Ava passes him the rifle and leans back, wishing she could go to sleep, knowing she won’t sleep again until they’re the hell away from this nightmare. She’s seen a lot of weird shit in her life, but invisible monsters eating women will probably take the top spot forever.
God, she hopes it does. What else is there out in the world that she doesn’t know about, hasn’t seen? Though technically she also hasn’t seen this. Why could LeGrand and Mack when she couldn’t?
* * *
—
Mack licks the spoon clean, quickly finishing a pudding cup. She grabs a second one and wanders into the dining room. Another massive hutch, filled this time not with figurines but delicate dishes that look like they’re never used, only displayed. Baffling. But a hand-embroidered napkin—handkerchief?—folded on the bottom of the display case catches her eye. Nicely is delicately stitched onto the edge of the cloth. Nicely was her father’s middle name, given to him to carry on his mother’s maiden name. What is it doing here?
Mack sets her half-eaten pudding on the table and opens the hutch. She picks up the handkerchief, and that’s when she notices there’s a little compartment beneath it. Tucking the handkerchief into her pocket, she eases the board off the compartment and pulls out a large leather-bound tome.
The name NICELY is engraved on the front. For once, she has found something in a house that makes her feel like she belongs.
She doesn’t like it.
She takes the book into the family room, sits next to Ava, and opens it.
JULY 1, 1946
I, Lillian Nicely, begin this record of my time in charge of the season.
I have studied the records—both Tommy Callas’s and that old dirty drunk Hobart Keck’s. （We do not know if he is dead or merely wandered away. Either is fine by me. Why we ever let him have a hand in overseeing the season is beyond me. Hobart’s bleak and negative views of our parents and their sacrifice for us—their divine endowment of both prosperity and the responsibility thereof—are not shared by the rest of us. We view our inheritance not as a burden or a curse, but a great gift and a solemn duty. Good riddance to him.）
Of course, I am left with almost nothing in the way of preparation, which does not surprise me at all. This is what happens when you put the important work in the hands of those who cannot be trusted to be worthy of it, someone outside the seven families. Though, to be fair, Tommy Jr. has been no help, either. When I called a meeting to discuss Keck’s disappearance and unveil my plans for the next season, he barely spoke. He didn’t even want to read his father’s journal, insisting we put it in a safe in the meeting house. And to keep things “fair,” only the Stratton family has the combination. Their role will be to read the book once a generation. Certainly an easier task than any others, and hardly enough to pay for their keep in this town.
But it doesn’t matter. I’ve read it all. And I’ll keep my own records.
I have laid out a new plan that will not require any of our people to break the barrier of the gate during the seven days of the season. As we have learned from Hobart’s egregious errors, even if you are not the intended sacrifice, you can still be mistakenly consumed.
Our first step was the most perilous, but the deed is done. To say we were frightened is a grave understatement, but we have accomplished our task, and without any fuss! As ever, the beast remains so fast asleep as to be almost dead—at least, until the season is upon us. We crept into his temple and put out his great burning eyes.
I say we. I mean, of course, the youngest Callas and Pulsipher sons, who must learn to bear their share of responsibility. But they both returned unharmed and boisterous, thrilled with their success.
We will see if now, deprived of its sight, the beast is quite so picky about who he will consume.
We have secured fourteen distant relations and one unrelated woman, plagued with madness and taken from a sanitarium three states over. It is unfortunate that we must send in people who do not know what they are embarking upon, but we cannot deny the power and goodness the sacrifice continues to give all of us—and the world, by extension!—and we are certain they would agree if they could truly understand the sacrifice our parents made, and the incredible chain of selfless blessing they are part of.
Down to details now:
The night of the fourteenth, they will be drugged with a concoction formulated by Joel Young Jr., at which point we will take them into the temple clearing. Chains have been well-fastened into the concrete poured around the temple last year, and they will each be secured along with enough food and water for seven days （though, clearly, not all of them will need that much. Still, better to have waste than let them suffer needlessly since we cannot predict what order they will be taken in）。 We will chain the madwoman closest to the temple, to tempt the beast first.