The Diviners
“So who was the first offering?” Sam asked. He put up his hands. “I’m just playing along here. I don’t go for ghosts.”
Evie stared at the picture of what looked like a house or barn. “The first offering—the Sacrifice of the Faithful. Ida Knowles was faithful. For a while, at least.”
“But she wasn’t first,” Jericho said.
“True,” Evie said on a sigh.
Uncle Will reached for another cigarette. “I don’t like that you went to Knowles’ End, Evie. Not with what we know now.”
“But it’s just a house, Unc.”
“An awful, awful house filled with dead bodies once upon a time,” Sam said cheerily. “I’m sure it’s swell at Christmastime.”
“It’s his house,” Will said. “It’s his lair, and I imagine he wouldn’t take too kindly to trespassers. Evie, you and Mabel didn’t leave anything behind, did you?”
Evie thought of the small patch of cloth stuck on the laundry chute. It was so small—too small to be of note. Wasn’t it? “No, Unc.”
“Why not just go there and burn it to the ground?” Sam asked.
“Because we don’t quite know what sort of entity we’re dealing with,” Will explained. “What if that only made him stronger? No. Until we’ve satisfied the question of why Naughty John is enacting this ritual, why it matters to him, and we’ve found what was on that missing page, our only hope is to prevent him from killing again. We know he has to complete the murders by the time of Solomon’s Comet—”
“Which is in four days,” Jericho reminded everyone.
“If we can stop him from finishing his task on time, he’ll lose by default. The timing is key.”
“Sam’s right,” Jericho said.
Evie turned to the correct page. “The Destruction of the Golden Idol. ‘And lo, they did not believe but were seduced by the golden calf. They paid tribute to false idols and were damned for it. And the ninth offering sprang from lust and sin. The golden calf was destroyed, stripped of its skin of shame, and placed upon the altar of the Lord. And the Beast was pleased.’ ” Evie looked up to see that Jericho was still staring at her in that uncomfortable way. “For crying out loud, Jericho, what is it? Have I grown a second head?”
“Sorry. It’s just that… you’re not what I thought.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that.
Evie was tired and scared and her headache had really taken hold. And now Jericho thought she was a freak. He was afraid of her. She thought somehow it would be different with Jericho. He was a deep thinker, a philosopher, but he was no different from the small minds of her small town. Angrily, she grabbed his cold hand and clamped her own over his watch.
“That’s right, I’m a real sideshow act,” she said. He tried to pull away, but she dug her fingers under the watch. “How’s about it, Jericho? Would you like me to tell you your secrets? All the little lies you keep hidden from the world?”
“No!” Jericho jerked his hand away from Evie’s so quickly that he nearly lost his balance.
Tears stung at the corners of Evie’s eyes and a lump rose in her throat. She wasn’t about to cry here, and so she ran from the library and shut herself in the bathroom.
“Nice work, Frederick,” Sam grumbled and went after her.
Sam sat on the floor outside the bathroom door, hoping Evie could hear him. “Doll, I don’t care if you can read every secret I’ve got. I don’t even care if you keep me sitting outside this john all night. Well, my legs would care, but don’t mind them—they like to complain.”
Evie didn’t respond, and Sam blew out a gust of trapped air. He’d never met anyone else with a strange gift. Never. So there were two of them. A pair. A pair was good.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. I just want you to know that.”
Silence.
“Take your time, doll. You know where to find me. I’ll keep your seat warm.”
In the bathroom, Evie leaned her head against the door. “Thank you,” she whispered, though Sam was no longer there to hear it.