Beautiful Redemption

“Uncle M? Dinnertime—” I called out into the hall, but he was already there next to me, appearing as swiftly as if he was still an Incubus and could rip through space and time whenever he wanted. Old habits died hard.

“Beautiful, Lena. I find the shoes an especially nice touch.” I looked down and noticed my raggedy black Converse still on my feet. So much for dressing for dinner.

I shrugged and followed him to the table.

Fillet of sea bass with baby fennel. Warm lobster tail. Scallops carpaccio. Grilled peaches soaked in port. I had no appetite, especially not for food you could only find at a five-star restaurant on the Champs-Élysées in Paris—where Uncle Macon took me at every opportunity—but he ate happily for the better part of an hour.

One thing about former Incubuses: They really appreciate Mortal food.

“What is it?” my uncle finally said, over a forkful of lobster.

“What’s what?” I put down my fork.

“This.” He gestured at the spread of silver platters between us, pulling the shiny dome off one overflowing with steaming, spicy oysters. “And this.” He looked pointedly at my viola, still playing softly. “Paganini, of course. Am I really that predictable?”

I avoided his eyes. “It’s called dinner. You eat it. Which you seem to have no problem doing, by the way.” I grabbed a ridiculous flagon of ice water—where Kitchen found some of our tableware, I’d never know—before he could say anything else.

“This is not dinner. This is, as Mark Antony would say, a tantalizing table of treason. Or perhaps treachery.” He swallowed another bite of lobster. “Or perhaps both, if Mark Antony were a fan of alliteration.”

“No treason.” I smiled. He smiled back, waiting. My uncle was many things—a snob, for one—but he wasn’t a fool.

“Just a simple request.”

He set down his wineglass, heavy on the linen tablecloth. I waved a finger, and the glass filled itself.

Insurance, I thought.

“Absolutely not,” said Uncle Macon.

“I haven’t asked you anything.”

“Whatever it is, no. The wine proves it. The last straw. The final pheasant feather on the proverbial fluffy feather bed.”

“So you’re saying Mark Antony isn’t the only fan of alliteration?” I asked.

“Out with it. Now.”

I pulled the matchbook cover out of my pocket and pushed it across the table so he could see it.

“Abraham?”

I nodded.

“And this is in New Orleans?”

I nodded again. He handed me back the matchbook, dabbing at his mouth with his linen napkin. “No.” He returned to the wine.

“No? You were the one who agreed with me. You were the one who said we could find him ourselves.”

“I did. And I will find him while you remain locked safely in your room, like the nice little girl you should be. You’re not going to New Orleans alone.”

“New Orleans is the problem?” I was stunned. “Not your ancient-but-deadly Incubus ancestor who tried to kill us on more than one occasion?”

“That and New Orleans. Your grandmother wouldn’t hear of it, even if I said yes.”

“She wouldn’t hear of it? Or she shouldn’t hear of it?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“What about if she just doesn’t hear of it? That way it’s not an issue.” I put my arms around my uncle. As angry as he made me, and as annoying as it was to have him pay off the Underground bartenders and ground me from various dangerous pursuits, I loved him, and I loved that he loved me as much as he did.

“How about no?”

“How about she’ll be with Aunt Dell and everyone in Barbados until next week, so why is this even a problem?”

“How about still no?”

At that point, I gave up. It was hard to stay angry at Uncle Macon. Impossible, even. Knowing how I felt about him was the only way I understood how hard it was for Ethan to live apart from his own mother.

Lila Evers Wate. How many times had her path crossed mine?

we love what we love and who

we love who we love and why

we love why we love and find

a falling shoelace knotted and strung

between the fingers of strangers

I didn’t want to think about it, but I hoped it was true. I hoped wherever Ethan was, he was with her now.

At least give him that.

John and I left first thing in the morning. We needed to leave early, since we were taking the long way—the Tunnels, rather than Traveling, though if I’d let him, John could have easily gotten us there in the blink of an eye.

I didn’t care. I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want to be reminded of the other times I’d let John carry me—all the way to Sarafine.

So we did it my way. I Cast a Resonantia on my viola and set it to practice in the corner while I was gone. It would wear off eventually, but it might give me enough time.

I didn’t tell my uncle I was going. I just went. Uncle Macon still slept most of the day, old habits being what they were. I figured I had at least six good hours before he noticed my absence. By which I mean, before he flipped out and came after me.

One thing I’d realized in the last year was that there were some things no one could give you permission to do. All the same, it didn’t mean you couldn’t or shouldn’t do them—particularly when it came to the big things, like saving the world, or journeying to a supernatural seam between realities, or bringing your boyfriend back from the dead.

Sometimes you had to take matters into your own hands. Parents—or uncles who are the closest thing you have to them—aren’t equipped to deal with that. Because no self-respecting parent in this world or any other is going to step aside and say, “Sure, risk your life. The world is at stake here.”

How would they possibly say it?

Be back by dinner. Hope you don’t die.

They couldn’t do it. You couldn’t blame them. But it didn’t mean that you shouldn’t go.

I had to go, no matter what Uncle Macon said. That’s what I told myself, anyway, as John and I headed into the Tunnels far beneath Ravenwood. Where, in the darkness, it could have been any time of day or year—any century, anywhere in the world.

The Tunnels weren’t the scary part.

Even spending time alone with John—something I hadn’t done since he’d tricked me and dragged me into going to the Great Barrier for my Seventeenth Moon—wasn’t the problem.

The truth was, Uncle Macon was right.

I was more afraid of the Doorwell that stood before me and of what I would find on the other side. The ancient Doorwell that brought light flooding down onto the stone steps of the Caster Tunnel where I waited now. The one marked NEW ORLEANS . The place where Amma had basically made a pact with the Darkest magic in the universe.

I shivered.

John looked at me, his head tilted. “Why are you stopping here?”

“No reason.”

“You scared, Lena?”

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just a city.” I tried to put all thoughts of black magic bokors and voodoo out of my mind. Just because Ethan had followed Amma into bad times there didn’t mean I was going to encounter the same Darkness. At least not the same bokor.

Did it?

“If you think New Orleans is just a city, then you’ve got another thing coming.” John’s voice was low, and I could barely see his face in the darkness of the Tunnels. He sounded as spooked as I felt.

“What are you talking about?”

“The most powerful Caster city in the country—the greatest convergence of Dark and Light power in modern times.

A place where anything can happen, at any hour of the day.”

“At a hundred-year-old bar for two-hundred-year-old Supernaturals?” How frightening could it be? At least that’s what I tried to tell myself.

He shrugged. “Might as well start there. Knowing Abraham, it won’t be as easy to find him as we think.” We started up the stairs and into the bright sunlight that would take us to the Dark Side o’ the Moon.

