The wolf snares Sophia by the arm, slicing into her skin. I recognize him—it’s the wolf Sophia was speaking to inside, the one with the yellow-brown eyes. He’s only partially transformed—his nose is split in two, an animal snout between two human nostrils. Fur bursts out along his spine, and his hands have long, yellow, and thick nails that are dripping blood. A shadow of the attractive man who spoke to Sophia not even a half hour ago. Sophia doesn’t make a sound as the remaining wolves group around her, growling, huffing, glaring at us.
Samuel and I take aim; the leader’s eyes find mine for a scattered instant. I see him squeeze tighter around Sophia’s arm till her skin turns purple. A threat as clear as if he’d spoken aloud: Shoot, and I’ll kill her.
I swallow hard but take my finger off the trigger.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The wolves back up near the chocolatier, unable to get too close—fire is now gnawing the pale wood into dark, brittle ash. Their glassy eyes flicker, daring us to make the first move, to give them an excuse to rip our skin from our bones.
Sophia’s pale pink dress is covered in grime and blood. Her eyes are swollen and her lips part. “Please. I can do it again. Another town, anywhere else. P-please,” she stammers. I barely hear her over the crackle of flame, the pounding of betrayal rocketing through my mind. She’d do it again. All this, and she’d do it again.
The witch considers this as strings of bloody saliva drip from his mouth—a human jaw dislocated by enormous, jagged teeth. One shot—I can do this; I can hit him before he takes one of us out. If I can hit the first wolf, Samuel will have time to take out another, I can hit a third, then Ansel… Sophia. Sophia could die.
She deserves to, I think darkly.
But no, I have to try to save her. We’re mirror images. I have to wait till the wolves make the first move, wait till I have the advantage. The leader looks at Sophia a long time, till something sinister crosses his lips. I aim.
“Kill the others,” the leader hisses. He nods toward me. “Save her.”
I fire.
The leader moves slightly at the last moment, but the shot flies true and a monster behind him falls backward, then erupts into darkness. I don’t care; I don’t have time to look—I aim again, fire, aim, fire, until I feel like a machine.
Samuel fires at a wolf charging toward him. Five left, including the leader, who is coming for me. Sophia is yelling, running at Ansel, desperate to save him. Her screams slice through the meadow, a shrill cry about the growls.
“Run, Gretchen! Please, run!” she shouts at me.
Her voice is drowned out by the sound of gunfire. The leader gets closer, rage in his eyes. I aim, fire, miss, aim, fire—I choke on smoke just as the leader lunges at me.
My brother’s arms appear behind the wolf, wrapping around his neck. Ansel twists around, elbows the monster in the throat, slams against his ribs, and yanks his claws backward as the beast roars in fury. The wolf bites Ansel—the leg, then the arm—but Ansel is determined. He flips him over and punches his gut.
A dishwater-gray monster sees the leader struggling against Ansel and starts for them. I freeze, aim, fire. The wolf flails backward with an angry hiss. For a moment I think it’ll take a third shot, but he staggers, then explodes to shadows. Four left; Samuel is surrounded by three. Sophia is pleading with them, begging them to stop.
Samuel kills another; I realize I’m out of rounds just as I reach him. I shove my hand into his back pocket and grab another handful of bullets to reload. We can do this. We can fix this. I wheel around toward my brother to see if the leader is among the dead yet.
I feel a wolf’s teeth gnashing into my legs at the same moment I see his glittering eyes. The monster closes his jaws around my shin, teeth slipping between bones. I scream and my vision goes watery. Fight, fight— I slam the stock of the rifle down on his jaw. Something cracks, forces him to release me, but he’s about to go in for a second strike.
A shot flies through the air, splattering the wolf’s blood on me. He becomes shadows that skitter over my body. Samuel helps me to my feet.
“Help your brother,” he yells. I turn and see Ansel still fighting the leader. His arms are slick with blood from the monster’s claws. The wolf tosses, turns, twists to the ground to get Ansel off his back. I can’t shoot; I’d hit my brother. Ansel cries out in pain as the wolf’s back claws find his thighs and dig in. Ansel thrashes; he and the wolf spin backward, through the doors of the shed. They crash into darkness.
