Page 91 of Switching Graves

Right to Mayor Payne’s lush front lawn.

I drug it up against the gardens his wife spends hours tending to.

Then, I set it up among the dazzling blossoms and left it there.

Their attempts at silencing me will never work. I’ll scream about their betrayal until my last breath. And after that, I’ll bellow it into the heavens.

Iwoke up in a terror this morning, coated in sweat and gasping for breath, my sheets tangled around my legs.

I was drowning, forced deep beneath the surface of the black water and thrashing around. My hands and legs flailed in all directions, reaching for something—anythingto grasp onto and pull my head above water.

My mother would say that a dream about dark water was a bad omen. That they meant death was coming for someone you loved dearly.

Her superstitions always seemed so silly back then.

Don’t put your shoes on the table, or you’ll get bad luck.

Don’t leave your purse on the floor or you’ll lose money.

Don’t throw away money because you’ll tell the universe it means you don’t want it.

Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder, or you’ll end up in an argument.

I was a child, incapable of wrapping my mind around the gravity of such things. Now, they terrify me. I live my life around these silly little anecdotes and this morning, I could practically hear her somber voice warning me to call everyone I loved and check in.

So, I called Poppy. She didn’t answer.

Which only made my anxiety worse.

In fact, she hasn’t answered since she left me alone in Briarwood with her parents. We never got to have that conversation about what Divina said, or why she’s been acting so weird. I woke up Friday morning to find her room empty, her bags missing, and Divina screaming in my face, asking where she went. Then, I panicked. I booked the first flight out and left without saying goodbye. All I’ve gotten as proof of life are a few impersonal texts apologizing for missing a call, or empty promises that she’ll call me later.

With Ava, Beatrix, and Jonah’s help, we make it through the rest of Finley’s journals in record time.

Ava is reading the final entries of the last one out loud while I take notes and Jonah and Beatrix listen on my couch.

“It’s like I can feel him losing his mind with every page,” Beatrix says with a sad sniffle. “Who puts a kid through that kind of hell?”

I clip my pen on the edge of the notebook. “I wonder if this Midnight Syndicate is still around.”

“They have to be,” Jonah insists. “Think about what crazy Matilda said. They’re the ones eating the cows without giving a damn what the consequences are.”

Beatrix’s head snaps in his direction. “She’s not crazy,” she insists.

“She seems pretty off-kilter,” he scoffs.

“Then, I must be certifiable, right?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She leans forward in her seat and points to her chest. “Since coming here, Matilda is the only person who has ever made me feelnormalfor my interest in that stuff. She taught me how to practice my craft safely, and never once questioned my sanity. Not like you and Mom and Dad have. You’re Luminara, too. Just because you don’t seem to have the same set of gifts doesn’t mean you can judge me for mine.”

“Come on, Bea. I’ve never said anything negative about all your little Voodoo rituals,” Jonah dismisses.

“See! It’s not Voodoo, Jonah. You have no idea how insulting that is,” Beatrix whines, crossing her arms.

“Either way,” Ava interrupts. “Jonah has a point. Matilda may have been talking about the Midnight Syndicate when she said all that. Maybe we should ask her about it now that we know what we do.”

“What are we trying to accomplish?” Jonah asks for the umpteenth time. “This kid is long gone. The school is already here, and even if this Midnight Syndicate is real, how is it any of our business?”

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