Ring Shout by P. Djèlí Clark

Author:P. Djèlí Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

SIX

Nana Jean’s farmhouse feels like a tomb. Been an hour since we got back. The Gullah woman took the news hard. She in her chair, a hand covering her face while Molly tries to console her. Chef over at a table holding hands with Emma. The rest of the Shouters are singing some mournful song as the Stick Man beats a slow funeral march.

I walk in de moonlight, I walk in de starlight,

To lay dis body down.

I’ll walk in de graveyard, I’ll walk through the graveyard,

To lay dis body down.

Their voices sound a deep wailing, filling up the place with its strength. But none of it feels real.

Sadie. Dead. How can that be real?

Was just hours ago we was here, listening to her complain and carry on. Now she’s gone—burned up inside a juke joint. My fists clench as I pace about, digging nails into my palms until it hurts. That pain at least feels real.

“What we gon’ do?” I call out, needing to talk. Either that or I’ll scream.

All eyes turn to me. Even the Shouters go quiet.

“Do about what?” Molly finally asks.

I stare like she lost her mind. “Them Ku Kluxes is still meeting to do their conjuring! This Grand Cyclops still coming!”

“Not sure what we can do for it,” Molly answers. “The numbers against us—”

“Then get word to Atlanta to send whoever can come!”

She look skeptical and I think to Michael George.

“What about the people they took?”

“Likely for this ritual,” Emma puts in. “They have spilled blood for such before.”

“We just gon’ let them stay taken?” I ask.

Molly frowns. “We could walk into a trap.”

“Cordelia says you’ve lost your sword?” Emma asks. At this, Molly’s eyebrows rise and Nana Jean looks up sharp. I glare at Chef, but she keeps her head down. “With the terrible loss of Sadie, our forces are stretched thin.”

I shake my head. “We’ll find a way. Chef. You could rig up some bombs, blow them right off that mountain!”

“Fool buckrah dem too?” Nana Jean asks.

“And women and children,” Molly adds. “They invite them to rituals now.”

“All of them! I don’t care if they people or monsters! Blow up every last one! Make them pay for what they done!” I don’t realize I’m shouting till the room goes quiet again, and the whoosh of pounding blood fills my ears.

“That not going to bring her back,” Chef whispers. She looks up at me, eyes red and wet. I fight to talk, but it’s like the anger gripping my tongue.

“Hunnah bex down,” Nana Jean tells me. “Gwine bun up.”

She right. My skin on fire. Feel like I could rip it off. I turn and stalk through the front door. Chef calls out but I’m already off the porch, making my way into the yard of bottle trees. There’s a hornet’s nest in my head I can’t get quiet—as if a piece of Butcher Clyde’s awful singing wormed its way inside. Even worse is the guilt gnawing my insides. Whispering that I stirred all this up. That Sadie’s death is my fault.

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