Beautiful Darkness - Chapter 22

The Arclight
My mom and Macon Ravenwood. I dropped the Arclight as if it had stung me. The box fell, and the ball rolled harmlessly across the grass, like a
child's toy instead of some kind of supernatural prison.
“Ethan? What is it?” It was obvious Marian had no idea I recognized the Arclight. I had never mentioned it when I told her about the visions. I
hadn't thought much about it. It was another little detail about the Caster world I didn't understand.
But this one little detail mattered.
If this was the Arclight from the vision, then my mother had loved Macon the way I loved Lena. The way my father had loved her.
I needed to know if Marian knew where my mother had gotten it, or who had given it to her. “Did you know?”
She bent down and picked up the sphere, its dark surface gleaming in the sunlight. She slid it back into the box. “Did I know what? Ethan, you
aren't making any sense.”
The questions were coming faster than my mind could process them. How did my mother meet Macon Ravenwood? How long were they
together? Who else knew? And the biggest one …
What about my dad?
“Did you know my mom was in love with Macon Ravenwood?”
Marian's face crumbled, which told me everything. She had only meant to give away a gift from my mom, not my mother's deepest secret. “Who
told you that?”
“You did. When you handed me the Arclight Macon gave to the girl he loved. My mother.”
Marian's eyes filled with tears, but they didn't fall. “The visions. They were about Macon and your mother.” She was figuring it out, piecing it
together.
I remembered the night when I first met Macon. Lila Evers, he had said. Lila Evers Wate, I had corrected.
Macon had mentioned my mother's work, but claimed he didn't know her. Another lie. My head was spinning.
“So you knew.” It wasn't a question. I shook my head, wishing I could shake everything I'd just learned back out again. “Does my dad know?”
“No. And you can't tell him, Ethan. He wouldn't understand.” Her voice was desperate.
“He wouldn't understand? I don't understand!” More than a few people stopped gossiping and looked over at us.
“I'm so sorry. I never thought it would be a story I would have to tell. It was your mother's story, not mine.”
“In case you haven't noticed, my mom is dead. She's not exactly taking questions.” My voice was harsh and unforgiving, which pretty much
summed up how I felt.
Marian looked down at my mother's headstone. “You're right. You need to know.”
“I want the truth.”
“That's what I intend to give you.” Her voice was shaking. “If you know about the Arclight, I assume you know why Macon gave it to your mother.”
“So she could protect herself from him.” I'd felt sorry for Macon before. Now I felt sick. My mom was Juliet in some kind of twisted play where
Romeo was an Incubus, even if it was Macon.
“That's right. Macon and Lila struggled with the same reality as you and Lena. It has been hard to watch you these past few months without
drawing certain … comparisons. I can't think how difficult it must have been for Macon.”
“Please. Stop.”
“Ethan, I understand this is hard for you, but it doesn't change what happened. I'm a Keeper, and these are the facts. Your mother was a Mortal.
Macon was an Incubus. They couldn't be together, not after Macon changed and became the Dark creature he was born to be. Macon didn't trust
himself. He was afraid he might hurt your mother, so he gave her the Arclight.”
“Facts. Lies. Whatever.” I was so tired of it all.
“Fact. He loved her more than his own life.” Why was Marian defending him?
“Fact. Not killing the love of your life doesn't make you a hero.” I was furious.
“It nearly killed him, Ethan.”
“Yeah? Well, look around. My mom's dead. They both are. So Macon's plan didn't really help much, did it?”
Marian took a deep breath. I knew the look, and a lecture was coming. She pulled me by the arm, and we walked away from the graveyard,
away from everyone above and below the ground. “They met at Duke. They were both studying American history. They fell in love, like any two
people.”
“You mean, like any unsuspecting undergraduate and an evolving Demon. If we're sticking to the facts.”
“‘In Light there is Dark, and in Dark there is Light.’ Your mother used to say that.”
I wasn't interested in philosophical ideas about the nature of the Caster world. “When did he give her the Arclight?”
“Eventually, Macon told Lila what he was and what he would become — that a future between the two of them was impossible.” Marian spoke
slowly and carefully. I wondered if it was as hard to say as it was to hear, and I felt sorry for both of us.
“It broke her heart, and his. He gave her the Arclight, which thankfully she never had to use. He left the university and came back home to Gatlin.”
She waited for me to say something cruel. I tried to come up with something, but in spite of everything, I was curious. “What happened after
Macon came back? Did they see each other again?”
“Sadly, no.”
I gave her an incredulous look. “Sadly?”
Marian shook her head at me. “It was sad, Ethan. It was the saddest I'd ever seen your mother. I was so worried, and I didn't know what to do. I
thought she was going to die from a broken heart, from how broken every part of her was.”
We had been walking the loop that circled Perpetual Peace. Now we were surrounded by trees and out of sight from most of Gatlin.
“But.” I had to know the end, even if it hurt to hear.
“But your mother followed Macon to Gatlin, through the Tunnels. She couldn't bear to be away from him, and she swore to find a way they could
be together. A way Casters and Mortals could spend their lives together. She was obsessed with the idea.”
I understood. I didn't like it, but I understood.
“The answer to that question did not lie in the Mortal world but in the Caster world. So your mother found a way to become part of it, even if she
couldn't be with Macon.”
We started walking again. “You're talking about her job as a Keeper, right?”
Marian nodded. “Lila found a calling that allowed her to study the Caster world and its laws, its Light and its Darkness. A way to look for the
answer.”
“How did she get the job?” I didn't think there was a Caster Yellow Pages, but since Carlton Eaton delivered our Yellow Pages aboveground
and the Caster mail below, who knew?
“At the time, there was no Keeper in Gatlin.” Marian paused, uncomfortable. “But a powerful Caster requested one, since the Lunae Libri
resides here and, at one time, The Book of Moons.”
Now it all made sense.
“Macon. He asked for her, didn't he? He couldn't stay away, after all that.”
Marian wiped her face with a handkerchief. “No. It was Arelia Valentin, Macon's mother.”
“Why would Macon's mother want my mom to be a Keeper? Even if she felt sorry for her son, she knew they couldn't be together.”
“Arelia is a powerful Diviner, capable of seeing fragments of the future.”
“Like a Caster version of Amma?”
Marian wiped her face. “I guess you could think of it that way. Arelia recognized something in your mother, her ability to find the truth — to see
what is hidden. I think she was hoping your mother would find the answer, a way Casters and Mortals could be together. Light Casters have always
hoped for that possibility. Genevieve wasn't the first Caster to fall in love with a Mortal.” Marian looked off into the distance, where families were
beginning to lay out their picnics on the sloping grass. “Or maybe she did it for her son.”
Marian stopped walking. We had made another circle and were standing at Macon's grave. I could see the angel weeping in the distance. Only
the grave looked nothing like it had at his funeral. Where there had only been dirt, now there was a wild garden shaded by two impossibly tall lemon
trees, flanking either side of the headstone. In the shade, a bed of spreading jasmine and tangles of rosemary grew over his grave. I wondered if
anyone had visited him today to notice.
I pressed my hands against my temples, trying to keep my head from exploding. Marian laid her hand gently on my back. “I know it's a lot to take
in, but it doesn't change anything. Your mother loved you.”
I shrugged Marian's hand away. “Yeah, she just didn't love my dad.”
Marian jerked my arm, forcing me to face her. My mother may have been my mom, but she was also Marian's best friend, and I wasn't going to
get away with questioning her integrity in front of Marian. Not today, or any day. “Don't you say that, EW. Your mother loved your father.”
“But she didn't move to Gatlin for my dad. She moved here for Macon.”
“Your parents met at Duke when we were working on our dissertation. As the Keeper, your mother was living in the Tunnels underneath Gatlin,
traveling between the Lunae Libri and the university to work with me. She wasn't living in the town, in the world of the DAR and Mrs. Lincoln. So she
did move to Gatlin for your father. She moved out of the darkness and into the light, and believe me, it was a big move for your mom. Your father
saved her from herself when none of us could. Not me. Not Macon.”
I stared at the lemon trees shading Macon's grave, and past them, to my mom's gravesite. I thought about my dad kneeling there. I thought of
Macon, braving the Garden of Perpetual Peace, if only so he could rest one tree over from my mom.
“She moved into a town where no one accepted her, because your father wouldn't leave, and she loved him.” Marian held my chin between her
thumb and her fingers. “She just didn't love him first.”
