I crossed the floor fast, needing to be outside, away from there.

“Del.” Sister Vanessa angled toward me.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Is everything all right?”

“Fine.”

She glanced toward her uncle’s office. “Are you sure?”

“I—” What was she even asking me? “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Nudging past Sister Vanessa, I escaped into the night air. The Harvest Fest now had a deserted feel. Half-deflated, the angular peak of the bouncy house flopped sideways like the tip of a wizard’s hat. Most of the Trunk or Treat cars were gone, leaving wide gaps in the previously full lines. All the Purity Pledgers performed cleanup tasks at their assigned stations.

Jameer shoveled cotton candy clouds into a large plastic bag Helena held wide for him. His attention was on me, not the task. They’d all seen Newsome walk me off.

I shook my head in his direction. Later, bro. I wanted to pick up where I left off at the prize table. I stopped cold when I saw the new customer handing an absolutely jubilant Kiera a short string of carnival game tickets.

Welcome to the Annual First Missionary House of the Lord Harvest Fest, Mason Miles.

Chapter 13

HOW? HOW WAS HE HERE?

I reclaimed my previous position behind the table, coming into the middle of Kiera and Mason’s conversation. They didn’t even notice.

Mason, motioning at his outfit, a black trench coat with a dark turtleneck underneath, said, “—he wore in book five of the series, when he was off the grid in New York City and acting as an urban mercenary.”

Kiera’s grin was wide. “Wow! That sounds cool.”

“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “What are we doing here?” I kind of waved at the table, like that’s what I meant.

Mason, oblivious to the deep-sea pressure from tension squeezing us on all sides, said, “What up, Del!”

I nodded.

Kiera said, “Mason was telling me about his costume.”

“Jack Jake,” I said. Monotone.

Mason’s goofy, idiot face lit up. “You like the JJ series, too?”

“No, Mason. I don’t. It’s just, whenever you do book reports—”

Kiera said to him, “I didn’t think you were going to come by.”

He said, “When you told me about it Sunday, I didn’t know if I’d have to help my sisters with their homework. Our mom works night shifts, so if the twins are having a hard time with math or science, that’s on me. But we wrapped up early, so I figured I’d at least get them out the house and see if you were still here.”

“We are,” I said.

We all bobbed aimlessly. Kiera crossed her arms, bounced on her toes. I stood my ground. Mason made awkward glances over his shoulder at the two tall, gangly girls tossing bean bags at a cornhole board.

He broke first, and said, “I oughta get my sisters so that cornhole guy can go home.”

“You should’ve come earlier,” Kiera said.

No. He shouldn’t have.

Mason stepped backward, moving toward his sisters while never breaking eye contact with Kiera. He tapped his temple. “Noted. I will always listen to Kiera Westing’s advice on events and timeliness going forward.”