Bea Flint stood on her one good leg, her hand on the rough bark for support and her twisted ankle throbbing with pain. She had awoken from a dream to find herself in a nightmare. The ancient trees leaned in over the path, holding at bay the last of the evening light, and in the cobwebbed darkness she could see the Ledbetters clustering around the lifeless figure of Phoebe. Mutton Ledbetter, a big lumbering man with a limp, hoisted her onto his shoulder like a half-empty sack of feathers.
Maize Ledbetter stood where she was, her arm still extended. She turned slightly like a squat weather vane and pointed directly at Bea. Her scratchy voice carried along the twilit path. “This one goes in the lake,” she croaked. “She’ll fatten up the fishes nicely, I reckon. We don’t eat children, despite what your friends might say, but we is partial to a nice bit o’ fish. We’ll be coming back for you, girly, when it gets good and dark.”
Bea was frozen to the spot. It was like being in that tiny room with Ike Ledbetter, but she was not dreaming now. She glanced over her shoulder. In the shadows at the edge of the square she could just see the members of the Quorum. Granny Delphine was there, and Morganfield, who could hear for miles, and Horton, who had lost his niece. They were muttering urgently among themselves, and she knew they must be well aware of what was happening. She felt a fool. Her beginner’s grasp of Mumbo Jumbo had made her so cocky that she had taken on the entire Quorum and promised them she could take on the Ledbetters too. She had let Granny Delphine down, and put Phoebe in mortal danger. She knew that in a moment the Quorum would reach a decision. They would have to act to save Phoebe, and she would forever be the child who made such a mess of things that Bell Hoot’s pacifist ways, already tarnished by the Ledbetters, were lost for good.
She felt a flash of anger melting through her fear. She turned to see the Ledbetters trotting swiftly away toward the lake, carrying Phoebe with them. She did not know if her friend was alive or dead. “Girly, is it?” she said, and she began to hum. It was a loud and urgent hum. A tremendous cloud of sound broke out in response from the distant hive at the curve of the path. The hive was packed to bursting with fat, restless bees. They were fueled up with nectar and waiting for the starting gun. Bea focused on their song, shutting out every other sound. She closed her eyes and burrowed into the center of the hive until she heard the old queen’s buzz. She took the sound and made it her own.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, she buzzed, and all at once the fat bees burst from their hive like a million miniature helicopters. Bea opened her eyes. The Ledbetters had stopped in their tracks at the curve of the path. Around them the air was thickening by the second. A dense swarm of black dots fizzed against the yellow backdrop of the moon that sat like a full bowl of honey on the horizon.
Bea called to the swarm. She ordered them to fly low and to make their way toward her. The bees were elated to be free from the hive, and ready to do anything she asked. They formed a fuzzy cordon around the Ledbetters, who spun around in terror, looking for a way out. Some flapped their arms and yelled in panic, while others covered their heads and crouched low. Mutton dropped Phoebe to the ground and pulled his ragged scarf up around his ears.
The bees began to move, and Maize, who had been at the head of the column, turned back toward Bea with a cry of rage. She began to drive her clan ahead of her like an agitated sheepdog, aiming a kick here and a box there to keep them moving smartly. Bea watched, transfixed, as they tripped and fell and rolled upright again, no less afraid of Maize’s wrath than of the bees themselves. The roar of wings grew louder by the second.
Bea hopped gingerly back off the path as the swarm drew near, blowing dust and dry leaves before it like a small hurricane. In its center the Ledbetters were fearful and confused, but not Maize. She was marching toward the square now with grim determination in her eyes. As she drew level with Bea the old woman suddenly lunged in her direction, breaking through the swarm. Bea stumbled backward. Her twisted ankle gave way and she fell to the packed earth. A layer of angry bees coated the old woman, and Bea stared in dismay as they began to sting her mercilessly.
Enough! Bea hummed, as loudly as she could. Leave her alone. The noise was so loud she did not know if the bees would hear her. Up! she commanded. Fly up! It was the only thing she could think of. The bees began to lift off from Maize. They were joined by the others in the swarm, and within moments a funnel of bees was rising into the air as though they were being sucked up by the moon.
Maize Ledbetter dropped to her knees. Her yellowish skin was turning an angry red, and she was swelling up like a grub.
Bea struggled to her feet. The Ledbetters stood in a sullen knot where their buzzing herders had deserted them. “Help her!” shouted Bea, but they just stared at her with dull resentment, as though they had been expecting this all along.
She could see Granny Delphine and Mr. Morganfield hurrying toward her across the square.
The rapidly ballooning Maize seemed to be trying to speak. Bea leaned closer in horrified fascination. Maize’s words squeaked out through swollen lips. “Must be my birthday,” she said. “I knowed for many years I would die this day.” She paused for a moment, gasping for breath. “I knowed it was bees that would do me in, too,” she wheezed. “Only way to bring out the…Hidden Boy, as it turns out. It’s all got to work together. Didn’t…see that bit till now.”
“What can I do?” asked Bea.
“Can’t do nothing, girly. Just step aside.” She waved a bloated hand that looked like an inflated rubber glove. Bea hopped to one side, puzzled. Maize was staring at someone beyond her. “Your turn now, boy,” she said. “You is head of the Ledbetter clan. Don’t roll over for nobody.”
Bea spun around, following Maize Ledbetter’s gaze. Theo stood there among the roots, a bedraggled parrot on his shoulder and his jaw hanging open in amazement at the sight of the pink swollen woman kneeling before him.
“It’s your fate, boy,” squeaked Maize. “Can’t escape it, neither. Even old Ma Ledbetter can’t escape her fate.” She gave a jerky wheeze that sounded almost like a laugh; then she toppled slowly over and was still.