Ayaz nodded. “Thomas Parris’ father, the Reverend Parris, played a pivotal role in the Salem Witch trials. He was personally responsible for the convictions and subsequent deaths of several witches. For his remaining years, he believed he was haunted by the spirits of those witches he’d condemned. When he died, the spirits didn’t rest, but moved on to his son, dogging his every step and whispering to him that he would pay for what his father did. They grew in power until they could move objects and scratch the faces of people who visited the Parris home.
“Originally, Parris made his study of mysticism and the occult to try and exorcise his father of these spirits. He redoubled his efforts when his own mind became plagued by their malevolent presence. When he heard these rumors about the soul-eater, he wondered if a creature who devoured souls might be able to take from him the souls that haunted him, while leaving his own life intact.
“He purchased the land for next to nothing and set about constructing the house and tunnel system around the principles of sacred geometry.” Ayaz jabbed his finger on the page. “According to Parris’ account, the entire house and grounds act as the god’s cage. I’m not sure how it works exactly, but let’s say that in the caves deep beneath the school, deeper even then we’ve ever tried to explore, is a doorway or portal or rift or whatever from our universe into the god’s homeland. And maybe there was a guardian on the other side of that door who took the soul of anyone who came too close – the ‘soul-eater’ of the smugglers’ legend. Instead of going down to meet the guardian, Parris used himself as bait to lure the god up into the trap he created.”
My heart hammered against my chest. Ayaz had figured it all out, everything we’d been trying to understand. My beautiful, clever boy had all the answers. But he was telling the wrong people.
“Parris fed the god on the spirits that haunted him. He figured out that ghosts and souls are all the same thing, so there’s something for a pop quiz.” Ayaz smiled at Vincent. When no one else in the room smiled back, he continued. “So, anyway… the god devoured Parris’ spirits, but kept him alive to bring him more. This part is quite hard to understand, but it seems as if Parris started feeding the god with human sacrifices. The god grew fat and gluttonous, and it could no longer break free from Parris’ trap. Perhaps it didn’t want to. With each sacrifice, Parris’ coven grew in power, and—”
“We already know this,” Damon snapped.
“Right.” Ayaz’s eyes fell to the page. “You know all this because it’s similar to what happened to us after the fire. I don’t understand why we didn’t die and why we didn’t end up as hollowed-out shells like the smugglers, but it’s the same thing. There’s an alignment between the god’s prison and the gym, so when the fire tore through, it…” here Ayaz paused. “Yes, sorry. This isn’t about what happened to me. What I’m trying to say is that feeding the godisits true prison. It has everything it wants and needs right here. As long as it keeps feeding, you can leave the door open and it won’t leave.”
Oh.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
That means, if youstopfeeding it, or say, if you make a bargain with it to force it to stop feeding, you take away its excuse for staying in its cage.
Exactly the thing I’d just done.
“And there was something else, son?” Vincent prodded.
“Yes.” Ayaz lowered his gaze. “Ms. West told you sacrifices continued as normal this year despite Hazel’s disruption, but I don’t believe that’s true. One of them, Loretta Putnam, was released to be a friend to Courtney, who is now my girlfriend. I’ve seen Loretta slipping food into her pockets in the dining hall. She goes to the pleasure garden sometimes to read, and I’ve noticed empty candy bar wrappers and potato chip bags hidden in the weeds. She’s hiding the fact she requires food to survive. She’s not one of us. She’s still alive.”
“Thank you, son.” Vincent patted Ayaz on the shoulder. “You may go.”
“Take that disgusting book with you,” Gloria sniffed from beneath her veil.
Ayaz picked up the book and his notes and sauntered out of the room. He didn’t look back.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Quinn’s vise-like grip on my thigh loosened off ever so slightly. Vincent moved to stand beside the fireplace again.
For several moments, no one in the room spoke. Senator Hyde-Jones broke the silence. “That Turk has presented us with a compelling plan. If we agree that freeing the god is the right course of action, it appears we’re heading in that direction anyway. Perhaps the god itself has realized this, and that is why it’s stopped feeding us power? What concerns me now is that if we trust the boy about everything he’s said, then it brings to light an ugly truth – for I distinctly remember being told a very different story by our headmistress.”
“Precisely the issue for which we are gathered,” Vincent said. “When Ayaz brought this revelation to me, I saw we had a bigger issue on our hands than we initially realized. Hermia made it clear that order for the club to have a steady flow of power, we needed this large sacrifice. Then, she claimed the god wouldn’t accept our children because they were too spoiled, too rich, too laden with promise and opportunity. And so the scholarship program was born. We were promised that as the god grew stronger, we would be able to access more of its power. And yet, the exact opposite has happened. And now we learn that we have been lied to once more and actively sabotaged. We could have unleashed the god ourselves without any of this nonsense.”
“I don’t appreciate being tricked,” Gloria spat. She flung off her veil. “Especially when it’s cost me my face.”
Damon nodded, his jaw tight. “I don’t appreciate it, either.Youbrought her in, Vincent. This is onyourhead—”
BANG.
Vincent’s fist slammed against the mantle. A ceramic dog rattled off and smashed on the floor. No one in the room moved a muscle.
“I’maware,Damon. She manipulated me from the start.” He flexed his fingers, wincing as a drop of blood appeared on his knuckles. His aging skin wasn’t as thick as it once was. “Hermia wants to keep the god’s power for herself.”
“Not so loud,” Damon hissed. “That witch could be listening at the door.”
Yes, Vincent. You don’t know who could be listening.
“That’s unlikely. I’ve stationed two members of my security team at either end of the hall. No one enters or exits without my knowledge.” Vincent rubbed his bleeding knuckle. “We have plans to make. We will not take this deception lying down.”
“While I’m all for putting Hermia in her place,” Senator Hyde-Jones piped up, “I feel the release of the god is more important.”
“We will do both at the same time,” Vincent said. “The traditional memorial dance is coming up in a few weeks. Hermia has informed me that they have found a way to move the shadows from the gym, so it will be hosted there instead of the dining hall. This conduit we spoke of will once again connect the space to the god’s prison.”