I run to the shed, try to aim, but it’s black. The smoke from the fire makes my eyes water; I can barely breathe. Come on, Ansel, all I need is one shot. One shot—I can help. Behind me I hear the remaining wolf. I hear Samuel fire twice more. Did he kill it? I don’t know. I have to shoot. I take a step closer, aim—
There’s a roar of noise, a slide, a fall, things moving strangely. The shed pitches to one side, and I hear wood shatter. The entire upper half of the shed collapses in scarcely a moment, transforming a broad doorway into a cage of wood planks and old boxes. The resulting breeze sweeps out over me, along with a dull, low creak.
Ansel is trapped.
I scream his name and run toward the pile of wood, boxes, bent metal, broken glass. I throw rubble over my shoulder carelessly, scratching my hands, tearing apart my legs as I thrash for some semblance of my brother. I hear Samuel shooting. I don’t turn to see if he’s hit anything; I just need to find—
“Gretchen!” my brother’s voice breaks through. I hear shifting, moving, and then there’s an explosion from behind the debris. The lead monster tears through the fallen wood and lands firmly on the ground outside.
The wolf turns to me.
He licks his lips hungrily.
The witch charges.
I fire, fire, fire, over and over again, aiming carefully but unable to keep up with him. He knows how to dodge the gun, swoops his head down, gets closer and closer. Die, please die. Blood trickles from bullet wounds but he won’t die.
My gun clicks. I lost count of the rounds. I’m out.
I grit my teeth, raise the gun, ready to strike him. Ready to fight, somehow.
Samuel’s roar is so animal-like, I think he’s another wolf. He slams into me, knocking me to the ground so hard that my rifle bounces away. I scramble backward in the dirt toward the gun, desperately searching my pockets for more bullets. I don’t see the other wolf anywhere—Samuel must have gotten him.
The monster is livid. Anger radiates from his eyes, yellow disks that pierce the night. His jaws open, teeth snapping for Samuel’s skin. Samuel shoots, but the beast slashes at his arm. Blood flows, but Samuel doesn’t let go of the rifle. He spins away from the monster, fires again. The bullet tears through the wolf’s ear, sending bits of fur and flesh scattering. But it isn’t enough.
The wolf wraps his jaws around Samuel’s chest, slick teeth cutting into flesh. He tosses his head back and forth violently. Samuel’s limbs flop like a rag doll’s. His eyes roll back in their sockets. Blood streams down his chest, but the wolf doesn’t stop. I have one bullet left, lodged in the corner of my pocket. My hands shake as I load it. Come on, hurry—
By the time I’ve aimed, the monster has released him. Samuel’s body skids across the ground, tumbling to a stop where Sophia is standing, horrified. Samuel doesn’t move. I don’t think he’s breathing.
The noise that escapes my throat is hard to recognize. I run toward them, sliding to my knees, grasping Samuel’s hands. In the same instant, Sophia lets out a long, low scream. She charges toward the wolf, yelling words, noises, shouting, face dark purple, eyes wide.
“We had a deal! I would have done it for you; I would have done all of it for you again! Naida and Ansel and Gretchen… I… love… reason…” Her words don’t make any sense, broken apart by sobs and cries. Tears are splashing down my face—he’s breathing, thank god he’s breathing, but his eyes are closed…
“Enough,” I whisper, trying to steady the tremble in my voice. One way
or another, enough. I let a hand caress Samuel’s shoulder lightly, look back to the shed where my brother is still trapped, then stand. I lift my gun and aim at the witch.
One shot.
I won’t run.
The wolf half transforms, snout sucking into his face. Fur flies off, mottled skin giving way to human flesh dotted in puncture wounds. The claws remain, with the glistening eyes and the jaw so enormous that it looks cracked. Sophia is still screaming in front of him; he reaches out and grabs her. She falls against his body, where he squeezes her close, so close. He leans in and takes a long, awful whiff of the skin on her neck. The monster licks his lips and gives a dark laugh, using her body as a shield, and backs up close to the chocolatier. He turns to me. I think my heart is stopping.
