly where I’d lived since the moment I met him—in the palm of his hand.
“Why do you call me that? Ashlyn,” I imitated his dramatic tone. “Everyone calls me Ash.”
“Ashlyn means secret, which suits you. Besides”—he closed his hand around mine—“Ash is a nickname for a young girl. I don’t see you that way.”
Instead of looking away in embarrassment, I held his gaze. Something bubbled up inside of me—stronger than courage; the feeling was almost predatory. I wanted him. I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. I would’ve said anything, done anything, been whatever he wanted me to be at that moment just to feel his lips against mine.
As if sensing my intentions, Dane tried to pull his hand away, but the black silk ribbon had come undone, coiling itself softly around his wrist, binding him to me.
He looked down at the ribbon in surprise, but didn’t flinch.
“I don’t care that you’re a Mixed,” I whispered. “My mother told me we’re not responsible for the sins of our ancestors.”
“That’s a nice sentiment.” Dane’s eyes were soft and wistaful. “But people like us don’t get to choose their fate.”
“What do you mean . . . people like us?”
A flash of heat lightning ripped across the sky; I could see him bury away his thoughts for safekeeping as he untangled himself from the ribbon.
“Tomorrow night’s the annual bonfire.” He got to his feet. “We can slip into the corn without anyone noticing.”
“So, you’ll help me?” A flood of relief washed over me as I stood to face him.
“I’ll take you into the corn.” He kicked dirt over the flames, leaving me to the dark.
I tried to focus on his retreating footsteps, but all I could hear was the corn rattling, like it was whispering my name.
26
GIRLS’ DAY
TOWERING STALKS LOOM all around me as I follow the sound of crackling rope. She’s close, but no matter what I do, no matter how hard I run, she remains out of reach. A soft light beckons in the distance, illuminating a circle within the corn. I catch a glimpse of her pale fingertips, followed by the ends of her honeyed waves as she’s dragged inside the circle. Everything in my body screams at me to run away, but I have to see her. I have to understand what she’s trying to tell me.
• • •
“Ashlyn.”
I woke to find Beth smiling down at me, her strawberry- blond hair glinting in the bright sun streaming through the window.
“What time is it?” I propped myself up on my elbows, but even that took a tremendous amount of effort. I was exhausted.
“A little past ten.”
I looked around my mother’s old room, at the quilt folded neatly in the corner. “Where’s Rhys?”
“He’s helping Henry chop wood for the bonfire tonight.”
“My brother’s chopping wood?” For a moment I wondered if I’d woken up in an alternate universe. I laughed. “Okay, I’m definitely dreaming.” I flopped back down on the sheets.
Beth pinched me hard on the back of my arm.
“Hey!” I bolted upright, the quick movement making my head throb. “What was that for?”
“Pinch me, I’m dreaming,” she said, flitting to my mother’s closet to thumb through her clothes, humming that same stupid Backstreet Boys song she was singing when we first met her.
“Hey, if you’ve never been outside of Quivira, how do you know that song?”
“Dane taught it to me when I was recovering from my fall. It’s a good one, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” I replied, trying to keep a straight face. He must’ve heard it at the junkyard.
Beth selected a few frilly dresses, draping them over her arm.
“I hope you’re not suggesting I wear one of those.”
She perched herself on the edge of the bed, eyes dilated, breathing shallow, like she’d just chugged a vat of coffee. “I got invited to the Mendoza lodge for Girls’ Day but only if I bring you with me. Please come. Please. I never get invited anywhere and I re—”
“Will Dane be there?” I asked, suddenly feeling more alert.
“For Girls’ Day?” Beth snorted. “No. But I saw him walking along the eastern perimeter early this morning. He looked . . . worried.”
I leaned forward. “Like, dreamy worried or angry worried?”
Beth shrugged and moved on. “I’ve heard the Mendoza lodge is really beautiful and they make these little sandwiches with cucumbers, and we just sit around and chat and play parlor games . . .”
I did my best to tune her out. As tiresome as Girls’ Day sounded, the thought of seeing Dane’s surroundings, his room, was too much of a temptation to pass up.
“Just give me five minutes,” I said as I tried to rally.
“I think you’re going to need a little more than five minutes.” She pulled strands of debris from my hair and laid them across my lap. Corn silk.
“Not again,” I whispered, a dry ache settling in the back of my throat.
I swung my feet out of bed. They were covered in dark rich soil. I had a vague recollection of following Marie’s body into the corn, but my last real memory was of Dane walking away from me last night. The remnants of his scent along with the cedar campfire hung heavy in my heart.
“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” I said, feeling light-headed.
“Okeydokey.” Beth turned her attention back to the dresses. “Which one do you want to wear?”
“Neither.” I got to my feet. Every muscle in my body ached like I’d just run a marathon.
