by Kim Liggett
I peeked around the living room, the loft, the kitchen.
“He’s not here yet.” Rhys sighed. He still wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “You should eat something.” He slid a plate of warm, honey-drizzled biscuits toward me.
“Not hungry,” I lied as my stomach growled in protest. “I’m going to wait outside.”
I couldn’t stand the tension between us. I shouldn’t have lied to him. I kept telling myself it was to protect him, but maybe I was just protecting myself. I couldn’t bear to have him blame me for all this. Sometimes I wondered if I’d just spoken up about the dead girl in our kitchen—if I’d told them she looked exactly like me, maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe Mom would’ve known something was coming—we could’ve run. But there was no running from what was happening to me now.
I went around the back of the house and walked across the prairie grass to sit in front of the corn. I still didn’t understand why the memories or feelings came on when they did. All I knew was that they were getting stronger, clearer, more frequent. Maybe seeing Teresa would help me understand myself a little better, what was happening to me, how much longer I had left.
I collapsed back onto the grass, letting the cool dark blades press into me. It reminded me of my mother, and the last time we were together in her studio.
I heard the brush depress behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Dane—his scent, the rhythm of his breathing.
“Sleep well?” he asked as he settled next to me.
For a moment, I wondered if I’d imagined our kiss last night, but he glanced down at my lips like he owned them.
“Did you . . . sleep well?” I asked, desperately trying not to stare at his mouth.
“It was interesting.” He smiled, edging his hand closer until he laced his fingers through mine.
Rhys cleared his throat, and Dane stood up like a shot.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” I shielded my eyes from the sun to gaze up at him. “My brother? Your mom?”
Dane held out his hand, pulling me to my feet. “Beth said Teresa knew something about your protection marks. Maybe she knows why they’re not working anymore . . . how to fix it. I’ll do anything to help you.”
It took everything I had to let go of his hand. As Dane and I walked through the tall grass toward my brother and Beth, he whispered, “I’m happy I get to spend time with you, even if it’s under the watchful eye of your brother.”
I looked up at Rhys and almost burst out laughing. Not because it was funny, it was just so uncomfortable; the four of us being together like this, on a doomed double date.
We walked through the thick forest of pines bordering the southeastern edge of the corn until we reached a large clearing.
“Heartbreak Tree.” Dane pointed to a lone tree in the distance—an old weeping willow set in the middle of a field. Its branches spilled to the ground like an overfilled glass of champagne.
“I know that tree,” I whispered. “Why do they call it Heartbreak Tree?” I asked as I wandered into the field to find it littered with stones of all shapes and sizes. Some of the rocks had notes tied to them, like Marie’s; others were painted with hearts and initials.
Dane followed me. “People come here to deliver proclamations of love to the Great Spirit. They write a note and tie it to a rock and hope their love wish will be granted.”
I reached down to pick up one of the stones, but he stopped me.
“It’s bad luck to pick up a stone that doesn’t belong to you.” He brushed my elbow and I almost lost my train of thought.
“Have you ever written a note?” I asked.
He stared off at the tree for a moment, a bittersweet smile washing over his face. “If I had, I promise you’d know.”
As we approached the tree, Dane held back the thick fringe of branches so we could all step inside.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered as I walked the inner circumference of the tree, letting the soft branches graze my outstretched fingertips. The breeze trickled in, making the leaves shiver. It felt like a sanctuary.
The gnarled gray trunk appeared to be split in two.
Beth looked up at the branches. “They say when she died, the tree broke, just like her heart.”
“But the tree lived,” Dane said, his voice thick with emotion. “It changed and grew, weaving its way through every obstacle.” He smoothed his hand against the trunk and looked at me, eyes glistening. “Love is stronger than death.”
Beth whispered something to Rhys and his cheeks flushed a deep pink.
“Of course it is.” Rhys shook his head in disgust and pulled me aside. “You know what this place is, right? Beth just told me it’s basically the sex tree.”
“Really?” I felt my entire face light up.
“We need to move on.” Rhys glared at Dane and then crashed through the flowing branches, getting all tangled up. Beth had to help him get free.
I started to follow when Dane pulled me back by my waist, wrapping his arms around me. “Stay.”
The beat of his heart, the feel of his warm breath in my hair, sent tingles across my skin.
“Ash!” Rhys yelled from the other side of the branches.
“I wish.” I let out a deep unsatisfied sigh as I pried myself away.
Before I pulled back the branches to step outside, I looked back at Dane—he was leaning against the trunk—those eyes—I still couldn’t tell exactly what color they were. “I’m beginning to feel like a racehorse, stuck at the starting gate.”
“You’re the dark horse,” he whispered.
Reluctantly, I left the safety of the branches.
34
CROWS
AS WE PASSED Silk Pond, a dark feeling moved through me. This was the last place Katia and Alonso were alone together—the place of their ill-fated final meeting. I didn’t blame Marie for telling Coronado where to find Katia and Alonso. She was a young girl, manipulated by a master. But you can’t choose who you fall in love with. I remembered my mother telling me the Larkin women fall too hard, too fast, and too fierce. I looked up at Dane and knew she was right.
