Chapter Sixteen #2
Above me, Polaris continues to flare, a reminder of all the nights Gigi pointed up to it wistfully, like the star was a friend and not a ball of hot gas.
A reminder of the stories she used to tell me about how the stars are a part of us.
From the guiding of enslaved folk through the underground railroad, to how their placements can predict revolution or chaos, healing or an untimely death.
But now more than ever it feels like they’re mocking me.
And what did that letter really confirm anyway? That Gigi was just as batshit as my mom claimed? That she relied too heavily on folklore and family stories and woo-woo nonsense?
Still, Gigi wasn’t a liar. I can tell by the conviction of her words, by the imprint of the pen against the page, that she believed what she was saying.
But what was she truly telling me—that I have powers?
I kinda figured that already. That I come from a long line of magic?
That doesn’t do me any good when my only connection to that line is dead.
There’s not enough information in this letter to tell me what to do next, to guide me in the right direction—or really any direction at all.
“Pointless,” I mutter, though I know I don’t mean it. No amount of anything from Gigi could ever be pointless. I’m pushing up on my elbows when somewhere in the depths of the woods, a twig snaps.
Immediately my shoulders fly up to my ears as I startle and freeze, straining to listen for more rustling. When nothing comes, I slowly sit up, still hesitant to move too quickly. Afraid to spook the monsters lurking in the shadows.
The white flashes among the trees… I’d somehow forgotten the whole reason for coming out here, too caught up in my own internal drama.
Daisy’s words from the tour play in my mind.
They stalk the forest, looking for souls to eat.
A shudder courses through me as I brush off my legs, moving to my hands and knees in an effort to stand.
If you hear them, then you’ll see them. And if you see them, you’ll never leave this campus alive.
It can’t be true, and yet I did see something, didn’t I?
Out of the corner of my eye, another blur of white whizzes past. With a panic, I whip my head around. After scanning the surrounding woods, a crazed chuckle bursts from my lips. There’s nothing here. Everything’s fine, and I’m crazy just like my grandmother.
Leaning over the creek, I dip my hands in and rinse away the grime that’s accumulated.
My shirt is soft against my skin as I dry them.
I peer into the water, my eyebrows pinching together as I sink closer to it.
In the murky depths, far deeper than what should be possible, something shines. Like the glittering of stars.
I reach down, my movement rippling the surface. Halfway to my elbow, I feel the slime of algae and silt.
“Ugh,” I groan, pulling my hand back on instinct.
When the water’s surface settles, I catch sight of my own reflection this time, and I let loose a bloodcurdling scream.
Towering above me is a figure. Long skirts that brush the forest floor, threadbare and blemished with holes and something dark like dirt. Or blood. Singed at the edges.
Where her fingers should be are bones interlocked at her waist.
Her face is so familiar. Something about the shape of it, maybe. But where there should be chestnut skin is the stringy gray of the dead. Melted sinew and unraveled tendons like tattered cloth.
Jumping to my feet, my chest heaves violently as I spin, looking for the woman from the reflection.
There are no thoughts in my mind beyond escape. Beyond survival. Whoever, or whatever she was is gone, though I can hear her, I think. Faintly.
“Three gone by, four are foretold, the Cardinals are coming, and they will not be controlled…”
I turn the words over in my head, but they’re nonsense. Her voice is no sweet melody, no comfort. It is grating. It burrows under my skin and makes a home in the darkest parts of me.
I run. Faster and faster, branches stinging my arms, one catching me right under my left eye.
The trees shift underneath the lunar glow, bark mutating into grotesque faces watching as I flee.
My quads burn with effort. My palms scrape against thorned vines and strings of sticky spiderwebs catch in my hair and my eyelashes, nausea thick in my throat at the thought.
The dread in my chest tells me that if I stop, something much worse than the apparition might be ready to drag me into the depths of whatever hell it crawled out of.
Too close to the break in the woods, but not close enough, I slip on something slick and wet and fall, my hands sinking into its sticky, slimy depths, and I gag at the feel of it.
Looking down, I find the culprit. Bloodroot blooming at the trunk of a large oak has rotted, the crimson sap pooling at the base.
Is this what Gigi was talking about in her letter?
This and the stench permeating the air around the school?
I wipe my palms against the tree it’s infecting and stand, hurrying out of the forest and through an opening farther southeast on campus.
I don’t slow, my momentum carrying me up the hill and past the chapel, doors wide open like a freshly dug grave.
I’m halfway through the quad when I almost lose my balance on the sharp turn toward the path leading to my dorm.
The rhythmic thump of feet against brick, and the shushing of fabric.
I skid to a halt, my chest burning as I peer into the distance.
Night has dulled their color, but what I’m seeing is undeniable. Robes with peaked hoods in lines of three. Glowing lanterns casting gilded plumes of light. A discordant humming against the now preternaturally quiet wood.
I turn on my heel, flying down the path toward the shuttered iron gates of the school.
The dream—it was definitely real then, and the men from it have found me.
Suddenly someone grabs my arm and yanks me to a screeching halt. I open my mouth to scream when a hand, large and warm, smacks over my lips with a firm grip.
“Shhh!” The voice is cutting, and their touch burns like the deepest ache.
I push against my attacker, but instead of creating the distance I intend, I’m pulled in, my back coming flush with something solid as another hand snakes around my middle and holds me in place.
I’m too late, they’ve found me, they’ve found me.
Their chest heaves against my shoulder blades.
Thunderstorms and star anise.
“Let go of me!” I try to yell, but I’m muffled by the hand against my mouth.
“Stop squirming around, Harp! It’s just me!”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
I bite down until I taste blood.