It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, and even longer for the rest of me to adjust to
the stench. It smelled like must and rust and old beer—old everything. Through the shadows, I
could see rows of small round tables and a high brass bar, almost as tall as I was. Bottles were
stacked on shelves all the way to a high ceiling—so high the long brass chandeliers seemed to
dangle down from nowhere.
Dust covered every surface and every bottle. It even swirled in the air, in the few places where
beams of light poked through shuttered windows.
John elbowed me. “Isn’t there some kind of Cast that can keep our noses from working? Like
a Stinkus Lessus Cast?”
“No, but I can think of a few Shutus Upus Casts that might be applicable right about now.”
“Temper, Caster Girl. You’re supposed to be Light. You know, one of the good guys.”
“I broke the mold, remember? On my Seventeenth Moon, when I was Claimed Light and
Dark?” I shot him a serious look. “Don’t forget. I’ve got my Dark side.”
“I’m scared.” He grinned.
“You should be. Very.”
I pointed to a mirrored sign on the paneling, right behind him. A silhouette of a woman was
painted next to a row of words. “ ‘Lips that touch liquor shall not touch ours.’ ” I shook my head.
“Clearly not the slogan of the Jackson cheer squad.”
“What?” John looked up.
“I bet this place used to be a speakeasy. A hidden bar during Prohibition. New Orleans was
probably full of them.” I looked around the room. “That means there has to be another room, right?
A room behind this room.”
John nodded. “Of course. Abraham would never hang out where anyone could walk into his
hideout, no matter where it is. It was one thing all our homes had in common.” He looked around.
“But I don’t remember a place like this.”
“Maybe it was before your time, and he came back here because it was somewhere no one
currently alive could find him.”
“Maybe. Still, something feels off about this place.”
Then I heard a familiar voice.
No. A familiar laugh, sweet and sinister. There was nothing else like it in the world.
Ridley? Is that you?
I Kelted, but she didn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t hear, or it had been too long since we had
connected in any kind of meaningful way. I didn’t know, but I had to try.
I ran up the wooden staircase at the back of the bar. John was just steps behind me. As soon
as I got to the room at the top, I started banging on the wall where I thought her voice had come
from, high above stacks of crates and cases of bottles. The storage-room wall was hollow, and
there was clearly something behind it.
Ridley!
I needed a better look. I pushed a tall stack of crates out of the way. I closed my eyes and let
myself rise high into the air, until I floated parallel with the window. I opened my eyes, hovering for
a second. What I saw was so surprising it knocked me right to the floor.
I could have sworn I saw my cousin, and a whole lot of makeup, and what looked like a flash
of gold. Rid wasn’t in danger. She was probably lying around in there, painting her nails. Sucking
on a lollipop, having the time of her life.
Either that, or I was hallucinating.
I’m going to kill her.
“I swear, Rid. If you’re really this crazy, if you’ve really gone this Dark, I’m going to jam
those lollipops of yours down your throat, one ball of sugar at a time.”
“What?”
I felt John’s arms behind me, pulling me back to the floor.
I pointed to the wall. “It’s my cousin. She’s on the other side of this wall.” I knocked on the
wall above the nearest row of crates.
“No. No, no, no—” He started backing away, like even the mention of my cousin had him
wanting to make a break for it.
I felt myself turning red. She was my cousin, and I wanted to kill her. Still, she was my cousin,
and I was the one who wanted to kill her. It was a family matter. Not something John needed to
worry about. “Look, John, I have to get her.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Probably.”
“If she’s hanging with Abraham, she’s not going anywhere. And we don’t want him to find us
until we figure out how to get the Book.”
“I don’t think he’s there,” I said.
“You don’t think, or you don’t know?”
“If he was there, wouldn’t you sense something? I thought you two were connected
somehow. Wasn’t that how he brainwashed you or whatever?”
John looked nervous, and I felt guilty for saying it. “I don’t know. It’s possible.” He stared up
at the high window. “Okay. You get in there and see what Ridley’s problem is. I’ll keep an eye out
for Abraham outside and make sure he doesn’t come back while you’re inside.”
