It was nearly dusk when Drew and Magda dropped them off at the foot of Tori’s driveway. Nathaniel’s gait was sluggish as he led Tori by the hand up the hill.

Nathaniel didn’t stop when the grass changed color under his feet, even as Tori tried to slow to see it. The blight had encroached on her front yard, the tip of it stopping a few yards before her front porch. Nathaniel’s gaze traveled the length of it, but he kept his pace, drawing her away into the woods.

“Where are we going?” she asked when they passed the footpath to the barn.

“To the shore.”

“Why?”

Nathaniel’s toe caught on a stick and he stumbled, the heaviness in his steps mirroring her own. Tori felt raw and stinging and weary inside.

“You’ll see.” Tori followed him until the shimmering surface of the river cut like diamonds through the branches of the trees. Nathaniel stood on the embankment looking out over the river, a faraway glassiness like longing in his eyes. Tori wondered what he was remembering. Who he was missing. Why he’d brought her here.

“‘Whosoever then first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had,’” he said, barely loud enough for Tori to hear. His cheeks flushed pink. “The book of John.” He picked at a long blade of dry grass, squinting out over the rippled shine. Tori stood quietly, a little behind him, discomforted by the thought of getting too close to the shore.

Nathaniel inhaled deeply. He plucked a small stone from the muddy ground and sent it skipping out over the river’s surface. “The water…I’ve always had such a love and loathing for it. On one hand, it was this great, terrible thing that divided me from my family. As a boy, I ached to cross it, but even if I dove in and swam, or stowed away with a captain and sailed, the distance was so vast and I was already so changed, it felt like nothing would be the same had I returned. And yet…” he said with a bittersweet smile. “And yet, some days, the water was the only place that felt like it could heal me. There were days when it seemed to wash me clean of this place, the blood and the sweat and the rage. It cooled the burn in my heart. Made my weariness weightless.” Nathaniel turned to Tori. He looked at her. Through her. “Being here, in the river, made me feel closer to the person I was before all this.”

Nathaniel pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it over a piece of driftwood.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he kicked off his shoes.

He waded out into the autumn-cold water and crooked a finger at Tori, grinning like a fool. “I’m reminding you who you are. Now get in before I have to drag you in myself.”

He disappeared under the surface, then popped up again, brushing his wet hair back from his face. His cheeks flooded with color and his eyes flew open wide. Icy water slid over his arms and his chest, every muscle tensed with the cold.

“I can remember who I am from up here,” she told him, trying to look everywhere else.

“What are you so afraid of?” He splashed her, missing by inches. She touched the oyster shell hidden under her shirt. She hadn’t stepped a foot in anything deeper than a bathtub since her father had died. Back then, there were only a few cuts. A few small, pale scars that she probably could have explained away. Now there were so many. Underneath her clothes, Tori wasn’t sure she was still the same person anymore. She wasn’t as strong as Nathaniel. She couldn’t strip them off, wash it all away, and remember who she was before all of this. There was a piece of the Slaughters inside her. Her insides felt as ugly as her outsides now. And she didn’t want Nathaniel to see.

“Very well,” he said, surging toward the shore.

“What are you doing?” She backed away from him as he climbed the bank. He shook out his hair like a dog after a bath, spraying her with freezing cold droplets. She covered her face against them, and in that moment when her eyes were closed, he scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” she shouted, slapping his back, feeling the scars beneath her fingers. He plunged into the water and didn’t let go. When they were waist-deep, he threw Tori in.

The water was a shock of ice down her spine. She held her breath against a yelp and scrambled for the surface. When she broke it, his laughter was the first sound Tori heard. She sputtered, her shoes catching in the mud, pulling her down, and she lifted her feet to paddle farther away from him. Nathaniel swam after her with a self-satisfied grin.

“That was a shitty thing to do!” Tori said. But as the words came out, Nathaniel rolled over onto his back, staring up at the sky with an expression more content than she’d ever seen him wear. And suddenly Tori ached to feel what he was feeling. That weightlessness. The muted sound the world took on when her ears were submerged. The numbing cold on her skin. It was why she’d stopped swimming. Because after her father had died, she’d needed to feel something. She’d needed to hurt so she wouldn’t forget him. Because if she didn’t feel the pain of his loss…if she let herself numb to the fact that he was gone…then who was she becoming?

Her clothes were lead drapes on her skin, an anchor to hold on to while she drifted beside Nathaniel. She eased back, daring to let herself float, but her shoes pulled at her feet. She tipped her head farther, closing her eyes against the warm, prickling sun, reminding herself to breathe. Nathaniel’s fingertips brushed hers, and when she turned, he was watching her, the light catching droplets of water on his skin, his chest rising and falling, perfect and unmarred by scars. Tori wondered what his body must have looked like once, before the Slaughters broke him.

