The Poison Season(17)

He thought for a moment. “Weecy.”

Sage snorted. “That’s not even a name.”

Tate ignored her and held out some more grass for the mother. “And I’ll call you Clover.”

Leelo’s heart felt like it might burst in her chest from how much she loved her little brother, and that surge of hope she’d felt earlier vanished. Tate was too good for the outside world, too pure. He would never survive among those horrible villagers. He’d need to go farther away. Far enough where the people wouldn’t know anything about Endla or its inhabitants. Which meant he’d probably be too far away to come back this winter.

The barn door opened so violently it hit the outside wall with a bang, startling the lambs. Ketty emerged, her face contorted in a scowl.

Leelo tried to hide Tate behind her and cast a worried glance at Isola. But Ketty’s anger was directed elsewhere. She stormed past the four of them, heading back toward the house.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” Sage asked, hurrying after Ketty.

“One of the ewes won’t nurse her lamb,” she said over her shoulder. “I have to fetch a bottle.”

“I can do it,” Tate offered, but Ketty only cast him a withering glance and disappeared into the house.

“It’s all right,” Leelo said to him. “Let’s go look for tadpoles in the stream instead.”

“You’re wrong,” he said gruffly, shrugging off Leelo’s hand. “She does hate me. She’d get rid of me herself, if she could.”

That evening, Ketty led a sheep by a rope around its neck into the woods. Fiona had insisted on staying home with Tate, despite Ketty’s protests, and Leelo wished she was back there with them, cozy by the fire instead of tromping through the Forest to the slaughter.

“At least try not to look miserable,” Sage said to Leelo as they gathered in the pine grove. Leelo hadn’t been back since she made the blood sacrifice for Tate’s magic. She’d never liked this place. How could she, when it contained the memories of so much suffering? Each family stood at the base of their tree with their offering, a motley assembly of animals, ranging from chickens to a lowing calf.

When they were children, Ketty had insisted that the girls each sacrifice an animal themselves, to fully appreciate their responsibilities as Endlans. In the end, Leelo hadn’t been able to do it, and Sage had been forced to kill both of their rabbits.

Later that night, Leelo had been crying in bed when Sage asked her what was wrong.

“Aunt Ketty said I was too soft for this world, that it would always find a way to break my heart,” Leelo said through her tears. “Do you think that’s true?”

“Of course not,” Sage had assured her. “Mother just doesn’t know you like I do.”

But even now, a part of Leelo knew that Ketty was right. One of the council members led them all in the killing song, and one by one, the head of each household ran a knife along the throat of their sacrifice. Terrified bleats and lows split the night, and Leelo stifled a gag as the iron tang of blood filled the air, pooling at the base of each tree before disappearing into the soil. Once again, Leelo thought she heard the wind rustle through the highest branches, like the sigh of a man satisfied with his meal, and she shuddered before glancing at Sage.

“Which one did Aunt Ketty choose this time?” Leelo asked, watching as the life drained out of the poor sheep.

Sage’s gaze was fierce in the lantern light. “The one that wouldn’t nurse her baby.”

Leelo felt bile rise in her throat. “Why?”

“She wouldn’t even care for her own offspring,” Sage said. “I might not know much about being a mother, but even I can see how wrong that is.”

Leelo swallowed down the bitter taste in her mouth. She couldn’t help thinking of Fiona and Tate, how Ketty wouldn’t stand for a sheep that refused to nurse its baby but was perfectly willing to let Tate be sent away, as innocent as a lamb himself.

The animals were all silent now, and so were the islanders. As they turned to go, Leelo glanced once more at the sheep, its dead eyes seeming to stare right through her. For a brief flash, almost like a vision, she saw her own mother lying there instead, and the thought made Leelo shiver the entire way home.



Chapter Ten


Jaren wiped his mouth as he stumbled down the trail in the moonlight, wondering if he was going to be sick again. He should have listened to Lars and Maggie, she of the eyebrows. Because even if the villagers had been wrong about the songs luring people into the lake—he was running away from the lake, as fast as his legs could carry him—they were still evil. He knew that now for a fact.

It had all been a stupid bet, one he’d agreed to in part because he wanted an excuse to come back here. But as he quickened his pace through the woods, the notes of that horrible song, some almost as high and piercing as the sounds of the dying animals, echoed in his head. He didn’t know how it was possible that the same people who had made such joyful music the last time he was here, or songs as beautiful as the one he still heard in his dreams, could produce anything so discordant. And while he was certainly no stranger to animal slaughter, the sound of so many animals dying at once, paired with that awful music, had turned it into something cruel and ritualistic, rather than necessary.

Stupid, stupid bet.

He had only gone back to the pub because Tadpole begged him to take her. She had retaliated for Story’s cod liver oil trick by cutting off a hunk of Story’s hair in her sleep, which had resulted in Tad being punished severely by Father (although perhaps not as severely as she should have been—Father simply couldn’t hang on to anger toward his children since his wife died). Story, who was attempting to cover up a not insignificant bald spot at the back of her head with some creative styling and a rotation of hats, had vowed to get her own revenge soon enough.