The street—a row of shabby bars, sandwiched between more shabby bars—was deserted, which made sense, considering it was still so early in the day. It looked like all the other streets we’d seen since the Doorwell brought us up into the infamous French Quarter of New Orleans. The ornately wrought iron railings swept across every balcony and along every building, even curving around the street corners. In the stark morning light, the faded colors of the painted plaster were sun-bleached and peeling. The road was lined with trash, trash piled upon more trash—the only remaining evidence of the night before.

“I’d hate to see how it looks around here the morning after Mardi Gras,” I said, looking for a way to pick through the mountain of garbage standing between me and the sidewalk. “Remind me never to go to a bar.”

“I don’t know. We had some good times back at Exile. You and me and Rid, causing trouble on the dance floor.” John smiled and I blushed, remembering.

arms around me

dancing, hurried

Ethan’s face

pale and worried

I shook my head, letting the words fall away. “An underground hole for derelict Supernaturals isn’t what I was talking about.”

“Ah, come on. We weren’t exactly derelicts. Well, you weren’t. Rid and me, we probably qualified.” He pushed me toward the doorway playfully.

I shoved him back, a little less playfully. “Stop it. That was a million years ago. Maybe two million. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Come on, Lena. I’m happy. You’re—”

I shot him a look, and he cut himself off. “You will be happy again, I promise. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” I looked at him, standing there next to me in the middle of a run-down side street in the French Quarter far too early in the morning, helping me look for the not-quite-a-man John hated more than anyone in the universe. He had more of a reason to hate Abraham Ravenwood than I did. And he wasn’t saying a word about what I was making him do.

Who would’ve thought John would end up being one of the best guys I’d ever met? And who would’ve thought John would end up volunteering to risk his life to bring back the love of mine?

I smiled at him, though I felt like crying. “John?”

“Yeah?” He wasn’t paying attention. He was looking up at the bar signs, probably wondering how he was going to get up the nerve to go inside any of them. They all looked like serial killer hangouts.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” Now he was listening. Confused, but listening.

“About this. That it has to involve you. And if you don’t want it to—I mean, if we don’t find the Book—”

“We’ll find it.”

“I’m just saying, I won’t blame you if you don’t want to go through with it. Abraham and everything.” I couldn’t bear to do it to him. Not him and not Liv—no matter how much had gone down between us. No matter how much she had believed she loved Ethan.

Before.

“We’ll find the Book. Come on. Quit talking crazy.” John kicked a clearing in the trash heap, and we made our way past the empty beer bottles, past the soggy napkins, and up to the sidewalk.

By the time we made it halfway down the block, we were looking through the open doorways to see if anyone was inside. To my surprise, there were people hiding in the woodwork—literally. Slumping inside the darkened doorways.

Sweeping the trash from deserted, shadowy alleys. Even silhouetted on a few of the empty balconies.

The French Quarter wasn’t that different from the Caster world, I realized. Or from Gatlin County. There was a world within a world, all hidden in plain sight.

You just had to know where to look.

“There.” I pointed.

THE DARK SIDE O’ THE MOON

A carved wooden sign bearing the words swung back and forth, dangling by two ancient chains. It squeaked as it moved in the wind.

Even though there was no wind.

I squinted in the bright morning light, trying to see into the shadows of the open doorway.

This Dark Side was no different from the other nearly deserted bars in the neighborhood. Even from the street, I could hear voices echoing through the heavy door.

“People are in there this early?” John made a face.

“Maybe it’s not early. Maybe it’s late if you’re them.” I locked eyes with a scowling man who was leaning against the doorframe and trying to light a cigarette. He muttered to himself and looked away.

“Yeah. Way too late.”

John shook his head. “You sure this is the right place?”

For the fifth time, I handed him the book of matches. He held up the cover, comparing it to the logo on the sign. They were identical. Even the crescent moon carved into the wooden sign was an exact duplicate of the one printed on the matchbook in John’s hand.

“And I was so hoping the answer would be no.” He handed the matchbook back to me.

“You wish,” I said, kicking a stray piece of wet napkin off my black Chucks.

He winked at me. “Ladies first.”

CHAPTER 22

Bird in a Gilded Cage

It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, and even longer for the rest of me to adjust to the stench. It smelled like must and rust and old beer—old everything. Through the shadows, I could see rows of small round tables and a high brass bar, almost as tall as I was. Bottles were stacked on shelves all the way to a high ceiling—so high the long brass chandeliers seemed to dangle down from nowhere.

Dust covered every surface and every bottle. It even swirled in the air, in the few places where beams of light poked through shuttered windows.

John elbowed me. “Isn’t there some kind of Cast that can keep our noses from working? Like a Stinkus Lessus Cast?”

“No, but I can think of a few Shutus Upus Casts that might be applicable right about now.”

“Temper, Caster Girl. You’re supposed to be Light. You know, one of the good guys.”

“I broke the mold, remember? On my Seventeenth Moon, when I was Claimed Light and Dark?” I shot him a serious look. “Don’t forget. I’ve got my Dark side.”

“I’m scared.” He grinned.

“You should be. Very.”

I pointed to a mirrored sign on the paneling, right behind him. A silhouette of a woman was painted next to a row of words. “ ‘Lips that touch liquor shall not touch ours.’ ” I shook my head. “Clearly not the slogan of the Jackson cheer squad.”

“What?” John looked up.

“I bet this place used to be a speakeasy. A hidden bar during Prohibition. New Orleans was probably full of them.” I looked around the room. “That means there has to be another room, right? A room behind this room.” John nodded. “Of course. Abraham would never hang out where anyone could walk into his hideout, no matter where it is. It was one thing all our homes had in common.” He looked around. “But I don’t remember a place like this.”

“Maybe it was before your time, and he came back here because it was somewhere no one currently alive could find him.”

“Maybe. Still, something feels off about this place.”

Then I heard a familiar voice.

No. A familiar laugh, sweet and sinister. There was nothing else like it in the world.

Ridley? Is that you?

I Kelted, but she didn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t hear, or it had been too long since we had connected in any kind of meaningful way. I didn’t know, but I had to try.

I ran up the wooden staircase at the back of the bar. John was just steps behind me. As soon as I got to the room at the top, I started banging on the wall where I thought her voice had come from, high above stacks of crates and cases of bottles. The storage-room wall was hollow, and there was clearly something behind it.

Ridley!

I needed a better look. I pushed a tall stack of crates out of the way. I closed my eyes and let myself rise high into the air, until I floated parallel with the window. I opened my eyes, hovering for a second. What I saw was so surprising it knocked me right to the floor.

I could have sworn I saw my cousin, and a whole lot of makeup, and what looked like a flash of gold. Rid wasn’t in danger. She was probably lying around in there, painting her nails. Sucking on a lollipop, having the time of her life.

Either that, or I was hallucinating.

I’m going to kill her.

