Exile
The door slammed behind us. Liv straightened her worn leather knapsack, and Link grabbed a torch from the wall of the tunnel. They were ready to
follow me into the great unknown, but instead we stood there, staring at each other.
“Well?” Liv looked at me expectantly. “It's not rocket science. You either know the way, or you —”
“Shh. Give him a second.” Link clamped his hand over Liv's mouth. “Use the force, young Skywalker.” This Wayward thing apparently carried
some weight. They actually thought I knew where to go, which only left one problem. I didn't.
“This way.” I was going to have to make it up as I went along.
Marian said the Caster Tunnels were endless, a world beneath our own, but I never really understood what she meant until now. As we turned the
first corner, the passage changed, narrowing into damper and darker circular walls that felt more like a tube than a tunnel. I pressed against the
walls to push myself forward, and my torch fell in the mud.
“Crap.” I gripped the torch's wooden handle between my teeth and kept going.
“This sucks.” Link was muttering behind me as his torch burned out.
Liv was behind him. “Mine's out, too.” We were in complete darkness. The ceiling was so low, we had to duck beneath the muddy rock.
“This is really freakin’ me out.” Link had never liked the dark.
Liv called out from behind us. “Eventually you're going to reach the …”
I hit my head against something hard and splintery in the darkness. “Ouch!”
“… Doorwell.”
Link must have pulled his flashlight out of his pocket, because a flickering circle of light hit the round door in front of me. It was some kind of cold
metal, not the splintering wood or crumbling stone of the other doors we'd seen. It looked more like a manhole cover in the wall. I pushed my
shoulder against it, but it didn't budge.
“What now?” I called back to Liv, my stand-in for Marian on all Caster-related issues. I heard her flipping pages in her notebook.
“I don't know. Maybe push harder?”
“You had to check your little book for that?” I was annoyed.
“You want me to crawl up there and do it for you?” Liv wasn't happy either.
“Come on, kids. I'll push Ethan, you push me, Ethan pushes the door.”
“Brilliant,” Liv said.
“Shoulder to shoulder, MJ.”
“Excuse me?”
“Marian Junior. You're the one who wanted an adventure. You got a better idea?”
The door had no handle or valve. It fit into a perfect seam, a circle of metal in a circular doorway. Not even a slit of light escaped through the
cracks. “Link's right. We don't have a choice, and we're not going back now.” I wedged my shoulder against the door. “One, two, three. Push!”
When the tips of my fingers touched the door, it swung open as if my skin was somehow the genetic recognition, the key that opened the door.
Link smashed into me, and Liv tumbled on top of both of us. I cracked my head against what seemed like stone as I hit the ground. I felt so dizzy, I
couldn't see anything. When I opened my eyes, I was staring up at a streetlamp.
“What happened?” Link sounded as disoriented as I was.
I felt around the edge of the stones with my fingertips. Cobblestones. “I just touched the door, and it opened.”
“Amazing.” Liv stood up, taking it all in.
I was lying in a city street that looked like London or an old town right out of a history book. Behind me, I could see the round doorway, at the
road's end. There was a brass street sign next to it that said WESTERN DOORWELL, CENTRAL LIBRARY.
Link sat up next to me, rubbing his head. “Holy crap. This is like one of those alleys where people got hacked up by Jack the Ripper.” He was
right. We could have been standing in the mouth of an alley in nineteenth-century London. The street was dark, lit by only the dim glow of a few
lampposts. The alley was framed on both sides by the backs of tall brick row houses.
Liv stood up and made her way down the deserted cobblestone street, looking up at an old iron street sign: THE KEEP. “That must be the name of
this particular tunnel. Unbelievable. Professor Ashcroft told me, but I never imagined. I suppose books couldn't really do it justice, could they?”
“Yeah, it looks nothin’ like the postcards.” Link pulled himself to his feet. “All I wanna know is, where'd the ceilin’ go?” The curved arch of the
tunnel's ceiling was gone, and in its place was a dark evening sky, as big and real and full of stars as any sky I'd ever seen.
Liv pulled out her notebook and started writing. “Don't you get it? These are Caster Tunnels. They're not some supernatural subway system, so
Casters can creep around under Gatlin borrowing library books.”
“Then what are they?” I ran my hand along the rough brick on the side of the nearest building.
“More like roads to another world. Or, in a way, a whole world all to themselves.”
I heard something, and my heart jumped. I thought Lena was Kelting, reconnecting with me. But I was wrong.
It was music.
“Do you hear that?” Link asked. I was relieved. For once, the music wasn't coming from inside my head. It was coming from the end of the alley.
It sounded like the Caster music from the party at Ravenwood last Halloween, the night I saved Lena from Sarafine's psychic attack.
I listened for Lena, felt for her, remembering that night. Nothing.
Liv checked her selenometer and wrote something else in her notebook. “Carmen. I was transcribing one yesterday.”
