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Chapter 35

T here was only one way for us to go, one crooked passageway leading from the edge of the pool into the darkness, and that was the path we took. Like some crazed gazelle, Wren scrambled over the rocks and leaped over a stream that trickled at our feet. I tried my best to keep up, but it was so dark. How could we possibly find the way out? Wren had never actually been inside the mine until now, and she’d only heard stories passed down through the generations of someone else’s family about a possible way out. And stories that old never told the whole truth, did they?

That’s what Dixie had said.

And still I couldn’t fathom it, the story she’d told us.

Could a town really murder dozens of women and children— offer them to a little girl who’d died long before—and think that act brought them blessings and wealth and immunity from the world’s ills? Could a group of educated, reasonably sane people actually believe that the dead girl, Juliana, actually had the power to determine whether they succeeded as a town or failed? It was like these people were stuck in a time warp and were practicing a form of ancient paganism.

Their very own twisted religion.

Suddenly, I saw a dim white oval before me. Wren’s face. “Billie,” she hissed. “Can you see me?”

“Yes.”

“Grab my shirt.”

Holding onto her shirt, I followed her through the shifting wet, black shadows that reflected light off the wet rock walls. She switched her phone light on, and I saw we were standing in a small opening, almost like a room. The cavern wall opposite us was split by a wide crack that stretched from top to bottom. The crack was narrow, maybe too narrow for an actual human body, which made me wonder if any person, even a small girl, had traveled through it successfully.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Seriously.” She took hold of my shoulder and turned me sideways, then pushed me into the crack. Another boom shook the cavern. I jumped, wedging myself deeper into the crevice. Why were they setting off more explosives? In the tight space, I could just barely turn my head, and when I did, I saw Wren had not followed me, but had stayed behind in the small cavern-room.

It took me a second to understand what I was seeing. She was crouched against a rock, her head thrown back, mouth wide open. The light of her phone showed a dark stain spreading over her thigh at an alarming rate, and she was wincing in pain. I couldn’t see anything behind her. The explosion had actually been gunfire. Someone had shot her.

I wiggled back through the crevice to her and grabbed her wrist, pulling her. “Stand up. Wren! We have to keep going.”

“Billie . . .” a voice called softly from the darkness. It was a warning. A promise. “Don’t make me do it.”

Jamie. I couldn’t see him on the other side of the rock, in the shadows of the cavern, but I knew it was him.

I held Wren’s shivering body against me. “Go ahead,” I said to the darkness. “But I hope you don’t hit me instead. I’m your intended, right?”

Jamie said nothing, but there were no more gunshots, so I sprang to action, pulling Wren back into the passageway behind me. She whimpered, but I didn’t stop. I inhaled a lungful of what might be the last breath of fresh air I enjoyed for a long time and, grasping Wren’s arm, pulled us deeper into the crevice.

* * *

We moved forward along the narrow wedge of pitch black for what felt like an eternity. All I could hear was my beating heart and my breath, slow and steady, my feet doing their awkward side shuffle through the passageway, and Wren gasping behind me. There was no way Jamie could fit into this crack, but he may not have to follow us. Not if this hit a dead end. He’d just have to wait.

But the narrow path didn’t end. Soon the crevice widened a few inches, and my boots began to make sucking, squelching sounds. Hope spiked when moments later, water sloshed over our feet. The next thing I knew we were ankle-, then shin-deep in dark, muddy water. The path widened and dead-ended into a small circular opening. On every side, the rock wall gently sloped up. A good sign. A really good sign.

“Wait here,” I told Wren.

I looked up and, seeing light, scrambled up in a bear crawl toward it, pulling myself up on the small niches carved into the stone for my hands and feet. I went as fast as I could, my head alternately swimming and throbbing in pain. The gas was getting to me. I wanted to sleep so badly. To slide down the wall and land in a heap at the bottom and close my eyes and just sleep . . .

I heaved myself up, and at the top of the wall, tumbled over a ridge and onto level ground. A dirt floor. Dirt and the fresh smell of oxygen. Did oxygen have a smell? Maybe it was something else. Plants, trees, grass. The surface.

I pulled Wren up and we continued forward. It was lighter now, although I couldn’t see the source. We were in a hallway, or at least something that looked a lot more like a hallway than a tunnel in a cave. The walls were stone and mortar, the ceiling held up by a fretwork of wooden beams. Elation surged inside me, and I was about to break into a run when I pulled up short. The way was blocked with boards that had been nailed on the other side.

I backed up a few steps and then launched a well-aimed kick at the boards. The center one shot out, flipping into the space on the other side, and I yelped in exhausted triumph. The next two took a bit more effort, but eventually they gave way, and I ducked through. Now I was in an honest-to-God basement with a set of stairs leading up to a door.

The basement of the Dalzell-Davenport house.

I breathed something between a prayer of thanks and a message to Mere to wait for me.

“We did it.” Wren was beside me, but she didn’t look good. She wasn’t going to be upright for long from the looks of it.

I took her arm as gently as I could. “We have to get you to the hospital.”

“No, no, no. You go. Find your daughter. I need to stay under the radar.” She tapped out a text on her phone. To Emmaline, I guessed.

“Okay, but promise me you’ll stay in touch.”

“I will.”

I hesitated.

“Billie. Go.”

I hated to leave her, but the drive to find Mere overcame everything. I touched her arm, then headed up the stairs. In the dark hall, I stood for a second, just breathing in the scent of my house. I pulled out my phone and started to dial Alice. It was time to get the hell out of this place.