“I swear, Rid. If you’re really this crazy, if you’ve really gone this Dark, I’m going to jam those lollipops of yours down your throat, one ball of sugar at a time.”

“What?”

I felt John’s arms behind me, pulling me back to the floor.

I pointed to the wall. “It’s my cousin. She’s on the other side of this wall.” I knocked on the wall above the nearest row of crates.

“No. No, no, no—” He started backing away, like even the mention of my cousin had him wanting to make a break for it.

I felt myself turning red. She was my cousin, and I wanted to kill her. Still, she was my cousin, and I was the one who wanted to kill her. It was a family matter. Not something John needed to worry about. “Look, John, I have to get her.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Probably.”

“If she’s hanging with Abraham, she’s not going anywhere. And we don’t want him to find us until we figure out how to get the Book.”

“I don’t think he’s there,” I said.

“You don’t think , or you don’t know ?”

“If he was there, wouldn’t you sense something? I thought you two were connected somehow. Wasn’t that how he brainwashed you or whatever?”

John looked nervous, and I felt guilty for saying it. “I don’t know. It’s possible.” He stared up at the high window.

“Okay. You get in there and see what Ridley’s problem is. I’ll keep an eye out for Abraham outside and make sure he doesn’t come back while you’re inside.”

“Thanks, John.”

“But don’t be an idiot. If she’s gone too Dark, she’s too Dark. You can’t change Ridley. That’s one thing we’ve all learned the hard way.”

“I know.” I probably knew it better than anyone, except maybe Link. But deep down, I also knew better than anyone how much my cousin was like everyone else. How badly she wanted to fit in and be loved and have friends and be happy—just like the rest of us.

How Dark can a person like that really be?

Hadn’t the New Order shown us that the price had been paid—Ethan made sure he paid it—and that things weren’t as simple as we all thought they were?

Didn’t I Claim myself for Dark and Light?

“You’re sure you’ll be all right in there?”

Is it really any different for anyone else? Even Ridley? Especially Ridley?

John poked me in the side. “Earth to Lena. Just make some kind of noise so I know you heard me, before I throw you to that lion in there.”

I tried to focus. “Go. I’m fine.”

“Five minutes. That’s all you have,” he said.

“Got it. I’ll only need four.”

He disappeared, and I was alone to deal with my cousin. Dark or Light. Good or evil. Or maybe just somewhere in between.

I needed a better look. I grabbed a cask of wine, pulling it over to the space beneath the window that was cut into the wall. I climbed up and the cask wobbled, threatening to topple, but I managed to balance myself.

I still couldn’t see.

Oh, come on.

I closed my eyes and twisted my hands into the air next to me, pushing myself up toward the ceiling. The light in the room began to flicker.

That’s it.

I wasn’t much for flying, but this was more like levitating. I rose, wobbling, until my Chucks were hovering a few inches above the cask.

Just a little farther. I needed one good look to let me know if my cousin was forever lost, if she had joined the Darkest Incubus alive and would never come home to me again.

One last look.

I pulled myself up, barely level with the small window.

That’s when I saw the bars swerving down from the ceiling, all the way around Ridley in every direction. It was some kind of gold prison. A literal gilded cage.

I couldn’t believe it. Ridley wasn’t lounging on a chaise in the lap of luxury in Abraham’s place. She was trapped.

She turned, and our eyes locked. Rid leaped to her feet, rattling the bars in front of her. For a second, she looked kind of like a damaged Tinkerbell, with a lot of black mascara running down her face, and even more smeared red lipstick.

She’d been crying, or worse. Her arms looked bruised, especially around the wrists. They were marked by some kind of ropes or chains. Shackles, maybe.

The room around her clearly belonged to Abraham—at least that’s what I thought, considering it looked like a mad scientist’s dorm room, with a lone bed next to a crammed bookshelf. A tall wooden table was covered with technical equipment. The place could have belonged to a chemist. Even stranger, the two sides of the window didn’t seem to correlate exactly, in terms of physical space. Looking through the speakeasy window was like looking through a dirty telescope, and I couldn’t tell exactly where the other end lay. It could have been anywhere in the Mortal universe, knowing Abraham.

But that didn’t matter. It was Ridley. It was a terrible thing to see anyone like that, but for my careless, carefree cousin, it seemed especially cruel.

I felt my hair begin to twist in the familiar Caster breeze.

“Aurae Aspirent

Ubi tueor, ibi adeo.

Let the wind blow

Where I see I go.”

I began to twist into nothingness. I felt the world give way beneath me, and when I tried to reach my feet out to touch solid ground, I realized I was now standing next to Ridley.

On the outside of the golden cage.

“Cuz! What are you doing here?” she called out to me, reaching her long pink fingernails through a space in the bars.

“I guess I could say the same to you, Rid. Are you okay?” I approached the bars carefully. I loved my cousin, but I couldn’t forget everything that had happened. She chose Dark and left us—Link, me, all of us. It was impossible to know whose side she was on.

Ever.

“Think it’s a little obvious, don’t you?” she snapped. “I’ve been better.” She rattled the bars. “Much.” Ridley sat back down on her heels and began to cry, like we were both little kids again and someone had hurt her feelings on the playground. Which didn’t happen often, and if it did, it was usually me doing the crying.

Rid was always the strong one.

Maybe that’s why her tears got to me now.

I slid down to the floor across from her, taking her hand through the cage bars. “I’m sorry, Rid. I was so angry with you for not coming back when Ethan—now that Ethan—”

She didn’t look at me. “I know. I heard. I feel terrible. That’s when everything happened. Abraham was furious, and I only made things worse when I made the mistake of trying to leave. I just wanted to go home. But he was so angry that he threw me in here.” She shook her head as if she wanted to shake off the memory.

“I mean it, Rid. I should have known that you would’ve come unless something stopped you.”

“Whatever. More water under another watery bridge.” She wiped her eyes, smearing her mascara even more. “Let’s blow this place before Abraham comes back, or you’ll be stuck in here with me for the next two hundred years.”

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. Usually he spends all day in his creepy lab of creatures. But there’s no way to know how long he’ll be gone.”

“Then we’d better get on with it.” I looked around the room. “Rid, have you seen Abraham with The Book of Moons ?

Is it here?”

She shook her head. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t come within ten miles of that thing, not after the way it royally screws anyone who touches it.”

“But have you seen it?”

“No way. Not here. If Abraham still has it, he’s not dumb enough to keep it on him. He’s evil, but he’s not stupid.” My heart sank.

Ridley rattled the bars again. “Hurry up! I’m really stuck. Protection Casts, from what I can tell. I’m going crazy in here….”

Then I heard a terrible crash, and a pile of equipment crates next to me toppled to the ground. Broken glass and broken wood flew everywhere—like I had upset Abraham’s project for the science fair. Some sort of glowing green goop was splattered in my hair.

