The Harvest

by Sara Clancy

  “That’s probably because there’s a demon inside,” Percival said before finishing half of his wine in one large gulp.

  “What?” Ozzie shrieked.

  Percival held up one finger as he finished off the glass and handed it back to Ha-Yun, who dutifully refilled it.

  “Before we get into that… don’t worry, we’re close… I’ll explain how we got dragged into it. Our ancestor, Abraham Sewall, was an old college friend of Justice Crane. Apparently, they were roommates or some such thing. He had just arrived in Black River to help make some sense out of the situation when Griogair Bell was murdered. Katrina probably should have done her research before playing her hand. Abraham had a lot of resources at his disposal. Enough to help the Bells, Winthrops, and Cranes all escape Black River, and Katrina’s influence. For the most part, at least. She still got her revenge, still gets to play her games.”

  Twisting the stem of the wine glass between the fingers of his right hand, Percival reached out to tap one finger against the top of the box.

  “We call it the Harvest. It’s happened every year on this day since 1812. Katrina will select one member from each of the four families and present them with a demon box. See the way it moves? It’s counting down. If nothing’s done, it will open seven days exactly from when she handed it to you.”

  “And unleash a demon?” Ozzie said. “An actual, real demon?”

  He nodded. “You’ll see it around soon enough. While it’s contained, it can’t directly cause you any physical harm. But it will mess with your head; show you things, make you hear things that aren’t there. Trick you into hurting yourself. Anything it can think of to try and stop you from finding the key and relocking the box.”

  “Relocking? I can keep it trapped in there?”

  “That’s the game, Ozzie. If you win, Katrina takes the box back, and you’re left with the fallout.”

  “If I lose?” Ozzie asked.

  “You die. Horribly.”

  Both of his parents crowded closer to him, eyeing the box with horror.

  “It’s okay,” his mother soothed. “We’ll help you. We’ll find the key.”

  “We’ll be with you every step of the way,” his father promised.

  “You can’t,” Percival said, nursing his second round of red wine.

  Ha-Yun narrowed her eyes, her painted lips pulling back into a snarl, “I’m not just going to watch my son being tortured and do nothing.”

  “You don’t get to watch, either. Only the selected four can go into the forest during the Harvest.”

  “What kind of rule is that?” she snapped.

  A bone-deep weariness filled Percival’s eyes as he replied. “One we didn’t pick. Katrina’s game. Katrina’s rules.”

  “Well, we won’t play by her rules,” Ha-Yun said.

  “Gee, never thought of that in the almost two-hundred years we’ve been forced to do this.” Rage began to seep into his voice as he tightened his grip on his glass. “Despite what you might think, we do love our family members. None of us want this. We don’t offer up our children, our parents, our siblings as sacrifices. We’ve fought back in every way you could possibly think of. And we’ve always failed.”

  “So you do nothing?”

  “We teach them!” It was the first time Ozzie had ever heard the placid Percival shout in anger, and it made him jump. “We let them know this is coming and prepare them as best we can! I wanted to do that for him! You’re the one who said no. Both of you did, so don’t you dare put this at my feet.”

  The outburst made Ozzie jump. He watched his normally stoic godfather clamp a hand over his mouth, as if desperate to try and keep in everything else he wanted to say. The damage was done. Tears were already lining Ha-Yun’s eyes, and Ethan looked so crushed by guilt that he could barely lift his head.

  “Ozzie needs to go to Black River,” Percival said at last. “The key is always hidden somewhere within the old Bell estate. The others will help him find it.”

  “The others? You mean the ones selected from the other families?” Ethan asked.

  Percival nodded. Reaching across the kitchen island, he cupped a warm hand over Ozzie’s arm. The touch was comforting, and Ozzie felt fearful tears start to burn the back of his eyes.

  “Together we survive, alone we die. That is the only thing you can ever trust within the Witch Woods. They will be your strongest allies and surest weapons. She will do whatever she can to try and break that bond. You can’t let her.”

