No, I don’t owe my brother the truth. But the lies gnaw at me, sharp as a lion’s teeth sinking into my throat.
As the Bentley glides through the busy streets of New Orleans in 1922, I stare at the moon and flash a defiant grin. The city is a steamy cauldron of scents, sounds, and secrets that boils me like a voodoo queen’s gumbo. My confidential meeting backstage stirs in my head, along with a bubbling curiosity when I think of Malcolm Davenport’s crooked smile…
I could use him as a resource. If he’s serious about wanting to avoid “mutually assured destruction,” maybe I could use him to help me figure out if there’s a loophole or an escape hatch that could help me—us—avoid the Tether.Can I trust him?Probably not. But if he wanted to make me a corpse, he could have tried to do it when we were alone backstage. Besides, his life is on the line too.
If Malcolm were any other boy, I would have thought he seemed kind, even charming. But I don’t trust his last name. I’d been awestruck by Malcolm’s show, by the joy his family gave their audience. Why kill Malcolm, that beautiful boy with a crooked smile as bright as the city’s lights? Why fight him and risk him killing me? I’ll take any risk to end this curse. But fear rises, relentless and filling me with dread of the future and how it will affect my family.
Demetri switches lanes, his golden-brown skin illuminated by the dim glow of streetlights. As I look at him, I know there’s only one way I’d everbe a part of this Tether: if it meant protecting my family. I can’t bury another family member. No matter how much my relatives drive me crazy, I’d fight to protect them. I just don’t want to die for a stupid game. But for Demetri, I’m scared of what I might do and who I could hurt. If it means defending me or my brother… the world better watch out.
Demetri’s brows are in a worried line. I’d love to tell him I’m gonna meet Malcolm in two days—to get the necklace that Grace gave me back and try to figure out a path toward ending the Tether. But he and my family would try to stop me. So instead, I struggle to sound unbothered as I talk about other things. But the closer we get to the house, the bigger the knot of anxiety in my stomach grows. I ask, “Do you think they figured out I went with you?”
“Obviously,” Demetri scoffs. “They’re not fools, and you’re not invisible, Emma.” His tone is full of irritation and worry. He’s concerned about facing our family too. He’s the oldest, so he probably thinks he’ll be blamed for me tagging along.
Tension and the perfume of the city: Beignets, spices, gator blood, and the cinnamon smell of magic hang in the air like mist.
Streetlamps wash the cobblestone streets in a warm, yellow glow, casting dancing shadows on strangers walking by. Loud, carefree laughter chimes. Elegant women sashay by in flapper dresses. Finger waves and feathers adorn their hair, and ribbons cascade down their backs, bouncing joyfully with each step. Men strut past with an air of mystery, fedoras casting shadows over their eyes, their double-breasted suits crisp and fitted with pristine trousers that extend over polished shoes. Cigar smoke. Bessie Smith’s song “Baby Won’t You Please Come Home” sends a sad bluesy tune flowing from a nearby cabaret.
A smiling woman wearing a crystal-beaded dress smooths a blond bob with tapered layers as she steps off the curb in red Mary Jane shoes. She crosses the street in front of us and passionately kisses a man in a dark suit and matching bowler hat on the corner. It must be nice to have a real romance. Real freedom. I wish I could dance to the music spilling out of bars and talk to the people around me, learn their stories, share my own. But my lips and feet are stilled by the curse that plagues my family.
People smile all around us as we drive by. The past is an ocean. A breathing current, merging with the people here enjoyingtheirpresent, all blending into the ocean of time. But I’m drowning in worry for the future. The brewing hurricane of seeing my family after defying their orders—and worse, facing the deadly tidal wave of the Tether.