Whoops.

Uncle Macon was trying to untangle himself from John Breed, who had one foot caught in the remnants of a wooden crate.

“Where are we?” Uncle M stared at the cage in disbelief. “What kind of twisted place is this?”

“Uncle M?” Ridley looked as relieved as she was confused. “Were you Traveling?”

“I found him out front,” John said. “He wouldn’t let me go. When I tried to come back, he just sort of came along for the ride.” John must have seen my face, because he got defensive. “Hey, don’t look at me. I wasn’t exactly planning on picking up hitchhikers.”

Uncle Macon glared at John, who glared right back at him.

“Lena Duchannes!” My uncle looked angrier than I’d ever seen him. Green goop was dripping from his otherwise impeccable suit. He glanced from Ridley to me, then pointed at both of us. “You two. Come out of there this instant.” I grabbed Ridley’s hand and muttered the Aurae Aspirent while Uncle Macon tapped his foot impatiently. A second later, my cousin and I reappeared on the outside of the cage.

“Uncle Macon,” I began.

He held up his gloved hand. “Don’t. Not a word.” His eyes flashed, and I knew better than to keep talking. “Now.

Let’s focus on what we came here to do, while we still have time to do it. The Book.” John had already started pulling open boxes, scanning the shelves for The Book of Moons . Uncle Macon and I joined him, looking until we had searched every possible hiding place. Ridley sat sullenly on a crate, not making things easier—but not making them more difficult either. Which I took as a good sign.

From what I could see, Abraham Ravenwood appeared to be the Caster answer to Dr. Frankenstein. I couldn’t recognize much beyond the occasional burner or beaker, and I had taken chemistry. And at the rate John and Uncle Macon were trashing the room, it was going to look like our search was conducted by Frankenstein’s monster.

“It’s not here,” John said, finally giving up.

“Then neither are we.” Uncle Macon straightened in his overcoat. “Home, John. Now.” Traveling was one thing. The speed at which John managed to get us home—without so much as another word from Uncle Macon—was another. I found myself out of Abraham’s hideaway and back in my room before Ridley could wipe off her smeared, raccoon-y mascara.

The viola was still playing Paganini’s Caprice no. 24 when I got there.

CHAPTER 23

Dar-ee Keen

The next day it was raining, and the Dar-ee Keen was leaking as if it was finally giving up. More depressing, Uncle Macon hadn’t even bothered to ground me. Apparently, the situation was hopeless enough without locking me in my room. Which was pretty hopeless.

Rain fell everywhere at the Dar-ee Keen, on the inside and out. Water dripped from the square, buzzing light fixtures. It crept down the wall like a slow stain of tears beneath the crookedly mounted Employee of the Month photograph—from the look of it, a member of the Stonewall Jackson cheer squad, of course, though they all were starting to look the same.

No one worth crying over. Not anymore.

I scanned the nearly empty diner, waiting for Link to show up. Nobody was out on a day like today, not even the flies. I couldn’t blame them.

“Seriously, could you cut it out? I’m sick of the rain, Lena. And I smell like a wet dog.” Link appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. He looked like a wet dog.

“That smell has nothing to do with the rain, my friend.” I smiled. Unlike John, Link was apparently human enough that the natural elements still affected him. He assumed normal Link posture, leaning back in the corner of the booth and doing his best impression of someone physically capable of falling asleep.

“It’s not me,” I said.

“Right. Because it’s been nothin’ but sunshine and kitty cats out there since December.” Thunder rumbled in the sky. Link rolled his eyes.

I frowned. “I guess you must have heard. We found Abraham’s place. The Book wasn’t there. At least we couldn’t find it.”

“Figures. Now what?” He sighed.

“Plan B. We don’t really have a choice.”

John.

I couldn’t say it. I curled my hand into a fist on the seat next to me.

Thunder rumbled again.

Was it me? I didn’t know if I was doing it or if the weather outside was doing something to me. I had lost track of myself weeks ago. I stared at the rain dripping into the red plastic bucket in the center of the room.

red plastic rain

her tears stain

I tried to shake myself out of it, but I couldn’t stop looking at the bucket. The water dripped down from the ceiling rhythmically. Like a heartbeat or a poem. A list of names of the dead.

First Macon.

Then Ethan.

No.

My father.

Then Macon.

My mother.

Then Ethan.

Now John.

How many people had I lost?

How many more would I lose? Would I lose John, too? Would Liv ever forgive me? Did it even matter anymore?

I watched the raindrops bead on the greasy table in front of me. Link and I sat together in silence, in front of wadded-up waxy paper, crushed ice in plastic glasses. A cold, soggy meal nobody was even thinking of eating. If he wasn’t trapped at his own dinner table, Link didn’t even pretend to move the food around anymore.

Link nudged me. “Hey. Come on, Lena. John knows what he’s doing. He’s a big boy. We’re gonna get the Book and get Ethan back, no matter how crazy your plan is.”

“I’m not crazy.” I didn’t know who I was saying it to, Link or myself.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You say it every time you have the chance.”

“You don’t think I want him back?” Link said. “You don’t think it sucks to shoot hoops without him watchin’ to tell me how bad I suck or how big my head is gettin’? I drive around Gatlin in the Beater, blastin’ the tunes we used to play, and there’s no reason to play them anymore.”

“I get that it’s rough, Link. You know I get it, more than anyone.”

His eyes welled up, and he dropped his head, staring down at the greasy table between us. “I don’t even feel like singin’. The guys in the band, they’re talkin’ about breakin’ up. The Holy Rollers could end up as a bowlin’ team.” He looked like he was going to be sick. “At this rate, I’m gonna have nowhere to go but college, or somewhere even worse.”

“Link. Don’t say that.” It was true. If Link went to college—even Summerville Community College—it would mean the end of the world had finally arrived, no matter how many times Ethan tried to save us all.

Had tried.

“Maybe I’m just not as brave as you are, Lena.”

“Sure you are. You’ve survived all those years in your house with your mom, haven’t you?” I tried to smile, but Link was beyond cheering up.

It was like talking to myself.

“Maybe I just gotta give up when the odds are as bad as they are now.”

“What are you talking about? The odds are always this bad,” I said.

“I’m the guy who gets bit. I’m the guy who gets the F and then even fails summer school.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Link. You were helping Ethan rescue me.”

“Face it. The only girl I ever loved chose Darkness over me.”

“Rid loved you. You know that. And about Ridley…” I had almost forgotten why I’d brought him here. He still didn’t know. “Seriously. You don’t understand. Rid—”

“I don’t want to talk about her. It wasn’t meant to be. Nothin’s ever gone my way before. I shoulda known it wouldn’t work out.”

