QUIVIRA
AS WE STEPPED out of the corn, it took me a minute to catch my breath.
The sun had already set, but the sky was full of life, painted in broad brushstrokes of peach, purple, and pink.
The scent was heady—honeysuckle, new and fermenting mulberries, and the remnants of a cedar campfire hung heavy in the humid air. But there was something else, too—an appealing mineral smell nipped the edge of my senses.
Beyond the huge expanse of deep green grass scattered with fireflies was a picturesque lake with an unearthly opal hue.
Rhys and I moved toward it, looking around cautiously, but there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Unlike the tiny towns we’d passed through to get here, Quivira seemed to be untouched by drought. Moisture clung to every dark blade of grass, and the air felt lush.
Nestled around the lake were five large structures. My mother once said she grew up in a lodge, but this wasn’t what I’d pictured at all. I’d expected a desolate place littered with dilapidated shacks and millions of shirtless, dirty kids with unusually tiny ears.
Each of the buildings was architecturally unique. One was a Tudor—cream, trimmed with dark brown accents. There was one that looked like a giant gray clapboard box. On the far end of the lake stood an enormous A-frame that blended into the surrounding woods so perfectly I almost missed it. On the left side was a beautiful Spanish Colonial made of tan stucco and dark wood, but the grandest of all was a stone mansion with a red-clay-tiled roof. It was like seeing a vintage photograph in full color.
It was a utopia.
When we reached the shore, I leaned over the low stone wall, scooping up the water in my hands and tasting it with the tip of my tongue. It was the color of sea glass, but brinier than the sea.
“It’s a salt lake,” I marveled.
“In the middle of Kansas?” My brother skimmed his hand across the water. “That’s impossible. How could they’ve kept this place a secret?”
I looked over the dense woods nestled between the structures. None of this was visible to us from within the corn. “Mom said Katia put some kind of protection spell over Quivira.”
Rhys shook his head. “Maybe you really are having a heatstroke.” He started to splash water on his face, but halted. “Do you hear that?”
The lake was still, except for the occasional ripple breaking against the wall where dozens of canoes and rowboats were tied. The boats clinked together softly, the gentlest of wind chimes. Other than that, it was eerily quiet. No lawnmowers or cars, not a sound, except for a faint, high-pitched lament that grew stronger by the second. Someone was singing, if you could call it that.
Rhys stood next to me, pointing to a speck of bright yellow at the far end of the dam, jarring against the muted greens, blues, and browns. It came slowly toward us like a wayward ray of sunshine, finally revealing itself to be a girl in an ankle-length yellow cotton dress, skipping alongside the stone wall. She was about our age, with peaches-and-cream skin, long strawberry-blond hair, and a pert nose.
“‘Tell me why-ee, ain’t nothin’ but a heartache,’” she sang. “‘Tell me why-ee, ain’t nothin’ but a mee-stake. Tell me why-ee, I never wanna hear you say, I want it that way.’”
Rhys and I stood there, mouths agape.
The girl glanced over at us and did a double take.
“Oh God.” Rhys grimaced. “I hate that song.”
“Stick to the plan,” I whispered. “We’re going to become a part of the community until we can get Mom out of here, got it?”
The girl bounded toward us with a huge grin plastered across her pleasant face. “Oh my stars, it’s you.” She crashed into me with a crippling bear hug.
I stood there, stiff as a board, waiting for it to be over. “Um . . . do I know you?”
“Oh.” She let go and slapped her palm against her forehead. “I completely forgot myself. I’m Beth. I live in the Grimsby lodge.” She pointed to the Tudor-style compound on the right side of the lake. “And that’s the Hanratty lodge, the Larkin lodge, the Mendoza lodge, and the big one past those woods on the left is the meeting house.”
“I’m Rhys, and this is my sister, Ash—”
“I know who you are, silly. Everyone knows.” She studied me. “It’s uncanny, though.”
“What’s uncanny?” I asked, hoping for a clue about the dead girl.