  “What bond? I’ve never met these people.”

  “You should have.” Percival spoke in a whisper, but his parents reeled as if they had been struck. “But the others will know about Katrina and you. You’ll have to take a lot on faith and build these relationships as quickly as you can. I’ll help you.”

  “How?” Ozzie asked.

  Percival smiled slightly. “We can start by posting your selection.”

  “Posting?” Ethan asked.

  There was warmth back in his voice as he casually revealed they had a website.

  Chapter 6

  Latching onto the chance to do something helpful, Ha-Yun rushed to retrieve her laptop. Within minutes, Percival was navigating his way to the website while the Davis family pushed tightly in around him.

  Percival paused and lifted his head. “I’m not comfortable doing this with someone breathing down my neck.”

  “Put it up on the big screen?” Ethan suggested, remote already in hand.

  A click of the button brought a plasma screen out of the wall. It almost consumed the space, and the group had only to turn around to view the details clearly. Ozzie had to admit it was far more comfortable. He could almost pretend he was just watching a movie play out. The soft tick of the box seemed to grow louder as if to mock him.

  “This is the website?” Ethan asked when vibrant, cheerful colors filled the 103-inch screen.

  Cute little cartoon characters bounded around the scattered links. Recipes, holiday reviews, fashion, and decorating tips. The place looked like a family run lifestyle page. A few clicks and a password brought them to a page simply marked ‘The Harvest.’ Below, the links were marked by the year concerned. They started in 1821. Ozzie’s insides tightened a little more as Percival mindlessly scrolled down the list. Hearing this nightmare had been going on for nearly two centuries was one thing. It hadn’t really had the same impact as seeing it laid out before him did. All the while, the box continued to scrape and click.

  Finally, Percival selected a link and the screen changed again. Not to another variety of links—rather, a picture of a man filled the screen. He was unmistakably older than Ozzie, hovering somewhere between his twenties and thirties. Old enough that wrinkles had forged around his warm brown eyes. The light in the photograph made it hard to tell if he was graying or just had some really pale blonde streaks in his floppy brown hair. High cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a wide, thin mouth gave him an almost rattlesnake kind of smile.

  “Oh, thank God.” Percival slumped forward, rubbed a hand over his scalp, and pulled back with a jerk. “Thank God.”

  “Who is he?” Ethan asked.

  Ha-Yun shook her head, “I don’t know if I trust him or not.”

  “That’s Cadwyn Winthrop. Cad if you get on his good side. And we’re damn lucky he got selected.”

  Percival finished a gulp of wine before he continued, his tone shifting into something clinical and sterile. That tone, more than anything else, told Ozzie just how difficult what lay ahead was going to be.

  “This is Cadwyn’s first time being selected. His brother, however, was in a Harvest and lost. Inexplicably, Abraham made it out of the woods. You have to understand the demons don’t just like to physically torment you. Their goal is to destroy you mentally as well. One of their favorite ways to do that is isolation. They turn themselves into such a threat that family members have no option but to take a step back.” Tears loomed in the back of his throat, making his voice crackle.

&nb
sp; He’s done it before. The fact locked into Ozzie’s mind, leaving only the question of how many times he had been forced to pick his own survival over the wellbeing of loved ones.

  “Cadwyn’s a living legend. He never left his brother’s side until his death.”

  “He managed to be a decent human being,” Ha-Yun said. “That’s how low the bar is?”

  Anger flashed through Percival’s eyes but didn’t make it out of his mouth.

  “You saw the opening act for these creatures. Imagine enduring that every day for close to a year, only it can touch you. And all the while you know the one you’re enduring this hell for is going to die. Or worse.”

  “What could be worse?” Ethan asked, dumbfounded.

  Percival took another mouthful. “It’s been documented on numerous occasions that, once the demon has weakened its target, it can take possession of the body. If this situation isn’t corrected, the demon can then use the body to kill those outside of the family.”