I took a deep breath. At least my whole life wasn't a total lie. She loved my dad, even if she loved Macon Ravenwood, too. I took the Arclight
from Marian's hand. I wanted to hold it, to have a piece of both of them. “She never found the answer, the way Mortals and Casters can be together.”
“I don't know if there is a way.” Marian put her arm around me, and I leaned my head on her shoulder. “You're the one who might be a Wayward,
EW. You tell me.”
For the first time since I saw Lena standing in the rain, almost a year ago, I didn't know. Like my mom, I hadn't found any answers. All I had
found was trouble. Was that what she found, too?
I looked at the box in Marian's hands. “Is that why my mom died? Trying to find the answer?”
Marian took my hand and pressed the box into it, wrapping my fingers around it with hers. “I've told you what I know. Draw your own conclusions,
but I can't interfere. Those are the rules. In the great Order of Things, I don't matter. Keepers never do.”
“That's not true.” Marian mattered to me, but I couldn't say it. My mom mattered. That part I didn't have to say.
Marian smiled as she lifted her hand, leaving the box in mine. “I'm not complaining. I chose this path, Ethan. Not everyone gets to choose their
place in the Order of Things.”
“You mean not Lena? Or not me?”
“You matter, whether you like it or not, and so does Lena. That's not a choice.” She pushed the hair out of my eyes, the way my mom used to.
“The truth is the truth. ‘Rarely pure and never simple,’ as Oscar Wilde would say.”
“I don't understand.”
“‘All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.’ ”
“More Oscar Wilde?”
“Galileo, the father of modern astronomy. Another man who rejected his place in the Order of Things — the idea that the sun didn't revolve
around the Earth. He knew, perhaps better than anyone, that we don't get to choose what is true. We only get to choose what we do about it.”
I took the box, because deep down I knew what she was saying, even if I didn't know anything about Galileo and knew even less about Oscar
Wilde. I was part of all this, whether I wanted to be or not. I couldn't run from it, any more than I could stop the visions.
Now I had to decide what to do about it.

Categories: Beautiful Darkness

Beautiful Darkness - Chapter 19

Revelations
By the time I crawled into my bed, it was nearly sunrise. There would be even more hell to pay in the morning when Amma saw me, but I had a
feeling Marian wasn't expecting me to be on time for work. She was as scared of Amma as anyone. I kicked off my shoes and fell asleep before I
hit the pillow.
Blinding light.
I was overwhelmed by the light. Or was it the dark?
I felt my eyes ache, as if I had been staring at the sun too long, creating spots of darkness. All I could make out was a silhouette, blocking out
the light. I wasn't scared. I knew this particular shadow intimately, the slight waist, the delicate hands and fingers. Every strand of hair, twisting in the
Casting Breeze.
Lena stepped forward, reaching out for me. I watched, frozen, as her hands moved out of the darkness and into the light where I was standing.
The light crept up her arms, until it hit her waist, her shoulders, her chest.
Ethan.
Her face was still shrouded in shadow, but now her fingers were touching me, moving along my shoulders, my neck, and finally my face. I held
her hand against my cheek, and it burned me, though not with heat but cold.
I'm here, L.
I loved you, Ethan. But I have to go.
I know.
In the darkness, I could see her eyelids lift and the golden glow — the eyes of the curse. The eyes of a Dark Caster.
I loved you, too, L.
I reached out my hand and gently closed her eyes. The chill of her hand disappeared from my face. I looked away and forced myself to wake up.
I was prepared to face Amma's wrath when I got downstairs. My dad had gone to the Stop & Steal to get a newspaper, and it was just the two of us.
The three of us if you counted Lucille, who was staring at the dry cat food in her bowl, something she'd probably never seen before. I guess Amma
was mad at her, too.
Amma was at the stove, pulling out a pie. The table was set, but breakfast wasn't cooking. There were no grits or eggs, not even a piece of
toast. It was worse than I thought. The last time she baked in the morning instead of making breakfast was the day after Lena's birthday, and before
that, the day after my mom died. Amma kneaded dough like a prizefighter. Her fury could generate enough cookies to feed the Baptists and the
Methodists combined. I hoped the dough had taken the brunt of it this morning.
“I'm sorry, Amma. I don't know what that thing wanted with us.”
She slammed the oven door shut, her back to me. “Of course you don't. There's a lot you don't know, but that didn't stop you from wanderin’
around where you didn't have any business. Now did it?” She picked up her mixing bowl, stirring the contents with the One-Eyed Menace, as if she
hadn't used it to scare Ridley into submission the day before.
“I went down there looking for Lena. She's been hanging out with Ridley, and I think she's in trouble.”
Amma spun around. “You think she's in trouble? You have any idea what that thing was? The one that was about to take you outta this world and
into the next?” She stirred madly.
“Liv said it was called a Vex, and it was summoned by someone powerful.”
“And Dark. Someone who doesn't want you and your friends pokin’ around in those Tunnels.”
“Who would want to keep us out of the Tunnels? Sarafine and Hunting? Why?”
Amma slammed the bowl on the counter. “Why? Why are you always askin’ so many questions about things that are none a your concern? I
reckon it's my fault. I let you run me ragged with those questions when you weren't tall enough to see over this counter.” She shook her head. “But
this is a fool's game. There can't be a winner.”
Great. More riddles. “Amma, what are you talking about?”
She pointed her finger at me again, the same way she had last night. “You've got no business in the Tunnels, you hear me? Lena's havin’ a hard
time and I'm ten kinds a sorry, but she's got to figure all this out for herself. There's nothin’ you can do. So you stay out a those Tunnels. There are
worse things down there than Vexes.” Amma turned back to her pie, pouring the filling from the bowl into a pie shell. The conversation was over.
“You go on to work now, and keep your feet aboveground.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
I didn't like lying to Amma, but technically I wasn't. At least, that's what I told myself. I was going to work. Right after I stopped by Ravenwood. After
last night, there was nothing left to say, and everything.
I needed answers. How long had she been lying to me and sneaking around behind my back? Since the funeral, the first time I saw them
together? Or the day she took the picture of his motorcycle in the graveyard? Were we talking about months or weeks or days? To a guy, those
distinctions mattered. Until I knew, it would gnaw away at me and what little pride I had left.
Because here's the thing: I heard her, inside and out. She'd said the words, and I saw her with John. I don't want you here, Ethan. It was over.
The one thing I never thought we'd be.
I pulled up in front of Ravenwood's twisted iron gates and turned off the engine. I sat in the car with the windows rolled up, even though it was
already sweltering outside. The heat would be suffocating in a minute or two, but I couldn't move. I closed my eyes, listening to the cicadas. If I didn't
get out of the car, I wouldn't have to know. I didn't have to drive through those gates at all. The key was still in the ignition. I could turn it and drive
back to the library.
Then none of this would be happening.
I turned the key, and the radio came on. It wasn't on when I turned the car off. The Volvo's reception wasn't much better than the Beater's, but I
heard something buried in the static.
Seventeen moons, seventeen spheres,
The moon before her time appears,
Hearts will go and stars will follow,
One is broken, One is hollow …
The engine died, and the music with it. I didn't understand the part about the moon, except that it was coming, which I already knew. And I didn't
need the song to tell me which one of us was gone.
When I finally opened the car door, the stifling Carolina heat seemed cool by comparison. The gates creaked as I slipped inside. The closer I
got to the house, the sorrier it looked now that Macon was gone. It was worse than the last time I was here.
I walked up the steps of the veranda, listening to each board creak under my feet. The house probably looked as bad as the garden, but I
couldn't see it. Everywhere I looked, the only thing I saw was Lena. Trying to convince me to go home the first night I met Macon, sitting on the steps
in her orange prison jumpsuit the week before her birthday. Part of me wanted to walk the path out to Greenbrier, to Genevieve's grave, so I could
remember Lena huddled up next to me with an old Latin dictionary while we tried to make sense of The Book of Moons.
But those were all ghosts now.
I studied the carvings above the doorway and found the familiar Caster moon. I fingered the splintery wood on the lintel and hesitated. I wasn't
sure how welcome I would be, but I pressed it anyway. The door swung open, and Aunt Del smiled up at me. “Ethan! I was hoping you would come
by before we left.” She pulled me in for a quick hug.
Inside it was dark. I noticed a mountain of suitcases by the stairs. Sheets covered most of the furniture, and the shades were drawn. It was true.