“Who were you…before all this?” she heard herself ask.

“The same person I am now,” he said, squinting peacefully against the sun.

“But how can you be, after what happened to you?”

Nathaniel thought about that for a moment, long enough that Tori worried she’d said something wrong. “Who I am,” he finally said, “has nothing to do with my scars. It runs deeper than that. Who I am is in my blood. It’s in my soul.” He turned to Tori, tentatively. “In my heart.”

Below the surface, she felt his fingers curl around hers and tug ever so gently until she was drifting closer to him, unaware of her shoes and her clothes, of anything but the touch of his hand. The lightness was back, that terrifying buoyancy. Suddenly she was feeling far too much.

Tori tipped forward, letting her feet sink to the mud. She wiped the water from her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“A bit,” Nathaniel said quietly, his hand outstretched and empty, the contentment gone from his face.

It didn’t matter who they were before. This was who they were now. And no matter how deep they swam, or how he pulled at her, Emmeline’s curse was a dam between them. The river couldn’t fix that. And it couldn’t fix him. The longer he was away from the tree, the more vulnerable he would become.

“Matilda said we don’t have much time. We shouldn’t be wasting it here.”

“Shouldn’t I have a say in the matter?”

“Not if it involves giving up.”

Nathaniel stood, scrubbing the water roughly from his face. “I never said I’d go quietly.”

Tori grimaced. “Matilda said that if the Slaughters find what they’re looking for, we’re in danger. Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure they’re already searching for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before Al Senior died, he told Will that the answers were buried under the oldest branch of the tree.”

Nathaniel looked at her curiously. “What kind of answers?”

Tori shrugged. “Probably the same answer we’re all looking for. Why is my family here? Why did Al Senior leave the land to me instead of his own family?”

“We know why. Because you’re Emmeline and Archibald’s descendant.”

“But we have no proof.”

“And you think that’s what they’re searching for.”

“It has to be. Jesse said Will had been digging holes all around Slaughter Farm. That Alistair was angry and made him fill them all in.”

“You think that’s why they’re so interested in the cemetery.”

Tori nodded, her mind racing.

“But Will didn’t make the hole in the cemetery.”

“The Slaughters don’t know that. What if they thought Will was onto something?”

Nathaniel thought for a moment. “It would explain the broken window. Your mother’s room is located directly under the longest branch of that old mulberry tree.”

“And the fire…The Slaughters were the ones that complained about Matilda. They were the reason her family decided to send her to the senior center. The fire started in her house right after she left. But if they thought the answer might be in her house, why burn it down?”

“Unless the goal isn’t to find the answer at all. But to destroy it.” Nathaniel stood chin-deep in the water, thinking. “That begs the question, how far would they go?” he asked gravely.

The truth sank inside her like a stone. Nathaniel’s name had been erased from the margins of that book. The cemetery had been erased from all of the maps and land records except the property survey Al Senior had left in his will. Matilda’s house had been burned down, essentially erased from the estate. And now Will…“Will didn’t jump off that wharf because he was upset. He was pushed. I know it. The dream I had the night Will died…it can’t be a coincidence.”

Nathaniel’s expression was grim. “If Alistair is willing to kill his own kin to keep anyone from discovering his father’s secrets, what’s to stop him from harming you? If you’re right about this, then the only way to ensure your safety is to find those secrets first, before Alistair does. It’s easy to silence a child, but he can’t silence a village. We have to show everyone why that land is rightfully yours.”

“This is insane! I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to be looking for!”

“Maybe someone else does. These dreams you mentioned,” Nathaniel said. “Tell me about them.”

Tori thought back to what she could remember of the dreams. “It’s like I’m seeing things through someone else’s eyes. I think it’s Emmeline.”

Nathaniel brushed his wet hair from his face, thinking. Tori slouched deeper in the water and shivered. Nathaniel was right about the river. Being in it cleared her mind, and made her feel closer to the answers. To finally understanding who she was, and why she was here.

“It makes sense,” he said. “You share Emmeline’s blood. You’re connected to one another. And she’s using that connection to communicate with you, the same as she’s able to communicate with Matilda.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Emmeline…She was…” Nathaniel took a long breath, as if trying to figure out how to explain. “Emmeline was very close with a girl named Ruth. They cared for each other…very deeply. There was a time when I thought maybe Emmeline and I could love one another. But Emmeline…she didn’t feel the same…not about me.”

Tori thought back to the memories Emmeline had shared with her. Of her interactions with Nathaniel, contrasted with the brief flashes of moments she’d spent with Ruth. And Tori couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it before. “They were in love with each other.”

Which made everything Matilda had said that much clearer.