Beth looked longingly at the dresses, fondling the hem of a lemon-yellow chiffon number.
“But you should wear that one,” I said.
“Oh my stars! Really?” she squealed. She came toward me like she was going to give me one of her obnoxious bear hugs, but quickly changed her mind. “I’ll just start the bath for you. This might take a while.”
• • •
As Beth and I walked to the Mendoza lodge, along the cobblestone path that lined the lakeshore, we came across Rhys and Henry, who were carrying freshly chopped bundles of wood on their shoulders.
“You look nice.” Rhys smiled warmly at Beth.
She twirled for him, laughing as her hair flew around her shoulders. It was just so Beth.
Rhys glanced at my wrinkled black shorts and T-shirt and shook hi
s head. I gave him a sarcastic thumbs-up. Disapproval noted.
“Come on, Beth.” I pulled her along.
“One more day,” Rhys said as I passed, like I could forget. And only three more days until the summer solstice.
But tonight, Dane was taking me into the corn.
• • •
The Mendoza lodge was enormous—twice the size of the Larkin lodge and immaculately maintained. Everything hinted at old-world Spanish charm—from the dark wood furniture, rich carpets, and heavy red curtains in the main living rooms, to the smell of saffron and sea salt wafting from the black-and-white-marble kitchen. I could picture Dane growing up here. It suited him.
Beth pulled me toward the lavish spread at the far end of the room. On a long scrolled table sat crystal pitchers full of pastel-colored drinks muddled with strawberries and platters full of dainty sandwiches and fancy hors d’oeuvres.
“Look,” Beth squealed as she picked up a triangle and inspected it. She rotated it, nibbling off wee bites like she never wanted it to end.
“Good afternoon.” A middle-aged woman in a prim high- collared lace blouse looked me up and down as she passed. Thick dark hair, widow’s peak, clearly a Mendoza.
“Afternoon,” Beth replied, her mouth full of cucumber mush.
Though the women of Quivira smiled and exchanged pleasantries, there was an underlying tension in the room. I didn’t know if this was because of the recent string of deaths or my presence, but the way they stole glances at me made me wish I’d put on one of those ridiculous dresses after all.
Beth seemed enamored with the whole thing, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
I noticed a frail woman, wearing a faded black dress, sitting in an oversized chair in the corner of the room, staring straight ahead, rocking.
“Who’s that?” I asked Beth.
She let out a sympathetic sigh. “That’s Teresa. Dane’s mother. She’s a Mixed.”
“Does she live here?” I asked, tucking in the back of my shirt.
“No, but they try to include her when they can. Spencer said it’s the decent thing to do.”
“Wasn’t very decent of him to knock her up and not marry her,” I murmured.
“Ash!” Beth looked at me with wide eyes, then laughed so hard she almost choked on her sandwich.
Suddenly, Teresa stopped rocking and leaned forward a bit, as though in anticipation. Everyone ignored her, but I was drawn to her. I’d expected Dane’s mother to be formidable, instead, she was heartbreaking.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s a conduit,” Beth replied nonchalantly.
It felt like someone had bashed me in the chest with a shinny stick. I couldn’t believe Dane didn’t tell me his own mother was a conduit. Come to think of it, he’d never mentioned his mother at all.
I crossed the room and leaned down to greet her. Her eyes slowly focused in on my face.
“I know you,” she whispered.
I could see the resemblance to Dane, the fine features, the lovely olive skin, but her eyes were vacant. She was like a long-forgotten doll.
She reached out slowly, like she was submerged in heavy water, but her fingers stopped short of making contact with my collarbone. “I see your markings. But those can’t save you,” she whispered, her mouth barely moving.
“What do you mean? Why aren’t they working anymore? Please, tell me.” I held her hands, noticing dozens of cuts and bruises running up her birdlike wrists and disappearing into her black chiffon sleeves. “Who did this to you?” I asked.
“Love makes you blind to the truth.” She gripped me, her face suddenly filled with terror, eyes moist with tears. “Immortality is a curse.”
My heart thrummed in my chest. “Did Spencer do this?”
“How nice, it’s Ash Larkin,” Lauren said, walking around me and prying Teresa’s fingers back from my wrists. “Spreading joy wherever she goes.” She tried to coax Teresa to relax in her chair. “It’s all right now,” Lauren said softly. “Ash was just leaving.” Teresa’s eyes went vacant again. Lauren stood up tall, straightening her raw silk dress.
“Someone’s been hurting her,” I said as I faced Lauren. I didn’t care if she was Dane’s half sister, she was still a total bitch.
“She hurts herself,” Lauren spat. “That’s what all conduits do. Destroy themselves and everyone close to them.”
“Now, now . . . there’s no need for that kind of talk.” Brennon’s mom stepped forward in my defense with that tight smile. “Ash is our honored guest.”