They were really leaving. Lena hadn't said a word about the trip since the last day of school, and with everything else that had happened, I'd almost
forgotten. At least, I wanted to. Lena hadn't even mentioned they were packing. There were a lot of things she didn't tell me anymore.
“That's why you're here, isn't it?” Aunt Del squinted, confused. “To say good-bye?” As a Palimpsest, she couldn't separate layers of time, so she
was always a little lost. She could see everything that had happened or would happen in a room the minute she walked in, but she saw it all at once.
Sometimes I wondered what she saw when I walked into this room. Maybe I didn't want to know.
“Yeah, I wanted to say good-bye. When are you leaving?”
Reece was sorting through books in the dining room, but I could still see her scowl. I looked away, out of habit. The last thing I needed was
Reece reading everything that had happened last night in my face. “Not until Sunday, but Lena hasn't even packed. Don't distract her,” Reece called
out.
Two days. She was leaving in two days, and I didn't know. Was she even planning to say good-bye?
I ducked my head and stepped into the parlor to say hi to Gramma. She was an immovable force sitting in her rocking chair, with a cup of tea
and the paper, as if the bustle of the morning didn't apply to her. She smiled, folding the paper in half. I had assumed it was The Stars and Stripes,
but it was written in a language I didn't recognize.
“Ethan. I wish you could come with us. I will miss you, and I'm sure Lena will be counting the days until we get back.” She rose from the chair and
hugged me.
Lena might be counting the days, but not for the reason Gramma thought. Her family had no idea what was going on with us anymore, or with
Lena, for that matter. I had a feeling they didn't know she was hanging out in underground Caster clubs like Exile, or hitching rides on the back of
John's Harley. Maybe they didn't know about John Breed at all.
I remembered when I first met Lena, the long list of the places she'd lived, the friends she had never made, the schools she'd never been able to
go to. I wondered if she was going back to a life like that.
Gramma was staring at me curiously. She put her hand on my cheek. It was soft, like the gloves the Sisters wore to church. “You've changed,
Ethan.”
“Ma'am?”
“I can't quite put my finger on it, but something's different.”
I looked away. There was no point in pretending. She would sense that Lena and I were no longer connected, if she hadn't already. Gramma
was like Amma. She was usually the strongest person in the room, by sheer force of will alone. “I'm not the one who changed, ma'am.”
She sat down again, picking her newspaper back up. “Nonsense. Everyone changes, Ethan. That's life. Now go tell my granddaughter to get
packing. We need to go before the tides change and we're marooned here forever.” She smiled as if I was in on the joke. Only I wasn't.
Lena's door was open just a crack. The walls, the ceiling, the furniture — everything was black. Her walls weren't covered in Sharpie anymore. Now
her poetry was scrawled in white chalk. Her closet doors were covered with the same phrase over and over:
runningtostandstillrunningtostandstillrunningto standstill. I stared at the words, separating them the way I often had to when it came to Lena's
writing. Once I did, I recognized them from an old U2 song and realized how true they really were.
It's what Lena had been doing all this time, every second since Macon died.
Her little cousin, Ryan, was sitting on the bed, holding Lena's face in her hands. Ryan was a Thaumaturge and only used her healing powers
when someone was in great pain. Usually it was me, but today it was Lena.
I barely recognized her. She looked like she hadn't slept last night. She was wearing an oversize, faded black T-shirt as a nightgown. Her hair
was tangled, her eyes red and swollen.
“Ethan!” The minute Ryan saw me, she was a regular kid again. She jumped into my arms, and I picked her up, swinging her legs from side to
side. “Why aren't you coming with us? It's going to be so boring. Reece is going to boss me around the whole summer, and Lena isn't any fun
either.”
“I have to stick around here and take care of Amma and my dad, Chicken Little.” I put Ryan down gently.
Lena looked annoyed. She sat down on her unmade bed, with her legs folded under her, and waved Ryan out of the room. “Out now. Please.”
Ryan made a face. “If you two do anything disgusting and you need me, I'll be downstairs.” Ryan had saved my life on more than one occasion
when Lena and I had gone too far and the electrical current between us had nearly stopped my heart.
Lena would never have that problem with John Breed. I wondered if it was his shirt she was wearing.
“What are you doing here, Ethan?” Lena stared up at the ceiling, and I followed her eyes to the words on the walls. I couldn't look at her. When
you look up / Do you see the blue sky of what might be / Or the darkness of what will never be? / Do you see me?
“I want to talk about last night.”
“You mean about why you were following me?” Her voice was harsh, which pissed me off.
“I wasn't following you. I was looking for you because I was worried. But I can see how that would be inconvenient when you were busy hooking
up with John.”
Lena's jaw tightened, and she stood up, the T-shirt grazing her knees. “John and I are just friends. We weren't hooking up.”
“Do you hang all over all your friends like that?”
Lena stepped closer to me, the ends of her ratty curls beginning to lift gently off her shoulders. The chandelier hanging from the center of her
ceiling began to sway. “Do you try to kiss all of yours?” She looked me right in the eye.
There was a flash of light and sparks, then darkness. The lightbulbs on the chandelier exploded, tiny shards raining down on her bed. I heard the
patter of rain on the roof.
“What are you —?”
“Don't bother lying, Ethan. I know what you and your library partner were doing outside Exile.” The voice in my head was sharp and bitter.
I heard you. You were Kelting. “Blue eyes and blond hair”? Sound familiar?
She was right. I was Kelting, and she'd heard every word.
Nothing happened.
The chandelier crashed onto her bed, missing me by inches. The floor seemed to drop out from under me. She'd heard me.
Nothing happened? Did you think I wouldn't know? Did you think I wouldn't feel it?
It was worse than looking Reece in the eye. Lena could see everything, and she didn't need her powers to do it.
“I lost it when I saw you with that guy John, and I wasn't thinking.”
“You can tell yourself that, but everything happens for a reason. You almost kissed her, and you did it because you wanted to.”
Maybe I just wanted to piss you off, because I saw you with another guy.
Be careful what you wish for.
I searched her face, the dark circles around her eyes, the sadness.
The green eyes I loved so much were gone — changed into the golden eyes of a Dark Caster.
What are you doing with me, Ethan?
I don't know anymore.
Lena's face fell for a second, but she caught herself. “You've been dying to get that out, haven't you? Now you can run off with your little Mortal
girlfriend guilt-free.” She said Mortal as if she could hardly stand to say the word. “I bet you can't wait to hang out at the lake with her.” Lena was
seething. Whole sections of ceiling were beginning to cave, where the chandelier had fallen.
Whatever pain she might have been feeling was totally eclipsed by her anger. “You'll be back on the basketball team by the time school starts,
and she can join the cheer squad. Emily and Savannah will love her.”
I heard a cracking sound, and another stretch of drywall smashed to the ground next to me.
My chest tightened. Lena was wrong, but I couldn't help but think about how easy it would be to date a regular girl, a Mortal girl.
I always knew that's what you wanted. Now you can have it.
Another crash. Now I was covered with the fine white dust of her fallen ceiling, broken chunks scattered on the floor around me.
She was fighting back tears.
That's not what I meant, and you know it.
Do I? All I know is that it shouldn't be so hard. Loving someone shouldn't be so hard.
I never cared about that.
I felt her fading away, pushing me out of her mind and out of her heart. “You belong with someone like you, and I belong with someone like me,
someone who understands what I'm going through. I'm not the same person I was a few months ago, but I guess we both know that.”
Why can't you stop punishing yourself, Lena? It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have saved him.
You don't know what you're talking about.
I know you think it's your fault your uncle's dead, and that torturing yourself is some kind of penance.
There's no penance for what I did.
She started to turn away.
Don't run away.
I'm not running. I'm already gone.
I could barely hear her voice in my head. I moved closer to her. It didn't matter what she'd done or if things between us were over. I couldn't
watch her destroy herself.
I pulled her to my chest and wrapped my arms around her, like she was drowning and I just wanted to get her out of the water. I could feel every
inch of her burning cold against me. Her fingertips brushed mine. My chest was numb where her face pressed into it.
It doesn't matter if we're together or not. You're not one of them, L.
I'm not one of you either.
Her last words were a whisper. I tangled my hands into her hair. There was no part of me that could let go. I think she was crying, but I couldn't
tell for sure. As I watched the ceiling, the last bits of plaster around the hole began to splinter into a thousand fissures, as if the rest of the roof might
fall in on us any minute.
So this is it?
It was, but I didn't want her to answer. I wanted to stay in this moment for a little while longer. I wanted to hold on to her and pretend she was still
mine to hold.
