Page 116 of Within These County Lines

“This map of Penango you gave me when I first started.”

“You can toss it. Or keep it if you want an old sewer map.” He smirks as he begins to walk off. “If you think pool inspectors have it rough, try working in the sewage department.”

“Sewer map?” I flip to the front page. It’s titled Penango Sewer Service Areas. I never noticed the name before. I unfold the layers to reveal a tangle of pipes and drainage lines, like a spider sprawled across the county.

My eyes immediately lock onto familiar places like the bend in the river behind Murray’s house, the road leading to Whitley’s, and the thick woods of the Gregor Preserve, home to the infamous coyote.

And then, a thick red line cuts through the trees. I check the map’s legend—stormwater runoff.

My fingers trace the pipe’s path, following it from the Ardor Tree right to Rainbow Valley. A sharp yelp escapes me. Seeing Penango from above makes everything clear.

“Whitley.” My voice shakes.

“Huh?” She barely glances up.

“Come here for a sec.”

“What?”

“Just come. Look at this map.”

She huffs, evens out her stack of bills with a pat, then shuffles over to my desk.

“What’s up?”

I point at the paper. “Where would you say the Ardor Tree is on this map?”

She squints. “Um, somewhere in this area.” She taps the tip of the red line.

“And if I said that line is a pipe, what would you say?”

She crosses her arms. “You mean, like, the pipe that the tree grows on top of?”

“I mean exactly that. This map . . . it’s like all the puzzle pieces are finally in one place.”

Her brows knit together. “I don’t follow.”

“The pool at Rainbow Valley? It’s not a coincidence between Xander, Dara, and me. It’s a connection. Like the pipes on this map.” My breath shudders. “The Ardor Tree isn’t just cursed. Its roots are spreading the curse through these pipes.”

She stares at me, the realization setting in.

The Ardor Tree may have cast its curse at its base, but its roots carried out the sentence. I was claimed by them in the woods, their grip swift and unrelenting, maybe because they were starved for a new victim after so many years without one.

But for Xander and Dara, it reached through the sewage system, extending its grasp beneath the pool’s surface where the pipes, and the roots’ passageways, opened.

It wasn’t a lightning strike or drowning child that took them before they blacked out.

It was the Ardor Tree claiming its next victim.

48

Rainbow Valley is eerily quiet when I arrive. The usual hum of music and laughter from campers checking in should be filling the air, but instead, there’s only silence.

Sheryl said she’d be here for the close-out inspection, but I count zero people as I look onward from the drive.

Birds chirp overhead, perched safely out of reach, while below, the trees spread across the ground like an unchecked virus. My gaze drifts to the pool, now a crumbling relic of what it once was. Jagged pipes protrude from its decaying cement walls, leading into blackness.

Except for one.