Chapters (41)
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- PART TWO
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Mara settled into the back seat with Eunjoo, now awake, looking out the dark window and whispering under her breath.
“Who are you talking to?” Calliope asked.
“Coyote.”
Calliope had learned by now that the girl’s imaginary conversations were anything but fantasy. She looked around. “Where is Coyote?”
“I’m calling him.”
“What for?”
Eunjoo said nothing.
Mara said, “We’re lucky to have this child with us. No one ever believes the children.”
Calliope believed. But she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
In the passenger seat, the corn girl had awoken. She usually slept through the night, but this had been a strange night. Calliope unwrapped her, feeling for dampness. She wasn’t wet. The corn girl brought her finger to her mouth, suckling on her skin, frustrated there was no milk, beginning to cry. Calliope put the girl to her breast, said, “You win, Miwe e’le. A midnight snack.”
Still she was unsettled. As the girl nursed, Calliope imagined what might have just happened in Malia’s house. Would they have killed Calliope? She was certain they weren’t capable of that violence, but she knew their stories told of sometimes horrifying punishments for breaking taboos. In one account, the ko’ko Salamobia, personification of anger that needed exorcising, would come from the sacred lake and behead the offender. She thought of Arlen, spitting in rage, his voice twisted to a growl at the thought of Calliope and Chance together or killing the Suuke together. She couldn’t tell which angered him more.
Her pulse quickened as a horrible thought took shape. “Chance,” she whispered. “What if Arlen intended for us to go to Chaco tonight? What if that was his plan?”
“I’ve known Arlen since we were kids. What you saw tonight, that wasn’t him. He wouldn’t act like that. He hasn’t been the same since …”
Calliope filled the silence, whispering, “Since his sister died.”
Mara asked, “What happened to her, if you don’t mind this old busybody?”
He didn’t say anything at first, and Calliope put a hand on his shoulder, her other hand still holding the corn girl to her breast. Chance didn’t look away from the dirt ahead. They weren’t going more than thirty or forty miles per hour in the dark without a visible road.
She didn’t think he would answer, he was silent so long.