Link stopped talking because the bell over the door rang in the distance, and time stopped—in a flurry of bright pink flapper feathers and purple tin beads. Not to mention eyeliner and lip liner and anything else that could possibly be lined or shined or painted any of the colors of the cosmetic rainbow.

Ridley.

I barely thought the word before I flew halfway up out of my seat and toward her for a hug.

I knew she was coming—I was the one who’d found her at Abraham’s—but it was a different thing to see her making her way safe and sound through the plastic tables of the Dar-ee Keen. I almost knocked her off her three-inch platforms. Nobody walked in heels like my cousin.

Cuz.

She Kelted it as she buried her face in my shoulder, and all I could smell was hair spray and bath gell and sugar.

Glitter swirled in the air around us, knocked loose from whatever sparkly goop she’d smeared all over her body.

Dark or Light, somehow it never mattered between us. Not when it really counted. We were still family, and we were together again.

It’s strange to be here without Short Straw. I’m sorry, Cuz.

I know, Rid.

Here at the Dar-ee Keen, it was all hitting home, like she finally understood what happened.

What I’d lost.

“You okay, kid?” She pulled back, looking me in the eyes.

I shook my head as my eyes started to blur. “No.”

“Somebody mind fillin’ me in on what’s goin’ on here?” Link looked like he was about to pass out, or throw up, or both.

“I was trying to tell you. We found Ridley, stuck in one of Abraham’s cages.”

“You know it. Like a peacock, Hot Rod.” She didn’t look right at Link, and I wondered if it was because she didn’t want to or because she didn’t dare. “A really hot one.”

I would never understand what went on between the two of them. I didn’t think anyone could—not even them.

“Hey, Rid.” Link was pale, even for a quarter Incubus. He looked like someone had just punched him in the face.

She blew him a kiss across the table. “Looking good, Hot Rod.”

He was stammering. “You look… you’re lookin’… I mean, you know.”

“I know.” Ridley winked and turned back to me. “Let’s get out of here. It’s been too long. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” Link managed not to stammer, though his face was now as red as the plastic bucket beneath the leaking ceiling.

Ridley sighed, sticking her lollipop to one side of her mouth. “Hello? I’m a Siren, Shrinky Dink. A bad girl. I need to be back among my own.”

“Abraham, eh? That old goat?” Ridley shook her head.

I nodded. “That’s the plan.” For what it was worth, if it was worth anything.

The air was dark, and the ceiling lights of Exile only seemed to make it darker, instead of adding to the light. I didn’t blame Ridley for wanting to bring us here. It was the first place she always wanted to go when she was Dark.

But if you weren’t Dark, it wasn’t the most relaxing place in the world. You spent half the night making sure not to accidentally look anyone in the eye or smile in the wrong direction.

“And you think getting Short Straw The Book of Moons is going to help him un-kick the can?” Link growled from the next seat. He insisted on coming with us for safekeeping, but I could tell he hated it here even more than I did.

“Watch it, Rid. Ethan hasn’t kicked the can. He’s just—bent it outta shape a little.” I smiled. I guess Link could tell me Ethan was gone all he wanted, but it wasn’t the same when someone else said it.

And it meant Ridley wasn’t one of us anymore, at least not for Link. She really had left him, and she really was Dark.

She was an outsider.

Link seemed to sense it, too. “I need to use the bathroom.” He hesitated, unwilling to leave my side. Everyone seemed to have their own brand of bodyguard at a club like Exile. My bodyguard happened to be a quarter Incubus with a heart of gold.

Ridley waited until he was out of earshot. “Your plan sucks.”

“The plan doesn’t suck.”

“Abraham’s not going to trade John Breed for The Book of Moons . John isn’t worth anything to him now that the Order of Things has been set right. It’s too late.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re forgetting I’ve spent more time than I wanted to with Abraham in the past few months. He’s been keeping himself busy. He spends every day in that Frankenstein lab of his, trying to figure out what went wrong with John Breed.

He’s gone back to the mad science drawing board.”

“That means he’ll want John back, so he’ll trade us the Book. Which is exactly what we want.” Ridley sighed. “Are you listening to yourself? He’s not a good guy. You don’t want to hand John over to him. When Abraham’s not gluing wings onto bats, he’s been having secret meetings with some creepy bald guy.”

“Can you be more specific? That doesn’t narrow it down.”

Rid shrugged. “I don’t know. Angel? Angelo? Something church-y like that.” I felt sick. My glass turned to ice in my hand. I could feel the frozen particles collecting at the tips of my fingers.

“Angelus?”

She popped a chip into her mouth from the black bowl on the bar. “That’s it. They’re teaming up for some supersecret takedown. I never heard the details. But this guy definitely hates Mortals as much as Abraham does.” What would a member of the Council of the Far Keep be doing with a Blood Incubus like Abraham Ravenwood?

After what Angelus tried to do to Marian, I knew he was a monster, but I thought he was some kind of righteous lunatic.

Not someone who would conspire with Abraham.

Still, it wasn’t the first time Abraham and the Far Keep seemed to have their agendas aligned. Uncle Macon had brought it up before, right after Marian’s trial.

I shook my head at the thought. “We have to tell Marian. After we get that book. So unless you have a better idea, we’re meeting Abraham to make the trade.” I drained what was left of my frozen soda water, knocking the glass back down to the bar.

It shattered in my hand.

The room quieted around me, and I could feel the eyes—nonhuman eyes, some gold and others black as the Tunnels themselves—staring back at me. I ducked my head from view.

The bartender made a face, and I glanced at the door from the corner of my eye—half-expecting to see my Uncle Macon standing there. The bartender was staring. “Those are some eyes you’ve got.” Rid shot me a look. “Hers? One of them didn’t take,” she said casually. “You know how it goes.” We waited in our seats, nervous and tense. You didn’t want to attract too much attention at Exile, not when you only had one gold eye to show for it.

The bartender studied me for another moment, then nodded and checked his watch. “Yeah. I know how it goes.” This time he glanced at the door. He’d probably already made the call to my uncle.

That rat.

“You’re going to need all the help you can get, Cuz.”

“What are you saying, Rid?”

“I’m saying it looks like I’m going to have to rescue you fools again.” She flicked a piece of broken glass off the counter.

“Rescue us how?”

“You leave that to me. Turns out I’m not just another pretty face. Well, I’m that, too.” She smiled, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “All this and another pretty face.”

Even her smart mouth seemed halfhearted to me now. I wondered if Ethan’s disappearance was getting to her as much as the rest of us.

My instincts were still right about one thing.

Uncle Macon showed up at the door like clockwork, and I was back home in my bedroom before I could ask her.

CHAPTER 24

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle

Ridley was waiting for us behind the farthest row of crypts, which, judging by the number of abandoned beer bottles in the bushes, was also a Gatlin County hot spot.

