This time, Bamba welcomed the voice.
“I do,” she whispered.
CAN YOU PAY THE PRICE?
Thunder shook the sky, arrows of lightning arching inside the network of clouds. Bubbles formed under the murky water she knelt in. A small body rose to the surface, face down in the pond. A dead child.
Bamba’s body finally defeated her self-control, and she retched again.
“What do you want?”
YOUR BLOODLINE FOR THEIRS. YOUR LEGACY FOR THEIR LIVES.
A rush of images flooded Bamba. Her back bent backward with the weight of the visions. Lineage after lineage severed. Families ended and uprooted. She would spin the destiny of thousands right into the greedy maw of the nothingness before her. In exchange, her own lineage would never end.
“What happens if they don’t pay the price?” What if somewhere in her lineage, a weak seed sprouted in their garden?
IF YOUR DEBT IS NOT PAID, YOUR BLOOD WILL BE FORFEIT.
Breath icy in her lungs, Bamba stared at the dark shape. A small part of her recognized this offer for what it was. She had seen enough of the devil’s handiwork to see through his bargains. This offer would permanently tie her bloodline to the altar of this day, to this very moment.
But she wouldhavea bloodline.
Bamba offered one slow nod.
“I want to be someone,” Bamba said softly. “Whoever it costs.”
THEN SOMEONE YOU WILL BECOME.
The world exploded in a wash of blue as a bolt of lightning struck Bamba. Liquid fire raced through her.
A second bolt of lightning engulfed Bamba’s mouth in rust. She was expelling her human weaknesses, the tender morsels of humanity she’d let the world prey on. No more. She was iron and fire. Burning. Molting.
It was the strangest thing. As Bamba’s blood was tainted, doomed to pass from generation to generation of Haikal children, the rancid taste of death stung her throat.
And for the briefest instant, the lightning scorching inside her illuminated a curly-haired young girl in slippers and unusual clothes, staring at Bamba.
The bell rings as the door swings open, blowing a gust of frigid air into the diner.
Loud conversation overlays the click of utensils against chipped ceramic plates. The back fryer hisses and sizzles. The smell of grease and melted cheese permeates the small space, sinking into the overstuffed vinyl booths pushed up against half-shuttered windows. Rain slides in rivulets down the glass, its gentle taps the only consistent sound in the cacophony.
“No better place to read the entries of a haunted journal than the Grease & Grind,” Jesse remarks dryly.
“They have free refills on coffee and tea here,” I mutter.
“The coffee is cinnamon-flavored sewage.”
“Shhh.” I point to the dented metal carafe single-handedly restoring my will to live. “She can hear you.”
Jesse rolls his eyes.
Despite the early hour and the overwhelming smell of cheese, Jesse manages to draw the attention of half the girls who walk through the doors. I can’t blame them. Were I not currently bottling a scream worthy of tearing through the earth’s stratosphere, I’d probably take a second look at Jesse, too.
It’s funny, in a bitterly ironic way—Jesse tries so hard to repel attention,but everything about him commands its own gravitational force. The oversized, tattered leather jacket molded around his broad shoulders. The windswept silk of his black hair, long strands falling onto his forehead and the bridge of his crooked nose. The permanent smirk on his full lips, probably stamped there the day he was born. He slings his arm over the back of the booth, sprawling with a casual confidence I couldn’t pull off if I lived to be a hundred. His legs are set apart, one knee crooked to the side while the other leg stretches into my side of the booth.
I glare over the brim of my mug and kick his boot back to his territory.
Seeing how these girls react to Jesse just reminds me of how ardently he opposes any sense of attachment to Ward. He didn’thaveto be the school loner. Sure, he might be abrasive and sarcastic and a little too intense, but he could have found his people. And if not, his looks could have won him entry into pretty much any social circle at Canyon High.
