When the cloud that swallowed Liza vanishes, she’s a petrified white statue again, her leg raised in mid-run. Her eyes are ripped wide in fear, still moving frantically inside the hard shell. My heart is about to collapse under the weight of pain and grief. I’m helpless. I couldn’t protect Liza, I can’t protect my family and the girl I love, and I swear that’s the worst type of pain. Since I was tiny and my brother died, I’d been raised to be this family’s soldier. I was told I was Mama’s last male warrior.But without that, I’m nothing. I’m too ashamed to look at Emma and my family, so I stare at the witch’s gold frames and the clouds on the blue walls. I curl my hand into a fist. I want to murder Sabine for doing this… and for hurting my people for generations.
But she’s nailed my feet to the tile again.
Sabine smirks. “In the next round, you must follow my rules completely. Or…” She pushes Liza’s statue over, and it crumbles into chunks and dust.
“NOOO!” I shout.
“Or”—Sabine grins—“this will be your mothers.”
My heart is a drum in my chest. I see the sorrow and defeat in Big-Mama’s eyes. Emma sobs next to me. I feel like even less of a man for being unable to protect them. I feel a surge of fiery anger erupt inside me. I want blood.No. Revenge.
I try to move forward. Sabine stands smiling, her curly hair whipping wildly. The wind stirs even harder and knocks me down.
Sabine laughs. The wind howls. But I refuse to give up, the heat of anger and determination boiling inside my veins. I grip onto the tile, my knuckles turning white, and I push myself up on all fours, determined to get justice for Liza and defend those I love. I close my eyes and silently plead to both God and my ancestors for strength. In this battle for freedom. Or death.
I refuse to go out without a fight. And somehow, I’m on my feet. Charging at Sabine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENEmma BaldwinGRAND BELLE ISLAND, 1860
My heart thuds as Malcolm speeds toward Sabine, his jaw and fist clenched tightly and his hazel eyes ablaze with justifiable fury. My vision goes fuzzy. The room stutters, twists, and warps like a funhouse mirror. The checkerboard floor stretches into black-and-white streaks, and the statues of slave children morph and blur together in horrifying ways. Everything flickers and shifts. I look toward my family members, bound to their chairs, horrified as their brown flesh stretches and darkens.
As my vision twists and swirls, Sabine’s figure fades. Malcolm blends with the distorted room, his body darkening to a silhouette before getting lost in a sinister forest of shadows. Some stretch and elongate into twisted, gnarled trees that materialize from thin air.
My heart stampedes, and my eyes blink rapidly. I struggle to stay grounded as the world becomes a nightmarish wood. The sky is dark and ominous. Thunder roars. I flinch and stumble over fallen branches. With a thump, I land on the damp ground. Chilly rain slaps my cheeks. Wet soil and rotting leaves surround me. When I push myself to a standing position, the ground is squishy, like decaying flesh.
Tall dark trees cast eerie shadows as they loom all around me. Twisted branches reach down like knobby fingers. Drops soak me. My breath comes out in pants. I’m alone. Malcolm, my family, everyone is gone. An icy spider of fear creeps up my spine. I look for familiar landmarks, but I only find vines, more trees, and undergrowth that’s perfect for killers to hide corpses in.
I’m lost.
Sabine’s cackling laugh echoes over the treetops, sending chills through my body. I look for her, but she’s nowhere to be found. Still, her voice echoes on the wind.
“Round two,” she booms out. Her voice shakes the damp leaves and branches as icy rain falls, but she’s nowhere in sight. “Try not to get caught,” she adds. “The Tether hungers for blood. Play well, little ones—or watch Mommy shed hers.”
How can I choose between saving my mom and hurting my first love?
I look up at the full moon, raindrops mixing with the tears on my face. Glowing spiderwebs cast a magenta light in the forest. I walk onto a path, my feet sinking into wet mushy moss and crunching, dying leaves.
Goose bumps prickle up along my arms when I hear a sudden scratching sound.
Scritch scritch…
Something soft slinks by my ankle—something warm and furry that crawls across my foot.Scritch scritch…
Ewww! Is that…?“Ahhh!A rat!”
I kick violently. The black creature slams into the bark of a nearby tree and runs off into the dark, rustling the underbrush.
My wet arms shiver. “What am I supposed to do?” I scream at the rainy sky. “What do you want from me?”
Reflective stones shimmer with golden light.
“Trust no one,” Sabine’s voice purrs.
The cracked stones shine with visions of a brutal past—my ancestors, brows glistening with sweat, charging into battle, swords raised high. Blood splatters. Bodies fall into the dust. Many of the warriors have proud dimpled smiles like my brother’s and eyes like mine. Too many brokenpeople lie twisted and lifeless in pools of red. The Tethers of their times are violent, overwhelming—this is the violence expected of me.And Malcolm.
I’m terrified that being forced to play will lead me to the bloody fate of the many fighters before me. I grip the wet roughness of the bark of a tree. “Am I ready for this?” I ask the shadows.
The light in the rocks beams brighter as raindrops stick to my eyelashes.
