When Devils Sing(107)

I have to get this right.

“It’s time,” Russ said as Jimmy Jones walked onto the stage with his banjo in hand.

The Langleys quietly split off from the rest of the party’s attendees, slipping away into the woods on the island like wraiths at dusk, while Reid feared what he would find awaiting them.





CHAPTER 47SAM





At the end of her life, Sam never expected to hear music, of all things. Not just any music, but a performance happening close by, the banjo notes ringing through the air. The final concert of summer. Was Neera there? Would she perform?

Will she save me?

Sam shook the thought away. No one was coming to save her; she felt the truth of it in her bones.

This was it.

Footsteps sounded behind Sam, heavy and slow. She craned her neck to see more people emerging from the surrounding woods carrying lanterns, torches, and buckets. They were dressed as if attending a typical Clearwater party, their clothing bright and gaudy. An anxious, terrified laugh escaped her throat as she considered how ridiculous it all looked. The clothes, the chains, the circle of people. But she went quiet as Dawson’s face paled beside her.

Across the clearing, he locked eyes with Reid Langley. Sam knew guilt well and it was written clearly on Reid’s face as he approached. He took his place behind Dawson, looking everywhere but at him.

An unspoken conversation passed between Sam and Dawson then. There was no way to know if Reid was there to kill them—or save them. Sam didn’t have it in her to hope regardless. Even if Reid had the best of intentions, how could he possibly stand a chance against the bloodthirsty crowd gathered in the clearing? It was a losing game. But when it came to the integrity of the Langleys, it was just as likely Reid had been lying to them all along. In the end, cowardice and evil didn’t look all that different.

Jonah Langley joined him, now standing behind Sam. His expression could only be described as smug. Eleven more Clearwater residents stood behind those chained to the ground, with Farris Langley standing behind Kiran. Sam couldn’t bear to look at Neera’s mom.

“Prepare the bodies for Him.” The command came from Russ Langley in the center. “We must cleanse them of sin before He arrives.”

A cashier from the town’s infamous Chevron was chosen first. One person grabbed her shoulders, yanking her from the ground, and secured her upright. Her captor grabbed the bucket and held it over her head, whispering something under his breath.

Sam could only watch in frozen horror as the contents of the bucket were emptied onto her head. Scalding-hot water sent tendrils of steam up in the air as it was poured over her, causing her skin to blister. She screamed out—a bloodcurdling sound.

Sam looked to Dawson, his blue eyes shimmering and wet. It wasn’t sadness in his expression, but helplessness. The kind of tears that fell when you stared death in the face.

The woman eventually stopped screaming as she collapsed to the ground. Her skin was raw and charred, swollen red.

“Who’s next?” Russ asked the clearing. “Don’t be shy.”

Seemingly at random, different Clearwater residents offered their sacrifices to be cleansed. It was a symphony of screams against a backdrop of concert music and fireworks shooting off in the distance. It wasn’t long before Sam, Dawson, and Kiran were the only ones left unharmed.

All eyes were on the Langley siblings then. Sam didn’t understand it, but she could sense the watchful gazes of the Clearwater community on them. Many bore a look of judgment. She realized then that the siblings were hesitant, perhaps even unwilling to do what was expected of them in that moment.

How’s Reid supposed to get out of this?

“I’ll go,” Jonah announced, stepping forward to grab her.

Sam kicked and thrashed against his iron grip, feral instinct taking over. Rough hands secured her arms and legs, holding her still. Another pair grabbed her roughly by the chin, forcing her jaw shut around her scream and tilting her face up to the late-evening sky above.

Jonah leaned forward, clutching her chin. “Your brother should’ve died in that accident,” he whispered in her ear. “People like you can’t cheat death.”

There was the tiniest amount of give for Sam to angle her head to meet Jonah’s gaze. She found only unrelenting cruelty in his gray eyes. Using the last of her strength, she bit through the skin of his hand—hard—until she tasted blood.

Jonah stumbled backward, screaming a string of profanities, while Sam spit up sinew onto the dead wiregrass. More hands held her now, nearly crushing her beneath their weight. She tightly shut her eyes as the bucket was brought over her head.

A voice rang out from the edge of the clearing. “Stop!”

The grip on Sam’s face loosened, enough so she could jerk her head free to see Jason the asshole emerging from the trees. He escorted a bound and gagged older man who could barely stand upright.

Russ Langley crossed the clearing, then began speaking to Jason in hushed conversation. The assembled crowd all watched in silence as the men spoke, unsure of what was happening.

Several minutes passed before the group of men moved to stand in front of Kiran.

“This woman,” Russ bellowed, gesturing to Neera’s mom, “belongs to Grant Langley.”

Belongs? Even bound and captured, Kiran seemed to recoil.

“What does that mean?” Farris demanded. “She’s my sacrifice.”