When Devils Sing(102)

“The crossroads,” Neera said. “They’re taking them to the crossroads.”

“Do you know how many crossroads there are in this county?” Reid started. “At least—”

“Not just any crossroads, Reid,” Isaiah interrupted, recognition crossing his face. “The original. From the William Langley legend—from your ancestor’s legend.”

“We’d need a map of Old Carrion to know where that is,” Reid said, still defeated.

“I know where one is,” Neera said.

Without waiting for them to follow, Neera was out of the cooler and crossing Blind Bucks with hurried steps. Isaiah and Reid caught up behind her as she pushed open the front door. She led them around the building, to the side, where Ajay’s mural was painted across the wall.

Neera pointed up, to the map of Old Carrion drawn clear as day for them to see, even in the pouring rain. Painted beneath the cicadas and peach trees, there was the original crossroads.

“Where is that now?” Isaiah asked.

Reid replied, “In the heart of Lake Clearwater.”





CHAPTER 43ISAIAH




21 HOURS


The trio were now gathered in the tractor shed on the Johnson farm as the storm continued outside, mirroring Isaiah’s own anxieties. He turned on a battery-powered lamp, sending long shadows across the old wood floor. Neera studied the whiteboard that he and Reid had been working on, while Reid paced the length of the room.

“We can’t be long out here or Grandma Bee’s gonna think something’s wrong,” Isaiah said.

“But there is something wrong,” Reid countered.

“Yeah, but it’s not like we can explain any of this to her,” Isaiah said. “Jesus, Reid. I’m not trying to give my grandmother a heart attack.”

Reid argued, “I never said—”

“Guys, can we focus, please,” Neera snapped, tapping her finger loudly on the whiteboard. She’d just finished scrawling a simplistic map of Lake Clearwater onto it.

“What’s the point? We’re fucked.” Reid crouched on the floor in a frustrated huff. “How’re we meant to rescue anyone if they’re in the dead center of the lake—for everyone in Lake Clearwater to see? They’ll see us coming and going a mile away.”

Isaiah wasn’t one for dramatics, but even he didn’t see an immediate solution. The original crossroads of Carrion sat on one of Lake Clearwater’s many islands in the middle of the lake. There was nowhere to hide, nor blend in. They’d be spotted as soon as they hit the water. “He has a point.”

“Why can’t we go right now?” Neera asked, her voice taut. “It’s pouring rain. It’s night. How will anyone see?”

“The lake’s crawling with Sheriff Buckley’s police cruisers,” Reid said. “Gearing up for the Fourth.”

“Oh,” Neera said.

“We’re too late,” Reid said, quickly growing deflated before Isaiah’s eyes. “It’s over.”

Isaiah shook his head, not willing to succumb to Reid’s negativity. “What if we’re not too late, though? What if we’re right on time?”

Reid arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“I’m saying,” Isaiah began, “what if we save everyone during tomorrow’s festivities? Is that an option?”

Reid sighed. “I’m not following.”

Isaiah made an explosive gesture with his hands. “The Fourth, Reid. All the people, the fireworks. The lake’s gonna be swarming with boats and tourists. Who will notice us then?”

“There’s gonna be a concert tomorrow night, too,” Neera said, writing those details onto the board. “I’m supposed to perform.”

Reid went still. “That’s true. We could make our move while people are distracted.”

Neera’s eyes lit up. “Not only distracted, but bewitched.”

“Huh?” Isaiah asked, eyebrows furrowing. “What’re you talking about?”

“Oh, shit. I get it,” Reid said slowly. “Neera’s music.”

Isaiah looked between them. “I’m not following.”

“Come on, dude,” Reid said. “You heard Neera play at the Cicada’s Song. It was weird. Creepy, even. It was like I was feeling exactly what she was singing about.”

Isaiah remembered Neera’s song, albeit hazily. The whole performance had felt like a dream in a way he wasn’t yet ready to contend with. “I’m not gonna ask how that’s possible.”

Neera looked to the floor. “I’ll tell you about it if we survive tomorrow.”

Isaiah smiled grimly. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“When I get on that stage tomorrow and perform,” Neera said, “you two are gonna save the day. But this isn’t gonna work unless I get back in Grant’s good graces.”

Isaiah said, “I like the idea, but we need to figure out specifics. Logistics. There’s so much we don’t know.”

Reid nodded, pulling Dawson’s journal from his pocket. “Maybe there’s more details in here about this ritual that could help us.”

Neera peeled away from the whiteboard, then knelt beside Reid, reading the journal with him in silence. There was only the rain falling on the tin roof and the wind howling through the pine trees. It was Isaiah’s turn to pace then. He ambled around the small shed, taking inventory of everything they’d learned. Despite what he’d already seen with his own eyes, his rational mind couldn’t believe the idea of coordinated kidnappings. Of a sacrificial ritual. Of devils made flesh.