I couldn’t imagine hanging out here willingly. His Garden of Perpetual Peace still had Abraham’s fingerprints all over it. Nothing seemed to have changed since he had called up the Vexes only weeks before the Eighteenth Moon.

Warning signs and yellow caution tape created a labyrinth between the broken mausoleums, uprooted trees, and cracked gravestones in the new section of the cemetery. Now that the Order of Things was repaired, the grass wasn’t burning up anymore, and the lubbers were gone. But the other scars were still there if you knew where to look for them.

True to Gatlin form, the worst of the damage had already been hidden under the layers of fresh dirt Ridley was standing on now. The caskets had been reburied and the tombs sealed. I wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t like the good citizens of Gatlin to keep the skeletons out of the closet for long.

Rid unwrapped a cherry lollipop and waved it around dramatically. “I sold it to him. Hook, line, and stinker.” She smiled at Link. “That’s you, Shrinky Dink.”

“You know what they say. Takes one to know one,” Link shot back.

“You know I smell like frosting on a cupcake. Why don’t you come on over here, and I’ll show you just how sweet I can be?” She wriggled her long pink nails like claws.

Link walked over to John, who was leaning against a weeping angel that was split right down the middle. “Just callin’ it like I see it, Babe. And I can smell you just fine from here.” Link was throwing Ridley more than just quarter-Incubus swagger today. Now that he’d wrapped his head around the fact that she was back, it was like he lived to trade insults with her.

Ridley turned back to me, annoyed that she hadn’t gotten a bigger rise out of him. “All it took was a little trip back to N’awlins, and I had Abraham eating out of my hand.”

That was hard to imagine, and John definitely wasn’t buying it. “You expect us to believe you Charmed Abraham with a few Ridley pops? You and what chain of candy stores?”

Ridley pouted. “Of course not. I had to sell it. So I thought, who would be stupid enough to do whatever I say and play right into my hands?” She blew Link a kiss. “Our little Dinkubus, of course.” Link’s jaw tightened. “She’s full of crap.”

“All I had to do was tell Abraham that I used Link and his feelings for me to infiltrate your stupid little circle and figure out your even stupider little plan. Then I complained about him keeping me caged like his prize pet. Of course, I said I couldn’t blame him. Who wouldn’t want me around full-time?”

“Is that a question? Because I’d be happy to answer,” Link snapped.

“He wasn’t mad that you broke out of your fancy birdcage?” John asked.

Ridley’s voice edged up a little. “Abraham knew I wouldn’t stay in there if I could find a way out. I’m a Siren; it’s not in my nature to be confined. I told him I used my Power of Persuasion on his pathetic Incubus errand boy and convinced him to let me out. It didn’t end well. Abraham just got a bigger cage for him.”

“What else did you say?” I wanted to know if there was really a chance we were getting the Book. I twisted my charm necklace around my finger, trying not to think about the memories slipping around it.

“I broke it down for him and said I’d rather bet on him than you guys.” She gave Link a sweet smile. “You know how I like a winning team. Naturally, Abraham believed every word. Why wouldn’t he? It’s so utterly believable.” Link looked like he wanted to throw her across the graveyard.

“And Abraham will be there? Today?” John still didn’t trust her.

“He’ll be there. In the flesh. Of course, I’m using the term loosely.” She shuddered. “Very loosely.”

“He agreed to trade me for The Book of Moons ?” John asked.

Ridley sighed, leaning against the crypt wall. “Well, technically, I believe it went something like, ‘They’re stupid enough to believe you’ll trade John for the Book, but of course you won’t.’ And then there might have been some laughing. And some drunken Casting. It’s all a haze.”

Link folded his arms across his chest. “The thing is, Rid, how do we know you’re not saying the same thing to him?

You’re Dark as they come. How can we know”—he stepped protectively in front of me—“whose side you’re really on?”

“She’s my cousin, Link.” Even as I said it, I wasn’t really sure of the answer. Ridley was a Dark Caster again. The last time she offered to help me, it was a trap, and she led me right to my mother and my Seventeenth Moon.

But I knew she loved me. As much as a Dark Caster could love anyone. And as much as Rid could love anyone other than herself.

Ridley leaned closer to Link. “Good question, Shrinky Dink. Too bad I have no intention of answering it.”

“One of these days, I guess I’ll figure out that one for myself.” Link frowned, and I smiled.

“Let me give you a little clue,” Rid purred. “Today’s not the day.”

Then in a swirl of cotton candy body glitter, the Siren he loved to hate was gone.

It was just starting to get dark when we left Liv and Uncle Macon in the study, poring over every Caster book they could find about Sheers and Ravenwood history, respectively. Liv was convinced that Ethan was trying to contact us, and she was determined to find a way to communicate with him. Every time I went down there, she was taking notes or adjusting the crazy gadget she used to measure supernatural frequencies. I think she was desperate to find a solution that didn’t involve trading John for The Book of Moons .

I didn’t blame her.

Uncle Macon was, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He was scouring every journal and scrap of paper he could find for references to other places where Abraham could have hidden the Book.

That’s why I couldn’t tell them what we were doing. We already knew how Liv felt about the idea of trading John for the Book. And Uncle Macon wasn’t going to trust Ridley. Instead, I told them I wanted to visit Ethan’s grave, and John volunteered to go with me.

Link was waiting for John and me back at the cemetery. The sky was dark now, and I could barely make out where a crow circled high in the air above us, shrieking, as we made our way toward the oldest part of His Garden of Perpetual Peace.

I shivered. That crow had to be some sort of omen. But there was no way of knowing which kind. Either things were going to go well, and I would end the day with The Book of Moons and a chance at getting Ethan back, or I’d fail and lose John in the process.

John Breed wasn’t the love of my life, but he was the love of someone’s life. And John and I had spent more than a few dark months together, when he and Rid seemed like the only people I could talk to. But John wasn’t the same guy he was back then. He had changed, and he didn’t deserve to go back to a life with Abraham. I wouldn’t have wished that on anyone.

What had I become?

bargaining with a life

that isn’t mine

isn’t a bargain

misery

doesn’t

come

cheap

John wouldn’t look at me. Even Link kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead of us. I felt like they were disappointed in me for being so selfish.

I was disappointed in myself.

It is what it is, and I am what I am. I’m no better than Ridley. I only want what I want.

Either way, it didn’t stop my feet from walking.

I tried not to think about it as I followed Link and John through the trees. While most of His Garden of Perpetual Peace was in the process of being restored to its pre–Vex attack state, the same wasn’t true of the older part of the graveyard.

I hadn’t seen it since the night the earth cracked open, covering these hills with decomposing corpses and severed bones. Though the bodies were gone, the ground was still overturned, huge sinkholes replacing the graves that had surrounded generations of Wates since before the Civil War. Even if Ethan wasn’t here.

Thank God.