“English, please.” Link was still staring up at the sky, trying to figure it all out.
“Sorry. It means ‘Charmed Song.’ It's Caster music.”
I took off, following the sound down the alley. “Whatever it is, it's coming from down here.”
Marian had been right. It was one thing to wander through the damp tunnels of the Lunae Libri, but this was something entirely different. We had
no idea what we had gotten ourselves into. I already knew that much.
As I walked down the alley, the music grew louder, the cobblestones smoothed their way into asphalt beneath my feet, and the street changed
from Old World London to modern-day slum. It was a street you could find in any big city, in some forgotten run-down neighborhood. The buildings
looked like abandoned warehouses, iron grating covered the shattered windows, and the remnants of broken signs blinked fluorescent light into the
darkness. There were cigarette butts and trash all over the street, and a strange sort of Caster graffiti — symbols I couldn't begin to understand —
on the sides of the buildings. I pointed it out to Liv. “Do you know what any of that means?”
She shook her head. “No, I've never seen anything like it. But it means something. Every symbol in the Caster world has significance.”
“This place is even freakier than the Lunae Libri.” Link was trying to play it cool in front of Liv, but he was having a hard time pulling it off.
“Do you wanna go back?” I wanted to give him an out, but I knew he had as much of a reason to be down here as I did. His reason was just
blonder.
“Are you callin’ me a wuss?”
“Shh, shut up —” I heard it.
The Caster music drifted through the air, the seductive melody replaced by something else. This time, I was the only one who could hear the
words.
Seventeen moons, seventeen fears,
Pain of death and shame of tears,
Find the marker, walk the mile,
Seventeen knows just exile …
“I hear it. We must be close.” I followed the song as it looped over and over in my head.
Link looked at me like I was crazy. “Hear what?”
“Nothing. Just follow me.”
The huge metal doors lining the filthy street were all the same, dented and scratched, as if they'd been attacked by an enormous animal or
something worse. Except for the last door, the one with Seventeen Moons playing inside. It was painted black and covered with more Caster
graffiti. But one of the symbols looked different, and it wasn't spray-painted on the door. It was carved into it. I ran my fingers over the cuts in the
wood. “This one looks different, almost Celtic.”
Liv's voice was a whisper. “Not Celtic. Niadic. It's an ancient Caster language. A lot of the older scrolls in the Lunae Libri are written in it.”
“What does it say?”
She examined the symbol carefully. “Niadic doesn't translate directly into words. I mean, you can't think about the words as words, not exactly.
This symbol means place, or moment, either in physical space or time.” She ran her finger over a slash in the wood. “But this line cuts through it,
see? So now the place becomes a lack of place, a no place.”
“How can a place be a no place? You're either in a place, or you're not.” But as I said it, I knew it wasn't true. I had been in a no place for months
now, and so had Lena.
She looked up at me. “I think it says something like ‘Exile.’ ”
Seventeen knows just exile.
“That's exactly what it says.”
Liv gave me a strange look. “You can't know that, or do you suddenly speak Niadic?” She had a gleam in her eye, as if this was further proof I
might be a Wayward.
“I heard it in a song.” I reached for the door, but Liv grabbed my arm. “Ethan, this isn't a game. This isn't the pie-baking contest at the county fair.
You're not in Gatlin anymore. There are dangerous things down here, creatures far more deadly than Ridley and her lollipops.”
I knew she was trying to scare me, but it wasn't working. Since the night of Lena's birthday, I knew more about the dangers of the Caster world
than any librarian could, Keeper or not. I didn't blame her for being afraid. You would have to be stupid not to be — like me.
“You're right. It's not the library. I'll understand if you guys don't want to go in there, but I have to. Lena's here, somewhere.”
Link pushed open the door and walked in like it was the Jackson High locker room. “Whatever. I'm into dangerous creatures.”
I shrugged and followed him. Liv tightened her hand around the strap of her knapsack, ready to swing it at someone's head if necessary. She
took a tentative step, and the door closed behind her.
Inside it was even darker than on the street. Huge crystal chandeliers, completely out of place among the exposed pipes overhead, provided
the only light. The rest of the room was pure industrial rave. It was one gigantic space, with circular booths covered in dark red velvet scattered
around the perimeter. Some were surrounded by heavy drapes attached to tracks in the ceiling so they could be closed around the booth, the way
the curtains close around hospital beds. There was a bar in the back, in front of a round chrome door with a handle.
Link spotted it, too. “Is that what I think it is?”
I nodded. “A vault.”
The weird chandeliers, the bar that looked more like a counter, the huge windows covered haphazardly with black tape, the vault. This place
could have been a bank once, if Casters had banks. I wondered what they had kept behind that door — or maybe I didn't want to know.
