by Kim Liggett
Pressing my ear to the bark, I swear I hear it whispering. I think this must be it, my magic taking over, when I realize the sound is coming from behind me.
Peering over my shoulder, I see Kiersten sitting on the stump, stroking my cloak, her nails scraping against the grain of the wool. I don’t know how long she’s been there watching me, but I don’t like it. I’m searching behind her, wondering where the rest of her followers are, but I think she’s alone.
“Put that down. It’s mine,” I say, gripping the axe in my hands.
“I don’t want your cloak,” she says, pushing it aside. “It’s heavy. No wonder you’re so muscular now.”
Peering down at my arms, I know she doesn’t mean it as a compliment.
“It feels good, to do something useful,” I say as I snatch the cloak from her, putting it back on. “You should try it.”
“Because isn’t that the biggest sin of all for a woman?” she says, twirling a sunlit curl around her finger. “Not to be of use.”
Her tone catches me off guard, but I need to stay cautious. “Why are you here, Kiersten?”
“I need you,” she says with a deep sigh. “The girls need you. You can help them.”
“If this is about the magic … I can’t embrace something I don’t have—”
“You’re right. I don’t think you have any magic, either.”
“What?” I perk up.
“I think you’ve been hiding it for years, that you burned through it right under our noses.” She gets up, stalking toward me. “That’s how you got your father’s attention, got him to teach you those things, and that’s how you stole Michael from me. You squandered your magic, and now you want them to bury theirs. Is there no decency in you?”
“Decency?” I jut my head back. “You’re one to talk. What about Gertie?”
“What about Gertie?” Her eyes narrow.
“You can cut the innocent routine. I know everything.”
“Do you, now?” She flashes an uneasy smile. “It would be a shame if Gertie was the first girl in the camp to fall.”
“Don’t threaten me.” I tighten my grip on the axe. “There’s no reason we have to die here.”
“We all die, Tierney.” The corner of her mouth twists up. “In the county, everything they take away from us is a tiny death. But not here…” She spreads her arms out, taking in a deep breath. “The grace year is ours. This is the one place we can be free. There’s no more tempering our feelings, no more swallowing our pride. Here we can be whatever we want. And if we let it all out,” she says, her eyes welling up, her features softening, “we won’t have to feel those things anymore. We won’t have to feel at all.”
Staggering back, I rest against the pine, feeling the wood beneath my fingertips … something real, something to anchor me to reality. But this is happening. Kiersten’s human, after all. I think I finally understand her. She’s afraid.
There’s a part of me that wants to give in … wants to believe … wants to be a part of this, so I can unleash my anger and be rid of it, but I can’t do it. Maybe it’s the memory of the girl from my dreams or maybe it’s just me, but I know we can be more than this.
“I can’t help you,” I whisper.
“Then I can’t help you,” she replies, her face hardening back into its usual mask. “I think you’ve done enough,” she says, taking the axe from me. “I’ll take it from here.”
After pacing the perimeter, trying to figure out what just happened, what to do, I’m heading back to camp to tell the others when I hear voices. I close my eyes, trying to block it out, but it’s not in my head this time.
“It’s the right thing … for both of you … for the good of the camp.”
Peeking around the larder, I find Gertie standing there with Kiersten. “Hey,” I call out.
Gertie looks up at me. Her face is red and damp with tears.
“The choice is yours,” Kiersten says before returning to the camp.
“What choice … What’s for the good of the camp?” I ask.
She wipes her face with the back of her filthy hand, clearly trying to pull herself together. “Kiersten’s called a gathering tonight … for the full moon.”
Thinking about what this means at home, I clench my hand into a fist, wondering which of my fingertips will be the first to go. “We can stay scarce.”
“Everyone has agreed,” she says as she glances toward the clearing. “Everyone but you.”
“Oh,” I say with a deep exhalation of breath, trying not to look as disappointed as I feel.
“The girls are talking … having doubts.”