“This blows.” Link trudged up the hill with his garden shears in hand. “But don’t worry. I got your back. He’s not going to take you off to creepy-old-guy-land. Not without a fight. Not with these babies.” John shoved Link to the side. “Put those things away, rookie. You won’t be able to get close enough to Hunting to clip the grass around his feet. And if Abraham sees them, he’ll use them to slit your throat without even touching them.” Link shoved John back, and I ducked to avoid being knocked down the hill, as collateral damage. “Yeah, well, they

helped me out on the way to that guy Obidias’ place when I took out that chicken-fried bat guy. Just don’t get me killed, Caster Boy.”

“Hold up a second.” John, now serious, stopped walking and turned to both of us. “Abraham is no joke. You have no idea what he’s capable of—I’m not sure anyone does. Stay out of the way and let me handle him. You’re backup, in case Hunting or your girlfriend gives us trouble.”

“Rid’s on our side, remember?” I reminded him.

“At least she’s supposed to be. And she’s not my girlfriend.” Link clenched his jaw.

“In my experience, the only side Ridley’s ever on is her own.” John stepped over a broken statue of a praying angel, her hands cracked at the wrists. All the broken angels around here were starting to feel like a bad omen.

Link looked annoyed, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem to like it when anyone but him criticized Ridley. I wondered if things could ever really be over between them.

He and John navigated around the broken caskets and tree limbs, reaching an enormous sinkhole just beyond the old Honeycutt crypt. I did my best to keep up, but they were Incubuses, so there was nothing I could do, short of Casting an Incubus-cloning spell.

But soon it didn’t matter, because we had nowhere left to go.

Abraham was waiting for us.

Either we had walked right into his trap or he had walked right into ours. It was almost time to find out.

Abraham Ravenwood was standing on the far side of the sinkhole. Wearing a long black coat and stovepipe hat and leaning against a splintered tree, he looked bored, as if this was an annoying errand.

The Book of Moons was tucked under his arm.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “He brought it,” I said quietly.

“We don’t have it yet,” Link said under his breath.

Wearing a black turtleneck and a leather jacket, Hunting stood behind his great-great-great-grandfather. He was blowing smoke rings at Ridley. She coughed, waving the smoke away from her red dress, and gave her uncle a dirty look.

There was something disturbing about seeing her dressed in red, standing a few feet away from two Blood Incubuses. I hoped John was wrong and Ridley really was on our side—for Link’s sake as much as my own.

We both loved her. And you couldn’t control who you loved, even if you wanted to. That had been Genevieve’s problem with Ethan Carter Wate. It had been Uncle Macon’s problem with Lila, Link’s with Ridley. Probably even Ridley’s with Link.

Love was how all these knots started to unravel in the first place.

“You brought it,” I called across to Abraham.

“And you’ve brought him.” Abraham’s eyes narrowed at the sight of John. “There’s my boy. I’ve been so worried.” John tensed. “I’m not your boy. And you’ve never cared about me, so you can stop pretending.”

“That’s not true.” Abraham acted hurt. “I’ve put a great deal of energy into you.”

“Too much, if you ask me,” Hunting said.

“No one did,” Abraham snapped.

Hunting clenched his jaw and flicked his cigarette into the grass. He didn’t look pleased. Which meant he would probably take that anger out on someone who didn’t deserve it and didn’t expect it. We were all plausible candidates.

John looked disgusted. “You mean treating me like a slave and using me to do your dirty work? Thanks, but I’m not interested in the kind of energy you put into things.”

Abraham stepped forward, his black string tie blowing in the breeze. “I don’t care what interests you. You serve a purpose, and when you stop serving it, you won’t be useful to me anymore. I think we both know how I feel about things that aren’t of any use to me.” He smirked. “I watched Sarafine burn to death, and the only thing that bothered me was the ash on my jacket.”

He was telling the truth. I had watched my mother burn, too. Not that I thought of Sarafine that way. But hearing Abraham talk about her like that made me feel something, even if I didn’t know what.

Sympathy? Compassion?

Do I feel sorry for the woman who tried to kill me? Is that possible?

John had told me that Abraham hated Casters as much as Mortals. I hadn’t believed him until that moment.

Abraham Ravenwood was cold, calculating, and evil. He really was the Devil, or the closest thing I’d ever met.

I watched as John raised his head high and called to Abraham. “Just give my friends the Book, and I’ll leave with you. That was the deal.”

Abraham laughed, the Book still safely tucked under his arm. “The terms have changed. I think I’ll keep it after all.” He nodded at Link. “And your new friend.”

Ridley stopped sucking on her lollipop. “You don’t want him. He’s worthless—trust me.” She was lying.

Abraham knew it, too. A vicious smile spread across his face. “As you wish. Then we can feed him to Hunting’s dogs. When we get home.”

There was a time when Link would’ve backed up, scared out of his mind. But that was before John bit him and his life changed. Before Ethan died and everything changed.

I watched Link standing next to John now. He wasn’t going anywhere, even if he was afraid. That Link was long gone.

John tried to step in front of him, but Link held out his arm. “I can defend myself.”

“Don’t be stupid,” John snapped. “You’re only a quarter Incubus. That makes you half as strong as me, without the Caster blood.”

“Boys.” Abraham snapped his fingers. “This is all very moving, but it’s time to get going. I have things to do and people to kill.”

John squared his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere with you unless you give them the Book. I’ve come into contact with some powerful Casters lately. I make my own choices now.”

John collected powers the way Abraham collected victims. Ridley’s Power of Persuasion, even some of my abilities as a Natural. Not to mention the ones he absorbed from all the other Casters who unknowingly touched him. Abraham had to be wondering whose power John had tapped into.

Still, I started to panic. Why hadn’t we taken John back down into the Tunnels to collect a few more? Who was I to think we could take on Abraham?

Hunting glanced at Abraham, and a flash of recognition passed between them—a secret they shared.

“Is that so?” Abraham dropped The Book of Moons at his feet. “Then why don’t you come over here and take it?” John had to know it was some kind of trick, but he started walking anyway.

I wished Liv were here to see how brave he was. Then again, I was glad she wasn’t. Because I could barely stand to watch him take another step closer to the ancient Incubus, and I wasn’t the girl who loved him.

Abraham held out his hand and flicked his wrist, like he was turning a doorknob.

With that one motion, everything changed. Instantly, John grabbed his head like someone had just cracked it open from the inside, and dropped to his knees.

Abraham kept his arm in front of him, closing his fist slowly, and John jerked violently, screaming in pain.

“What the hell?” Link grabbed John’s arm and yanked him to his feet.

John could barely stand. He swayed, trying to regain his balance.

Hunting laughed. Ridley was still standing next to him, and I could see the lollipop shaking in her hand.

I tried to think of a Cast, anything that would stop Abraham, even for a second.

