“Those are very old stories,” Hideo said, interrupting her. “No one believes in that now.”
“Maybe they should. They should believe in familiars and spells and curses and witch marks.”
The lampposts by the path that led to the dorm turned on automatically with the coming of the dark and she was able to clearly see Hideo’s worried expression under the stark light.
“Minerva, I know you’ve been stressed lately. Maybe you should contact health services.”
He thought she was losing it, but she wasn’t going to call health services. It would go in her file and her adviser would give her a call, and what if they yanked her scholarship or took her campus jobs? Sure, Carolyn Yates had said she could have a full ride, but if she was too loony to attend classes, she wasn’t going to be a student for long. They would take her visa, too. She’d have to go back to Mexico with a half-completed degree, babbling about witches and familiars.
“Yeah.” She watched a moth flutter close to the bulb of a lamppost. “Yeah, sorry, I haven’t been sleeping much. I’ll email health services.”
“In the morning?”
“First thing in the morning,” she said. “Let me get my clipboard.”
“I can do the rounds alone.”
“No. Are you kidding me? I’ll grab the clipboard.”
She rushed back inside and closed her eyes, breathing slowly. When she snapped them open, she picked up the clipboard and went back out. Hideo looked at her funny during their whole route. Once they returned to her dorm, she asked him if he wanted to have a soda or water or anything. He relaxed considerably once they were in the kitchen.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked before he left.
“Yeah, I’ve been living off coffee and pretzels. I swear, I’ll call health services and go to bed early.”
“Okay. But I’m dropping by to see how you are tomorrow. And you’re going to go with me to Patricia’s party.”
“Sure,” she said, sliding her hands into her pockets.
“You mean it?”
“I’ll go. Noah Yates will be there. I’d already planned to meet him,” she lied.
“That’s great,” Hideo said, and he smiled, looking perfectly pleased. Shit. She’d have to show up to the party after all.
As soon as Hideo’s car was out of sight, she locked the back door and headed into the library. She looked at the collection of stuffed birds staring at her from the walls. She grabbed a canary that had probably been preserved a hundred years before. She pulled a sewing kit from the back of a drawer. Then she went into the bathroom.
She held the canary in one hand, as if testing its weight, and looked in the mirror. On the sink she had placed seven pins from the sewing kit.
All this time she had been clinging to rationality, avoiding slipping into superstition and fear. No more.
“One,” she said, and pricked her thumb, then slid the bloodied needle into the bird’s body.
1908: 10
Follow the plan, simplyfollow it,she thought. This refrain, repeated with each step, helped to numb her brain so that she did not rush back to the safety of the farm, to her bed, where she would be if she’d let reason guide her.
She held the lantern up with her left hand to light the way, paying attention to all the sounds of the night: the wind in the trees, the crickets chirping, the snap of the twigs under her shoes.
The burlap sack felt as if it were filled with lead. Her palms were sweaty, and her grip seemed to slacken every couple of minutes, as if her body conspired against her, wanting Alba to drop this burden and rush back home.
Follow the plan.
It was awfully late. The moon’s light barely grazed the ground, and the glow of the lantern was subdued, making the darkness almost impenetrable. She walked slowly, each step deliberate and careful.
When Alba reached the clearing by the river, she took a deep breath and placed the lantern on the ground. She’d surveyed this area in the daytime, paced up and down the river, determined how she’d proceed until it all seemed like a play and she an actress performing a part. But at night the landscape hadmorphed, and strange shadows crisscrossed the ground, making her wince.
She opened the burlap sack and reached inside. She took hold of the rabbit she’d grabbed from the hutch and struck with a hard, quick blow to the skull. A fresh kill: its body was still warm.
