Personally, I thought the “moon” part of the Seers’ mandate was absurd. I’d seen the young, barely triggered Seers of New Orleans perform similar spells under extreme duress, and none of them had used the moon, as far as I could tell. But when I tried to explain that to Ruth that afternoon, during one of the few moments we were alone in a room together, she’d simply appointed me and my friends watchdogs and then given me a series of dismissive waves.

I guess that was the modus operandi of the southeastern Oklahoma Seer community: no one’s vote counted unless it had a few years—and a genuine pulse—behind it.

I pursed my lips and puffed out a slow, frustrated breath. Then I glanced over at Jillian, who was still staring around the bank uneasily. She caught me looking and grimaced.

“It’s really quiet out here.”

“Too quiet,” I agreed.

Despite the tense mood, Joshua and Scott began snickering. When Jillian and I balked, Joshua explained, “You two sound like you’re in a bad cop show. As in, Ashley and Mayhew, Paranormal Investigators.”

I groaned and slapped at the air where my hand should have made contact with his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”

But as Joshua and his friend continued to chuckle, I let myself join in—the last few hours had been such a jittery span of boredom and tension that I couldn’t resist the break. Jillian must have felt the same, because the four of us soon made a game of renaming TV crime dramas.

“Law and Order: Supernatural Intent?” Jillian suggested.

I snorted and then countered, “Disem-Body of Proof?”

“No, wait! Wait!” Joshua held up his hands and composed his expression into something overly stern. “CSI: Wilburton. ‘Where the drama never stops.’”

While Jillian and I dissolved into a fit of giggles, Scott imitated the deep, dramatic voice of a movie announcer. “Millions of viewers want to know: will the town’s one stoplight ever start working again? Find out next week, on CSI: Wilburton.”

He had just started to add a “dun-dun-dunnnn” for effect, when a haughty voice interrupted us.

“I assume by the singing and laughter that you’re all done shirking your duties now?”

All four of us spun around to find Ruth standing just a few feet away on the riverbank and watching us with barely concealed disdain. Behind her, the horde of Seers waited upon the embankment and along the road, appearing very much like an army in their uniformly black clothing.

To my surprise, Jillian was the first to step forward and speak for our little group. “Nothing happened while we were waiting, Grandma. And we’re ready.”

Ruth eyed the rest of us—Joshua, Scott, and me—in a way that suggested she didn’t think we were ready at all. Instead of saying so, she turned slightly around and addressed her troops. “Form your circles along the bank,” she commanded loudly. “We’ll begin as soon as everyone has taken their place.”

The Seers followed their orders quickly, moving in waves down the embankment to group together in circles of ten along the riverside. After most of them were situated, Ruth faced the four of us again, focusing specifically on me.

“Why aren’t you on the bridge yet?” she demanded. No say your good-byes, no good luck, young lady—just that imperious get your ass up there command.

I shook my head grimly. “You’re a real piece of work, Ruth, you know that?”

She smiled back just as coldly as before. But in the dark, I thought I saw the tiniest flicker of sympathy in her eyes. As if she actually felt somewhat sorry about what might happen to me that night—not enough to come up with another plan, but enough to give me that look.

Or maybe I just imagined that flicker; it was dark out there.

Since Ruth and her Seers obviously weren’t going to provide me with another alternative in the next ten seconds, I resigned myself to this one. Trying not to tremble, I glanced first at Jillian. At that moment, she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring up at Scott with the warmest smile I’d ever seen her give someone. She seemed happy, and that fact made me happy too. Not that a girl like Jillian needed me to worry about her; regardless of her previous taste in boys, I didn’t doubt that she could take good care of herself from now on.

Next my eyes met Joshua’s, and instantly, something clenched painfully inside my heart. He stared at me the same way that Jillian had stared at Scott—but the look in Joshua’s eyes was far stronger. The look he gave me said everything that he didn’t: that he loved me, that he would watch over me tonight, and that he would fight his way to me, before the darkness closed.

Without speaking it aloud, Joshua told me that we were in this together. Always.

He and I held each other’s gaze for longer than was appropriate—given that we were standing near his grandmother, who happened to hate me—but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Finally, when I reached a point when I would either have to look away or run away, I let my eyes drop to the ground.

Keeping my gaze trained firmly on the tips of my boots, which had already sunk half an inch into the muddy riverbank, I cleared my throat. “So,” I asked roughly, “what are my specific orders now?”

“Get up there and do whatever it is that you do when the demons attack.”

Ruth said it matter-of-factly, like creating my glow was the easiest task in the world. But by now, I’d realized that there was no point in arguing with her. I tilted my head back and looked squarely into her eyes—like Joshua’s, they were a beautiful midnight blue, but hers were once again cold and shuttered. She and I would not share some tender good-bye.

“Okay. See you on the other side.”

Then I turned away from her—from all of them—and began to trudge up the embankment to the bridge. Although it hadn’t rained, the ground felt slipperier than it had on the way down, like the very earth didn’t want me to make this climb. Still, I kept going, finally cresting the hill with a deep, shaky breath.

I allowed myself one second of terrified indecision before taking that first step onto High Bridge Road. Once there, however, I forced my legs to move at a steady, assured pace until I stood near the center of the bridge on one of the few stretches of concrete that looked like it wouldn’t collapse at any moment. I shifted my weight from leg to leg until I felt as comfortable as I could, given the circumstances, and settled into my wait. Lord only knew how long the Seers’ spells would take—how long I would have to wait until this bridge shifted from mere rock to demonic metal and ice.

From this vantage point, I could still hear Ruth’s voice below me, echoing across the bank as she traveled from circle to circle to make sure that everyone was ready. Between gaps in the bridge’s railing, I could also see Joshua, Jillian, and Scott move to join one of the smaller circles. As they joined hands with the older Seers, a ragged breath tore its way out of my lips. Now I really was alone.

“Quit feeling so sorry for yourself,” someone behind me demanded.

I whirled around and saw Ruth, standing between two unstable-looking fissures in the asphalt. She had one hand placed on her hip, while she gripped an overstuffed red bag with the other.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, in a smaller voice than I would’ve liked.

“Bringing you a gift.”

Ruth shifted her bag forward, in front of her, and then began to step carefully over the cracks in the pavement. When she came within arm’s distance of me, she reached into her bag, pulled out an object, and handed it to me.

For a few seconds, I didn’t register the fact that I was holding the hilt of a medium-length, serrated knife. But once I finally processed that information, my eyes shot up sharply to Ruth’s.

“What . . . ? Why . . . ?”