“My family leaves in two days. By the time they wake up tomorrow, I'll be gone.”
“L, you can't —”
She touched my mouth. “If you ever loved me, and I know you did, leave it alone. I'm not going to let any more people I care about die because
of me.”
“Lena.”
“This is my curse. It's mine. Let me have it.”
“What if I say no?”
She looked at me, her whole face darkening into a single shadow. “You don't have a choice. If you come by Ravenwood tomorrow, I can
guarantee you won't feel like talking. And you won't be able to either.”
“Are you saying you're going to put a Cast on me?” It was an unspoken line between us she had never crossed.
She smiled and put her finger over my lips. “Silentium. Latin for ‘silence,’ which is what you'll hear if you try to tell anyone I'm leaving before I
go.”
“You wouldn't.”
“I just did.”
Finally. Here we were. The only thing left between us was the unimaginable power she had never used against me. Her eyes flared gold and
bright. There wasn't a trace of green. I knew she meant every word.
“Swear you won't come back here.” Lena slipped out of my arms and turned away from me. She didn't want to show me her eyes anymore, and
I couldn't stand to see them.
“I swear.”
She didn't say a word. She nodded and wiped the tears running down her face. By the time I walked away, it was raining plaster.
I walked through the halls of Ravenwood one last time. The house grew darker and darker the farther I went. Lena was going. Macon was gone.
Everyone was leaving, and the house felt dead. I dragged my fingers along the polished mahogany banister. I wanted to remember the smell of the
varnish, the smooth feel of the old wood, maybe the faintest smell of Macon's imported cigars, Confederate jasmine, blood oranges, and books.
I stopped in front of Macon's bedroom door. Painted a flat black, it could have been any door in the house. But it wasn't any door, and Boo was
sleeping in front of it, waiting for a master who was never coming home. He didn't look like a wolf anymore, just a regular dog. Without Macon, he
was as lost as Lena. Boo looked up at me, barely moving his head.
I put my hand on the doorknob and pushed the door open. Macon's room was exactly as I remembered. No one had dared to put a sheet over
anything in here. The ebony four-poster bed in the center of the room shined, as if it had been lacquered a thousand times by House or Kitchen,
Ravenwood's invisible staff. Black plantation shutters kept the room completely dark, so it was impossible to tell day from night. Tall candlesticks
held black candles, and a black wrought iron chandelier hung from the ceiling. I recognized the Caster pattern burned into the iron. At first I couldn't
place it, but then I remembered.
I had seen it on Ridley and John Breed, and at Exile. The mark of a Dark Caster. The tattoo they all shared. Each one looked different yet
unmistakably similar. More like a brand than a tattoo, as if it had been burned into them rather than inked.
I shuddered and picked up a small object from the top of a black dresser. It was a framed photograph of Macon and a woman. I could see
Macon standing next to her, but it was dark and I could only make out the outline of her silhouette, a shadow caught on film. I wondered if it was
Jane. How many secrets had Macon carried to his grave? I tried to put the frame back, but it was so dark I misjudged the distance and the picture fell.
When I bent to pick it up, I noticed the corner of the rug was flipped back. It looked exactly like the rug I had seen in Macon's room in the Tunnels.
I lifted up the rug, and underneath there was a perfect rectangle cut into the floorboards, big enough for a man. It was another door into the
Tunnels. I yanked on the floorboard, and it came loose. I could see down into Macon's study, but there were no stairs, and the stone floor looked too
far down to jump without risking serious head trauma.
I remembered the cloaked door to the Lunae Libri. There was no way to find out, except to try. I held on to the edge of the bed and stepped
down carefully. I stumbled for a second, then felt something solid under my foot. A step. Though I couldn't see it, I could feel the splintery wooden
stair under my feet. Seconds later, I was standing on the stone floor of Macon's study.
He didn't spend all of his days sleeping. He spent them in the Tunnels, probably with Marian. I could picture the two of them looking up obscure
old Caster legends, debating antebellum garden formations, having tea. She had probably spent more time with Macon than anyone, except Lena.
I wondered if Marian was the woman in the picture and her name was really Jane. I hadn't considered it before, but it would explain a lot of
things. Why the countless brown library packages were kept neatly piled in Macon's study. Why a Duke professor would be hiding out as a librarian,
even as a Keeper, in a town like Gatlin. Why Marian and Macon were inseparable so much of the time, at least for a reclusive Incubus who didn't go
anywhere.
Maybe they had loved each other all these years.
I looked around the room until I saw it, the wooden box that held Macon's thoughts and secrets. It was on the shelf where Marian had left it.
I closed my eyes and reached for it —
It was the thing Macon wanted least and most — to see Jane one last time. It had been weeks since he'd seen her, unless you counted the
nights he had followed her home from the library, watching her from a distance, wishing he could touch her.
Not now, not when the Transformation was so close. But she was here, even though he'd told her to stay away. “Jane, you have to get out
of here. It's not safe.”
She walked slowly across the room to where he was standing. “Don't you understand? I can't stay away.”
“I know.” He drew her to him and kissed her, one last time.
Macon took something out of a small box in the back of his closet. He put the object in Jane's hand, closing her fingers around it. It was
round and smooth, a perfect sphere. He closed his hand around hers, his voice grave. “I can't protect you after the Transformation, not from
the one thing that poses the greatest threat to your safety. Me.” Macon looked down at their hands, gently cradling the object he had hidden
so carefully. “If something happens, and you're in danger … use this.”
Jane opened her hand. The sphere was black and opalescent, like a pearl. But as she watched, the sphere began to change and glow.
She could feel the buzz of tiny vibrations emanating from it. “What is it?”
Macon stepped back, as if he didn't want to touch the orb now that it had come to life. “It's an Arclight.”
“What is it for?”
“If the time comes when I become a danger to you, you'll be defenseless. There's no way you will be able to kill me or hurt me. Only
another Incubus can do that.”
Jane's eyes clouded over. Her voice was a whisper. “I could never hurt you.”
Macon reached out and touched her face tenderly. “I know, but even if you wanted to, it would be impossible. A Mortal cannot kill an
Incubus. That's why you need the Arclight. It's the only thing that can contain my kind. The only way you would be able to stop me if —”
“What do you mean, contain?”
Macon turned away. “It's like a cage, Jane. The only cage that can hold us.”
Jane looked down at the dark orb glowing in her palm. Now that she knew what it was, it felt as if it was burning a hole in her hand and her
heart. She dropped it on his desk, and it rolled across the tabletop, its glow fading to black. “You think I'm going to imprison you in that
thing, like an animal?”
“I'll be worse than an animal.”
Tears ran down Jane's face and over her lips. She grabbed Macon's arm, forcing him to face her. “How long would you be in there?”
“Most likely, forever.”
She shook her head. “I won't do it. I would never condemn you to that.”
It looked as if tears were welling up in Macon's eyes, even though Jane knew it was impossible. He had no tears to shed, yet she swore
she could see them glistening. “If something happened to you, if I hurt you, you would be condemning me to a fate, an eternity, far worse
than anything I would find in here.” Macon picked up the Arclight and held it up between them. “If the time comes and you have to use it,
you have to promise me you will.”
Jane choked back her tears, her voice shaking. “I don't know if I —”
Macon rested his forehead against hers. “Promise me, Janie. If you love me, promise me.”
Jane buried her face in his cool neck. She took a deep breath. “I promise.”
Macon raised his head and looked over her shoulder. “A promise is a promise, Ethan.”
I woke up lying on a bed. There was light streaming in a window, so I knew I wasn't in Macon's study anymore. I stared at the ceiling, but there was
no crazy black chandelier, so I wasn't in his room at Ravenwood either.
I sat up, groggy and confused. I was in my own bed, in my room. The window was open, and the morning light was shining into my eyes. How
could I have passed out there and ended up here, hours later? What had happened to space and time and all the physics in between? What Caster
or Incubus was powerful enough to do that?
The visions had never affected me like this before. Both Abraham and Macon had seen me. How was that possible? What was Macon trying to
tell me? Why did he want me to see these visions? I couldn't put it together, except for one thing. Either the visions were changing, or I was. Lena
had made sure of that.

Categories: Beautiful Darkness

Beautiful Darkness - Chapter 20

Inheritance
I stayed away from Ravenwood, like I promised. By morning, I didn't know where Lena was or where she was headed. I wondered if John and
Ridley were with her.
