Page 52

In the end, I stay because of what’s floating in those damn chalices. Because I promised Heather I’d stand watch while she took the mushrooms and she’s already drunk that wine.

“Shall we begin?” Patrice says in a singsong voice.

I mutter under my breath, but I don’t say anything aloud. Whensomeone needs to contribute a drop of blood to the bowl, it’s Patrice, so I must give her credit for that. She volunteered, and she sticks out her hand and Heather picks up the knife.

At the last second, I realize I’m letting a girl who just drank mushroom-infused wine wield a knife. But before I can stop them, it’s done. One small cut to the tip of Patrice’s finger. Patrice barely flinches. Heather massages out three drops of blood, and I watch them fall into the bowl, on top of the mixture within.

Then Patrice begins the incantation. It’s the one Heather got from the cousins in Cuba, but Patrice had added stuff from a book.

What book?

I hadn’t asked.

Where did it come from?

I hadn’t asked.

Should I have asked?

I pick up my wineglass, mostly to feign taking another sip. I double-check the contents. Clear red wine, no bits of dried mushroom. I saw Patrice open the bottle, so it can’t be dosed. And I’ve only had a sip.

I’m spooked. That’s what it comes down to. I’m spooked by that damn story and these damn woods and that damn tree. And Patrice’s damn incantation isn’t helping.

As she speaks, dread settles in my gut. I want to stop up my ears against the words, and then I’m shamed by the impulse. It’s silly words in a silly ritual.

Something moves in the darkness, a shadow against the black night. I turn sharply, but nothing’s there, and Patrice is still talking.

Now I’m really spooked. I’m—

“Sam…” The voice comes from the trees, and it’s Heather who jumps first, yelping.

“Samantha…” That comes from the other side, and I twist, tracking the sound.

A footstep sounds, slow and deliberate. My gaze shoots that way, my heart racing. Another footstep… from the other direction. A twig cracks underfoot, and I jump.

Then another twig, this one behind Heather.

As I stare into the forest, a whisper floats out. “Where are you going, Sam?”

Another whisper from the opposite direction. “There’s no point in running.”

“You hear that, right?” Heather says to me, her eyes huge.

I nod. We both stare into the forest, where we can still hear footsteps, at first to my left and then behind Heather.

It’s only then that I realize Patrice hasn’t said a word. She’s sitting where she had been while she recited the incantation. Her eyes are open and unfocused and staring.

“Patrice?” I whisper. “Are you hearing—”

She pushes to her feet, still staring straight ahead.

“Nic?” Heather whispers. “What’s wrong with—”

Patrice turns on her heel, sharp enough to startle us both. Then, without a word, she marches into the forest.

FIFTEEN

I wake up, gasping and shaking. My hands immediately fly to the nightstand for my inhaler and then stop as I realize it’s not my lungs causing the problem. I catch my breath while I sit up, head dropped into my hands, my heart pounding as if I’m back in that clearing, watching Patrice walk out, hearing her words from earlier that evening.