teeth like that.”
“No,” she said in a soft, faraway voice, and put the point of the knife against the back of its head. “No, I don’t think anyone has.”
The fish thrashed, reaching with its needle teeth, trying to take a piece of her hand, but she squared her shoulders and held it steady. Then she drove the knife through the slimy green skin between its eyes.
Afterward, we both breathed out. The fish lay on the bank, oozing a little.
Shiny shook herself, then wiped the blade clean on the grass. Her face was empty and cold, like a stone girl’s.
“Dig a hole,” she said. “Now.”
I ran across to one of the willows and got down on my knees, scrabbling in the dirt with my hands. The ground was soft and black, getting under my nails, and as I dug, I remembered something that until that instant had been tucked safe behind the sheet in my mind. It was a squirming, awful thing that left a hard knot in my throat and a taste like pennies in my mouth.
My mama, out in the garden, ripping down the strange stone tomato I had found and burying it, looking stricken in the evening light. I dug faster.
Over on the bank, Shiny was chopping up the fish. She cut away the fins and the head, then began, in fast, hard jerks, to skin it.
When I’d dug a hole as deep as my shins and Shiny had pulled the fish nearly to pieces, she gathered what was left and dumped it in the ground. Her hands were pink with blood and slime.
We stood together kicking dirt over the top of it, and then, when it was buried, covering the hole with rocks and brush till there was nothing to show that such a wrong, vicious thing had ever been there.
THE DEVORE HOUSE
CHAPTER NINE
W hen we climbed back in the truck, we were both shaking a little. Shiny swung out of the dirt turnoff, jouncing out onto the road. Her foot was heavy on the gas and we didn’t talk. My heart was still beating like a wild thing, and I didn’t know of a single thing I could say.
“What are we going to do?” Shiny whispered after much too long. “I don’t think we can tell Myloria.”
But the very idea was impossible. I didn’t even know where I would start. Tell Myloria
what
? That we had buried a catfish? That it had happened to be monstrous one? And even if we told her, what would she say to that? What could she possibly do to change it?
Shiny was driving fast, looking more frightened than I’d ever seen her. “Do you think we put it deep enough?” she said, gripping the wheel tight with both hands.
“Deep enough for what?”
“To keep the craft in. That fish was touched by the hollow, and the only way to keep it from spreading is to put it straight back in the ground.”
“I think so,” I said, reaching across the seat to her, although I truly had no idea.
We were quiet after that. Shiny seemed very focused on driving, but she still blew right past the sign for Weeping Road.
“Shit,” she whispered and kept on going, heading up past the Heintz place, where the shoulder got wide enough to turn around.
Greg Heintz was out in the yard, wearing a red feed cap and looking sunburned. He was nailing the wire mesh back onto the side of the dove coop, but he looked up as we drove by. I didn’t see Davenport anywhere.
The zoo was in bad shape, empty and leaning every which way. The cages Fisher had kicked apart looked worse in the daylight.
“Shit,” Shiny said again, slowing the truck to a crawl. “What happened
there
?”
I sank down in my seat, chilly from the way Greg Heintz was looking at me. His eyes were a clear, ringing blue that seemed to bore directly into me, so hard and flat they looked like coins. The way he watched us go by was like he was seeing some far away, dark part of me, some nastiness that hadn’t yet been accounted for.
“Me and Fisher let the animals out,” I said in a low voice, facing forward.
The look Shiny gave me was ruinous. “What in blue hell would you do
that
for?”
“Why
wouldn’t
I? No one
else
was going
“No,” she said in a soft, faraway voice, and put the point of the knife against the back of its head. “No, I don’t think anyone has.”
The fish thrashed, reaching with its needle teeth, trying to take a piece of her hand, but she squared her shoulders and held it steady. Then she drove the knife through the slimy green skin between its eyes.
Afterward, we both breathed out. The fish lay on the bank, oozing a little.
Shiny shook herself, then wiped the blade clean on the grass. Her face was empty and cold, like a stone girl’s.
“Dig a hole,” she said. “Now.”
I ran across to one of the willows and got down on my knees, scrabbling in the dirt with my hands. The ground was soft and black, getting under my nails, and as I dug, I remembered something that until that instant had been tucked safe behind the sheet in my mind. It was a squirming, awful thing that left a hard knot in my throat and a taste like pennies in my mouth.
My mama, out in the garden, ripping down the strange stone tomato I had found and burying it, looking stricken in the evening light. I dug faster.
Over on the bank, Shiny was chopping up the fish. She cut away the fins and the head, then began, in fast, hard jerks, to skin it.
When I’d dug a hole as deep as my shins and Shiny had pulled the fish nearly to pieces, she gathered what was left and dumped it in the ground. Her hands were pink with blood and slime.
We stood together kicking dirt over the top of it, and then, when it was buried, covering the hole with rocks and brush till there was nothing to show that such a wrong, vicious thing had ever been there.
THE DEVORE HOUSE
CHAPTER NINE
W hen we climbed back in the truck, we were both shaking a little. Shiny swung out of the dirt turnoff, jouncing out onto the road. Her foot was heavy on the gas and we didn’t talk. My heart was still beating like a wild thing, and I didn’t know of a single thing I could say.
“What are we going to do?” Shiny whispered after much too long. “I don’t think we can tell Myloria.”
But the very idea was impossible. I didn’t even know where I would start. Tell Myloria
what
? That we had buried a catfish? That it had happened to be monstrous one? And even if we told her, what would she say to that? What could she possibly do to change it?
Shiny was driving fast, looking more frightened than I’d ever seen her. “Do you think we put it deep enough?” she said, gripping the wheel tight with both hands.
“Deep enough for what?”
“To keep the craft in. That fish was touched by the hollow, and the only way to keep it from spreading is to put it straight back in the ground.”
“I think so,” I said, reaching across the seat to her, although I truly had no idea.
We were quiet after that. Shiny seemed very focused on driving, but she still blew right past the sign for Weeping Road.
“Shit,” she whispered and kept on going, heading up past the Heintz place, where the shoulder got wide enough to turn around.
Greg Heintz was out in the yard, wearing a red feed cap and looking sunburned. He was nailing the wire mesh back onto the side of the dove coop, but he looked up as we drove by. I didn’t see Davenport anywhere.
The zoo was in bad shape, empty and leaning every which way. The cages Fisher had kicked apart looked worse in the daylight.
“Shit,” Shiny said again, slowing the truck to a crawl. “What happened
there
?”
I sank down in my seat, chilly from the way Greg Heintz was looking at me. His eyes were a clear, ringing blue that seemed to bore directly into me, so hard and flat they looked like coins. The way he watched us go by was like he was seeing some far away, dark part of me, some nastiness that hadn’t yet been accounted for.
“Me and Fisher let the animals out,” I said in a low voice, facing forward.
The look Shiny gave me was ruinous. “What in blue hell would you do
that
for?”
“Why
wouldn’t
I? No one
else
was going
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