He looked up at her, and his expression changed. “You’re here.” He stretched his arms wide, showing the callused ridges of massive hands. “Welcome home.”
Heather’s feet felt like concrete. “What do you mean? I’ve never even been here before.”
The bouncer ignored her, cupping his hands around his mouth. “She’s here!” he called in a voice that echoed through the empty bar: “She’s here!”
Suddenly, people began to appear. A head popped up from behind the bar, and she heard shuffling footsteps, felt the presence of bodies hastening toward them from hidden back corridors.
“She’s here.” The voice was throaty, rich as turned earth. A door opened behind the bar, revealing a girl with wild, colorful dreadlocks, wearing a backless green top and tattered bell-bottoms that rode low on her hips. Her eyes met Heather’s from across the room and sent sparks prickling up and down her arms, shorted her breath, and spread heat up the back of her neck. “Welcome,” she said with a honey-slow smile. “I’m Luna. I’m your Earth Sister.”
Heather’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t take her eyes off the girl, couldn’t look away from those eyes. They were the same green as the bouncer’s, the same as her own.
“Yes,” Luna glided toward Heather, grinning like a cat. “You’re finally here, Earth Sister. Welcome home.”
“Hold up.” Heather’s voice came out shrill, shaky. Not the way she wanted it to sound. “What’s going on? Why are you all freaking out about me being here? I’ve never met any of you before.”
“But that’s not true.” Luna spread her arms, which dripped in bronze bangles. “You’re our Earth Sister. You’ve known us since the day you were born.”
She indicated the small crowd of bar staff that had gathered behind her. A chill trickled down Heather’s spine as she saw their eyes: all the same shocking shade of emerald. Even in their strangeness, there was something familiar about them, something almost comforting.
She took another step back, so the cool steel of the door pressed into her spine. “I only have one sister,” she said. “And she’s not here.”
Luna’s laugh was a silvery tinkle in the silent room. “It’s not that simple, Heather. Don’t you know where you were born?”
Heather went cold all over. “How do you know my name?”
“Because I’m your sister,” Luna explained patiently, as if speaking to a child. “We were conceived on the same night, at a place called the Children of the Earth, during a beautiful ritual under the full moon. We were born side by side and took our first breaths and our first milk together. We came into this world as a family, as Children of the Earth, and now we’re all together again, a family once more. At last.”
The others nodded somberly behind her.
“But . . .” Heather began. She couldn’t find the words to continue. If what Luna said was true, it would explain why she had never seen a photo of herself as a baby, why her parents were always vague about her birth and jokingly referred to that time as “our hippie phase.” It would explain why they didn’t get married until she was three years old, when she toddled down the aisle in front of them in an itchy blue dress carrying a basket of flower petals.
“You were named after the grasses that blew like waves in the fields,” Luna continued, her voice a seductive singsong. “Your birthday is sometime between April second and April ninth. You’re an Aries—and you act like one, too. And for the past few months, ever since your eighteenth birthday, you’ve been dreaming of us: all of us, dancing together around a bonfire, summoning the God of the Earth to set things right. You’ve dreamed of us, and seen our eyes, and just before you wake you hear a voice telling you to find the vein.”
Heather’s knees buckled, and she leaned against the door for support. “How do you know?”
“Because we’ve all had them, too.” Luna’s voice was soothing, rubbing away at her fear. “Those dreams were messages from the God of the Earth, calling his children home.
“And now you’re here!” Luna clapped her hands with childlike delight, her jade eyes sparkling. “And just in time, too: The moon is already waxing. Oh, I know—you probably have a million questions. Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll tell you everything.”
She reached out a hand, urging Heather to take it, to follow her.
“No,” Heather whispered. She shrank back, wedging her hands behind her back, not trusting them. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m getting out of here. I’m—I’m going to Moab.”
Darkness winged briefly across Luna’s face. She locked eyes with Heather, and even though she wanted to, Heather couldn’t look away—couldn’t focus on anything else. It was like the entire world, the galaxy and universe and everything beyond, was concentrated in those eyes.
“You want,” Luna said, “to come with us. You want to be here, with your family.”
The words wound hypnotically through Heather’s brain and spread in a warm blue-tinged haze to her heart. She did want to follow Luna, to be part of this strange yet strangely familiar tribe. She wanted it desperately, and she understood that part of her had wanted it her whole life. She knew without having to be told that the darkness she’d felt back in Oneonta, the loneliness that plagued her heart even when she was around family and friends, would turn to light once she surrendered to Luna and accepted her place with the Children of the Earth. She knew that this was her true family, where she’d always belonged.
With Luna’s voice singing in her head and Luna’s words flowing through her veins, it didn’t matter that she was supposed to go to Moab, to Tucson, to the University of Arizona and her sunny new life. That was all meaningless, a shadow world to distract her from the truth. Nothing mattered but Luna.
Slowly, somnambulantly, she brought her hand from behind her back and stretched her fingers toward the wild-haired girl standing before her. She felt the cool, dry pressure of Luna’s hand in hers and let herself be led through the red-lit room, eyes fixed on the tattoo of a gnarled, wizened tree that covered Luna’s back and sent twisted branches across her shoulders and down her arms.