Emmeline had never returned Nathaniel’s love. She couldn’t. Not the way she had loved Ruth. And Nathaniel had promised to care for her child anyway. “I understand,” she said. He looked relieved not to have to explain. “But how is Emmeline able to communicate with Matilda if Ruth and Emmeline don’t share…” The words drifted from her as flashes of a dream pushed their way to the surface. Images of a knife and two hands holding. “They shared blood.”

Nathaniel nodded, his eyes closing briefly. “Emmeline bound them to each other with a blood ritual. It must have created a connection powerful enough to enable Emmeline to communicate with Ruth, as well as her descendants, the same as Emmeline is able to communicate with you. If you’re sharing visions with Emmeline, she must be trying to tell you something. Once you know what that is, all you have to do is break the curse.”

“No! You heard what Matilda said. Once Slaughter’s blood is shed, you go back to the tree.” The thought left a painful ache under her ribs.

“Whether it be today or a fortnight from now, I’m going to die anyway, Victoria. And if the curse isn’t satisfied before that, what then?” She refused to look at him. He moved closer, leaning into her space, making her acknowledge the one truth she didn’t want to think about. “You heard Matilda. The two spells are tangled. The same as your lineage. The fact that you are Emmeline’s descendant doesn’t negate the fact that you share Slaughter’s blood. The curse Emmeline inflicted is on all of Slaughter’s people. After it’s done consuming Alistair and his family, eventually it will come for you.”

Inside, Tori knew. “The blight.” That insidious stain creeping up from the cemetery. First it reached out for Slaughter’s house, and now it was reaching for hers.

“How much misfortune?” he asked quietly. “How many people will die at Emmeline’s hand because of her mistake? You heard Matilda. Suffering and fire. Will was an innocent. A child. Alistair may have been the one to force him off that wharf, but it was Emmeline’s curse that pushed his hand. And the fire…That fire turned, Victoria. It might have started in Matilda’s house, but it was Emmeline’s curse that drew it to Alistair Slaughter’s land. It could have burned more than just fields,” he said, taking her chin gently in his hand and bringing her eyes to his. “You—your home and your family—the things and people you love most, will be next. And if I hide in that barn as though my hands are tied—if I fail to protect you, to honor my promise—I’m no better a man than Slaughter.”

The house, the fires, that goddamn blight, and now Will…We’ve lost everything because of you.

“But what about you?” She cared about him. If they were able to break the curse, why would she have to lose him too? It wasn’t fair.

Nathaniel set his jaw. “I know who I am. I’ve made my decision.” His hazel eyes softened on hers as he let her go. “I know what kind of man I want to be.”

Tori nodded, her throat too thick to speak. She waded back toward shore, needing to feel the earth under her feet. “How do we do it?”

Nathaniel splashed softly through the water behind her. “The curse only said we have to shed Slaughter blood. I watched Emmeline cast a spell once. The language was all symbolic—it’s all about intent. So it stands to reason, a small amount of Slaughter blood would probably do.”

Tori didn’t like where he was going with this and she pushed the thought away, refusing to acknowledge her connection to the Slaughters, no matter how small. She was Emmeline’s descendant, and the spell would surely preclude her. If the power of the spell really was about intent, she knew who she wanted to be too. “Fine. I’ll think of a reason to invite Jesse to the tree, and then I’ll punch him in the nose. Problem solved.” The thought of punching Jesse pushed a reluctant smile to Tori’s face, and she rolled sideways as she stroked to see if Nathaniel was smiling too.

He treaded water a few yards behind her, his face ghost-white.

“I thought that was pretty funny,” she said, kicking water playfully in his direction. He didn’t react and her smile slid away. Nathaniel stared down at the water, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” he said haltingly. “I feel odd. I feel…” Nathaniel winced and touched his face. He pulled his hand away and a trickle of blood stained the tips of his fingers. He sucked in another sharp breath. A long gash opened slowly as she watched, as if cut by an invisible knife, high across his cheek. Thick red streams of blood spread down his face into the water.

Tori struggled, fighting against the mud to get back to him.

Nathaniel clutched his chest. He gasped and slid under the water. She kicked up her feet and stroked to his side, catching him under the arm and heaving him up until his face was above the surface.

“What’s happening?” She spit water from her mouth, struggling under his weight as dark red clouds of blood bloomed all around them.

Tori swam hard to shore, one arm dragging Nathaniel until their feet touched the bottom. Fighting the heaviness of the water and their clothes, the sediment dragging at their heels, they staggered through the shallows to shore. Nathaniel looked down at himself with gritted teeth. Thick streams of blood poured from his chest, down his stomach. Tori’s heart pounded wildly at the sight of the winding gash in Nathaniel’s chest. As she watched, a new line began to slice down, then sideways, opening a second deep cut in his skin.

“No. No, no, no!” she said, helpless as another formed, diagonally up and then down, carving him open. She didn’t know how to stop it. “What’s happening?” she asked, scrambling to drag him onto the shore.

