“Carolanne,” Bliss said. “I thought you and I had settled this.”
“You mean you thought I agreed with you because I quit arguing,” the girl said bitterly. She was seventeen, with black hair cut shoulder length and held back with pins. “I just know when to stop wasting my time. You say I can’t be part of this, and I say I can. I am a First Daughter. I know my mother’s song, and I’ve ridden the night wind.”
“Yes, that’s all true,” Peggy said. “But you don’t have full Tufa blood. That’s nothing anyone can change, and it’s no one’s fault. It simply is what it is.”
“Can all of you prove you have one hundred percent true blood? Is there a blood test they can do for this? You work with blood every day, Bliss Overbay, so tell us.”
“We know,” Bliss said. “And we also know you’re not. You should go, Carolanne.”
“Not before I tell you high-and-mighty First Daughters what I think about your little club.” She held up her left hand and made a gesture they all knew, the first of the Four Signs of the First Daughters. Bronwyn heard someone gasp in surprise.
Bliss showed no emotion, and responded with the appropriate countersign. Then she made a sign herself, and Carolanne responded. “See?” the younger girl said defiantly. “I pay attention, I learn. I’m as good as any of you. You’re lucky I don’t take what I know over to Rockhouse’s people. I bet they’d be just tickled to have this information.”
“It’s not a matter of learning,” Bliss said. “It’s all about the song in your blood. And threats just belittle us both.”
Carolanne made another sign. “My song is as good as any of yours. And I know all your signs, see?”
“The song has to be as old as your blood, Carolanne. If it’s not, you’re not a First Daughter.” Then she made a slow, careful final sign with her right hand.
Carolanne said nothing, and the darkness hid her expression. But her voice gave everything away. “What the hell is that? You just made that up right now, didn’t you?”
“No,” Bliss said with firm gentleness. “We’re just doing what’s always been done. This is not a sorority, Carolanne, we don’t pick or exclude members. You either are one, or you’re not. You can’t become one. And as for telling Rockhouse’s people—”
“Why not?” Bronwyn blurted. Even she was surprised by her words. Everyone turned to look at her.
Surprise far outweighed anger in Bliss’s voice. “What?”
The words tumbled out. “Look, we all have this First Daughter pure-blood thing that none of us asked for, and that for the most part causes us nothing but aggravation. Carolanne here clearly wants to be part of this bad enough to figure out where and when we meet, and to learn almost all of our signs. The fact that she hasn’t given them away says something about her, doesn’t it? Maybe…”
She stopped, suddenly aware of the scrutiny. “Nothing,” she finished abruptly, and turned away. For a long moment only the crickets and tree frogs were heard.
Finally Bliss said, “I’m sorry, Carolanne. But you really need to go. It isn’t safe to be alone in these woods tonight.”
“Is that a threat?” Carolanne snapped.
“Only as much as yours,” Bliss replied evenly.
Carolanne started to reply, then turned on her heel and stomped petulantly into the night.
Now Bliss directed her attention at Bronwyn. With no malice, only puzzlement, she asked, “What was that all about?”
Bronwyn shook her head. “Hell if I know. It just popped out.”
“Is that how you really feel?”
“I think so,” she said. “I hadn’t really thought about it before now. But… yeah, it is.”
Bliss turned to another member of the circle. “Mandalay? Any thoughts?”
A small figure in a simple dress stepped forward. When the moonlight struck her serene face, it showed a child only ten years old. Yet she spoke with the calm authority of one who knew her power. “Some, but there’s more important things to deal with right now. Y’all follow me?”
They fell into step behind her and walked down a short trail through thick trees. Each kept a hand lightly on the back of the woman in front of her, and the line moved slowly so Bronwyn could keep up. The sound of cicadas, wind, and the occasional owl filled the night, rendering it anything but silent.
Each time the owl hooted, Bronwyn shuddered. The owl was a bad omen, and its presence reminded her of the danger circling her family.
They emerged into a small clearing bathed in moonlight. At the center, a table-sized rock protruded from the ground. On one side an image had been chiseled deep enough that innumerable mountain winters had not worn it away. It was a crude line drawing of a human figure with large wings; lines indicated long hair, and the form had the unmistakable curves of a female. Its style was similar to the ancient images found in caves throughout Europe. The wings resembled those of a dragonfly.
The ten-year-old, Mandalay Harris, knelt and kissed the carving. One by one the others followed. Because of her leg, Bronwyn waited to go last.
When this ritual was done, Mandalay climbed onto the rock, sat cross-legged, and said, “Welcome back, Bronwyn. I saw you at your parade; you looked pretty in your uniform.”
Bronwyn tried not to laugh. Despite her heritage and responsibility, Mandalay was still a little girl at heart. “Thanks,” she said. “Glad to be shed of it and back in civilian clothes, though.”
Mandalay nodded, then said firmly, “I guess there ain’t no point in dancing around things. How’s your mama?”
“Nothing so far. Daddy’s got wards up, and we’re all watching out. She ain’t letting it slow her down.”
“All you can do,” she said sadly. “But what about the rest of us? We’re here because Chloe Hyatt may be about to die. None of us want that, and the signs aren’t certain, of course. But we’d be foolish not to be prepared.”
A heavy woman with streaks of gray in her hair stepped forward. “I dreamed I lost one of my bottom teeth. Reckon that means someone in my family younger than me will die. Your mama fits that, Brownyn. I’m real sorry.”
“That mantel clock Chloe gave me when I got married started working again,” another woman said. “It ain’t kept time in three years.”
“And don’t forget the sin eater,” someone else said. “Chloe herself saw him. He don’t come around unless he thinks there might be something left out for him.”
Peggy Goins added, “I’d say we’ve gotten all the warning we’re going to get.”
“That means it could happen any day,” one of the others said.
“Hey, this is my mom we’re talking about,” Bronwyn said. “I’m all for reading sign and all, but we have to be able to do something here. I mean, for how many generations have we been here? How many times have we watched someone die and done nothing but sing about it?”
“That’s what we do,” Mandalay said patiently. “It’s what we are. The night wind blew us here, and keeps us here at her pleasure. We all know that. But no one lives forever.”
“And,” said a tall woman in her thirties, “none of us would want to.”
Bronwyn turned to her, intending to refute her comment, but when she saw the distant, sad look in her eyes, she bit back the words. Delilah had spent longer than any of them alone, after her true love had died on their wedding day. She knew the weight of time more than any of them.
“Yeah, well,” Bronwyn said at last, “I’m not ready to sing my mom’s dirge just yet. And neither are Aiden or Kell. So you’ll excuse me if I keep trying to find the song that will change things.”