The rest of the Children of the Earth followed silently as Luna opened a hidden door by the bar and started up a rickety wooden staircase, her hand still wrapped around Heather’s, the charms in her dreadlocks lightly jingling.
The stairs brought them to a large, open attic with a steeply peaked ceiling that sloped almost to the floor. Starlight filtered in through the many skylights, illuminating what looked like a gypsy camp: Mattresses covered in patchwork quilts and tie-dyed pillows littered the floor, clothes hung from mismatched wall hooks and peeked out of beaten dressers, half-burnt candles sat in hard puddles of wax, and scarves had been thumbtacked to every surface to create colorful clouds of silk, batik, and velvet.
“This is where we live,” Luna said. “All together, just like when we were kids at the commune. Now let’s make a circle! Everyone grab a cushion. There’s so much we need to discuss.”
Someone handed Heather a red-and-gold pillow embroidered with an Indian elephant, and she found herself settling into it, wordlessly taking her place on the floor. There was something so familiar, so comforting about being in a circle with these people, her Earth Siblings with the matching eyes. It was like they’d done this before, many times, back when she was too young to remember. Her mind couldn’t recall those days, but to her body, her heavy obedient limbs, it felt right.
Luna lit candles and incense, filling the room with a thick, sleepy scent. The firelight danced on her face as she took the lotus position on a purple velvet cushion, her back straight and proud.
“Ommmmm,” she chanted, her voice low and husky in her throat.
“Ommmmm,” the Children of the Earth echoed.
To the old Heather, the Heather who was captain of her soccer team and secretary of the student council, it would have felt silly to sit in a circle and chant. Sh
e’d never gone in for new age-y stuff, couldn’t even sit through a yoga class, but the new Heather, the moody shadow-Heather plagued by nightmares, let the vibrations echo in her chest and mingle with the voices of the others. To shadow-Heather, their chant had the power of a mountain rising from flat land, strong and rare and magical. It stirred her blood and buzzed wildly in her mind.
The chant came to a slow close.
“Children of the Earth,” Luna’s voice resonated through the loft, “we were called here for a reason. The earth is in trouble—grave trouble. In their material greed and lust for power, humans have destroyed the planet we call home, clear-cutting forests, polluting the air and oceans, killing our sacred animals. Right here in Carbon County, an oil rig is scarring the land and bleeding this planet of its life force. And only we can stop it.”
Around the circle, the Children of the Earth nodded, eyes serious.
“The God of the Earth called us here to save this beautiful planet and save humanity from itself,” Luna continued. “But we can’t do it by marching and carrying signs or writing letters to our congressmen. Those things have been tried, and they’ve failed. They are powerless against the greed machine.”
“Yeah!” Across the circle, a slight boy with a black Mohawk pumped his fist in agreement. Layers of black clothing drowned his body, and a fist-sized anarchy tattoo dominated his neck.
Luna fixed him with a fleeting smile. “Instead, we’re going to harness the power of the elements, and our power as Children of the Earth, to bring about real change. Because we are powerful, even if we’ve spent our whole lives trying to hide from it. Our abilities are our birthright, passed down from our all-powerful father, the God of the Earth.”
Although the attic was warm, Heather felt herself shiver. Luna’s words forced her to face truths about herself that she’d never allowed into the light, that had always lingered in the dark corners of her dreams.
Luna peered around the circle, her eyes resting on each of them in turn. “What is your power?” she asked. “Some of you already know. Like Ciaran.” She indicated a boy to her left with toasted-almond skin and honeyed hair. “His power is intuition. He can tell what people are feeling, even if they don’t say a word.”
Ciaran lowered his eyes and smiled an elfin, enigmatic smile.
“Kimo’s power is location.” Luna nodded at the boy with the Mohawk and anarchy tattoo. “He’s like a human GPS. He can sense where people are just by concentrating on vibrations in the air.”
“Like a bloodhound,” Kimo agreed.
“And Abilene.” A girl with round cheeks and skin like polished mahogany fluttered her lashes. “When she sings, no matter what you’re doing, you’ll stop in your tracks and join. Even if you’ve never heard the song before.”
“Even if you can’t sing on key with a gun to your head,” Kimo added.
Abilene rested her hands on her purple broomstick skirt and cast her eyes downward, a humble smile on her plump lips.
Luna placed her hands palm-up on her knees, thumb and fingers making a circle. “Let’s all meditate for a moment on our power, whatever it may be.” She closed her eyes, and the Children of the Earth followed suit.
In the pinkish darkness behind her eyelids, Heather saw nothing. She was just an ordinary kid from an ordinary family in an ordinary town: kind to children and small animals, decent at soccer, a declared geology major who, she was starting to realize, might never start her freshman year.
She thought of Arizona, which now seemed light years instead of a couple of states away. She thought of her geology major, the way rocks felt in her hands. She’d always loved to be around rocks, ever since she was a little girl—they seemed almost like friends, like if she concentrated hard enough they’d tell the story of where they’d been and what they’d seen. Sometimes it even seemed like they were coming to greet her, like all she had to do was ask nicely and they’d move for her, leaping into her hands.