But nothing was weirder than the people, or whatever they were. The crowd surged and receded like at one of Macon's parties, where time
seemed to fade in and out, depending on where you looked. From turn-of-the-century suited gentlemen who looked like Mark Twain, with stiff whitewinged
collars and striped silk ties, to Goth-looking leather-clad punks, they were all drinking, dancing, and mingling.
“Dude, tell me those creepy-lookin’ see-through people aren't ghosts.” Link backed away from one hazy figure, nearly stepping into another. I
didn't want to tell him that's exactly what they were. They looked like Genevieve in the graveyard, partially materialized, only here there were at least
a dozen of them. But we had never seen Genevieve move. These ghosts weren't floating around like the ones in cartoons. They were walking,
dancing, moving like normal people, except they were doing it above the ground — the same pace and even strides, but their feet weren't touching
the floor. One glanced our way and raised an empty glass from the table as if offering a toast.
“Am I seein’ things, or did that ghost pick up a glass?” Link elbowed Liv.
She stepped between us, her hair brushing against my neck. Her voice was so quiet we had to lean in to hear her. “Technically, they aren't
called ghosts. They're Sheers — souls who haven't been able to cross over to the Otherworld because they have unfinished business in the Caster
or Mortal world. I have no idea why there are so many out tonight. They usually keep to themselves. Something's off.”
“Everything about this place is off.” Link was still watching the Sheer with the glass. “And you didn't answer the question.”
“Yes, they can pick up anything they want. How do you think they slam doors and move furniture in haunted houses?”
I wasn't interested in haunted houses. “What kind of unfinished business?” I knew enough dead people with unfinished business. I didn't want to
meet any more tonight.
“Something they left unresolved when they died — a powerful curse, a lost love, a shattered destiny. Use your imagination.”
I thought about Genevieve and the locket and wondered how many lost secrets, how much unfinished business there was in the graveyards and
cemeteries of Gatlin.
Link stared at a beautiful girl with elaborate markings around her neck. They looked similar to the ones inked on Ridley and John. “I'd like to
have some unfinished business with her.”
“She'd like it, too. She would have you jumping off a cliff in no time.” I scanned the room.
There was no sign of Lena. The more I looked around, the more I was grateful for the darkness. The booths were filling up with couples, drinking
and making out, while the dance floor was packed with girls, spinning and turning like they were weaving some kind of web. Seventeen Moons
wasn't playing anymore, if it was ever playing at all. Now the music was harder, more intense, a Caster version of Nine Inch Nails. The girls were all
dressed differently, one in a medieval gown, another in skintight leather. Then there were the Ridleys — girls in miniskirts and black tank tops, with
red, blue, or violet streaks in their hair, sliding around one another, spinning a different kind of web. Maybe they were all Sirens. I couldn't tell. But
they were all beautiful, and they all had some version of Ridley's dark tattoo.
“Let's check in the back.” I let Link go ahead so Liv could walk between us. Even though she was checking out every corner of the club as if she
wanted to remember it all, I knew she was nervous. This was no place for a Mortal girl, or a Mortal guy, and I felt responsible for dragging Link and
Liv into this. We kept close to the wall, circling the perimeter. But it was crowded, and I felt my shoulder bump against someone. Someone with a
body.
“Sorry.” I said instinctively.
“No problem.” The guy stopped, noticing Liv. “Quite the opposite.” He winked at her. “You lost?” He smiled, his shiny black eyes gleaming in the
darkness. She froze. The red liquid swirled in his glass as he leaned closer.
Liv cleared her throat. “No. I'm fine, thanks. Just looking for a friend.”
“I'll be your friend.” He smiled. His white teeth were unnaturally bright in the dim light of the club.
“A … different sort of friend, I'm afraid.” I could see Liv's hand shaking where it held the strap of her knapsack.
“If you find her, I'll be over here.” He turned back to the bar, where Incubuses were lined up to refill their glasses with red liquid from a strange
glass tap. I tried not to think about it.
Link pulled us against one of the velvet curtains on the wall. “I'm startin’ to get the feelin’ this was a bad idea.”
“When did you come to this brilliant conclusion?” Liv's sarcasm was lost on Link.
“I don't know, right about the time I saw that dude's drink. Which I'm guessin’ wasn't punch.” Link glanced around the room. “How do we even
know if they're here, man?”
“They're here.” Lena had to be here. I was about to tell Link about how I'd heard the song and could sense she was here, when a stripe of pink
and blond hair spun onto the dance floor.
Ridley.
When she saw us, she stopped spinning, and I could see across the dance floor behind her. John Breed was dancing with a girl, her arms
wrapped around his neck, and his hands resting on her hips. Their bodies were pressed against each other, and they seemed to be in their own
world. At least, that's how it felt when my hands were resting on those hips. My hands balled into fists, and my stomach lurched. I knew it was her
even before I saw the black curls.
Lena —
Ethan?
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