Page 2 of Switching Graves

As Father opens his mouth to speak, Mother throws her napkin onto the table. “And we’re giving them that,” she argues, raising her voice to that squeaky, high-pitched level that usually has us all running to our rooms. “We’re taking food from our own pantry to feed their children—from our own mouths, for god’s sake. Your father spends more time down there than he does with his family. I won’t hand my sons over to them as well.”

“Audrey, we can’t stop them,” Father soothes softly from her other side, draping his hand across her shoulder when he seesthe tears gathering in her eyes. “Even those from Primaris are weakened from months of malnutrition.”

“Just like you, we love this town. We want to see it thrive and the people who took a chance on us to be happy again,” James tries again.

“They’ve been nothing but vile,” Mother sobs, covering her face with her hands. “Nothing we do or sacrifice will prove that we aren’t the monsters we ran away from back home,” her muffled voice cries.

Henry lifts his chin. “They need somewhere to place blame. We can take it. That’s what leaders do.”

“You aren’t wrong . . . ” Father muses, raising his brow.

Mother’s head jerks up again. “You’re truly allowing this?” she spits angrily to Father.

“I won’t stop my sons from taking pride and ownership over what we’ve built and using their gifts—the gifts we fought to protect—to help those who need it..”

“This is ludicrous,” Mother scoffs, sliding back her chair and stomping out of the dining room. Emma repeats the same motion, following closely on Mother’s heels.

Father releases another long, defeated sigh, shoveling a bite of food into his mouth as James dares to speak.

“She should realize this is our only choice. No one else wants to step up and actuallydo somethingto make a difference. If we don’t act now, all of us will starve to death.”

“And what makes you so confident in your knowledge about where Nocturne Valley stands? We still have some life left,” Father challenges.

“We hear the whisperings, Father. We see people begging on the streets and looting. We can sense the power of the town weakening. It’s getting worse by the day,” Henry explains, his face grave.

My sisters and I sit in silence, unsure if we should be present for this conversation, but unwilling to leave if Father is willing to let us stay for once.

Pushing his plate away, Father rests his elbows on the table and drops his head into his palms. His forearms are so large, they completely hide his face from our view as he scrapes his fingers against his scalp. No one dares speak as we watch him contemplate what to do next.

I don’t want to lose my brothers if something were to happen in those woods, but they’re right. It’s been nearly a year of rationing while we attempt to rebuild a road that appears to be irrevocably broken. No one has volunteered to take the hike, even when it was suggested by Father or Mayor Payne in one of the many town meetings about it. The Primarises aren’t just weakened, they’re unwilling to help.

After a few moments that pass like hours, Father raises his head and meets James’s gaze. “We will start preparing a route and hiking pack for each of you in the morning.”

My eyes ping back and forth between my three brothers, who are all biting back smiles at their victory. A rock of dread settles in the pit of my stomach as Father keeps his face stern.

“Let me speak to your mother before you start prattling on about it in front of her. She worries about you, as any mother would. But she also cares about this town. She’ll understand that it’s up to the Landrys to lead us back into glory.”

The three of them mumble, “Yes, Father,” at the same time, and he nods, pushing away from the table much more delicately than Mother had done. Just before he turns to leave, his eyes land on me and my sisters.

“Do not speak of what you’ve heard at this table to anyone outside of our family,” he commands, and the four of us silently nod.

Later that night, James, Henry, and John sit in James’s room across the hall with the door closed, quietly planning out their grand journey. My older sisters, Emma and Marie, huddle together in Marie’s room next door to mine while my youngest sisters, Catherine and Mae, sleep soundly in their shared nursery at the end of the hall. In my own room, I unhook the latch on my window and crawl through the small opening, settling on the steep roof with my notebook. I’ve done it enough before that hoisting myself over the windowsill is second nature.

There’s a new moon tonight, draping the cloudless sky in inky darkness that blends with the black ocean waters to my left so well, it’s hard to tell where the two meet. While I consider the conversation that happened during dinner, I peer out at the night sky, noting how dark Nocturne Valley appears in the short distance separating us.

Is all of this worth the trouble it has brought my parents?

Did they know they would meet this many obstacles when they decided to build our home on this land? Would they have made the same choices if they knew how much resistance they would receive from the people they were being generous to?

Is any of this better than the hate and oppression they met before?

Scribbling my thoughts down, I lose track of time. The soft glow reflecting on the grass below me from the lanterns in the kitchen dies out, bedroom doors eventually shutting one by one as everyone in our home retires for the night.

As I gather my notebook and pen to follow suit, I notice subtle movements against the iron gates surrounding our front property—the same gates that separate our estate fromNocturne Valley. Squinting my eyes to peer further into the shadows, I’m startled as three figures race across the lawn toward our side entrance. Following immediately after, another five zoom past. This continues again and again, more people racing by each time, completely unaware that they’re being watched from above.

I panic, stumbling across the roof toward my window to warn the others. But my socked feet can’t find any traction against the slick material, and I end up slipping and sliding in the opposite direction, nearly falling over the edge.

Within minutes, I hear my family’s shouts as the intruders make their way through our home. Lights flash and objects crash around as powers that have coexisted for centuries are wielded against one another.

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