The only thing I knew was Lena had waited all her life to take charge of her own destiny — to find a way to Claim herself, in spite of the curse. I
wasn't going to be the person to stand in her way now. And, as she pointed out, she wasn't going to let me.
Which left me with my own immediate destiny: to stay in bed all day feeling sorry for myself. Me and some comic books, anything but Aquaman.
Gatlin had planned otherwise.
The county fair meant a day of pageants and pies and a night of hooking up, if you were lucky. All Souls meant something else entirely. It was a
tradition in Gatlin. Instead of spending the day in shorts and flip-flops at the fair, everyone in town spent all day at the graveyard in their Sunday best,
paying their respects to their dead relatives and everyone else's. Forget the fact that All Souls Day was actually a Catholic holiday that took place in
November. In Gatlin, we had our own way of doing things. So we turned it into our own day of remembrance, guilt, and general competition over
who could pile the most plastic flowers and angels on our ancestors’ graves.
Everyone turned out on All Souls: the Baptists, the Methodists, even the Evangelicals and the Pentecostals. It used to be that the only two
people in town who didn't show up at the cemetery were Amma, who spent All Souls at her own family plot in Wader's Creek, and Macon
Ravenwood. I wondered if those two had ever spent All Souls together, in the swamp with the Greats. I doubted it. I couldn't imagine Macon or the
Greats appreciating plastic flowers.
I wondered if the Casters had their own version of All Souls, if Lena was somewhere feeling the same way I was feeling now. Like she wanted
to crawl back into bed and hide until the day was over. Last year, I didn't make it to All Souls. It was too soon. The years before that, I spent the day
standing over the graves of Wates I never knew or barely remembered.
But today I would be standing over the grave of someone I thought about every day. My mother.
Amma was in the kitchen in her good white blouse, the one with the lace collar, and her long blue skirt. She was clutching one of those tiny old-lady
pocketbooks. “You best get on over to your aunts’.” She pulled on the knot of my tie to straighten it. “You know how they get all worked up if you're
late.”
“Yes, ma'am.” I grabbed the keys to my dad's car off the counter. I had dropped him off at the gates of His Garden of Perpetual Peace an hour
ago. He wanted to spend some time alone with my mom.
“Wait a second.”
I froze. I didn't want Amma to look into my eyes. I couldn't talk about Lena right now, and I didn't want her to try to get it out of me.
Amma rifled through her bag, pulling out something I couldn't see. She opened my hand, and the chain dropped into my palm. It was thin and
gold, with a tiny bird hanging from the center. It was much smaller than the ones from Macon's funeral, but I recognized it right away. “It's a sparrow
for your mamma.” Amma's eyes were shiny, like the road after the rain. “To Casters, sparrows mean freedom, but to a Seer, they mean a safe
journey. Sparrows are clever. They can travel a long ways, but they always find their way back home.”
The knot was building in my throat. “I don't think my mom will be making any more journeys.”
Amma wiped her eyes and snapped her purse shut. “Well, you're mighty sure a everythin’, aren't you, Ethan Wate?”
When I pulled up the Sisters’ gravel driveway and opened the car door, Lucille sat on the passenger's seat instead of jumping out. She knew where
we were, and she knew she'd been exiled. I coaxed her out of the car, but she sat on the sidewalk where the cement and the grass met.
Thelma opened the door before I knocked. She looked right past me to the cat, crossing her arms. “Hey there, Lucille.”
Lucille licked her paw lazily, then busied herself with sniffing her tail. She might as well have flipped Thelma off. “You comin’ by to say you like
Amma's biscuits better ’n mine?” Lucille was the only cat I knew who ate biscuits and gravy instead of cat food. She meowed, as if she had a few
choice words on the subject.
Thelma turned to me. “Hey there, Sweet Meat. I heard ya pull up.” She kissed me on the cheek, which always left bright pink lip prints no amount
of sweaty palm could wipe off. “Ya all right?”
Everyone knew today wasn't going to be easy for me. “Yeah, I'm okay. Are the Sisters ready?”
Thelma put her hand on her hip. “Have those girls ever been ready for anything in their lives?” Thelma always called the Sisters girls, even
though they were older than her, twice over.
A voice called from the living room. “Ethan? Is that you? Come on in here. We need ya ta take a look at somethin’.”
There was no telling what that meant. They could be making casts out of The Stars and Stripes for a family of raccoons or planning Aunt Prue's
fourth — or was it fifth? — wedding. Of course, there was a third possibility I hadn't considered, and it involved me.
“Come on in.” Aunt Grace waved me in. “Mercy, give him some a them blue stickers.” She was fanning herself with an old church program, most
likely from one of their respective husbands’ funerals. Since the Sisters never let anyone actually keep one at the service, they had plenty of them
lying around the house.
“I'd get ’em for you myself, but I hafta be careful on account a my accident. I've got complications.” It was the only thing she talked about since
the county fair. Half the town knew she had fainted, but to hear Aunt Grace tell it, she had suffered a near-fatal complication that would keep Thelma,
Aunt Prue, and Aunt Mercy scurrying to do her bidding until the end of her days.
“No, no. Ethan's color's red, I told ya. Give him the red ones.” Aunt Prue was scribbling madly on a yellow legal pad.
Aunt Mercy handed me a sheet of stickers with red dots on them. “Now Ethan, go ’round the livin’ room and put one a these stickers underneath
a the things you want. Go on now.” She stared at me expectantly, as if she would be offended if I didn't slap one of them on her forehead.
“What are you talking about, Aunt Mercy?”
Aunt Grace pulled a framed photo of an old guy in a Confederate uniform off the wall. “This here's Gen'ral Robert Charles Tyler, last Rebel
gen'ral killed in the War Between the States. Give me one a them stickers. This here'll be worth somethin’.”
I had no idea what they were into and was afraid to ask. “We have to get going. Did you forget it was All Souls?”
Aunt Prue frowned. “ ’Course we didn't forget. That's why we're gettin’ our affairs in order.”
“That's what the stickers are for. Everyone's got a color. Thelma's yella, you're red, your daddy's blue.” Aunt Mercy paused, as if she had lost her
train of thought.
Aunt Prue silenced her with a look. She didn't like being interrupted. “You put those little stickers on the bottom a the things you want. That way
when we die, Thelma'll know exactly who gets what.”
“It was on account a All Souls that we got ta thinkin’ about it.” Aunt Grace smiled proudly.
“I don't want anything, and none of you are dying.” I dropped the sheet of stickers on the table.
“Ethan, Wade'll be here next month, and he's jus’ as greedy as a fox in a henhouse. You need ta do your choosin’ first.” Wade was my Uncle
Landis’ illegitimate son, another person in my family who would never make it onto the Wate Family Tree.
There was really no point in arguing with the Sisters when they got like this. So I spent the next half hour putting little red stickers underneath
unmatched dining room chairs and Civil War memorabilia, but I still had time to kill while I waited for the Sisters to pick out their hats for All Souls.
Choosing the right hat was serious business, and most of the ladies in town had already been down to Charleston to do their shopping weeks ago.
To see them walking up the hill, wearing everything from peacock feathers to freshly cut roses on their heads, you would think the ladies of Gatlin
were going to a garden party instead of a graveyard.
The place was a mess. Aunt Prue must have made Thelma drag down every box from the attic, full of old clothes, quilts, and photo albums. I
flipped through the pages of the album on top. Old pictures were taped onto the brown pages: Aunt Prue and her husbands, Aunt Mercy standing in
front of her old house on Dove Street, my house, Wate's Landing, back when my granddad was a kid. I turned the last page, and another house
stared back at me.
Ravenwood Manor.
But not the Ravenwood I knew. This was a Ravenwood fit for the Historical Society Registry. Cypress trees lined the walk leading up to the crisp
white veranda. Every pillar, every shutter was freshly painted. There were no traces of the strangling overgrowth, the crooked stairs of Macon's
Ravenwood. Underneath the photo, there was an inscription, carefully added in delicate handwriting.
Ravenwood Manor, 1865
I was staring at Abraham's Ravenwood.
“Whatcha got there?” Aunt Mercy shuffled in wearing the biggest, pinkest flamingo of a hat I'd ever seen. There was some kind of weird netting
on the front, like a veil, topped with a very unrealistic bird perched in a pink nest. When she moved the slightest bit, the whole thing kind of flapped,
as if it could fly right off her head. No, this wouldn't give Savannah and the cheer squad any ammo.