“Thanks, John.”
“But don’t be an idiot. If she’s gone too Dark, she’s too Dark. You can’t change Ridley. That’s
one thing we’ve all learned the hard way.”
“I know.” I probably knew it better than anyone, except maybe Link. But deep down, I also
knew better than anyone how much my cousin was like everyone else. How badly she wanted to fit
in and be loved and have friends and be happy—just like the rest of us.
How Dark can a person like that really be?
Hadn’t the New Order shown us that the price had been paid—Ethan made sure he paid it—and
that things weren’t as simple as we all thought they were?
Didn’t I Claim myself for Dark and Light?
“You’re sure you’ll be all right in there?”
Is it really any different for anyone else? Even Ridley? Especially Ridley?
John poked me in the side. “Earth to Lena. Just make some kind of noise so I know you heard
me, before I throw you to that lion in there.”
I tried to focus. “Go. I’m fine.”
“Five minutes. That’s all you have,” he said.
“Got it. I’ll only need four.”
He disappeared, and I was alone to deal with my cousin. Dark or Light. Good or evil. Or maybe
just somewhere in between.
I needed a better look. I grabbed a cask of wine, pulling it over to the space beneath the
window that was cut into the wall. I climbed up and the cask wobbled, threatening to topple, but I
managed to balance myself.
I still couldn’t see.
Oh, come on.
I closed my eyes and twisted my hands into the air next to me, pushing myself up toward the
ceiling. The light in the room began to flicker.
That’s it.
I wasn’t much for flying, but this was more like levitating. I rose, wobbling, until my Chucks
were hovering a few inches above the cask.
Just a little farther. I needed one good look to let me know if my cousin was forever lost, if she
had joined the Darkest Incubus alive and would never come home to me again.
One last look.
I pulled myself up, barely level with the small window.
That’s when I saw the bars swerving down from the ceiling, all the way around Ridley in every
direction. It was some kind of gold prison. A literal gilded cage.
I couldn’t believe it. Ridley wasn’t lounging on a chaise in the lap of luxury in Abraham’s place.
She was trapped.
She turned, and our eyes locked. Rid leaped to her feet, rattling the bars in front of her. For a
second, she looked kind of like a damaged Tinkerbell, with a lot of black mascara running down her
face, and even more smeared red lipstick.
She’d been crying, or worse. Her arms looked bruised, especially around the wrists. They were
marked by some kind of ropes or chains. Shackles, maybe.
The room around her clearly belonged to Abraham—at least that’s what I thought, considering
it looked like a mad scientist’s dorm room, with a lone bed next to a crammed bookshelf. A tall
wooden table was covered with technical equipment. The place could have belonged to a chemist.
Even stranger, the two sides of the window didn’t seem to correlate exactly, in terms of physical
space. Looking through the speakeasy window was like looking through a dirty telescope, and I
couldn’t tell exactly where the other end lay. It could have been anywhere in the Mortal universe,
knowing Abraham.
But that didn’t matter. It was Ridley. It was a terrible thing to see anyone like that, but for my
careless, carefree cousin, it seemed especially cruel.
I felt my hair begin to twist in the familiar Caster breeze.
“Aurae Aspirent
Ubi tueor, ibi adeo.
Let the wind blow
Where I see I go.”
I began to twist into nothingness. I felt the world give way beneath me, and when I tried to
reach my feet out to touch solid ground, I realized I was now standing next to Ridley.
On the outside of the golden cage.
“Cuz! What are you doing here?” she called out to me, reaching her long pink fingernails
through a space in the bars.
“I guess I could say the same to you, Rid. Are you okay?” I approached the bars carefully. I
loved my cousin, but I couldn’t forget everything that had happened. She chose Dark and left us—
Link, me, all of us. It was impossible to know whose side she was on.
Ever.
“Think it’s a little obvious, don’t you?” she snapped. “I’ve been better.” She rattled the bars.
“Much.”