He dropped to his knees in the mud, crying out as the cuts began to take shape, forming a word. S-L-A…U…

Nathaniel collapsed to all fours, his blood spattering the riverbed.

“The tree!” Tori grabbed Nathaniel’s hand and heaved him to his feet. She climbed up the embankment, dragging him with her as she ran for the oak. Nathaniel lumbered weakly behind her. Tori rushed through the woods, sticking to the path to avoid the grabbing brambles and limbs, but Nathaniel was slowing her down. He groaned. Stumbled. Then he fell to his knees. Tori hesitated a fraction of a second before leaving him and breaking into a sprint.

When she finally flew out of the trees and into the cemetery, Jesse, Mitch, and Bobby were standing under the oak, their shoulders shaking with laughter. Mitch braced his foot against a shovel while Bobby worked at digging a hole, jabbing the sharp end of his spade hard against a root.

“What exactly are we looking for, Jesse?” An empty case of beer lay on its side in the weeds, the ground littered with empty cans. Bobby crushed one and tossed it away from him.

“I don’t know.” Jesse took a long drag off a cigarette and looked up into the gnarled arms of the oak. “This is the oldest tree on the whole damn farm. Whatever Will was looking for, it’s gotta be here.” He gripped a pocketknife and brushed his fingers over the splintered wood, halfway finished carving his name. All Tori could see was Nathaniel’s body, the scars they would leave if he didn’t heal.

“What are you doing?” Tori shouted, angry and breathless, dripping river water at the edge of the cemetery.

Jesse and his friends whipped around. For a moment, they just stared, their eyes traveling in turn over her hair and her face and her clothes.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jesse asked. Tori was drenched, covered in mud and blood and shaking from the cold. Let him make his own assumptions.

“Get away from my tree!”

Jesse flicked his cigarette ash to the ground, looking sideways at his friends, like he was trying to decide who he needed to be right now.

He choked out a laugh. “What are you gonna do? File a restraining order?” He turned his back on her and began to carve another letter, and somewhere in the woods behind her, Tori heard Nathaniel moan.

“I said stop it!” Tori stood behind him, ready to launch herself at his back. She wanted to scratch him, to hit him. She wanted to make him bleed.

Bobby jammed the shovel into the ground and worked it back and forth with the heel of his boot.

“I’d invite you to stay, Burns, but we’re out of beer,” Jesse said around his cigarette as he kept carving. Mitch laughed. Bobby poked the blade of the shovel into the hole a few times, then tossed it aside.

“Hey,” Bobby said, kneeling to reach into the dirt. “I think I found something. Is this what you’re looking for?” He unearthed a brown jug, or maybe it was an urn. At first, Tori didn’t care. She was just relieved Jesse wasn’t cutting anymore. But then Jesse’s eyes slid to hers. Was this it? Was this the answer? The secret Will had been looking for? Tori’s fingers itched to touch it. More than that, they itched to punch him. She could do it. She could draw his blood and take the jug and end it all right now. She took a hesitant step toward him, her hand fisted at her side.

Bobby pitched it to Jesse, and Jesse caught it in the crook of his arm with a smug smile. Tori tried to see over Mitch’s and Bobby’s shoulders as Jesse brushed the dirt from its sides. It was old and irregular, coated in dirt. And yet, something about the jug seemed familiar. It made the hair on her neck stand up, and she was filled with a fiercely protective need she couldn’t understand—to take it…and put it back.

“That’s mine,” she told them. “You can’t just go digging in my yard.”

Jesse wiped a finger around the mouth of the bottle, revealing a cork.

“What is it, Jesse?” Mitch asked.

“What’s it look like?” Jesse snapped. “We’re digging in a cemetery. It’s probably somebody’s ashes.”

“Put it back, Jesse!” Tori shouted. “It doesn’t belong to you.”

“I don’t know….” Bobby squinted down at the hole where he’d found it. “There’s no headstone. And the hole’s too shallow to be a grave. Maybe we should open it and see what’s inside.”

Panic flared inside her. “No!” Tori made a grab around them, but they stood close together, blocking her out.

Jesse turned the jug, studying it from every angle.

“Put it back!” She didn’t know why she said it. She should want to open it…to reveal the answers…the secrets, even if it meant Jesse and his friends saw them too. But something inside her was screaming that they shouldn’t open it. That they shouldn’t stir whatever was inside.

“Open it, Jesse. Let’s see what’s in it,” Mitch prodded.

Jesse started prying at the cork, but it was stuck deep in the mouth of the bottle and wouldn’t budge. While they were all focused on it, Tori came from his other side and grabbed it out of Jesse’s hands.

“Give that back, Burns!” he said, his voice rising as she walked backward toward the trees. An empty beer can crunched under her heel and she cradled the jug, struggling for balance.

Jesse jerked his knife out of the tree and followed Tori into the woods.