Both sets of eyes—Augustus’s and the bear’s glowing rubies—locked on me. He sucked on his cigar and the end flared, a perfect, quarter-sized circle of fire.
“A good girl,” I whispered. For the first time, I longed for the noise of the other men. Someone besides me and Augustus, alone in the house.
He knocked more ash on the table. “I have a secret for you. Do you want to hear?”
I didn’t answer.
“Some people, like some animals, belong in cages. I know that better than anyone. Sometimes even good seed bears rotten fruit. Split it open, peer inside, and you’ll find nothing but maggots.” A feeling seemed to seize him. He smacked the table so hard it rattled and roared, “Through no fault of your own, you hear?”
I cowered back.
“You’re a smart girl, Ruth. So I’m going to tell you the truth. Maybe it’ll spare your daddy what I wasn’t.” His voice was thick. In his hand, his cigar burned down. “Men’ll do wicked things to a slip like you. They’ll take their fill and leave you twisted and broken like a little bird on the side of the road, mark my words. It’s in their nature—they can’t help themselves. Beasts, all of them. That’s the evil your daddy fights against.”
I stared at him, hypnotized.
“Your daddy,” he repeated, flicking the gold rings on his fingers, “is out there every day fighting the beasts that live inside men’s and women’s souls. It’s a great and holy war, Ruth. The highest mission, trying to contain them, make them docile, sedated. Do you know what life would be like without civilizers like him?”
He was waiting. There would be no relief until I spoke. “No,” I whispered.
“Destruction and chaos would reign. Men raping, beating, killing. Women fucking at their whim. Hell on earth.”
I went rigid at the curse word, but he continued.
“That’s the gift God gave us with his teachings. Religion’s the only thing strong enough to tame the beast.” His cloudy eyes searched my face. “I want to make sure you understand. You should be very grateful to your daddy. Christ’s laws are the only thing standing between you and men’s hunger. And let me tell you, that hunger is endless. Perverse and sickening. I’ve witnessed it firsthand. You be a good girl and stay right here under your daddy’s protection.”
“Augustus, there you are.” My father bounded into the kitchen. Immediately, his expression hardened. “Ruth, why aren’t you in your room? You know you aren’t allowed down when we have company.”
I lit up from the table as fast as I could. “Yes, Daddy. I was only getting water.”
He turned apologetic eyes to Augustus. He didn’t even blink when Augustus blew out a lazy ring of smoke. “We apologize. She’ll be punished if she bothered you.”
I didn’t flinch—only kept moving. Facing the cane would be worth it to escape.
“Miss Ruth,” rumbled Augustus. I turned back, though I dreaded it.
“Better move fast past them men, little bird. Whatever you do,you must never let them catch you.” He hissed the last part, and when I startled back, he boomed with laughter, clutching his cane. His laugh followed me as I ran up the stairs and down the hall. Even when I shut the door and hid under the covers, I swear the spirit of Augustus Blanchard snaked up through the floorboards, searching for me, a spectral bear with ruby eyes.
24
NOW
I watch the news, waiting to see Jebediah Ray’s compound appear on TV, but there’s nothing. No breaking alerts that men have been shot in Forsythe or a suspect in the Renard Michaels case has been found. All this silence despite the tip Ever called in to the sheriff two days ago. I’ve told myself to stick to my routine, do nothing to arouse suspicion, but it’s hard to act normal when the entire town of Bottom Springs has turned into a powder keg, ready to blow.
“Look at them,” Nissa says in a low voice as we walk down Main Street. “It’s a feeding frenzy.”
Main Street is more alive than I’ve ever seen it—it feels like the entire town is here, huddled in circles outside the Piggly Wiggly, staring distrustfully out the windows of Old Man Jonas’s bait shop, running Dale’s Country Corner out of gas, like a hurricane is coming. I’ve seen Bottom Springs on high alert before, seen the rumor mill whirring, but never like this.
“What’s happening?” I ask Nissa. We’re making our way back to the library from a rare lunch at the Rosethorn Café. She’d asked me to go—a treat, since we both usually saved money by bringing lunch from home—and I’d said yes to pretend there was nothing amiss. Rosethorn had beenflooded with people, women packed at tables whispering, men having low, dark conversations. It’s hard not to suspect the paranoia inside my head has somehow leaked out, infecting the entire town. I’d spent our lunch hour praying Nissa couldn’t see the sweat dampening my dress or my knee bouncing under the table. “Why’s everyone so afraid?”
She eyes me. “You haven’t heard?”
I shake my head.
“Sometimes I think you must disappear into thin air the moment you leave the library. They found more symbols in the swamp.” Her voice lowers. “More of those moon-cult marks.”
“Who else could know about Le Culte de la Lune?”
“No idea. And I’m still waiting on those history books from the Louisiana Heritage Archive to arrive. Hopefully they’ll tell us what those marks mean.” Nissa casts her eyes around the street, looking every bit as paranoid as the people gathered outside. “There’s another thing,” she whispers. “A big one. They found a second skull.”