She smiled. “The resemblance . . . to Katia.”
“You’ve seen Katia?” Rhys asked with a raised brow.
“Every year, on the summer solstice, she comes out of the corn to heal the sick with her blood and give us her blessing.”
“Ah, okay.” Rhys shot me a knowing look. “So, she lives in the corn.”
“Yep.” Beth peered into the fields behind us. “How’d you end up way over here? They’ve got a whole welcome party waiting for you over on the east side. Boy, is Spencer Mendoza going to be irked,” she said with a mischievous smile. “I can’t believe I got to meet you first.”
“How do you know our names?” Rhys asked. “How did you know we were coming?”
“Oh, no one knew you existed until a few days ago.” Her dark brown eyes sparkled in the fading light. “Katia told us you’d be coming home in time for the ceremony.”
“So, our mother’s here.” Rhys squeezed my elbow, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “She’s okay?”
“Oh, she won’t be arriving for a few more days. Katia’s taken them to see Aiyana in New Spain.”
“New Spain?” Rhys asked. “What . . . Mexico?”
I stepped in front of him. “Who’s Aiyana?”
“Aiyana’s the original immortal from the Quivira tribe. She taught Katia everything she knows. Aiyana will help prepare them for vesselship.”
“What do you mean ‘them’?” Rhys asked.
A giggle escaped her lips. She pressed her hand to her mouth like she could stuff it back in. “Your mother and your father, of course.”
“Our father?” Rhys sputtered. “Thomas? Has he been here this whole time?”
“What on earth do you mean? He’s been with Nina. With you.”
Rhys and I exchanged an uneasy look.
“We’ve never laid eyes on him,” Rhys said.
“Hmm . . . that’s curious.” Beth blinked furiously as she looked out over the corn. “I see.” She nodded to no one. “Let’s just keep that between us for now,” she said, pasting a smile back on her face.
“Can you take us to her . . . to them?” I asked, my pulse racing at the thought. Could our father and mother really be together right now?
“First things first.” Beth looped her arm through mine. “We have to get you cleaned up for the wreathing ceremony.” She wrinkled her nose. “No offense, but you smell funny.” She tugged on my arm. “Come on, everyone’s waiting.”
“What’s a wreathing ceremony?” I asked as my brother lagged behind with the bags.
“It’s very special.” Beth led us along the lakeshore. “It only happens once every seventeen years. A week before the ritual, the chosen daughter from the Larkin bloodline picks a boy from the Mendoza bloodline to walk the corn with on the summer solstice. Your bloodlines have been specifically bred for each other. For this occasion. It’s so romantic.” She took in a giant breath of air like a two-year-old. “Normally, you’d get to choose your own intended, but since you don’t really know anyone, Katia chose for you. You’re so lucky,” she said to me, sighing dreamily. “Wait till you see him.”
“Hold up, you mean I have to do this wreathing thing?”
“Oh, don’t fret. You don’t have to actually walk the corn. The vessels have already been found. But since Nina’s away, we thought you could stand in for her, experience your heritage. Tradition’s important around here. Wouldn’t want to miss a chance for a celebration. Your mother and father will walk the corn on the summer solstice before becoming Katia’s and Alonso’s vessels.”
“What does that even mean, being a vessel?” Rhys called from behind.
“Oh my stars! You don’t know?” She yanked me to a stop, waiting for Rhys to catch up.
“On the summer solstice, Katia will transfer her soul into Nina’s body so she can break her blood bond with Coronado. Then the Great Spirit will return Alonso’s soul, placing it in Thomas’s body. They’ll be together at last. They’ll finally be free. We all will,” she added wistfully.
“Uh-huh . . . sure.” Rhys shot me a weary sideward glance. He still thought all this was some kind of a hoax, but I was beginning to wonder. Maybe the legends were true. All of them.
Beth started walking again, pulling me along with her.
“But you can leave Quivira, right?” I asked. “It’s not like you’re being kept here against your will.”
