That Which Feeds Us: Chapters 20–24

“I told you our ghost stories are different. Our ghosts aren’t just apparitions. They’re corporeal. The legend says you’ll know they’re coming if you hear a conch blown in the night, and see a line of torches getting brighter and brighter.”

The only person she could see emerging from a ghostly vanguard to call her theirs was Ohia, but now she was gone, too.

We didn’t eat anyone, and the attack wasn’t unprovoked—it was retaliation.

Lehua liked Melia and could feel herself drifting closer to her every day on that current joining them together through their naʻau like a fetter.

Pale pink viscera shone between her teeth.

It soaked the hand, preserving it in that viscous treacle mixture that was competing with the stink of overripe persimmons.

Each creak of the stairs sent her heart thudding and she wished she could be as quiet as the lithe blond girl.

The influencer’s contrition melted away.

Torchlight heralded their arrival.

Or was she complicit and covering for Ira?

But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty except for a tall decanter of water and a silver plate piled high with thick spaghetti and diced red mullet.

In a fit of anger, Pele transformed the warrior into a gnarled tree.

Next to her, the bedside lamp cast a thin halo of green light, barely enough to pierce the night, as a siren pealed outside the lanai door.

Sacha looked surprised to see her—more than the other guests—and the memory of Lehua’s drugged stupor came back in a rush.

To her credit, Chiyo was doing a great job feigning concern, but she couldn’t be looking that hard for Melia—not in those plush shoes.