“Are you?” I ask.
She stares down at the shriveled sprig of elderflower cupped in the palm of her hand. It’s an old flower, seldom used anymore, but it’s the symbol of absolution.
“Did she give that to you?”
Gertie closes her fingers around it, like she’s holding the most fragile egg.
“You know you can’t trust her. She’s not God. She can’t absolve you from something she did herself. She’s the reason you were punished. Remember what she did to you.” I reach out for her hands to turn them over, to show her the scars, but she pulls away from me, staggering back a few steps in the process.
“She apologized,” Gertie says as she slowly regains her balance. “We’re friends again.”
“Friends?” I laugh.
“You have no idea what it’s like … being an outcast … being reviled.”
“Look around … I don’t see anyone trying to help me.”
“But that’s your choice.” She shakes her head. “You never wanted to be one of us.” A pained look comes over her. “All you have to do is accept your magic and—”
“I can’t accept something I don’t feel. Maybe it’s an illness, but whatever’s happening to us—”
“She’s calling you a heretic,” she says, her chin trembling. “A usurper.”
I don’t know why it makes me laugh. Back in the county, if you were accused of heresy, they didn’t even bother with the gallows. They just burned you alive. I pull my cloak tighter around me. “Kiersten just wants chaos because she wants control.”
“You’re wrong.” Gertie’s brow knots up in a tight line. “She truly believes that by embracing her magic, turning herself over to the darkness inside of her, that she will get to go home a purified woman. Rid herself of her sins, start anew.”
“What sins? The sin of being born a girl?”
“We all have sin,” she whispers.
A caw rings out over the woods, making Gertie flinch.
“It’s just a crow,” I say, but I’m not sure this time. I’m not entirely sure I heard it at all. Looking up, I see the clouds race by so fast that it makes me dizzy. “Kiersten,” I say, lowering my eyes, trying to regain my focus. “She came to see me today. She’s just using you to get to me.”
“Not everything is about you, Tierney.”
“Then what’s it about? Tell me. What’s really bothering you?”
She looks up at me, her eyes large and glassy. “I don’t want to be Dirty Gertie anymore. I just want it to stop.”
“If this is about the other girls … I can talk to them … I can get them to—”
“I don’t need your help anymore.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Did she threaten you? Did she promise you something?” I’m searching her face, looking for any kind of clue, but Gertie’s good at pretending. “What are you hiding?” I ask.
Gertie looks toward the punishment tree. I can’t see the expression on her face, but I notice the tension in her jaw. It’s almost as if she’s clamping her mouth shut so nothing will slip out against her will. “I think it’s best if we don’t speak anymore,” she says before joining the others.
I spend the rest of the day tapping maples, collecting tinder from the perimeter, anything to keep my mind occupied, keep away from the camp, but I feel myself drifting, like a piece of deadwood caught in a v
iolent current.
My palms are blistered up beyond recognition by the time I decide to head back to camp. I take my time, in part because I don’t want Kiersten to think I’m taking this gathering seriously, but also because there’s a part of me that’s scared. I overheard some of the girls saying they came into their magic just by staring into the flames. I keep thinking there has to be another explanation for all this. There’s no denying we’re in a weakened state right now, vulnerable, but I can’t stop them if they want to succumb. People see what they want to see. Including me.
As I approach the fire, the wood isn’t the only thing crackling. The very air surrounding the assembled girls feels charged. There’s lightning in the distance, and a low grumble, like the echo of an avalanche from clear across the world.
On instinct, I find Gertie in the crowd, but she doesn’t motion for me to join her. She doesn’t acknowledge me at all. I want to fix this, apologize for whatever I did to offend her, but maybe she needs space right now. What I wouldn’t give for a little more space. My eyes scan the fence keeping us from the outside world. So far, the poachers have made no attempt to lure us out. If I hadn’t seen one of them with my own eyes, I might even question their existence. I wonder if they’re watching us right now. Taking bets on which one of us will be the next to fall.