“Come with us, girl,” the monster says haggardly. His eyes are so locked on me that they feel heavy, as if they’re going to bore into me and force me into the ground. “Leave with me, and she and her lover can go.” The monster’s gaze flickers to the shed. I can hear Ansel shouting, yelling my name, Sophia’s name, but his voice feels far away, background to the wolf’s raspy breaths.
I am frozen. I don’t understand. Why would they want me to come with them? Why would they take me, instead of kill me? The question must be clear on my face, because the wolf speaks again, voice almost sweet, almost familiar; he’s trying hard to make me think he’s making this offer out of pity, not hunger. Trying to make me think he doesn’t want to rip into my skin, tear apart my bones.
“I can smell it on you. A twin. When one dies, the other always gets her soul. You’re connected.” He inhales the air again, as though he’s tasting me from a distance. “And your twin is long gone, by the smell of you.”
Abigail. They’ve already killed Abigail.
“Which means you”—his voice is low, a hiss, but somewhat almost horribly seductive—“are ready to join us.” He looks down at Sophia, smiles at her, the skin around his mouth cracking as he does so. “She’s ready to join your sister.”
I can’t think. Everything has stopped working; everything is still.
They think I am ready to become darkness. I am ready to become a witch. That I am ready to be Naida’s mirror, instead of Sophia’s.
Ready to vanish.
“You have the chance to save them,” the wolf says, voice growling as he tightens his grip on Sophia. He sees my eyes graze across Samuel’s bleeding body. “We’ll leave all of them here.”
I look at Sophia, hear my brother pounding on the shed, feel Samuel nearby, still bleeding, still hurting. I am special, and I have the chance to save them. Just like I wanted to. I can save them all, just by walking away with the witch. And unbelievably, I find myself thinking something else, something selfish, something I haven’t thought since I went into the woods years ago to see if the witch wanted me:
It would be so much easier just to vanish.
Sophia’s eyes widen in fear. She didn’t know any of this, the details about twins, I can tell—didn’t know that I’d be special just like Naida. She looks at me desperately, pleadingly. There’s one word, however, that filters through the air to me even in the silence: Don’t.
“Deal?” the wolf hisses. His grip tightens on Sophia’s shoulder, cutting into her skin. She’s so weak, she doesn’t notice the blood that dribbles down her dress. Samuel groans beside me; his eyes flicker open—but he can’t help. No one can help now.
Sophia whispers something under her breath. I shake my head—I can’t understand. She whispers louder, louder, until it becomes a chant.
“Do it. Do it, please, do it.” The words fly off her tongue like a prayer. I furrow my brow. She wants me to do it? To make the trade, my life for hers and Ansel’s? Even though I’m considering it, I’m still hurt, betrayed—and then I see her eyes.
And I understand what she’s really asking me to do.
Even though I hate her, I don’t want to do it.
I aim. The wolf ducks down behind Sophia. I adjust the rifle to match. Forgive me, forgive me, please, I beg her silently, but her face is peaceful, her eyes are shut. The smoke-heavy wind sweeps her chocolate-colored hair around her face. She looks magical. She looks beautiful.
I fire.
The bullet cuts through Sophia’s chest into the wolf’s head. He becomes shadows instantly, blackness that blooms around Sophia as she falls backward, falls through the papery wood that used to be her kitchen wall. I abandon the gun and run forward, ignoring the flames licking at my arms, scorching my clothes. My hands hit the edge of the oven, the iron sizzling against my skin, but there’s no time to draw away. I choke as I grab Sophia’s body, yank her from the hungry fire and into the grass. Blood is soaking through her dress; her skin is black in places from soot; she coughs violently—more blood spatters her lips.
Ansel shouts her name—no, Ansel pleads her name, shouting from his prison. There’s a scuffle behind me; I dare to glance back to see Samuel struggling to stay upright, hauling boards aside, flinging debris away with a sort of desperation, the power that must come only from knowing what it’s like to lose the girl you love. Blood is soaking the side of his shirt, but it doesn’t slow him down—he reaches into the darkness and emerges with Ansel’s wrist, then tugs my brother out of the wreck. Ansel is beaten, an eye is bloody, his leg looks broken, but he runs across the lawn and falls down beside me. Beside Sophia.