  “Corrected?” Ethan asked. “You mean ‘killed,’ right? It forces you to kill each other.”

  “Is that what happened to Cadwyn and Abraham?” Ha-Yun asked.

  Percival saluted them both with his wine glass. “I can’t go into details.”

  “What?” Ha-Yun asked, too shocked to look enraged.

  “You’re neither blood nor bride,” Percival shrugged. “There’re some things that aren’t spoken of outside of the family. What I can tell you is I know Cadwyn. He’s loyal, protective, intelligent, and a registered psych nurse.”

  “You’ve also just suggested he may have murdered his brother,” Ethan said in passing, leaping up to begin pacing the room.

  “What you need to know from the story is this: at twelve years old, Cadwyn played chicken with a demon, and the demon blinked first.” He turned to Ozzie to add, “If I could personally choose who would go into those woods with you, Cadwyn would be in my top ten. Play to his protective instincts. Build a friendship with him. If you can earn his loyalty, he’ll die for you.”

  “I don’t want to manipulate anyone,” Ozzie said softly.

  “Don’t think of it as manipulation. Everyone else has had a lifetime to build these bonds, you’re just playing catch-up.” With that resolved, he scrolled down.

  Ozzie perked up at the next photo to grace the screen. The girl was around his age, maybe a little older, with large dark eyes that matched her hair, tawny skin, a warm smile, and a figure that could stop traffic.

  “She’s cute.”

  “This isn’t a dating site,” Ethan mumbled, only to have his wife swiftly remind him their son wasn’t blind.

  During all of this, Percival had reached for one of the forgotten glasses. It was the most Ozzie had ever seen him drink. He had never known the old man could handle his liquor so well.

  “That’s Willimina Crane. Mina,” he corrected with a shrug.

  Ethan eyed his friend closely. “Is she going to be a problem?”

  Percival snorted, “She isn’t exactly an assist. See, she’s one of the babies of the Crane line, and her folks insisted on treating her like it. They’ve kept her as far away from all of this as they could.”

  “So, she’s in the same position as me?” Ozzie asked.

  Percival shook his head as he continued to drink. “No. She knows her history. The problem is she doesn’t believe it. For years, she’s been trying to convince people this whole thing is a string of bad luck, natural gas leaks causing hallucinations, and group hysteria. Basically, she’s a coddled little princess.” He puffed out his chest and woefully clicked his tongue. “Katrina’s going to have fun with her.”

  “What do you mean?” Ethan asked. “Surely, if her selection process was anything like Ozzie’s, she now knows it’s real.”

  “Katrina tends to treat skeptics one of two ways; either she crushes them under evidence until they’re blabbering messes, or she makes sure to foster their doubt. The point is to take them out of the game. Have the Harvest fighting amongst themselves instead of working as a single-minded whole.” Taking a sobering breath, he glanced at her photograph again. “No one wants to go in with a skeptic.”

  “Are you saying she’s going to get Ozzie killed?” Ha-Yun asked.

  Percival flinched. “Mina’s weapon to wield is her tenaciousness. The girl’s like a cassowary...”

  “A what?” Ozzie cut in.

  “It’s a giant bird, okay?” Percival said. “A very large, very aggressive bird that uses five-inch-long claws to murder anything that annoys it. The point is, the girl’s relentless. Once she sets her mind to something, you can’t stop her. If she gets on board, she could be a remarkable ally. If she doesn’t, well, the group will have to handle that.”

  Before anyone could question exactly what that would entail, he moved the page down again. No one in the Davis family seemed to know how to react to the last member of the group. Even without a size reference, it was clear the girl was tiny. In combination with porcelain skin, hair like spun gold, and delicate features, she’d easily be confused with a doll.

  “She’s a child,” Ethan said at last.

  It was then they noticed Percival’s silence. His eyes spoke horror, but a smile played across his lips.

  “There’s no age limit,” he muttered absently, as if the response was a knee-jerk reaction. “The oldest selected was ninety-two. The youngest was three weeks.”

