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“Mercy…”

“Tonight.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Ezra.”

“Come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Her face crumples. “They’ll follow.”

“Let them.”

“But they need me.”

“For what?”

She looks toward the field. “The Harvest.”

I hit the dirt on my knees as I'm thrust back into the present–from the past.

Fuck. I can’t tell anymore. My head feels like it's splitting open.

I remember. I fucking remember.

Eleanor. I took her. I wrapped her beneath my coat, rode north before sunset and left her with Mercy’s aunt three towns away. I told no one. Not Rhett or Malakai. Not one fucking soul.

Then I came back because I promised Mercy I would. Because I was an idiot. Because I loved her. Not the way I want Sage. It’s different. Older somehow despite being younger.

Mercy was woven through all three of us. Our friend, our trouble–our family before we understood family could be chosen…. and we failed her.

The drums start again and I lift my head.

The Communion ground is full but the people aren’t from 1791 anymore.

Halloween costumes. Modern clothes. Hundreds of guests who pour between the corn. Laughing, dancing, kissing. Hands everywhere.

A woman tips her head back while someone pours wine into her mouth, letting it spill down her neck. Another grabs an apple from the table and bites. Red juice runs down her chin. Too red.

A man tears meat from a bone with his teeth. Someone screams and everyone laughs.

Music pounds from somewhere I can’t see.

“Stop.” I command but nobody hears me.

The Revel.

No… more than the Revel—Communion.

The old and new layered together.

A woman dances barefoot across the table crushing the plates with her feet. Glass, food and blood smears across the wood while people cheer. She doesn’t notice when any of the glass cuts her.

A scarecrow walks through them all and nobody screams. Its wooden post drags behind it. Black dress and red ribbon.