I tried not to look at the flapping bird. “It's an old photo album. It was sitting on the top of this box.” I handed the album to her.
“Prudence Jane, bring me my spectacles!”
There was some banging around in the hall, and Aunt Prue appeared in the doorway in an equally large and disturbing hat. This one was black,
with a wraparound veil that made Aunt Prue look like the mother of a mob boss at his funeral. “If you wore them ’round your neck, like I told ya …”
Either Aunt Mercy had her hearing aid turned down or she was ignoring Aunt Prue. “Look what Ethan found.” The book was still open to the
same page. The Ravenwood of the past stared back at us.
“Lord ’ave mercy, look at that. The Devil's workshop if I ever saw it.” The Sisters, and most of the old folks in Gatlin, were convinced Abraham
Ravenwood made some kind of deal with the Devil to save Ravenwood Plantation from General Sherman's burning campaign of 1865, which had
left every other plantation along the river in ashes. If the Sisters only knew how close it was to the truth.
“Ain't the only evil Abraham Ravenwood done.” Aunt Prue backed away from the book.
“What do you mean?” Ninety percent of what the Sisters said was nonsense, but the other ten percent was worth hearing. The Sisters were the
ones who had told me about my mysterious ancestor, Ethan Carter Wate, who died during the Civil War. Maybe they knew something about
Abraham Ravenwood.
Aunt Prue shook her head. “No good can come from talkin’ ’bout him.”
But Aunt Mercy could never resist an opportunity to defy her older sister. “Our granddaddy used ta say Abraham Ravenwood played on the
wrong side a right and wrong — tempted fate. He was in league with the Devil all right, practicin’ witchcraft, communin’ with evil spirits.”
“Mercy! You stop all that talk!”
“Stop what? Speakin’ the truth?”
“Don't you drag the truth inta this house!” Aunt Prue was flustered.
Aunt Mercy looked me straight in the eye. “But the Devil turned on him after Abraham had done his biddin’, and when the Devil was done with
him, Abraham wasn't even a man anymore. He was somethin’ else.”
As far as the Sisters were concerned, every evil deed, deception, or criminal act was the work of the Devil, and I wasn't going to try to convince
them otherwise. Because after what I'd seen Abraham Ravenwood do, I knew he was more than evil. I also knew it had nothing to do with the Devil.
“Now you're tellin’ tales, Mercy Lynne, and you best quit before the Good Lord strikes you down here in this house, on All Souls, a all days. And I
don't want ta get hit by a stray bolt.” Aunt Prue whacked Aunt Mercy's chair with her cane.
“You don't think this boy knows ’bout the strange goin's on in Gatlin?” Aunt Grace appeared in the doorway in her own nightmarishly lavender
hat. Before I was born, someone made the mistake of telling Aunt Grace lavender was her color, and nearly everything she wore had been
disproving it ever since. “No use in tryin’ ta put the milk back in the jug after it's spilt.”
Aunt Prue banged her cane on the floor. They were speaking in riddles, like Amma, which meant they knew something. Maybe they didn't know
there were Casters wandering around in the Tunnels below their house, but they knew something.
“Some messes can be cleaned up easier than others. I don't want any part a this one.” Aunt Prue pushed past Aunt Grace as she left the room.
“This ain't a day ta be speakin’ ill a the dead.”
Aunt Grace shuffled over toward us. I took her elbow and guided her to the couch. Aunt Mercy waited for the tapping of Aunt Prue's cane to
echo down the hall. “Is she gone? I don't have my hearin’ aid turned up.”
Aunt Grace nodded. “I think so.”
The two of them leaned in as if they were about to give me launch codes for nuclear missiles. “If I tell ya somethin’, you promise not ta tell your
daddy? ’Cause if you do, we're bound ta end up in the Home for sure.” She was referring to the Summerville Assisted Seniors House — the
seventh circle of hell, as far as the Sisters were concerned.
Aunt Grace nodded in agreement.
“What is it? I won't say anything to my dad. I promise.”
“Prudence Jane's wrong.” Aunt Mercy dropped her voice to a whisper. “Abraham Ravenwood's still around, sure as I'm sittin’ here today.”
I wanted to say they were crazy. Two ancient, senile old ladies claiming to see a man, or what most people thought was a man, no one had
seen for a hundred years. “What do you mean, still around?”
“I saw him with my own eyes, last year. Behind the church, a all places!” Aunt Mercy fanned herself with her handkerchief, as if she might faint
from the thought of it. “After church on Tuesdays, we wait for Thelma out in front, on account a she has ta teach Bible study down the way at First
Methodist. Anyhow, I let Harlon James out from inside my pocketbook so he could stretch his little legs — you know Prudence Jane makes me
carry him. But soon as I set him down, he ran ’round the back a the church.”
“You know that dog can't mind ta save his life.” Aunt Grace shook her head.
Aunt Mercy glanced at the door before continuing. “Well, I had ta follow him because you know how Prudence Jane is ’bout that dog. So I went
’round back and jus’ when I turned the corner ta holler for Harlon James, I saw it. Abraham Ravenwood's ghost. Out in the cemet'ry behind the
church. Those progressives at the Round Church in Charleston got one thing right.” Folks in Charleston said the Round Church was built that way so
the Devil couldn't hide in the corners. I never pointed out the obvious, that the Devil usually had no problem marching right down the middle aisle, as
far as some of our local congregations were concerned.
“I saw him, too,” Aunt Grace whispered. “And I know it was him, ’cause his picture's on the wall down at the Historical Society, where I play
rummy with the girls. Right up there in the Founders Circle, on account a the Ravenwoods bein’ the first ones in Gatlin. Abraham Ravenwood, plain
as day.”
Aunt Mercy shushed her sister. With Aunt Prue out of the room, it was her turn to call the shots. “It was him, all right. He was out there with Silas
Ravenwood's boy. Not Macon — the other one, Phinehas.” I remembered the name from the Ravenwood Family Tree. Hunting Phinehas
Ravenwood.
“You mean Hunting?”
“Nobody called that boy by his given name. They all called him Phinehas. It's from the Bible. You know what it means?” She paused
dramatically. “Serpent's tongue.”
For a second, I held my breath.
“There was no mistakin’ that man's ghost. As the Good Lord as my witness, we cleared outta there faster than a cat with its tail on fire. Now,
Lord knows I couldn't move like that these days. Not since my complications …”
The Sisters were crazy, but their brand was usually based in crazy history. There was no way of knowing what version of the truth they were
telling, but it was usually a version. Any version of this story was dangerous. I couldn't figure it out, but if I had learned anything this year, it was that
sooner or later I was going to have to.
Lucille meowed, scratching at the screen door. Guess she'd heard enough. Harlon James growled from under the couch. For the first time, I
wondered what the two of them had seen, hanging around this house for so long.
But not every dog was Boo Radley. Sometimes a dog was just a dog. Sometimes a cat was just a cat. Still, I opened the screen door and stuck
a red sticker on Lucille's head.

Categories: Beautiful Darkness

Beautiful Darkness - Chapter 17

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?

Categories: Beautiful Darkness

Beautiful Darkness - Chapter 18

Vexed
It's not what you think.
What do I think?
She pushed John away as I crossed the dance floor. He turned around, his eyes black and menacing. Then he smiled to let me know I wasn't a
threat. He knew I was no match for him physically, and after seeing him and Lena on the dance floor together, I bet he didn't consider me any other
kind of threat anymore.
What did I think?
I knew I was in the moment before the thing happens — the thing that changes your life forever. It was like time stopped, even though everything
around me was still moving. The thing I had dreaded for months was actually happening. Lena was slipping through my fingers. And it wasn't
because of her birthday, or her mother and Hunting, or any curse or Cast or attack.
It was another guy.
Ethan! You have to go.
I'm not going anywhere.
Ridley stepped in front of me, the dancers swelling around us. “Slow down, Boyfriend. I knew you had guts, but this is crazy.” She sounded
concerned, like she actually gave a crap about what happened to me. It was a lie, like everything else about her.
“Get out of my way, Ridley.”
“You're done here, Short Straw.”
“Sorry, the lollipops don't work on me, or whatever you and John are using to manipulate Lena.”
She grabbed my arm, her icy fingers cutting into my skin. I had forgotten how strong she was, and how cold. She lowered her voice. “Don't be
stupid. You're way out of your league and way out of your mind.”
“You should know.”