I looked at the women stationed around the parlor. Lou’s eyes were full of pity, while the woman in the prim blouse pretended to be interested in a stain on the edge of the tablecloth.
That’s when it dawned on me. It didn’t matter that I was a Larkin or the daughter of the vessel; I was a conduit, and everyone expected me to turn into another Teresa. I ran my hands over my arms, over the protection marks. My mom helped me for as long as she could, but time was running out. The best I could hope for on the outside was an institution, and if I stayed here Beth would cart me around to these archaic social events while I was dead inside. Either way, I was screwed. Soon, I would go insane, like Teresa, and none of this would even matter.
“Excuse me,” I said, backing away from the parlor, away from prying eyes.
As soon as I stepped into a stairwell, Dane’s scent washed over me.
Desperate for an escape, I followed the scent down a flight of stairs and to the second door on the right, slipping inside and closing the door behind me.
Dane had a mahogany sleigh bed with rumpled linens, an old armoire with mirrored front panels, a claw-foot nightstand and a bookshelf stuffed to the brim with classics and old textbooks. On his desk were twenty or so fist-sized rocks, lined up exactly a half inch apart. So, he liked rocks and he was a little OCD, nothing wrong with that. I was a complete slob, so we’d make a perfect match.
My eyes grazed his bookshelf and immediately locked in on an old gemstone encyclopedia. I remembered Dane telling me about a stone last night in great detail—rose quartz. I pulled the book from the shelf. It was lighter than it should be. A rush of adrenaline swept through my bloodstream as I opened it to find it had been hollowed out.
Inside, I found stationery, India ink, a fountain pen, deep red wax, and a seal with the Mendoza family crest.
At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a cache for stationery, but the real stash was in another compartment underneath. A pair of scratched-up Ray-Bans, a well-worn map of the United States, a half-empty pack of Chiclets, an old Walkman, and a Backstreet Boys CD.
“Ash! Ash! Where are you? Ash?” Beth tramped down the hallway, calling my name like a town crier.
“What the hell,” I groaned, shoving everything back in the book and tucking it away on the shelf.
I cracked open the door to make sure she was alone before slipping out of the room.
“Oh my stars!” Beth exclaimed. “What are you doing down here? Everyone’s asking about you. I’m afraid they’ll make me leave if we’re not together.”
“Do we have to go back to the party?” I looked at her pleadingly.
“Oh, are you ready to leave?” She took my hand.
I felt bad for messing up Beth’s big break into the social hierarchy, but I couldn’t go back. “I just need some air.”
“There’s another way out down here,” Beth said as she led me to a darkened staircase at the end of the hall.
“I thought you’d never been here before.”
“That’s curious, isn’t it?” she replied as she hurried down the stairs to a dead end.
She ran her hands over the wood-paneled wall.
“Beth, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this is—”
I heard a chilling pop as the wall s
wung open, revealing a dark, narrow entryway.
Beth grinned up at me before pulling me inside and closing the door.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
“I’m not sure.” Beth fumbled with something, striking a match. She lit a small candle that was resting on a table.
“How did you know that was there?”
“I think I’ve been here before.”
“Yeah, that’s a pretty safe assumption.” I exhaled, feeling completely sketched out. Sometimes Beth scared me.
I took a few matches from a silver cup on the table and put them in my pocket. I wondered if Dane made these.
As we stepped out of the cramped entry into a large circular room, the smell of old parchment and eucalyptus hit me. Spencer’s scent.
Beth drifted around the windowless room as if in a daze. I gravitated toward a huge cross on the far wall, made from dried cornstalks. Beneath the cross was a candle-filled altar with mounds of melted wax forming monstrous shadows against the wall.
At the foot of the altar, lying open on the ground, was an old Bible. I’d read the Bible before, but this wasn’t like any Bible I’d ever seen. It was the Old Testament, but much of it was crossed out, with words written over the text along with unintelligible scribbles.
Next to the Bible was a whip with a worn leather handle and a chalice containing a dark red substance that smelled of mandarins and the sea.
“What the hell is this place?” I whispered.
“I don’t think we should be in here,” Beth whispered as she backed into a table, sending a barrage of oily blue-black feathers to the ground. Crow feathers.
Beth’s hands shook as she scrambled to pick them up. Her breath came in rapid bursts.
“Beth,” I soothed. “Calm down. You said there was another exit. Concentrate. Where is it?”
Beth grabbed my hand and led me behind the altar wall, to another narrow hallway—another dead end.
She felt along the wall, trying to find a way out when we heard footsteps approaching from the outside. We ran back through the chapel to the narrow hallway we’d come in. Frantically, Beth tried to find the right panel, when the door behind the altar creaked open. There was no time. I blew out the candle. Leaving us in complete darkness.