As we crested the small hill, a shadow crossed my face. I looked up to see a black bird soaring high above. Was it possible Coronado was watching us right now? Trying to find a way in?
“There it is,” Beth chirped as she pointed to a dilapidated cottage nestled in the woods below. As we got closer, trinkets hanging from the eaves became visible, clinking together like dense blocks. I squinted to see what they were made from, and a chill marched over my skin. They were bones. Hundreds of delicate bones strung together like Christmas lights.
“Teresa won’t take handouts. She finds her own food.” Dane nodded toward the half dozen dishes of food in varying states of decomposition, littering her front steps like a giant unwelcome mat.
I peeked in the filthy front window to see Teresa sitting perfectly still in a rocking chair, staring at the wall in front of her. Expressionless. The same way I’d discovered her at the Mendoza lodge.
Rhys knocked on the door and Teresa’s eyes darted to the window, focusing in on my face with a sharpness that cut right through me. Dane took my hand and led me away from the window, up the front porch steps and over the threshold. He seemed just as apprehensive as I was as we stepped inside the dark house.
Through the disarray of dead leaves, broken glass, and bubbled-up wallpaper that curled around the seams to expose the black mold underneath, I could tell that someone had once cared about Teresa enough to try and make this a home for her.
I wondered if this is what would become of me, too. Would I have to be tucked away in a little cottage, or a little asylum?
Dane squeezed my hand as if he knew what I was thinking.
“May we sit?” Beth asked.
Teresa rocked once in her chair. We too
k it as a yes.
Taking Beth’s lead, we filed into the room, sitting on the edge of a tattered sofa.
Teresa turned her gaze to me and began to rock—slow and steady. It was beyond unnerving.
“What are you?” she finally spoke, her voice raspy as if she hadn’t used her vocal cords in days.
I remembered Dane had asked me the same question that first night in the corn. “I . . . I’m Ash Larkin,” I stammered. “Nina’s daughter and I—”
“No,” she barked, making my insides jump. Her eyes narrowed into slits. “What are you?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m a conduit.”
“Is that what they told you? You’re nothing like me.” She lifted her chin in the air, inhaling deeply. “You have a twin.”
“My brother, Rhys.” I motioned toward him, but Teresa just kept staring at me.
“It’s unfortunate.” She sighed. “But without darkness, there can be no light.”
Rhys stood up. “This was a bad idea.”
I could tell by the way he looked at me that he finally got it. He understood what it meant to be a conduit. What it meant for me.
“Teresa.” Dane leaned forward. “We’re hoping you can help us.”
Teresa’s eyes shifted to Dane. “I know you. I know what you are. You’re Spencer’s bastard.”
“Yes.” Dane flinched at the word.
I couldn’t believe it. She didn’t even know he was her son. Would I eventually forget about my mother and Rhys . . . and Dane?
Dane looked into Teresa’s eyes. “You’d mentioned Ashlyn’s marks when you met her at the Mendoza lodge. Can you tell us anything about them . . . why they’re not working anymore?”
“You’re marked, too.” She seized Dane’s wrist, turning it over to expose his brand. Then she took my hand, forcing it into Dane’s. “You may carve out your heart and throw it into the deepest ocean but it will remain there at the bottom of the ocean floor, irredeemable.”
Dane tried to pry her fingers away from us, when her eyes rolled back in her head and she started trembling. “He’s here. He knows what you are. He’s not what you think he is.”
“Who’s here?” I asked. I looked to Dane for reassurance, but he seemed just as disturbed as I was.
“Ash,” my brother called out in a panic as he stared out the window. “I think you need to see this.”
I broke free of Teresa’s death grip and joined my brother by the window to find the trees outside the cottage swarming with black birds.
I looked back at Dane, but he was busy whispering to his mother, easing her back in her chair, trying to soothe her.
“Stay here,” I said as I went outside.
Slowly, I stepped down from the porch. The crows stared at me from the trees, their red eyes gleaming, too many to count. The sound of their talons scraping against the branches set my teeth on edge.
“Scat.” I waved my hands, but they didn’t budge.
A crow let out a demonic cry and swooped down—Dane pulled me back onto the porch. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“He’s come for us . . . the last of the Larkins,” I said, remembering their presence at my mother’s studio. “I can distract them while you take my brother and Beth back to the lodge.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t.” I took his hand. “Rhys is deathly afraid of birds, he’ll never be able to make it back on his own.”
“Ashlyn, please don’t—”
“Let me help my brother while I still can, while I still know who he is.” My eyes veered back toward the house—Rhys and Beth were standing by the window. “No matter what happens, I need you to get my brother and Beth out of here.”
“We’ll all go together.”
“No,” I said a little too forcefully, and then lowered my voice. “I can’t leave without my mom. Promise me you’ll get them out.”
“I promise,” he said softly. “When the time’s right I’ll take them to the outer perimeter, but then I’ll come back for you.”