She’s still alive, alive for now. Ansel takes her hand. Tears drip from his face to hers.
I don’t want to look at her. Not like this. Her blue eyes are wide and cloudy, and how can there be so much blood? It looks like a rose blossom on her chest. She grasps for my hand, then turns her eyes to me. I can’t tell if she actually sees me or not.
“I’m so sorry, Gretchen.”
“I know,” I answer, words forced past the thickness in my throat. “Sophia…”
What do I say?
“I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean for it to go so far. I just… I didn’t know what else to do,” she whispers. A wet sound emerges from her throat, and she chokes for a moment before continuing. “Forgive me?”
“Yes.” I’m not sure I really forgive her, I’m not sure I can ever forgive her, but I won’t let her die knowing that. I can’t let her die knowing that. Her eyes lose focus for a moment, then wander to Ansel. His hand is tight on hers.
He opens his mouth several times before the words come out. “I love you,” he says. The words emerge on a sob.
Sophia squeezes Ansel’s hand as he brings it to his lips to kiss her fingers. Sophia smiles, and her lips part slightly to speak, to return the sentiment.
But instead, she dies.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Everyone in the South has a family burial plot.
The Kelly family members are all buried in a section of the Live Oak cemetery that’s surrounded by wisteria vines. The scent of the flowers pours over us as an old and frail pastor talks about the kingdom of heaven, about Sophia’s beauty, about her kindness. All of Live Oak stands around Ansel and me; we sit up front, in chairs usually reserved for family, because we’re not sure where else to sit. Samuel’s hand rests firmly on my shoulder, squeezing tightly.
They blamed it on wild animals. Stray bullets. Some of the survivors tried to tell the truth, but who would believe them? They’re all here too, eyes wide and shaky, looking for wolves to dart out from behind headstones.
Her coffin is white. I picked out her dress—deep periwinkle, because I thought it would match her eyes. I gave the undertaker a Nietzsche book to put in her hands, and the photo of her and Naida at the beach as children. I wanted to give him more—pieces of candy, hair ribbons, blankets, seashells. I wanted to give him everything, so she would have everything she needs in the ground with her, everything the patron saint of candy needs and nothing to remind me of the first sign of Live Oak’s end days. Nothing to remind me of the witch.
I should be mad. I should hate her. I should judge her. But there is some madness
in love.
They put out the fire before the entire chocolatier was consumed. The kitchen is gone, and part of the storefront, making it almost entirely unstable—Ms. Judy lets Ansel and me stay in a spare room in her house, even gives me a few of her own books to add to my collection. People drop by constantly to see us; they bring seventeen different kinds of casserole, pies, Jell-O, plastic milk jugs full of sweet tea. Luxe won’t stay at Judy’s though—he often disappears, and without fail, we find him sitting on the chocolatier’s singed front porch. Loyal to the end.
We’re trying to clear out her house. We don’t know what to do with the things she thought were precious. We don’t know what to do with the things we’ve never seen, the things stashed in the attic, the things only the Kellys really know about.
Samuel and I sit on the porch, hands clasped, Luxe at our feet. Ansel is on the swing out back, where he spends most of the days staring at the sun rise and set. There’s not really anything left for him to fix.
“What now?” I ask—I didn’t entirely mean for the words to be aloud. Samuel looks at me, then shakes his head.
“I don’t know,” he says through a sigh. “I don’t know.”
I pause. “Do you think there’s really any helping Naida?”
“Probably not. Who knows? I’ve never heard about the wolves wanting girls like that before.” He lifts my hand and kisses it gently; I rise and move toward him, then sink into his lap. I pull my knees up and lean against his chest.
“I don’t want to stay here.” I didn’t want to say it—I hate myself for saying it, honestly.
“Me neither,” Samuel confesses somberly.
We pause, rocking slightly in the evening breeze. The lightning bugs are just emerging, illuminating the yard like Christmas lights. Whip-poor-wills call out, and flying squirrels dart from the attic into the oak trees. It’s beautiful; everything about this place is beautiful.
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