A roar of thunder releases. Closer this time.
“Listen. She’s trying to communicate,” Kiersten says.
“It’s only thunder,” Martha murmurs.
“Only thunder?” Kiersten says in a stern singsong voice. “Might I remind you of the story of Eve. Mother Nature herself. She was once a grace year girl. I think she’s trying to reach out to one of us.”
“What does she want?” Tamara asks, sinking deeper into her cloak.
“She’s trying to warn us.” Kiersten lowers her chin, the fire casting ghoulish shadows across the planes of her face. “What happened to Eve could happen to us. If we do not listen … if we do not heed her warning,” Kiersten says staring directly at me. “Like some of you, Eve didn’t believe. She laughed in the face of God. She held on to her magic, and when she returned home, she pretended she was purified, but every day that passed, the magic grew inside of her until it could no longer be contained. Under a full moon, on a night just like tonight, she killed her entire family.”
A wave of repulsion swells through the crowd.
“If the men of the council hadn’t stopped her, she would’ve killed them all.”
I always thought it was just an old wives’ tale, a fable, but looking around the campfire, I can see they’re eating it up.
Kiersten raises her chin, looking up at the churning night sky. “When they burned her in the square, the sky opened up, taking her in, and there she remains as a reminder to us all.”
A clap of thunder makes everyone jump.
“Listen,” Kiersten whispers. “She will not be ignored. If she’s communicating with someone in this group, speak up, claim your power. It’s the only way to save yourself.”
A girl from the back meekly raises her hand. “I hear her.”
Kiersten motions for her to step forward.
Vivian Larson, a mouse of a girl, who received a veil from her cousin, someone that Kiersten has never paid any attention to a day in her life. I doubt she even knows her name, but now Vivi finds herself in the center of the sun, basking in Kiersten’s approval.
“Tell us. What is she saying to you?”
“E-everything you said.” Vivian clasps her hands in front of her. “She’s warning us of what could happen.”
“Did she say there’s a heretic among us … a usurper?”
Another bolt of thunder groans above, and Vivian shoots me an uneasy look. The same look she gave me when I stumbled upon her in the meadow with a boy from one of the labor houses last year. “I’m not sure.”
I pretend not to notice, but I can feel eyes on me from every direction.
“All in good time. Keep listening, friend,” Kiersten says as she pulls Vivi’s red ribbon free, running her hands through her unkempt, oily hair. Vivi smiles up at the moon, like she’s just been released from the devil. From me.
“I only hope it’s not too late for the rest of you.” Kiersten paces around the fire. “All of these things you’ve been building, laboring over…,” she says, pushing over a cooking stand. “They’re meaningless.”
“They’re not meaningless,” I can’t help blurting out. “You’ve certainly benefited from all of our hard work.”
Kiersten turns on me with a focus that makes my skin prickle. “Being comfortable and well fed is not going to lead us to our magic. We’re put here to suffer, to rid ourselves of the poison inside of us.” Her eyes look wild in the firelight, menacing. “We’re here because Eve tempted Adam with her magic. Poisoning him with ripened fruit. If we don’t use our magic, if we don’t rid ourselves of our demons, you know what will happen. You’ve seen what happens to the returning girls who try to hang on to their magic—they’re sent to the gallows … or worse.”
A shiver of fear ripples through the crowd … through me.
“But what if Tierney’s right?” a small voice calls from the back. It’s Nanette. She sleeps on the bed next to me. “What if it’s just our imagination or some kind of illness?”
Instead of exploding in anger, Kiersten gets calm. Scary calm. “Is this because of Tierney’s wicked dreams?”
I look around the campfire, wondering which one of them told, but I’ve got bigger problems right now.
“Don’t you see what she’s doing? Filling your heads with devious thoughts. Trying to distract you from the task at hand,” Kiersten says. “She’s not special. Look at her. She can’t even keep the one true ally she has.” Kiersten looks pointedly at Gertrude, and my worst fears are confirmed. She’s just using her to get to me. And Gertrude knows it.