Her eyes flew open. Could that be her power? What if it wasn’t just a feeling? She looked around the circle, at the Children of the Earth sitting still as boulders, eyes closed, breath coming in slow, even waves. When her gaze landed on Luna, her Earth Sister opened her eyes and gave her a slow smile.
“Did you picture your power?” she asked the group. There were a few muted yesses, scattered nods.
“Good.” Luna uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “We’ll need them, and we’ll need to stick together no matter what, even if things get uncomfortable or weird. We’re not that strong on our own, but when we put our powers together we’ll be unstoppable. Don’t forget what we’re up against: a multibillion-dollar oil business with the government in its pocket, and millions of religious fanatics who believe it’s okay to destroy the earth because God is on their side. It’s crucial that we use every tool we have—after all, we’re just a bunch of hippies trying to save the earth.”
Her smile was modest, almost ironic.
“We’ve already performed the air ritual,” Luna went on, looking at Heather and winking. “It’s what blew Heather into town. But now that all of us are here, our numbers are stronger and our magic is multiplied.”
Next to her, Ciaran shifted on his straw mat. “What about Owen?” he asked.
A cloud drifted across Luna’s face. “That’s what our next ritual is for,” she said smoothly. “But, I have to warn you: These rituals are powerful. They’re old magic, not for the faint of heart. If you’re not strong enough, they won’t work. Do you all think you’re strong enough?”
“Yes!” Heather was surprised to find herself piping up along with the others.
“Good.” Luna leaned forward, her eyes burning. “Because in order to do these rituals correctly, we have to offer sacrifices. It’s the only way to repay the God of the Earth for all the centuries of destruction our species caused. It’s not enough just to say sorry. The God of the Earth demands blood.”
Blood. The word vibrated through Heather like a gong.
“That’s where my special power comes in.” Luna glanced intently around the circle, meeting and holding their gazes. “Most of you have already seen it in action. You’ve seen the way I can tap into people’s hidden desires, finding the ones that suit my needs and bringing them to the surface. Haven’t you?”
Heather felt a cold wind stir beneath the shroud of warmth that enveloped her. Was it Luna’s power of persuasion that had lured her upstairs and kept her there, destroying the pragmatic streak that should have sent her running to her car and away from Carbon County hours ago? She didn’t like the idea of someone else controlling her thoughts. But at the same time she felt happier and more at home with the Children of the Earth than she’d ever felt in her life. She knew that if she tried to go, the nightmares would just come for her again.
“One of the greatest universal desires, deep in the darkest recesses of the soul, is a curiosity about death,” Luna continued. “Everyone wants to know what it’s like on the other side. And in order to honor the God of the Earth and consecrate these rituals, I’ll need to use my power to help people overcome their fear of death, so that they’ll willingly offer their blood to the God of the Earth as a sacrifice.”
Even wrapped in the hypnotizing cloak of Luna’s voice, Heather felt pinpricks of cold sweat prickle her skin. “You mean we’re killing people?” she broke in.
“Not at all,” Luna said serenely. “It’s wrong to take another life—we don’t even eat meat. We’re simply activating the latent desire for death, helping our sacrifices transition from this world into the next. It’s what the Earth God wants. It’s what he needs.”
Her eyes blazed, and Heather felt her jaw clench shut and her head bob up and down. Of course, what Luna said made sense. Everything Luna said made sense. Her question, examined under the bare bulb of Luna’s gaze, seemed trivial, a senseless detail. She hoped her brothers and sisters didn’t think less of her
for asking it.
“The next ritual will be in three days, at the quarter moon.” Luna’s voice filled the room. “We have to act when the moon is waxing, indicating growth and potential. And when the full moon is here, we’ll perform our final ritual and summon our true father, the God of the Earth, to make people stop destroying the planet once and for all. Are there any questions?”
The Children of the Earth sat silent, shaking their heads. Heather felt like she should have questions—fragments of thoughts drifted through her head, fleeting and iridescent like dragonflies. But before she could close a net around any of them, they were gone.
“Good.” Luna stood and brushed imaginary dirt from her bell-bottoms. “Now let’s find Heather a place to sleep and help her unpack her things. After all, she’s one of us now.”
7
“YOUR PROPHET HAS SPOKEN!”
Pastor Ted paced back and forth on the stage. His voice echoed off the walls of the packed Carbon County First Church of God and crackled through a series of hastily erected speakers outside, where a swelling crowd jostled each other to peer through the windows at the Sunday sermon.
Sweat swam down Daphne’s back. She had just finished describing her vision to the congregation, and now she felt exhausted from the effort and desperate to escape the hundreds of eyes staring up at her. She’d told them about the dark shadow with shoulders wide as mountains, about the way he coaxed fire down from the mountains to engulf the rig.
She’d only omitted one detail: that the dark figure had been Owen. That still felt too private—and too dangerous—to share.
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