“Billie.”

I dropped the phone. Major Minette stood with Mere, still in her rainbow cloud pajamas, her hair sticking up on one side from being slept on. She was barefoot, and I felt irrationally angry that no one had bothered to find her shoes. Major reached back and flipped on the lights, and I squinted in the harsh light. Mere squinted, too, and blinked in confusion and fear.

“Mere, baby.” I picked up my phone, ran to her, and folded her in my arms.

“Mama, they woke me up.” Her voice was froggy, so innocent and helpless, and her little body radiated heat. I held her tightly.

“Billie,” Major said. “They want to see you.”

I stared at him, not comprehending. “Where’s Alice?”

“She’s fine. She’s at her house.”

But the old guard knew I’d gone to Alice’s house, that she’d gone with me to the Dalzell sisters’ place. They probably knew she had been talking to Peter about Wren and the town’s secrets. I was under no delusion that they would forgive such crimes.

“Major, you’ve got to tell me the truth. Is Alice okay?”

He said nothing. I couldn’t tell if he didn’t want to say anything in front of Mere or if he was being cagey for another reason.

“Major, did you let her go—?”

“I’ve got a car,” he interrupted me. “I’m supposed to take you to them.”

“Major, no. You don’t have to do this. Any of this. You’re my friend.”

He looked at me, his expression full of regret. “I didn’t do it. The . . . thing you saw at the lake. I swear.”

I glanced at Mere. “Not here. Not now.”

He nodded, understanding. “You have to give me your phone.”

I handed it over to him and scooped up Mere. “Okay, baby. A few more errands tonight and then we can go to sleep.”

I followed him out. The rain had stopped, and the air smelled washed clean. Sure enough, Dixie Minette’s long white Cadillac was idling in the driveway—right next to Isaac Inman’s car. Isaac Inman was nowhere to be seen. I covered Mere’s eyes anyway and slid in the back seat. I was shaking.

But I wasn’t ready to give up. Major might’ve let Alice slip away; there was still that possibility. And Wren was still out there, too. Injured, yes, but free. This wasn’t over yet. I just couldn’t let them win. I refused.

Major put the car in gear. “Buckle up, ladies.”

We rolled past the shuttered shops, the empty sidewalks of the town square. The sky had a gray wash to it now, and there was a single, insistent bird trilling its morning song. Major circled the courthouse and took Minette Street, passing the bronze statue of little Juliana Minette. Her face held an expression of innocence and tenderness as she reached for the butterfly, just out of her reach. How many times had I walked or driven past it? Hundreds? Thousands? And not once had I ever dreamed the real reason the statue had been erected. Or that when Jamie Cleburne, and the other members of the old guard, saw this statue, they saw a dark goddess who demanded human sacrifice to curry her favor.

At the Baptist church, Major wheeled the Cadillac into the parking lot. “Come on, now.” He opened Mere’s door and helped her out. I scrambled out to follow. Major had Mere by the hand and was hurrying her into the church. My pulse had sped up, panic enveloping me. Were they going to kill us here? Because I’d refused their offer of Jamie as my new husband?

Major led us through a back door and into the white columned, stained glass sanctuary. The air was cool, the space hushed. He had an arm around Mere, holding her close to him. She was fully awake now, eyes huge and lip trembling.

“Mama—”

I held out reassuring hands but Major held her fast so she couldn’t run to me.

“It’s okay, Mere,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’m with you.”

Major nodded. “That’s right, Meredith. You’re okay and so is your mama. We’re just going to wait until everybody gets here and then we’ll all have a nice talk.”

“Where’s Daddy?” she asked me. She knew something was wrong. She knew we were in trouble.

“We’re going to sit in here,” I said, “in this church and wait for some help. And then we can talk about Daddy.”

“Oh, no,” she said in a small voice.

I held up a finger. “No, Mere, no. Don’t cry. We’re totally fine, I promise. I need you to be really brave and strong for me right now.” I looked at Major, murder in my eyes. “Let her stand with me.”

“She can lie down on that pew. And I’ll sit right beside her.” He pulled her over to the first pew, pulled off his suit jacket, and folded it for her. “Looka-there, honey. You can lay your head on my jacket just like it’s a pillow.” He said it like pilla. I wanted to scream, to fly at him and claw his eyes out.

Mere lay down, her head on Major’s jacket. Major sat at her feet. He patted her leg and with his other hand, pulled a large, bone-handled knife from his trouser pocket. He gently unfolded it, the blade, toothed and gleaming, snicking neatly out. I was shaking with fear and fury and pure adrenaline. Hate coursed through me and the feeling that if I wanted to, I could kill this man with my bare hands.

He placed the knife beside him on the pew so Mere couldn’t see it, but I could. “You oughta lay down, too, Billie,” he commented after a few moments had passed. “They’re going to be a while at the hospital. Wren Street ain’t the best shot, but she did do some damage.”

Mere’s eyes found mine. I put my finger over my lips to telegraph to her to stay quiet. She did.

“Lay down, Billie,” Major repeated. “Get some sleep. You have a big day ahead of you.”

I looked up, my eyes landing on the large stained-glass window looming behind the altar. It depicted a large cross looming over the infant Jesus in the manger. The manger was flanked by three figures: Mary, Joseph, and a little girl with long brown curls, a closed-lipped smile, and a butterfly resting on her shoulder.