Ridley sat back down on her heels and began to cry, like we were both little kids again and
someone had hurt her feelings on the playground. Which didn’t happen often, and if it did, it was
usually me doing the crying.
Rid was always the strong one.
Maybe that’s why her tears got to me now.
I slid down to the floor across from her, taking her hand through the cage bars. “I’m sorry,
Rid. I was so angry with you for not coming back when Ethan—now that Ethan—”
She didn’t look at me. “I know. I heard. I feel terrible. That’s when everything happened.
Abraham was furious, and I only made things worse when I made the mistake of trying to leave. I
just wanted to go home. But he was so angry that he threw me in here.” She shook her head as if
she wanted to shake off the memory.
“I mean it, Rid. I should have known that you would’ve come unless something stopped you.”
“Whatever. More water under another watery bridge.” She wiped her eyes, smearing her
mascara even more. “Let’s blow this place before Abraham comes back, or you’ll be stuck in here
with me for the next two hundred years.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. Usually he spends all day in his creepy lab of creatures. But there’s no way to
know how long he’ll be gone.”
“Then we’d better get on with it.” I looked around the room. “Rid, have you seen Abraham
with The Book of Moons? Is it here?”
She shook her head. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t come within ten miles of that thing, not after
the way it royally screws anyone who touches it.”
“But have you seen it?”
“No way. Not here. If Abraham still has it, he’s not dumb enough to keep it on him. He’s evil,
but he’s not stupid.”
My heart sank.
Ridley rattled the bars again. “Hurry up! I’m really stuck. Protection Casts, from what I can
tell. I’m going crazy in here….”
Then I heard a terrible crash, and a pile of equipment crates next to me toppled to the ground.
Broken glass and broken wood flew everywhere—like I had upset Abraham’s project for the
science fair. Some sort of glowing green goop was splattered in my hair.
Whoops.
Uncle Macon was trying to untangle himself from John Breed, who had one foot caught in the
remnants of a wooden crate.
“Where are we?” Uncle M stared at the cage in disbelief. “What kind of twisted place is this?”
“Uncle M?” Ridley looked as relieved as she was confused. “Were you Traveling?”
“I found him out front,” John said. “He wouldn’t let me go. When I tried to come back, he just
sort of came along for the ride.” John must have seen my face, because he got defensive. “Hey,
don’t look at me. I wasn’t exactly planning on picking up hitchhikers.”
Uncle Macon glared at John, who glared right back at him.
“Lena Duchannes!” My uncle looked angrier than I’d ever seen him. Green goop was dripping
from his otherwise impeccable suit. He glanced from Ridley to me, then pointed at both of us. “You
two. Come out of there this instant.”
I grabbed Ridley’s hand and muttered the Aurae Aspirent while Uncle Macon tapped his foot
impatiently. A second later, my cousin and I reappeared on the outside of the cage.
“Uncle Macon,” I began.
He held up his gloved hand. “Don’t. Not a word.” His eyes flashed, and I knew better than to
keep talking. “Now. Let’s focus on what we came here to do, while we still have time to do it. The
Book.”
John had already started pulling open boxes, scanning the shelves for The Book of Moons.
Uncle Macon and I joined him, looking until we had searched every possible hiding place. Ridley sat
sullenly on a crate, not making things easier—but not making them more difficult either. Which I
took as a good sign.
From what I could see, Abraham Ravenwood appeared to be the Caster answer to Dr.
Frankenstein. I couldn’t recognize much beyond the occasional burner or beaker, and I had taken
chemistry. And at the rate John and Uncle Macon were trashing the room, it was going to look like
our search was conducted by Frankenstein’s monster.
“It’s not here,” John said, finally giving up.
“Then neither are we.” Uncle Macon straightened in his overcoat. “Home, John. Now.”
Traveling was one thing. The speed at which John managed to get us home—without so much
as another word from Uncle Macon—was another. I found myself out of Abraham’s hideaway and
back in my room before Ridley could wipe off her smeared, raccoon-y mascara.
The viola was still playing Paganini’s Caprice no. 24 when I got there.
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