Grandmère looks at a raven perched outside the window. Her voice trembles as she speaks of enduring racism, the curse of the Tether on this family, and the weight of all our family’s trauma. “I’ve always tried to shield you from the worst of it.” She leans forward, her hand stroking mine. “And I’ll protect you from this too.”
Rain pours down on me. I am freezing as I stare at this vision in therocks that makes me recoil internally. The thought of my memories being taken without consent, of seeing it, twists my gut. I want to lash out, but no one is here in these rain-soaked woods. And in the glowing rocks, my limp, sagging, and useless body lies on the bed, the victim of Grandmère and her magic.
My grandmother has violated me, stolen from me. I wonder what other memories she’s taken. In the vision, she strokes my hand. “My precious little bird,” she says, tears welling in her eyes. It makes me want to scream.
“Now you’ll be happy again,” Grandmère says to my passed-out body. “You will forget any anger or resentment. You will forget seeing Grace die. You will believe you had an accident, a bad fall, and that some memories are lost and we didn’t reach Grace in time. You will feel healed, eager to perform at the circus, and grateful for me and your family.”
My limp body shoots up to sitting. My eyes flutter, and I sputter, “G- grateful.” Uncontrolled laughter seems to bubble up from me as I sit on the bed. “Family,” I say.
“You will heal and find peace,” Grandmère insists.
My bottom lip trembles as I fidget on the bed, mumbling, “Heal, peace.”
Grandmère sighs heavily. “Be strong. The world is dangerous for a child of your complexion because it vilifies everything Black. Your ancestors clawed their way up from dirty cane fields to get you here.” She gestures to the opulent decor around us. “They fought and died to give you the freedom you now take for granted. And the ancestors worked tirelessly to give you the life you have been thinking of ending. There will be no more of that. So get up and make us proud.”
My head nods, drool trailing from the corner of my lip down to my chin. “Make proud,” I repeat.
Rage rises up inside of me as I look at this moment that was stolen from me. And by who? My own family.
Grandmère smiles softly. “Good girl, Emma. If you ever uncover what I had to do here, ever find the memories I’ve stolen, know I did it out of love. My precious little bird, ignorance is the only thing that can protect you from yourself. And shield you from death in the Tether. My actions may not be agreeable, but they’ve kept our family safe.”
I walk away from my grandmother’s image in the stones. I can’t handle any more betrayal. My blood is like bubbling lava, my skin hot to the touch as I move through the dark, rainy woods. I trip over twisting roots, landing in wet leaves with a thud. I push myself to my feet as vines and brambles snake around my ankles, their grips tightening as I try to walk forward. Despite my efforts to yank them off, the thorns claw deeper into my skin. My heart races as nearby rocks on the ground glow with a new vision.
The full moon casts its silvery glow over the dark waters of the bayou, while a clock chimes in the distance, its sound echoing across a black shoreline lined with dark, shimmering sand. The sound of water lapping against a dock fills the air as a girl with long auburn hair tied up in gold ribbons strolls along the beach. She pauses, her fringed dress billowing in the breeze. Suddenly, Sabine appears, running toward the girl and wrapping her arms around her. She kisses her cheek. I can only see her back, but the girl’s dress looks out of place in this setting as they talk.
Sabine smooths her fiery red bun, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Well, what news do you bring?” she asks. The teenage girl turns slightly. My heart shrivels at the sight of her face—ice-blue eyes, a thin upturned nose, and full lips framed by bouncy auburn hair. She now has blond hair, but her familiar, stunning features are unmistakable.
Ariella.
Frozen in shock, I struggle to comprehend the truth unfolding before me. Eyes wide, mouth open, I can hardly breathe. Ariella works for Sabine? Betrayal and confusion soak my body like the rain I’m trapped in.
I can’t tear my eyes away or seem to understand what I’m seeing.
“The report is the same,” Ariella huffs, the breeze waving through her hair. “Emma is weak, clueless. All she cares about is that boy. She won’t survive your Tether. And she’ll take him down with her.”
Anger ricochets through me. My fists clench until my nails dig into my palms. I can’t believe it. Ariella, my so-called friend, the one I confide in, the one who said us girls need to stick together, has betrayed me. She’s as bad as my family.
Rain falls into my eyes, making me blink. The vines tighten even more, slithering up and gripping my arms and legs like snakes. Their thorns cutinto my skin with a searing burn. Panic swallows me as a thorny vine tightens around my neck. I claw at it, gasping for air, the stench of mud and decay filling my lungs. A terrifying realization dawns on me: Ariella, my family, everyone I thought I trusted, they all knew I was as good as dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTEmma BaldwinGRAND BELLE ISLAND, 1860
I flail in the woods as more vines tighten around my neck, soft bursts of sound bubbling in my ears. Darkness creeps along the edges of my vision as I pant, squirming and clawing at the vines—at least the ones I can reach. I’m desperate for air. The world around me thickens, turning bloody and midnight at the corners. Dark, wavy trees blur into a hazy black.
“Emma!” Malcolm’s voice cuts through the darkness.
My lashes part, and I see his hazel eyes, wide with fear, as he dashes toward me. My vision fuzzes. Malcolm’s strong arms push through shimmery, grasping vines and tall trees as he rushes closer. Thorns and prickly leaves dig into my neck, hips—everywhere.
Malcolm tears the vines from my throat.
Coughing and gasping for air, I sputter, “Th-thank you.”
Malcolm keeps ripping and yanking, fighting the slick, glistening vines to free me from nature’s prison, tearing up his hands in the process.
I want to be grateful for life, for salvation, but a gash has been sliced through the armor of my soul. I don’t want these visions or this evil woodto defeat me. But I fear my family is right—I’m not cut out for this. How long can I count on Malcolm to save me?
I don’t want to believe the visions I saw in the stones, but they felt real. I hope they were a trick, just a ploy from the Tether to divide me from my loved ones.
Malcolm frees my right leg, but vines snake up it again. He gets closer, trying to free my chest and waist. He yanks, and with a snap, the vines rip off my chest. My breaths come out in gasps as tears and raindrops wet my face. I look at the tattered vines in the dirt. “Thank you,” I say again, grabbing him and sobbing against him. He hesitates, then wraps his arms around me.
