I turned to her, stunned. “Sadie’s birthday. That was you?”
“He told me there was chocolate powder in Mr. Danforth’s storage room….”
I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Who did?”
She squirmed away from my touch. “God.”
Her morning prayers in the middle of the flower field.
I remembered her arms outstretched, palms up, reverent and beseeching.
She’d been alone then, I was sure of it.
But I’d also thought Abigail was nothing more than pretend.
Her lips trembled. “I just…I need you to know…I didn’t know. I didn’t…I truly thought…”
“Merry.” I kept my voice gentle. “What did you…what did you think you were praying for?”
Her lashes were thick with tears. “At first, all my prayers were for good things—a strong harvest, that Papa wouldn’t be stung, that our garden would do well….I was surprised when he answered back, when I could actually hear him, but the Bible is full of moments when God talks to people. I didn’t think to question it. And…he listened to me. He really did….But then…Sadie wanted that cake so badly…That night when I went out to pray…it just sort of fell out.”
“You asked for the cake.”
She nodded, miserable.
“What did God—what did he say you needed to do?”
She looked away, guilt clouding her face.
“You trashed Cyrus’s supply room?”
“I was only supposed to knock over some of the canisters. But…it was kind of fun, spilling flour and watching all the molasses run everywhere. I didn’t know Mr. Danforth would get so angry—or hurt Mama.” Merry blanched, looking as if she might throw up.
I wanted to comfort her, wanted to tell her that everything was going to turn out all right, but I couldn’t. There were too many unknowns, too many uncertainties. The world seemed poised on the brink of burning out in madness. I couldn’t guarantee otherwise.
“We’ll think of how to fix this. Somehow. After we help Sam,” I promised, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Wherever he is.”
“It’s absurd that the townspeople think that boy is somehow controlling the Dark Watchers,” Ephraim said, bringing us back to the problem at hand.
“But someone could be, right? You said something about the Dark Watchers’ names,” I murmured. “What—what did you mean?”
Thomas jumped in. “It’s one of Father’s theories….The creatures the Brotherhood hunts are very much flesh and blood, but over time they’ve taken on almost a supernatural status. Stories and songs are written about them, myths and legends. Even children’s fairy tales, warning of what lurks in the night—”
“Every story contains some fragment of truth,” Ephraim cut in. “You need to glean it from the inflated hyperbole.” He fumbled for his glasses but didn’t remove them. “Across Europe, folktales are littered with entities able to grant the dearest wishes of people’s hearts, in exchange for a little favor. When the bargains inevitably go wrong, the heroes must learn the creatures’ names to break them. That’s the grain of truth. Their true names hold great sway. If you know it, you control them.”
“But you do, don’t you? Know the Dark Watchers’ names?” I glanced between the two men. “Right?”
Thomas shrugged helplessly. “They’ve had many monikers over the years. The All-Seeing, the Unblinking. The name ‘Dark Watchers’ is just something Father and I made up.”
I froze as his words washed over me. Realization sparked, a bit of steel striking flint. The sparks grew, kindling into a fire and driving back the darkness in my mind until I could see everything, so clearly.
“Because things…important things…have names,” I whispered, balling my hands into fists as the world spun.
I’d said that to Whitaker before.
There’s a power in names, don’t you think? Once your name is given away, you can’t help but be pulled along by those who have it.
My throat clenched, suddenly too dry, too thick.
Whitaker hadn’t brought the Dark Watchers to Amity Falls.
Whitaker was a Dark Watcher.
I wanted to sink to my knees, the truth hitting me like a battering ram.
He was one of those things. One of the monsters.
It wasn’t possible.
He was Whitaker.
My Whitaker.
The boy I’d come to trust and care for.
The boy I’d fallen in love with.
But deep inside, I knew.
There were too many moments that didn’t make sense. Too many times he’d evaded telling me the whole story.
Because the full truth would have damned him.
“Sadie,” I murmured.
She was back at the house, all alone, with him.
“We…we have to get going. Right now.”
I turned and raced down the road. The others followed, gasping, but I couldn’t slow down for them. I had to get to my little sister.
Dust kicked up behind me. It was so hot. So dry. Our land was dying, tainted by the presence of the Dark Watchers. Tainted by him. Whitaker. His betrayal stung worse than a rattler’s bite.
How could he have lied so easily?
How could I not have guessed?
As I rounded the bend and our farmhouse came into view, I wanted to cry in relief.
Sadie was there, sitting on the porch and lazily kicking herself back and forth in a rocking chair.
Whitaker sat on the steps nearby, fanning his face with his hat.
He stood as he saw our return, but froze as he caught sight of me. Recognition flooded over his face, and without wasting a moment, he turned and disappeared around the side of house, heading for the forest even as Sadie protested.
I looked back. “Ephraim, you must have some idea—what are their names?”
“Their names?” he panted, face red and breath wheezy. “I don’t truly know. We’d hoped to learn more here—we’d hoped….There’s still time to leave all this….We can start again elsewhere.”
I shook my head, my mind made up. “I’m not running from them. This has to end. Now.”
“Ellerie, you can’t possibly mean to—”