I looked down at the ground, trying to hide my feelings. If Dane knew what was good for him, he’d leave, too. He knew better than anyone what my future entailed.
He looked at me in anguish. “There’s something I need to—”
“There’s no time,” I interrupted. “You said you’d do anything to help me. This is what I need.”
He gave me a slight nod. Before I had a chance to change my mind, I let go of his hand and ran into the woods behind the cottage. The wail of the crows barreling down on me from above sounded like hell itself.
I caught a glimpse of a limestone ledge up ahead. I skidded to a stop, and the crows passed over me like a screeching freight train.
As I pressed myself under the ledge, the crows circled back, casting a dark shadow.
They landed somewhere behind me. The smell of rot, algae, and ammonia grew thicker with each step they took as they moved in.
They were so close now—right above me on the ledge—the sound of their talons curling over the edge of the limestone made my skin crawl.
I held my hand over my mouth, trying not to breathe, tears steaming down my face.
My insides clawed at me to run for it, but I was paralyzed with fear.
I clenched my eyes shut, willing them to leave, when Rhys came barreling down the hill. The crows attacked in unison, viciously stabbing at every bit of exposed skin on his arms and neck. I lurched forward, trying to fight my way through the flurry of black wings to help him, when suddenly, the crows dropped to the ground like dead weight.
My brother stood there, stunned, blood flowing from deep puncture wounds on his arms and neck while black feathers rained slowly down on him.
Tentatively, I stepped forward, nudging one of the crow carcasses with the toe of my boot.
“They’re dead?” he whispered, eyes wide.
Dane and Beth came running down the hill, but when Dane got a good look at Rhys surrounded by the dead crows, he held Beth back. “You’re lucky . . . you have Katia’s blood. Otherwise, they would’ve ripped you apart.”
“Is that what saved him?” I reached out to help my brother, but he shook me off.
“I’m fine. Just give me a minute,” he said, bracing his hands against his knees, trying to catch his breath. “I don’t know what just happened, but we need to get the hell out of this place. Can you do it, Dane? Can you get us out of the corn?”
“At dawn on the summer solstice.” Dane nodded. “We’ll meet at the old stables at first light—”
“Why not now?” Rhys interrupted him.
Dane’s eyes narrowed. “You know you’re going to have to trust me if this is going to work.”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Rhys smirked.
“Then it’s set,” I said, trying to break up the tension.
Rhys stepped out of the crow circle and began walking back toward the lodge. “Oh, and, Dane?” He peered over his shoulder. “Stay away from my sister until then. If you get caught . . . well . . . you probably wouldn’t be up for a long journey.” He gave Dane a pointed stare. “Do we understand each other?”
I’d never thought of my brother as being intimidating before, but Quivira had changed us both.
35
RIFT
BETH LOOKED ON, wincing with sympathy pain as Henry cleaned and bandaged the puncture wounds that covered my brother’s neck and arms.
“Ladies love scars,” Henry said as he concentrated on a particularly raw spot near Rhys’s temple.
“Yep.” Beth bobbed her head as she gripped the edge of the farm table in the dining room.
Rhys smiled back at her, and my heart melted.
I was proud of my brother for remaining upright throughout this entire ordeal, but my feelings were a little hurt he didn’t wa
nt me to treat him. Still, when I looked at the three of them huddled together like a little family, it gave me some peace. We all saw what Teresa had become. I had no idea how much time I had left.
“And it’s not like you tripped in the woods,” Henry added as he moved the lantern closer. “You survived a crow attack. Not many people can say that.”
“You were really brave,” I said.
Rhys barely acknowledged me.
I’d never felt so out of step with the world. Dane was the only person I felt comfortable around anymore, and I couldn’t even be seen with him.
“Henry”—my brother cleared his throat—“I want you to come with us. We’re leaving Quivira at dawn on the summer solstice.”
“How?” Henry dropped the bloody sponge into the bowl of witch hazel, sending the murky liquid sloshing over the side.
“Dane.” Beth smiled. “He’s a cornwalker.”
“Well, I’ll be . . . ,” Henry whispered. “Just like his mother.” Henry looked back at me with sharp eyes. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but I tried to bar him from my thoughts.
“But Ash isn’t coming with us,” Henry announced.
“Of course she is.” My brother jutted his head back.
I glared at Henry and then took a deep breath. “Dane will still take you,” I assured them. “But Henry’s right. I’m not leaving . . . not without Mom.”
“Why?” Rhys finally looked at me and I wish he hadn’t. “We need to get the police, the FBI, Nancy Grace for all I care—anyone who will listen. We need to blow the lid off this place once and for all. There’s nothing you can do for her here. These people are never going to let her go.”
“Neither can I.”
Rhys sprang to his feet. “They’ve brainwashed Mom and now they’ve brainwashed you,” he said as he came toward me. “You just want us to stay here with you and—”
“No.” I swallowed hard. “That’s the whole point. I don’t want that for you. Mom’s not the only one who’s disappearing. You saw it with your own eyes today—with Teresa. I won’t be me much longer.”