My chest aches with a nervous tightness that intensifies as we get closer to home. My family will make this homecoming a homegoing. But I would have been a fool not to sneak to Philadelphia to see what I am up against. The Davenports are my biggest threat, and now I know that Malcolm is the one I am supposed to battle in the Tether and I’ve had a peek at his power before being forced to fight. Mom won’t understand. I can almost hear her fussing at me: “You’re too impulsive, Emma. Lately, you’re always breaking the rules.” She might be right, but I still ain’t trying to hear it. I couldn’t let my brother face the Davenports alone. No matter how annoying Demetri is, I love him and our dysfunctional family. But despite the risk, I’m still going to meet Malcolm in two days. I need the necklace Grace gave me. I can’t let go of the only piece of her left to hold on to. And hopefully, he and I can find a way out of this deadly Tether while we’re both on the right side of the dirt.
Demetri and I arrive at home. After parking, we head past beautiful women clad in afros and black-fringed dresses, sporting shiny guns. I wish these security guards could protect me from my family’s anger, but they only shield us from unrelated threats.
We step inside, and the door swings shut behind us. I glance up at the constellations and gold stars painted on the blue oval ceiling above the ornate crystal chandelier in the hallway, as if the ceiling will have the words needed to calm my family. I exhale, taking in the towering columns between the windows and the serpentine staircase, while quietly rehearsing the excuses I’ll use to defend my actions.
“Where were you, Emma?” Grandmère Clair’s voice thunders, echoing as she descends the black marble stairs. “Philadelphia?” She pushes a thread of her silver bob behind her ear with one hand, while the other grips a crystal flute of bubbly pink champagne. Reaching the bottom of thestairs, she glares at me from the other end of the hall. She has the golden-brown beauty of an ancient angel. “You missed your first training session!” she yells.
An avenging angel.
Shadowed by rage, she stands imposingly in the place where fog started rolling over the dark marble floor when I was Tethered.
She looks as ominous as the haze that Tethered me. She shifts in a black catsuit, a huge gold belt with a crescent moon at its center slung across her waist. “Curiosity didn’t kill the cat. Disobedience did,” she mutters. Grandmère Clair looks at me like a predator deciding if I’m worth the chase.
I gulp.
This time, the look isn’t followed by a hug and a warm forgiving grin.
Grandmère’s bloodred lips form an angry slash. She advances slowly. “You have no idea what’s at stake if you keep taking stupid risks. Missing practice will cause you to lose the Tether. And your life.”
“I-I’m sorry,” I sputter, looking down at the floor. My whole body has gone cold at her words. “But—”
“It’s my fault!” Demetri says in a shaky voice. He steps forward, extending his hand toward our grandmother. He caresses the wrinkles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “Gran, I was nervous, uneasy, about the scouting mission, and I asked Emma to be my backup. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He hangs his head, looking sad and guilty.
My mouth widens with shock. I never expected my brother to cover for me. Grandmère’s sigh is disappointed instead of angry. She believes him. Hell, Demetri’s words and mannerisms are so persuasive that he darn near convinced me.
“Y-yes,” I stutter. “H-he needed me.” I throw my brother a grateful look, silently thanking him for his quick response. For once, I actually appreciate being from a family of liars.
Gran lowers her glance to the champagne flute as she swirls the fizzy pink liquid it holds. My stomach sours, a knot of guilt expanding in my chest. Demetri lifts his eyebrows in amusement. He wiggles them at me, before giving me a dimpled smile. I try not to laugh when I mouth,I owe you one.
You sure do,he mouths back.
Grandmère Clair sips her drink. “Nevertheless”—her eyes bob between us—“being ill-prepared for the Tether means being doomed to be crushed by it.”
“We’ll make sure she’s ready,” Demetri vows. “Don’t worry, Gran.”
“Do I seem worried?” She huffs. “Those who are experienced have little to worry about.” Her shoulders relax, and she grins at my brother. But Grandmère’s smile doesn’t reach her hooded eyes. This discussion is far from over. When I think about how she clawed my hand until it was full of bloody crescent moons during her party, I dread what is to come.
