The Devouring Gray(48)

“I see.” Was that her imagination or did the voice sound impressed? “Close your eyes, Miss Carlisle.”

Harper did. A moment later, the bag was lifted off her head. She filled her lungs with a deep, relieved breath of fresh air.

“Harper,” said her dad, his hand suddenly squeezing hers. “You can look.”

She opened her eyes.

She was sitting in the library’s attic. Shelves of books that had been deemed either too boring, too scandalous, or too dangerous for public consumption filled every inch of available wall space. They’d put her in a circle of folding chairs with perhaps fifteen other people in coarse brown robes identical to hers. She recognized all of them, even with the hoods pulled over their faces—Pete and Theo and Ma Burnham from the Diner, Korrie Lee from the grocer’s, even a few of her fellow classmates.

The only sources of light in the room were the moon, which streamed in through the skylight, and a flickering candelabra in the center of the circle. Harper’s gaze darted nervously to the books. A stray ember from the flames, and there would be nothing left of this place but ashes.

“Welcome!”

Harper realized suddenly that the voice belonged to Mrs. Moore—the librarian. Of course. The woman appeared in her field of view a moment later, a smile on her face.

“Let us all welcome Harper Carlisle to the Church of the Four Deities.”

As if on cue, everyone rose from their chairs except for Harper. Mrs. Moore joined the circle. And, before Harper could ask any questions, they began to sing.

At first, Harper thought it was the “Founders’ Lullaby.” But she realized quickly that it was something very different.

Sinners who were led astray,

Wandered through the woods one day,

Stumbled right into the Gray,

Never to return.

Hear the lies our gods will tell,

The prison the Four wove so well,

But listen to us when we say:

Branches and stones, daggers and bones,

Will meet their judgment day.

When the song was done, they all sat down. No one clapped. No one fidgeted. The sight sent a chill down Harper’s spine.

She didn’t know much about the Church of the Four Deities. It was ancient history by Four Paths standards, a bunch of townspeople who’d worshipped the original four founders as gods. The religion had died out when the original founders did, and although most of the original practices had been lost, Harper knew enough to know this wasn’t right.

Her father had said that he was involved in a plot to take the Hawthornes down. Worshipping them definitely didn’t seem like a good way to do that.

As if anticipating her question, Mrs. Moore stepped back into the center of the circle again and cleared her throat. The flickering light of the candelabra reflected in her horn-rimmed glasses, making it look as if her eyes were balls of flame.

“As most of you know, our leader has more pressing matters to attend to tonight, so I will handle this explanation of our organization. The original purpose of the Church of the Four Deities when it was founded in 1847 was to find the path to salvation. We have taken on its mantle now to symbolize our intentions: Save our town. Save ourselves. The Hawthorne family has begun to lose their grip on the Gray, and we are paying for it with innocent lives.”

The room fixed itself on Harper, fifteen expectant faces peering at hers.

She squirmed.

“We shouldn’t suffer for the Hawthornes’ mistakes,” she said. Which seemed to be enough for Mrs. Moore to continue.

“Augusta Hawthorne holds this town in an iron grip. Our leader has come up with a plan that we believe will dislodge her—but it requires the help of a Saunders to work. That’s why your connection to Violet is so important to us. Do you understand?”

Harper nodded. “What is this plan? I want to help.”

Mrs. Moore’s face froze slightly. When she continued, her words were far more careful. “As long as the Hawthornes hold power, they’re a threat. So we have found a potential way to remove their abilities—for good. This will destabilize their hold on the town and allow more deserving families to take charge of the duties of keeping us all safe.”

Harper shuddered.

It was exactly what they deserved, all of them. To know how she felt. To be powerless, and have nothing they could do about it.

There was just one question remaining. “How will we do it?”

Beside her, Maurice Carlisle squeezed her hand once more, and Harper felt a surge of vicious pride.

“One secret at a time, Miss Carlisle,” said Mrs. Moore, a gentle laugh in her voice. “I’m afraid these plans are sensitive enough that even most of our own don’t know every detail. For now, keep Violet Saunders close. Help her develop her powers. When the time is right, we will need her to use them.”

“Can I tell her about this?”

This time, it was her own father who spoke. “I know you mean well, Harper, but this information simply cannot be shared with anyone unless we know they can be trusted. Hopefully, you can tell her soon.”

Harper nodded, a twinge of unease rolling through her. “Understood.”

“Excellent,” said Mrs. Moore.

The sound of wind chimes rang through the room, urgent, insistent, and undeniably electronic. Someone’s ringtone.

Harper realized, with a rush of horror, that it was her ringtone.