“Tierney wants you to hold on to your magic, and when you return to Garner County you’ll be sent to the gallows. This is her way of getting rid of us.”
“Why would I want to do that? We’re all in this together.”
“Together?” She laughs. “Did she ever reach out to any one of you back home? Has she ever shown the slightest interest in our ways? This is her magic. Turning us against each other … who we are … what we’re meant to do.”
“You’re lying,” I say, but no one seems to be listening to me anymore.
“You,” Kiersten says, pointing to a girl in the middle of the group. It’s Dena Hurson. Tentatively she steps forward. “Didn’t you say communicating with animals runs in your family magic?”
“Yes … but…”
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?” she asks, knitting her arms over her chest.
“You heard me. Take them off.” Kiersten runs her hand down Dena’s braid and whispers in her ear. “I’m going to help you. I’m going to set you free.”
Dena looks around the campfire, but no one dares to intervene. Not even me. Letting out a shaky breath, she removes her cape, her chemise, her underpinnings.
As she stands there, shivering, trying to cover herself the best she can in the moonlight, Kiersten steps in behind her, pressing her palms against the girl’s lower abdomen. “You should feel it right here,” she says, fanning out her fingers, making the girl take in a shuddering breath. “Do you feel the warmth? Do you feel the tingling? Like your blood is reaching for the surface, wanting to scream?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“That’s your magic. Latch on to it, welcome it, keep pulling it forward.”
After a few heaving breaths, Dena clenches her eyes tight. “I think I feel something.”
“Now get on all fours,” Kiersten commands.
“Why?”
“Do as I say.”
Dena obeys, getting down on the ground.
I want to step in, save her from this humiliation, but she’s under Kiersten’s spell. They all are. Maybe I am, too, because I can’t seem to t
ear my eyes away.
As Kiersten removes Dena’s red ribbon, pulling her long auburn hair free, Dena digs her fingernails into the soil.
The girls watch with rapt attention as Kiersten walks around her, coiling the red ribbon in her hand. “Reach out to the animals of the forest. Feel their presence.”
“I don’t know how,” Dena says.
Kiersten whips the red ribbon through the air across her backside. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt, but it surprises her … surprises all of us.
“Close your eyes,” Kiersten commands. “Feel every heart beating in the woods. Find one. Focus in on that rhythm,” she says as she paces around her.
“I hear something,” Dena says as she lifts her head, eyes straining toward the forest. “I feel heat. Blood. The stench of damp fur.”
A howl comes from the woods, making everyone hold their breath.
Kiersten yanks back Dena’s hair. “Answer,” she says.
As Dena howls back, stretching out her neck as far as she can, I see every tendon straining for magic. Yearning for greatness. Longing to be filled with something bigger than herself.
When Kiersten’s finally satisfied, she releases her. Dena stands to face us—flushed cheeks, hair loose and wild, tears streaming down her face, her eyes glassy with madness. “The magic is real,” she says before howling once more and then collapsing in Kiersten’s arms.
I wake to the sound of muffled laughter, blood on my hands, blood between my legs.
Snapping up in bed, I find myself alone on my side of the lodging house, dark red seeping through my underclothes, girls pointing and giggling behind cupped hands.
“I made that happen.” Kiersten laughs, a long feather in her hand, the tip coated in blood.
I look to Gertie, but she refuses to meet my gaze.
Grabbing my boots, I escape the stifling cabin and head to the rain barrel, to wash myself off, only to find it’s been smashed to pieces. That was my last one. I spent weeks bending the wood just right, and with the weather turning, it will be nearly impossible to make another before spring. Kiersten will blame it on the ghosts, but I know this is her doing. Searing anger rises in my cheeks. I’m furious, but I need to keep it together. They’re probably watching me right now, and the worst thing I can do is let them know they got to me.
