Without saying a word, Violet obliged and turned her signal off. We continued onward over the hill.

My stomach began to sink. I hadn’t eaten anything that morning before leaving the Simmons house, and for that I was grateful. It was starting to feel like we were on our way to the gallows to be executed in front of an audience.

Violet shut off the engine, and we all looked through the windows on the right side of the car to where the pallbearers were carrying the caskets. The hillside was crawling with people dressed in black, and from where I sat watching, the scene looked almost horrific—as if the mourners were insects scurrying toward their destination. I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing that I was seeing what Mischa wanted me to see. She—or rather, the spirits masquerading as her—wanted me to be intimidated. I had to remember that this was just a funeral, nothing more. Just two caskets being lowered into the ground with plenty of witnesses around, keeping their eyes on Mischa.

There was no reason to be scared… yet.

“I guess this is it.” Violet slid a pair of oversize Gucci sunglasses with black frames up her nose and climbed out of the car, with Henry following her.

Seizing my last seconds with Trey and knowing that the moment had arrived when I had to assign his specific duty to him, I inhaled deeply. “When we get back to the house, there’s going to come a moment when I’ll need you to pull the black pins out of my voodoo doll.”

Hurt flashed across Trey’s face. He’d probably assumed all along that Jennie had given me more description about what would have to happen that day than I’d shared with the group. It was fair for him to feel a little betrayed. “That’s all I can tell you,” I told him.

“I thought the pins were supposed to protect us,” Trey said.

“They are. But there’s going to be a moment, and I can’t describe exactly how you’ll know it’s time—but I think you’ll know when you’ll have to take them out.” He nodded, staring deeply into my eyes. “I wish I could tell you more, but that’s all I can say.”

“I’ll be ready,” Trey assured me in a small voice.

I unfastened my seat belt so that I could lean over and kiss him gently on the cheek, and then climbed out of the back seat.

Henry was already walking ahead of Violet toward where the large group of mourners had gathered. I trotted to catch up with Violet, suddenly wishing I’d handled this matter before leaving the Simmons house. It didn’t seem like a great idea to bring it up now, in such close proximity to Mischa, but I couldn’t put it off any longer. Impulsively, I grabbed her by the wrist and spoke in a low voice.

“I have to ask you to do something when we get back to the house, and only you can know about it,” I said, speaking rapidly.