THE EDGE OF DARK WATER
Status: complete
An ancient evil lurks in the swamps outside Leviathan, North Carolina. Some folks say the creature is an alien. Others say it's a demon. Most reckon it's a backwoods fairy tale. But eighteen-year-old Danny knows the monster is real. He's seen its victims trapped in watery sacks beneath the trees, sustaining the monster through a vast network of root-like tentacles. Danny and his family have rescued people from the monster for generations, but he doesn't think the victims deserve saving. And he should know—when he looks at someone, he sees their darkest desires swarming around them in the form of snakes, scorpions, and black flames. So, when one of the monster's servants kills his parents, he seizes the chance to abandon the family tradition.
But Danny's plans are disrupted when seventeen-year-old Maggie struts off the Greyhound bus. Maggie belongs to the monster. She may even be the Empress at the End of the World—a woman capable of freeing the creature from the swamp and triggering the apocalypse. But she doesn't know it. Danny must find a way to stop her, but the more he learns about the clever and funny Maggie, the more she confounds his expectations. And when he discovers the key to destroying the monster, he must decide—is he willing to risk his life to eliminate it forever? And can he trust Maggie to help him, or will she embrace the monster's call?
“I dig a grave for the mummy in the churchyard at Living Waters, against the fence line where folks won’t notice the freshly turned earth. As I lay her in the hole, I wonder how long it took to suck all the sin out of her. Did she feel her skin tightening, her insides melting down, her brain cells going dark? And when it was over, he just spit her out like a stripped-clean chicken bone. My jaw tightens. That’s the ‘Dark Lord’ Elias Lavender wants to worship.
When I stand up, something cold and metallic brushes against my arm: a locket. I crouch beside the body and click it open, releasing a foul-smelling dust. I shake it out and aim my flashlight inside.
Angry scratches obscure the writing on the left, but the initials on the right are clear: A.H. Just like I thought—Amity Harlow. The woman who tried to sacrifice the first Deacon Daniel to the swamp. The reason I’m cursed with dark blood.
I feel a tugging at my gut. My daddy would have given his eyeteeth to find Amity. He could have read Dismal’s secrets in her clothing, her jewelry, her sealed-shut eyes. He could have conjured up her spirit, like the witch of Endor conjured up the prophet Samuel and chatted with her like a long-lost friend. He wouldn’t be afraid. He would see an opportunity to flaunt his mercy, a disciple in waiting, like Rick Tilman and Sallie-Mae. I snap the locket shut and let it fall.
It hits her chest with a dry pop, causing a trickle of air to escape from her nose. The hairs on my arms bristle. I hear a rustle and a creak before her hand closes around my wrist.
With a shout, I pull my arm away.
Her fingers snap like twigs, but the broken tips keep moving, searching for something to caress. “Daniel, my cousin, my promised.”
”