“Why would anyone want to leave?” She waved her hand around. “We have everything we need. The community was sealed in 1861.”
“Sealed?”
“Because of the Arcanum.” She nodded, matter-of-fact.
“‘Arcanum’?” my brother asked.
“Coronado’s guards are called the Arcanum.” Beth lowered her voice, as if someone might be listening. “In 1861, Coronado brought the Arcanum here, and threatened to slaughter us all. That’s when Katia enraptured the corn.”
Rhys shook his head in dismay as he looked out over the fields.
“Oh, don’t worry, they can’t get in. The corn protects us.”
“The corn protects you?” Rhys burst out in a fit of nervous laughter and then dropped the bags at his feet dramatically. “So, you’re telling me Katia and Coronado are alive, like, living, breathing, alive, and immortal?”
“Of course, silly goose.” She bounced on the balls of her feet a few times.
“And you think our mom and Thomas are some kind of magic vessels.” Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Whew.” Beth pretended to wipe her brow. “For a minute there I thought you might be a little touched,” she said as she continued to pull me up the cobblestone path.
“Touched?” Rhys called after her as he regathered the bags. He looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. He pumped his legs harder to catch up to her. “What’s your deal?”
I shot him a look to be nice, but Beth didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m a seer. Seers can see into the future. But I’m broken. See?” She flipped her stick-straight strawberry-blond hair over to one side to reveal a large scar running the length of her skull. “I took a fall. I don’t remember anything. I guess it made my third eye clog and I was seeing all kinds of cuckoo banana things. I saw the two of you coming months ago—the path that will lead us from darkness—but then I also saw a monkey eating a walnut and I thought to myself, Beth, don’t be daft, we don’t even have walnut trees.”
“So, you’re saying you have monkeys?” Rhys’s voice cracked under the pressure.
Beth swirled a finger next to her temple making the crazy sign. “Apparently, I’m not the only one who hit their head,” she said, smacking his arm playfully. “I’m joshing you. No, we don’t have monkeys. But that would be grand, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, that would be grand.” Rhys looked around for an escape route.
Beth grinned. “You’re weird, but you’re cute. Are you intended?” She smoothed her hair down, tucking it behind her ears.
“What, like engaged? No.” Rhys jutted his head back, like he was disgusted by the idea. “Why, are you?”
A soft blush settled into her delicate skin. “Oh, I’m unintendable.”
“Well, I’m only seventeen,” Rhys replied.
“There’s no shame in being a late bloomer.”
She either had the best deadpan I’d ever seen or no sense of humor whatsoever.
As we turned down a narrow wooded path, Beth pointed things out, like where to find the best boysenberries, where to dig up arrowheads, how to make birdcalls, anything and everything that sprung into her head, which was a lot. “Up there, on top of Dead Man’s Hill”—she pointed to a simple shingled structure—“that’s the schoolhouse.”
“Dead Man’s Hill?” Rhys asked. “Why do they call it that? It’s not even that steep.”
“Oh, some people, when they get old, they just go up there and sit. And die,” she added with a sweet lilt to her voice as she spun around, making her yellow sundress billow.
My brother looked at me with wide eyes.
As we neared the end of the path, the enormous stone mansion came back into view. With its arched doorways, heavy leaded-glass windows, and grand entryway lined with brass lanterns hung from iron stands, it looked like something straight out of a gothic novel.
“The meeting house,” Beth announced.
With each step, my throat got a little tighter and my heart picked up speed. What if this didn’t work? Fooling Beth was one thing, but what if they figured out we didn’t really want to “come home”? What would they do to us?
Beth opened the heavy double doors and led us up a set of stairs to a long hallway.
“Boys on the right side, girls on the left,” she said as she steered me toward a tapestry curtain.
Rhys stepped in front of her. “She’s not going anywhere without me.”
“Okeydokey,” Beth chirped, and without a second thought she took his arm. “Rooster in the henhouse,” she called out as she opened the panel and led us into an enormous parlor full of half-naked women.