Chapter
Fifty-Two
I stop dead,so abruptly that Donovan runs into my back. His body is warm and solid, and that familiar sense of electricity quakes through me. It’s more intense this time, like a miniature bolt of lightning.
And lightning, of course, can kill.
“What’s the matter?” he whispers, his voice gentle. Caring.
I can’t lose him. But, oh God, I’m sure I’m going to.
“We can’t go into that meadow, Donovan. Whatever’s waiting for us there isn’t dinner,” I say, thinking of how the musicians played as the blood tide devoured us. “It’s something else, something terrible. Please believe me.”
I turn, peering up at him, and see the conflicting emotions at war in his eyes. He wants to listen to me, I can tell. But my curse is working on him, pulling him in the opposite direction. Before, when he told me he’d believe in magic if I said it existed,. I wasn’t asking him to directly buy into one of my premonitions. But this…this is different. Still, maybe Donovan’s trust in me, the fact that he told me he’d step outside the lines of everything he ever counted on for me…
“Please,” I whisper, gripping his sleeve. “You promised.”
Donovan’s mouth twists, as if he’s in pain. His muscles bunch, like he’s battling an unseen foe. And for a moment, I dare to hope he’ll win.
But then his eyes glaze over. “Don’t be silly, Rune,” he says. “There’s music, just like Rosa said. There’ll be some decent food—and I’m starving, after everything that happened today.” He leans down, lowering his voice so that Rosa, who’s stopped a few steps ahead of us, can’t hear. “We’ll have dinner with Ethan and everyone else, so whoever’s involved in his little scheme doesn’t get suspicious, okay? And then we’ll get some jumper cables from Rosa, see if your car’s cool, pack up, and get out of here. No one will ever be the wiser.”
“No,” I say, clutching his sleeve desperately. “Donovan, you promised to believe me. We can’t go to that dinner. We’ll hike out of here if we have to. Please don’t go. If you do, you’ll die.” My voice breaks on the last word.
He detaches himself from my grip, the motion automatic, as if an external force is controlling him somehow. As if he’s at the mercy of a puppeteer. Which, I realize in horror, is true. My curse is acting on him, driving him toward the meadow even as I beg him not to go.
And I…I have no choice but to follow.
I stand, frozen, wondering what to do. Maybe I should stay here. After all,in my premonition, we were together. If I don’t show up, maybe that will be enough to change what happens. Maybe Ethan needs me there to do whatever must be done.
Or…or maybe I’m being ridiculous. Pachelbel’s Canon is a common piece of music, after all. Musicians play it at any number of occasions. Maybe thisisjust a dinner, in which case I’m making a huge fuss over nothing. I’ll draw attention to myself, and people will notice, and I’ll somehow bring about the very fate I’m trying to prevent.
Donovan’s caught up to Rosa now, and she turns, looking back at me over her shoulder. “Are you coming, Rune? The food’s divine! Sundried tomato pasta salad and olive tapenade and mango salsa with homemade tortilla chips. It’s to die for. Wait ’til you see!”
Her expression is open, guileless. Expectant. Next to her, Donovan is practically vibrating with eagerness. “God, I’m so hungry,” he says. “Rune, what are you waiting for?”
It’s to die foris an expression, I tell myself.An unfortunate one, but an expression all the same. Get it together, Rune.“Nothing,” I tell Donovan. “Nothing at all.” And I stride after him.
With every step I take, the music grows louder and the air seems thicker, harder to move through—as if it’s not air at all, but some other substance. The crimson tide of my premonitions, maybe. I swear I can smell the coppery tinge of blood on the breeze. But maybe I’m just losing it, because Donovan and Rosa walk along, happy as you please. Rosa is practically skipping.
“And here we are!” she announces happily as we round the corner. “Take a look!”
I do. And then I gasp, my heart picking up speed until it threatens to choke me.
The meadow spreads out before us, edged by live oaks hung with Spanish moss. Along one side are tables heaped with food. White folding chairs filled with people flank an aisle that leads to a white-flowered arbor. And next to it, on a red-brick patio, is the string quartet.
It’s an exact replica of the premonition of our wedding. Except I’m not wearing a dress, and Donovan’s not in a tux. But otherwise, the scene is identical, right down to the scent of honeysuckle, drifting atop the unmistakable tang of blood.
Oh, God. What have I allowed to happen? “We have to get out of here,” I say to Donovan, stumbling backward—right intoRosa, who steadies me with a hand on my shoulder. “We have to go.” Maybe if I phrase it as something other than a premonition, he’ll listen to me. “I think I have, um, appendicitis,” I babble, grasping desperately at straws. “I need to go to the hospital. Please, Donovan, let’s just leave?—”
He turns toward me, puzzlement stamped clear on his features, just as Ethan rises from one of the folding chairs. “Our guests of honor have arrived!” he announces, grinning widely. “Everyone give a big hand to Rune and Donovan!”
As one, the seated guests swivel to look at us and then begin to clap. Their hands move in eerie unison, the synchronized sound echoing through the meadow. It’s freakish, and when I peer more closely at them, a shudder ripples through me.
Seated in the white folding chairs, their expressions dazed and their hands clapping in synchrony, are people I know—people who have no business being here. Mrs. Fontaine. Mrs. Grant. Mrs. Hernandez. Ella Campbell. Jenny. Charlotte. D’Andre. Gracie Liu. Mrs. Garcia. Dave Cassady. And about fifty residents of Sapphire Springs I recognize, just from growing up in town.
What are they doing here? And why are they all acting like stunned, complicit robots?
I open my mouth to ask, but Donovan beats me to it. “What do you mean, your guests of honor?” he says, eyeing Ethan. “I thought this was a retreat dinner. Why are all those people here? And why is everyone acting so peculiar? Exactly what the hell is going on?”
