“When we first came here, Hildegard and I, we weren’t alone,” Bach said. “Hildegard brought another of her offspring. He called himself Ludwig. She banished him once for threatening Sam, and he’s tried before to come back. He’s back now, and he left this for us. He knows you.”
“How do I know this is true, and you didn’t make it up to cover yourself—burn your own door to make me believe?”
“Believe that I wouldn’t hurt or lie to you unless Sammy ordered it, and he’s not going to lie to you about a firestarter he wants removed.” Bach’s voice was a rumble of thunder. “Ludwig is very real. He knows who you are. He knows your friends. He knows your reputation in this town. Because he’s fought you before. He’s been here before.”
I ran through the list of firestarters I’d gotten rid of myself and the ones I’d helped Mom with. It wasn’t a long list, but none of them had named themselves the way Bach had. Or they all named themselves and I never waited around long enough to find out what their nameswere.
“When?” I asked. “When was the last time he was here?”
“Almost a year ago,” Bach replied, and my heart sank before he finished his sentence. “He was the one who took your fingers.”
17
Idrove away from Forester House in a daze. Rain pelted the windshield.
Bach was going to talk to Hermit Forester; with such a public display of firestarter powers, even more attention would return to the murders thirty years ago, and he was sure that kind of pressure would make Forester agree to help me. I wasn’t normally big on taking help from murderers, but I didn’t have many other options.
Alone in the Chevelle, with the rain drowning out my voice, I said, “Hey, Mom, if you were thinking about coming back, now would be a great time.”
Ludwig knew who I was. He’d been just another firestarter to me. Last year I’d found him almost by accident, patrollingaround the Denfords’ cornfield because Artemis had mentioned to me in passing that she’d felt a little weird there the night before. Ludwig’s entrance had been inside one of the Denfords’ barns, and he’d been camped out near it, probably just come through. He hadn’t even had time to kill anyone or possess a body. I’d gone after him with only my axe, because he seemed so small and weak, and I was so angry all the time I never stopped to think.
He found out pretty fast he couldn’t burn me, so instead he caught my hand and ripped my fingers off.
I still had my left hand to hold the axe, and adrenaline or fear or some combination helped me get his head off and throw it through his entrance, but not before the field caught on fire. They saved the barn. I went back only once, six months later, to retrieve Dad’s wood axe where it had fallen in the weeds by the barn door. I ran away that night and hid behind Happy Hal’s, curled up on myself and close to tears.
Now he was back. He’d already killed once. He’d taken a host, if he was at the parade today. He’d threatened Hal, and by extension, everyone I cared about. Mom had not prepared me for this.
Dad and Sadie were already there when I got home. Dad yanked me inside, pulled off my hood, and snapped, “Where have you been?”
My legs quivered. “I—I followed Bach—he ran from thescene and I thought he might—he didn’t do anything, but I thought I’d check.”
Dad ran a hand over his face. Behind him, Sadie crossed her arms. “People saw you running. They think you had something to do with it. You and Bach both.”
“Is Hal okay?”
“He’s in the hospital. He got some nasty burns, but he’ll live.”
I put my head in my hands. I almost poked myself in the eye with my thick plastic pinkie, so I tore my gloves off and then my prosthetics. Sweat coated my hands. My finger stumps ached. I pressed the heels of my palms into my closed eyes and gritted my teeth to keep from making any sound.
“You’ll have to stay home until this blows over,” Dad said. “You can’t just go running off like that, after everything that’s happened, the way this town thinks about us now. It’s too dangerous, and you’re only giving them more ammunition.”
My molars squeaked. He was tellingmethis? He was tellingmehow the town would react to this, as if he’d been the one who had to live with the ramifications of what he did instead of us? As if he’d been here for the past three years?
“I’m fine,” I said, not caring that no one had asked. I shucked my boots off and stomped to the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the shower, hugging my knees to my chest. The water was already turned off, andtwo long wet strings of hair dripped between my feet. I wished I could have kept the water running so no one would hear the sounds I made and come knocking at the door, but wasting anything was a sin in this house.
The only knock came after ten minutes, and Dad said from the other side, “You okay?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Just want to be alone.”
“Chief Rivera is here. She wants to speak to you.”
I toweled dry and put on my sweatpants and my ratty Apocalyptic Seagulls Midwest Tour T-shirt, then crept out to meet the chief in the living room, dripping on our doormat. She had me recount everything I did up to the parade, during, and where I’d gone afterward. I didn’t detail my conversation with Bach, just said that he denied doing it. When I was finished, she put a hand on my arm and said, “Thank you, Zora. Hang in there. We’ll find who’s doing this.”
She left, and I slipped back to the bedroom before Dad or Sadie could lay into me again. I curled up at the head of the bed, which now smelled a bit like Dad, and opened my phone.
Artemis had already texted me.
