Page 32 of Turn That River Red

A scream rings out suddenly, and Ambrose jerks his gaze past me. “What happened?” he says, mare sharply now.

I sob. “I’m not supposed to be alone?—”

“Mercy,” Ambrose says. “Are you in danger?”

More shouts. Someone wails, long and dark like a siren. I wonder if it’s Burl Marsh’s wife.

“No,” I whisper. “But?—”

“Get inside,” Ambrose says. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I look over my shoulder, although all I can see are cabins. And then I step over the threshold. When Ambrose closes the door, the shouts go quiet, and I feel a rush of relief, like he’s locking all the evil out in the sun.

“Tell me what happened,” he says, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes boring into mine.

“There was another murder,” I whisper.

Before I can say anything more, he pulls me into him, his arms wrapped around my shoulders. My cheek presses into the bare skin above the collar of his shirt. This is wrong. This is the only thing keeping me from flying apart.

“At the river?” he says.

“No.” I burrow my face into his shoulder, my whole bodyshaking uncontrollably. “Here. At Reverend Gunner’s house.Inside. The devil?—”

Ambrose squeezes me tighter and presses his mouth against the top of my head. “You’re safe,” he says softly. “No one can hurt you here. Not even Satan.”

“Why is this happening?” I pull away from him. “Who’s doing this? They—theycrucifiedhim, like our Savior?—”

I dissolve into tears again, ugly and choking. I wait for Ambrose to tell me to calm myself, the way Reverend Gunner did after I found Raul, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes my hand and leads me to the sofa, where Max is sitting, watching us. I sink down next to him and then run my fingers over his head, hardly feeling his stiff fur. His tail thumps against the cushions.

Ambrose sits beside me. Not close enough to be inappropriate, but close enough that I could, if I wanted to, sink into him until I forgot all my terror.

“Who was it?” Ambrose asks gently. “Was it someone you know, like—like before?”

I stare down at my hands. “I know everyone who lives here. But he wasn’t my friend, like Raul.”

Ambrose considers this. “You still feel grief, though.”

Grief isn’t the right word, not for Burl. I’m not sure what the right word is, though. “I feel afraid,” I finally say. “The campus is supposed to be safe. It’s supposed to protect us from the secular world. And then this?—”

I see Burl’s body, his arms stretched wide, the blood garish in the dawn light, and sob again

Ambrose puts his hand over mine, his touch warm. “They’ll find who did it.”

“Who will?” I blink back tears. “Reverend Gunner refuses to call the police! And we still don’t know what happened to Raul. Now this? It hasn’t even been a week!’

Ambrose tightens his fingers around mine. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“You don’t know that.” I jerk my gaze over to him. “Why would someone kill Raul? He was kind. Burl—Burl wasn’t the world’s nicest man, but he didn’tdeserveto—” I can’t get the rest of the words out. “They left his body like a warning. Like they’re going to pick us off one by one until there’s no one left?—”

“Mercy. Stop.” Ambrose’s voice is firm and commanding, and he’s still squeezing my hand. I don’t want him to let go. “You’ll drive yourself crazy trying to make sense of it.”

I look up at him. His living room window faces the east, and sunlight pours in, hot and lemony. My tears turn the light to glass.

Ambrose reaches over and smooths away a few strands of hair that worked themselves loose from my braid. Then he leaves his hand against my cheek, not even caring that my skin is sticky with tears.

I realize what I want, even though I shouldn’t. But the devil’s cruelty has weakened my will.

“Kiss me again,” I whisper.

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