“I think we do,” I said. “I’m okay.”
June nodded. “I love you,” she said.
I leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Love you too.”
The tent loomed ahead, white canvas straining under floodlights, casting twisted shadows across rows of folding chairs. At first, I thought there wasn’t anyone inside—until we neared the tent flap, and the first few folks came into view. There weren’t many of them, and almost all were old or out-of-towners…but there were enough that it brought back bad memories. My only saving grace was when I found the church ladies standing at the back, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, with Jamie Wright, Jasmine Evers, and my brother Beau with them.
“Well, it’s about damn time,” Francine said, only for Loretta to smack her arm. She snorted and glanced at herfriend, shaking her head. “I don’t think this counts as a house of the Lord, Loretta…”
“Just try not to curse in front of the preacher,” Birdie said, as if June would judge. “We’re here for a righteous cause, after all.”
“Here to see the circus,” Beau grunted. “I mean…look at ‘em.”
I followed his gaze to find a group of worshipers in a loose half-circle near the stage—arms lifted, eyes closed, swaying like grass. It wasn’t the swaying that got me…it was the muttering. Low and rhythmic, not English, but not quite gibberish either.
“They call it quickening,” June offered, voice quiet. “Say it’s the Holy Spirit stirring the body before the tongue can catch up.”
She didn’t sound skeptical…but she didn’t sound quite as open-minded as usual, either. I searched her eyes as she kept her gaze on the half-circle of worshipers, where a woman had fallen to her knees, hands shaking in the air. She was letting out strange little gasps between syllables…almost like she was drowning. June’s fingers tightened in mine just slightly.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked quietly.
June smiled up at me—but I caught how her eyelashes fluttered like she’d just been snapped out of a bad dream. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”
I believed her.
But I kept her hand in mine, just in case.
The noise from the front of the tent started to build, more voices joining in, more muttering. Someone let out a sudden high laugh that made the hairs on my neck stand up. I’d never been to a service at the Remnant Fellowship back in high school, but Amelia had described it to me…and even that wasn’t enough to prepare me. This was entirely alien, more disturbing than when my brother’s house had been haunted.
Because I didn’t think they were hearing God or the Holy Spirit.
There was something else here. Something that made crows smash into windows, that summoned ghosts with whispered warnings.
The tent lights flickered. I thought I saw a pale figure out of the corner of my eye.
June hissed out a breath, and when the lights came back on, I found her yanking her hand out of her pocket and muttering, “What the fuck?”
“What happened?” I asked.
“The spell bottle Flora gave me,” she whispered. “It just gotreally warm.”
Then all the voices stopped.
And I heard a low, sinister rattle.
I pulled June close and my eyes shot to the trampled grass beneath us, sweeping for any sign of the snake I was certain was here…but I didn’t see it. The rattle kept going, though, and I lifted my gaze to search the tent for it, knowing?—
There was Abel.
And in his hand…a rattlesnake.
A timber rattler, just like the one that had wound up in my bed.
He emerged from behind the altar at the front of the tent, silhouetted against a red neon light like the devil himself. His hair was slicked back, sleeves rolled up. He didn’t have a microphone or anything—the congregation was too small for him to need it—but his voice boomed all the same.
“Brothers and sisters!” he cried, arms thrown wide like some dime-store prophet. “Can you feel it?”
Holy hell…I didn’t think I would, but I felt it—that crawling, creeping sensation I’d always gotten in deep, dark, haunted places. Not God. Certainly not God.