  As the family reeled from all the thoughts and images that piece of information summoned, Percival let a quick burst of laughter pass his lips.

  “Who is she?” Ozzie asked.

  “That’s Basheba Bell.”

  “Like the story?” Ethan cut in.

  “Don’t worry, she’s not the same girl. That’s just one of the weirder aspects of the curse. No matter our intentions, we always repeat the old family names.”

  “That’s stupid,” Ha-Yun muttered.

  “Probably. What was it you wanted to call your son again?”

  “Park.” Ha-Yun’s eyes stretched wide, her jaw dropping as if it had just occurred to her that she never had any intention of naming her child Osgood.

  Deciding his point had been proven, Percival saluted the image with a glass. “You know that top ten list I mentioned? Basheba would be in my top five.”

  Ozzie studied the photograph again, trying to see what Percival could possibly be talking about. There was a doe-eyed naivety about her. No matter how long he looked, Basheba seemed like the kind of girl who would be utterly mystified by bubbles.

  “I give up,” Ozzie said. “What’s so special about her?”

  “Most notably, this isn’t her first rodeo,” Percival said. “She was selected for Harvest two years ago.”

  “Is that allowed?” Ethan asked.

  “The Bell family has dwindled over the years. The smaller the bloodline, the higher the likelihood of getting selected. There’s only four of them left. No, sorry. Three.” Percival’s eyes clouded over as he made the correction. “There’s three, now. Jonathan didn’t make it out last year.”

  While his grief was never spoken, it still filled the room and made the air thick. No one disturbed Percival as his body stilled. For a brief moment, the man’s eyes closed and a fine tremor raced over his shoulders. Ozzie was sure he was about to cry. But then, with a sharp intake of breath through his nose, he returned to his cool demeanor.

  “Basheba knows first-hand what ya’ll are walking into. Yeah, she’s small and not much of a physical help. But she’s quick on her feet, ruthless, and practical. She’ll be willing to cut Mina loose if she’s not going to pull her weight.”

  “Isn’t that going against the group unity you keep talking about?” Ethan asked.

  “Sometimes, you have to give up a lamb to save the flock.”

  The way Percival greedily shot the last of the wine like it was whiskey left Ozzie convinced that this, too, was something the older man had personal experience with.

  “She’s a good kid,” Percival
said at last. “But the last few years have left their mark. We’ll have to be careful to win her over before you head out.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Ha-Yun asked.

  He gestured out like the response was obvious. “Which one of them do you think is going to be excited by the prospect of going into the Witch Woods with a complete novice? No one wants to be stuck babysitting while fighting for their lives. We have to ensure none of them think of Ozzie as dead weight. Cadwyn’s proven he’s capable of mercy killings, Mina’s nothing if not practical, and Basheba’s seen too much to be kindhearted.” He chuckled slightly. “This is the one time where being unpopular could actually get you killed.”

  Ethan nodded, his motion calm while his eyes blazed with panic. “What do you suggest we do?”

  “First of all, we have to make sure we get there first.” Not leaving any room for argument, Percival got to his feet, hurriedly swallowing down the last of the red liquid. “Each selected has exactly seven days from when the box is handed to them, so time is a factor. Dragging your feet with getting to Black River is an unforgivable crime. If we take a helicopter, we can make it there in about an hour and forty minutes. Traditionally, if we have the time, the selected spend a day setting out a strategy and getting a good night’s sleep. Ozzie, you’ll be picking up the tab for all of it. Everything. Without question. We Sewalls are still the best off financially, and we’re going to remind them of our generosity. Understood?”

  “Yeah.” Ozzie cleared his throat and spoke again with something he hoped sounded like conviction. “Yes, let’s do this.”

  “That’s the spirit. Grab the box and let’s go.”

  Ozzie hesitated. The box still sat on the middle of the kitchen counter, shining in the overhead lights. Popping and scraping as the pieces moved. He jumped when Percival placed a warm hand on his shoulder.