She tightened her grip on my arm. “You don't wanna do this. You shouldn't be in here. Go home before —”
“Before what? Before you cause even more trouble than usual?” Link caught up to me. Ridley locked eyes with him. For a second, I thought
there was a flutter, the slightest spark in her eye, like the sight of Link called up something almost human in her. Something that made her as
vulnerable as he was. It disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced.
Ridley was rattled and starting to panic. I could tell by the way she was unwrapping a lollipop before she could even get the words out of her
mouth. “What the hell are you doing here? Get out of here now, and take him with you.” The playful tone was gone. “Go!” She shoved us both as
hard as she could.
I stood my ground. “I'm not going until I talk to Lena.”
“She doesn't want you here.”
“She'll have to tell me that herself.”
Say it to my face, L.
Lena was winding her way through the crowd. John Breed hung back, his eyes fixed on us. I didn't want to imagine what she must have said to
him to keep him there. That she would handle this? It was nothing, just a guy who couldn't get over her? Some desperate Mortal who couldn't
compete with everything she had now?
Like him.
She had John, and he had me beat in the only way that counted. He was part of her world.
I'm not leaving unless you say it.
Ridley dropped her voice, more serious than I'd ever seen her. “We don't have time to screw around. I know you're bent outta shape, but you
don't understand. He'll kill you, and if you're lucky, the rest of them won't join in for fun.”
“Who, Vampire Boy? We can take him.” Link was lying, but there was no way he wouldn't go down swinging, either for me or for her.
Ridley shook her head, pushing him farther back. “You can't, you idiot. This is no place for a couple of Boy Scouts. Get out of here.” She
reached for Link's cheek, but he grabbed her wrist before she could touch him. Ridley was like a beautiful snake — you couldn't let her get close
without the risk of being bitten.
Lena was only a few feet away.
If you don't want me here, tell me yourself.
A part of me believed if we were close enough, I could break whatever hold Ridley and John had over her.
Lena stopped behind Ridley. Her expression was unreadable, but I could see the silvery streak where a single tear had fallen.
Say it, L. Say it, or come with me.
Lena's eyes flickered, and she looked past me to where Liv was standing at the edge of the dance floor.
“Lena, you shouldn't be here. I don't know what Ridley and John are doing to you —”
“No one is doing anything to me, and I'm not the one in danger here. I'm not a Mortal.” Lena looked over at Liv.
Like her.
Lena's face darkened, and I could see her stray curls beginning to twist.
“You're not like them either, L.”
The lights in the bar flickered, and the bulbs shattered over the dance floor, sending sparks and tiny pieces of glass over both of us. The crowd,
even that crowd, started moving away from us. “You're wrong. I am like them. This is where I belong.”
“Lena, we can figure this out.”
“No, we can't, Ethan. Not this.”
“Haven't we made it through everything else together?”
“No. Not together. You don't know anything about me anymore.” For a second, something passed across her face. Sadness, maybe? Regret?
I wish things could be different, but they can't.
She started to walk away.
I can't go where you're going, Lena.
I know.
You'll be all alone.
She didn't turn around.
I'm already alone, Ethan.
Then tell me to go. If that's what you really want.
She stopped walking and turned slowly to look at me.
“I don't want you here, Ethan.” Lena disappeared across the dance floor, away from me. Before I could take a step, I heard the rip —
John Breed materialized in front of me, black leather jacket and all. “Me neither.”
We were only a few feet apart. “I'm going, but it's not because of you.” He smiled, and his green eyes glowed.
I turned and pushed my way through the crowd. I didn't care if I pissed off someone who could drink my blood or make me jump off a cliff. I kept
moving because more than anything else, I wanted to get out of there. The heavy wooden door slammed behind me, shutting out the music, the
lights, and the Casters.
But it didn't shut out what I was hoping for. The image of his hands on her hips, swaying to the music, her twisting black hair. Lena in the arms of
some other guy.
I barely noticed as the alley turned from modern-day asphalt and filth back to cobblestones. How long had it been going on, and what had happened
between them?
Casters and Mortals can't be together. That's what the visions were telling me, as if the Caster world didn't think I understood by now.
I heard the sound of footsteps echoing against the cobblestones behind me. “Ethan, are you okay?” Liv put her hand on my shoulder. I hadn't
realized she was following me.
I turned around, but I didn't know what to say. I was standing on a street out of the past, in an underground Caster Tunnel, thinking about Lena
with some guy who was my polar opposite. A guy who could take whatever I had, whenever he wanted. Tonight had proven it.
“I don't know what to do. This isn't Lena. Ridley and John have some kind of hold on her.”
Liv bit her bottom lip nervously. “I know it's not what you want to hear, but Lena's making her own decisions.”
Liv didn't understand. She had never seen what Lena was really like before Macon died and John Breed showed up. “There's no way you can
be sure. You heard Aunt Marian. We don't know what kind of powers John has.”
“I can't imagine how hard this is for you.” Liv was speaking in absolutes, and there was nothing absolute about what was happening to Lena and
to me.
“You don't know her —”
Liv's voice dropped to a whisper. “Ethan, her eyes are gold.”
The words echoed in my head, like I was underwater. My emotions sank like a stone as logic and reason fought their way to the surface.
Her eyes are gold.
It was such a small detail, but it meant everything. No one could force her to go Dark, or make her eyes turn gold.
Lena wasn't being controlled. No one was using the Power of Persuasion to manipulate her into jumping onto the back of John's bike. No one
was forcing her to be with him. She was making her own choices, and she was choosing him. I don't want you here, Ethan. I heard the words over
and over. Which wasn't even the worst part. She meant them.
Everything felt hazy and slow, like none of this could really be happening.
Liv's face was full of concern as she stared up at me with her blue eyes. There was something soothing about their blueness — not the green of
a Light Caster, or the black of an Incubus, or the gold of a Dark Caster. She was different from Lena in the most important way. She was a Mortal.
Liv wasn't going to go Light or Dark or run off with a guy with superhuman strength who could suck your blood or steal your dreams while you slept.
Liv was training to be a Keeper, but even then she would still be an observer. Like me, she would never really be part of the Caster world. Right
then, there was nothing I wanted more than to be as far away from that world as I could get.
“Ethan?”
But I didn't answer her. I pushed her shiny blond hair away from her face and leaned down, our faces only inches apart. She inhaled softly, our
lips so close I could feel her breath and the scent of her skin, like honeysuckle in the springtime. She smelled like sweet tea and old books, like she
had always been here.
I pulled my fingers through her hair and held it at the back of her neck. Her skin was soft and warm, like a Mortal girl's. There was no electric
current, no shocks. We could kiss for as long as we wanted. If we had a fight, there wouldn't be a flood or a hurricane, or even a storm. I wouldn't find
her on the ceiling of her bedroom. No windows would shatter. No exams would catch fire.
Liv held up her face to be kissed.
She wanted me. Not lemons and rosemary, not green eyes and black hair. Blue eyes and blond hair …
I didn't realize I was Kelting, reaching out for someone who wasn't there. I pulled away so fast, Liv didn't have time to react. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't
have done that.”
Liv's voice was shaky, and she put her hand on her neck, where my hands had been a moment before. “It's okay.”
It wasn't. I watched the emotions play out in her eyes — disappointment, embarrassment, regret. “It's no big deal.” She was lying. Her cheeks
were flushed, and she was staring at the ground. “You're upset about Lena. I get it.”
“Liv, I'm —”
Link's voice interrupted my lame attempt at an apology. “Hey, man, nice exit. Thanks for ditchin’ me.” He pretended he was joking, but his voice
was edgy. “At least your cat waited for me.” Lucille was trotting casually behind him.
“How did she get here?” I bent down to scratch her head, and she purred. Liv didn't look at either of us.
“Who knows? That cat's as crazy as your great-aunts. It was probably followin’ you.”
We started walking, and even Link could feel the weight of the silence. “So what happened back there? Was Lena with Vampire Boy, or what?”
I didn't want to think about it, but I could tell he was trying not to think about someone, too. Ridley wasn't just under his skin. She was crawling around
in there.
Liv was walking a foot or so ahead of us, but she was listening.
“I don't know. That's how it looked.” There was no point in trying to deny it.
“The Doorwell should be straight ahead.” Liv held her head high and almost tripped over a cobblestone. I could see how awkward things were
going to be between us. How many things could a guy screw up in one day? I had probably set some kind of record.
Link put his hand on my shoulder. “I'm sorry, dude. That's real —” Liv stopped so fast neither of us noticed, until Link bumped right into her. “Hey,
what's up, MJ?” Link nudged Liv with his elbow playfully.
But she didn't move or make a sound. Lucille froze, the hair on her back standing on end, her eyes transfixed. I followed her gaze to see what
she was staring at, but I had no idea what it was. There was a shadow across the street, lurking just inside a stone archway. It was formless, a
dense fog, constantly shifting in a way that gave it shape. It was wrapped in some kind of material, like a shroud or a cloak. It had no eyes, but I
could tell it was watching us.
Link took a step backward. “What the —”
“Shh.” Liv hissed. “Don't attract its attention.” The color drained from her face.
“I think it's too late for that,” I whispered. The thing, whatever it was, shifted slightly, moving closer to the street and to us.
I took her hand without thinking. It was buzzing, and I realized it wasn't her hand but the contraption on her wrist. Every dial was spinning. Liv
stared at its face, unbuckling the black plastic strap to get a better look.
“I'm getting insane readings,” she whispered.
“I thought you made that up.”
“I did,” she whispered again. “At first.”
“Then what? What does it mean?”
“I have no idea.” She couldn't take her eyes off the device, but the black shadow shifted closer to us.
“I hate to bother you when you're having so much fun with your watch, but what is that thing? A Sheer?”
She looked up from the spinning dials, her hand shaking in mine. “I wish. It's a Vex. I've only read about them. I've never seen one, and I bloody
well hoped I never would.”
“Fascinatin’. Why don't we bolt and talk about this later?” The Doorwell was in sight, but Link was already turning around, willing to take his
chances with the Dark Casters and creatures at Exile.
“Don't run.” Liv put her hand on Link's arm. “They can Travel, disappear and materialize anywhere faster than you can blink.”
“Like an Incubus.”
She nodded. “This could explain why we saw so many Sheers at Exile. It's possible they were responding to some kind of disturbance in the
natural order. The Vex is most likely that disturbance.”
“Speak English, real English.” Link was panicking.
“Vexes are part of the Demon world, the Underground. They're the closest things to pure evil in the Caster or Mortal world.” Liv's voice was
shaky.
The Vex continued to move slightly, as if it was being blown by the wind. But it didn't come any closer. It seemed to be waiting for something.
“They aren't Sheers, ghosts as you call them. Vexes don't have a physical being, unless they possess the living. They have to be summoned
from the Underground by someone very powerful, for only the Darkest tasks.”
“Hello. We're already underground.” Link didn't take his eyes off the Vex.
“Not the kind of Underground I'm talking about.”
“What does it want with us?” Link risked a glance down the street, mentally calculating the distance to Exile.
The Vex began to move, dissolving into mist and back into shadow again.
“I think we're about to find out.” I squeezed Liv's hand, trembling in my own.
The black fog, the Vex itself, thrust forward like angry open jaws. And a sound, loud and shrill, erupted from deep within. It was impossible to
describe — fierce and menacing like a roar, but terrifying like a scream. Lucille hissed, her ears flattening against her head. The sound intensified,
and the Vex reared back, rising above us as if it was planning to attack. I pushed Liv to the ground and tried to shield her body with mine. I covered
my neck, like I was about to be devoured by a grizzly bear instead of a body-snatching Demon.
I thought about my mom. Was this how she felt when she knew she was about to die?
I thought about Lena.
The scream reached a crescendo, and I heard another sound rising above it, a familiar voice. But it wasn't my mother's, or Lena's.
“Dark Demon a the Devil, bend to Our will and leave this place!” I looked up and saw them standing behind us under the lamplight. She was
holding a string of beads and bone in front of her like a crucifix, and they were gathered around her, glowing and luminous, with purpose in their
eyes.Amma and the Greats.
I can't explain what it was like to see Amma and four generations of the spirits of her ancestors towering above her, like the faces from old
black and white pictures. I recognized Ivy from the visions, her dark skin gleaming, dressed in a high-necked blouse and calico skirt. But she looked
more intimidating than she had in the visions, and the only one who looked fiercer stood to her right, her hand on Ivy's shoulder. She had a ring on
every finger, and she was wearing a long dress that looked like it had been stitched from silk scarves, with a tiny bird embroidered on the shoulder.
I was staring at Sulla the Prophet, and she made Amma look about as harmless as a Sunday school teacher.
There were two other women, most likely Aunt Delilah and Sister, and an old man, his face punished by the sun, standing in the back with a
beard that would've put Moses to shame. Uncle Abner. I wished I had some Wild Turkey for him.
The Greats tightened their circle around Amma, chanting the same verse again and again, in Gullah, the original language of her family. Amma
repeated the same verse in English, shaking the beads and bone, shouting to the heavens.
“Of Vengeance and Wrath, Bind the Suspended, Hasten his path.”
The Vex rose even higher, the fog and shadow circling and swirling above Amma and the Greats. Its scream was deafening, but Amma didn't
even flinch. She closed her eyes and raised her voice to meet the demonic cry.
“Of Vengeance and Wrath, Bind the Suspended, Hasten his path.”
Sulla raised her bracelet-laden arm, spinning a long stick with dozens of tiny charms dangling from it, back and forth between her fingers. She
took her hand from Ivy's shoulder and rested it on Amma's, her glowing, translucent skin glimmering in the darkness. The second her hand touched
Amma's shoulder, the Vex let out a final gnarled cry and was sucked into the void of the night sky.
Amma turned to the Greats. “I'm much obliged.”
The Greats disappeared, as if they had never been there at all.
It probably would've been better if I had disappeared with the Greats, because one look at Amma's face made it clear that she had only saved us
so she could kill us herself. We would've had better odds against the Vex.
Amma was seething, her eyes narrow and focused on her main targets, Link and me.
“V. E. X. A. T. I. O. N.” She grabbed us by our collars at the same time, as if she could have thrown us up the Doorwell behind her with a single
toss. “As in, trouble. Worry. Agitation. Botheration. Need me to go on?”
We shook our heads.
“Ethan Lawson Wate. Wesley Jefferson Lincoln. I don't know what business the two a you think you have down in these Tunnels.” She was
shaking her bony finger as she pointed at us. “You don't have a lick a sense between you, but you think you're ready to be battlin’ Dark forces.”
Link tried to explain. Big mistake. “Amma, we weren't tryin’ to battle any Dark forces. Honest. We were just —”
Amma advanced, that finger barely an inch from Link's eyes. “Don't you tell me. When I get through with you, you're gonna wish I'd told your
mamma about what you were doin’ in my basement when you were nine years old.” He backed up until he hit the wall behind him, next to the
Doorwell. Amma matched him step for step. “That story's as sad as the day is long.”
Amma turned to Liv. “And you're studyin’ to be a Keeper. But you don't have any more sense than they do. Knowin’ what you do and still lettin’
these boys drag you into this dangerous business. You're in a world a trouble with Marian.” Liv slunk down a few inches.
Amma whipped around to face me. “And you.” She was so angry she was talking with her jaw clenched. “You think I don't know what you're up
to? You think because I'm an old woman, you can fool me? It'll take you three lifetimes before you can sell me a raft that doesn't float. Soon as
Marian told me you were down here, I found you straightaway.” I didn't ask her how she'd found us. Whether it was chicken bones or tarot cards or
the Greats, she had her ways. Amma was the closest thing I'd ever seen to a Supernatural without actually being one.
I didn't look her in the eye. It was like avoiding a dog attack. Don't make eye contact. Keep your head down and your mouth shut. Instead, I kept
walking, with Link looking back at Amma every few steps. Liv wandered behind us, confused. I knew she hadn't counted on a run-in with a Vex, but
Amma was more than she could handle.
Amma shuffled along behind us, muttering to herself or the Greats. Who knew? “Think you're the only one who can find somethin’? Don't need to
be a Caster to see what you fools are up to.” I could hear the bones rattling against the beads. “Why do you think they call me a Seer? Because I
can see the mess you're into just as soon as you're into it.”
She was still shaking her head as she disappeared up the Doorwell, not a speck of mud on her sleeves or a rumple in her dress. What had felt
like a rabbit hole on the way down was a broad stairwell on the way up, as if it had expanded out of respect for Miss Amma herself.
“Takin’ on a Vex, as if a day with this child wasn't trouble enough …” She sniffed with every step. It went on like that the whole way back. We
dropped Liv off on our way through the Tunnels, but Link and I kept walking. We didn't want to be too close to that finger, or those beads.

Categories: Beautiful Darkness