Abraham stepped closer, gathering up the bottom of his coat to keep it from dragging in the mud. “Did you think I would create something as powerful as you if I couldn’t control it?”

John froze, his green eyes fearful. He squinted hard, trying to fight the pain. “What are you talking about?”

“I think we both know,” Abraham said. “I made you, boy. Found the right combination—the parentage I needed—and created a new breed of Incubus.”

John staggered back, stunned. “That’s a lie. You found me when I was a kid.” Abraham smiled. “That depends on your interpretation of the word found.”

“What are you saying?” John’s face was ashen.

“We took you. I did engineer you, after all.” Abraham dug around in his jacket pocket and removed a cigar. “Your parents had a few happy years together. It’s more than most of us get.”

“What happened to my parents?” John gritted his teeth. I could almost see the rage.

Abraham turned to Hunting, who lit the cigar with a silver lighter. “Answer the boy, Hunting.” Hunting flipped the top of the lighter closed. He shrugged. “It was a long time ago, kid. They were juicy. And chewy.

But I can’t remember the details.”

John lurched forward and ripped through the darkness.

One second he was there. The next, he was gone, sliding away in a ripple of air. He reappeared just inches in front of Abraham and wrapped his hand around the old Incubus’ throat. “I’m going to kill you, you sick son of a bitch.” The tendons in John’s arm tightened, but his grip didn’t.

The muscles in his hand were tensing, his fingers obviously trying to close, but they wouldn’t. John grabbed his wrist with his other hand, trying to brace it.

Abraham laughed. “You can’t hurt me. I’m the architect of the design. Think I would build a weapon like you without a kill switch?”

Ridley stepped back, watching as John’s hand loosened against his will, his fingers opening as he tried to force them closed again with his other hand. It was impossible.

I couldn’t bear to watch. Abraham seemed more in control of John now than he had on the night of the Seventeenth Moon. Worse, John’s awareness didn’t seem to change the fact that he couldn’t control his body. Abraham was pulling the strings.

“You’re a monster,” John hissed, still holding his wrist inches from Abraham’s throat.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere. You’ve caused me lots of problems, boy. You owe me.” Abraham smiled. “And I plan to take it out of your flesh.”

He twitched his hands again, and John rose off the ground further, clutching his own neck with his hands, strangling himself.

Abraham was trying to do more than make a point. “You have outlived your usefulness. All that work for nothing.” John’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his body went limp.

“Don’t you need him?” Ridley shouted. “You said he was the ultimate weapon.”

“Unfortunately, he’s defective,” Abraham answered.

I noticed something move in my peripheral vision a moment before I heard his voice.

“One could say the same thing about you, Grandfather.” Uncle Macon stepped out from behind one of the crypts, his green eyes glowing in the darkness. “Put the boy down.”

Abraham laughed, though his expression was anything but amused. “Defective? That’s a compliment, coming from the little Incubus who wanted to be a Caster.”

Abraham’s grip on John loosened just enough for John to get some air. The Blood Incubus was focusing his anger on Uncle Macon now.

“I never wanted to be a Caster, but I’m glad to accept any fate that unburdens me from the Darkness you brought upon this family.” Uncle Macon pointed a hand at John, and a wave of energy flashed across the graveyard, the blast hitting John squarely.

John yanked his hands away from his neck as his body dropped to the ground.

Hunting started toward his brother, but Abraham stopped him, clapping dramatically. “Nicely done. That’s quite a party trick, son. Maybe next time you can light my cigar.” Abraham’s features settled in his familiar sneer. “Enough games. Let’s finish this.”

Hunting didn’t hesitate.

He ripped through the darkness as Uncle Macon focused his green eyes on the black sky. Hunting materialized in front of his brother just as the sky exploded into a blanket of pure light.

Sunlight.

Uncle Macon had done it once before, in the parking lot of Jackson High, but this time the light was even more intense—and focused. That light coming from him had been Caster green. This time it was something stronger and more natural, as if the light came from the sky itself.

Hunting’s body jerked. He reached out and grabbed his brother’s shirt, taking them both to the ground.

But the killing light only intensified.

Abraham’s skin went pale, the color of white ash. The light seemed to weaken him, but not nearly as quickly as it was draining Hunting.

Even as Hunting desperately tried to stay alive, Abraham only seemed interested in trying to kill us. The old Blood Incubus was too strong, and he reached out for Uncle Macon. I knew better than to underestimate him. Even wounded, he wouldn’t give up until he destroyed us all.

An overwhelming sense of panic surged inside me. I concentrated every thought, every cell on Abraham. The earth around him bucked, tearing itself from the ground like a rug being pulled out from under him. Abraham staggered and then turned his attention to me.

He closed his hand around the air in front of him, and an invisible force tightened around my throat. I felt my feet rise off the ground, my Chucks kicking below me.

“Lena!” John shouted. He closed his eyes, concentrating on Abraham, but whatever he was planning, he wasn’t fast enough.

I couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t think so.” Abraham twisted his free hand, bringing John to his knees in seconds.

Link charged Abraham, but another simple flick of the Blood Incubus’ wrist sent him flying. Link’s back hit the jagged stone crypt with a loud crack.

I struggled to stay conscious. Hunting was below me, his hands around Uncle Macon’s neck. But he didn’t seem to have enough strength left to hurt his brother. The color slowly drained from Hunting’s skin, turning his body hauntingly transparent.

I gasped for breath, transfixed, as Hunting’s hands slid from Uncle M’s neck and he started writhing in pain.

“Macon! Stop!” he pleaded.

Uncle Macon focused his energy on his brother. The light held steady as the darkness leached out of Hunting’s body and into the overturned earth.

Hunting seized, and sucked in his last breath. Then his body shuddered and froze.

“I’m sorry, brother. You left me no choice.” Macon stared down at what was left before Hunting’s corpse disintegrated, as if he had never existed at all.

“One down,” he said grimly.

Abraham shielded his eyes, trying to determine if Hunting was really gone. The color was beginning to seep out of Abraham’s skin now, but it had only made it as far as his wrists. He would kill me long before the sunlight took him out. I had to do something before we all ended up dead.

I closed my eyes, trying to push past the pain. My mind was slipping into numbness.

Thunder rumbled overhead.

“A storm? Is that all you’ve got, my dear?” Abraham said. “Such a waste. Just like your mother.” Anger and guilt churned inside me. Sarafine was a monster, but she was a monster Abraham had helped create.

Abraham had used her weaknesses to lure her into Darkness. And I had watched her die. Maybe we were both monsters.

Maybe we all are.

“I’m nothing like my mother!” Sarafine’s fate was decided for her, and she wasn’t strong enough to fight it. I was.

Lightning tore across the sky and struck a tree behind Abraham. Flames raced down the trunk.

Abraham took off his hat and shook it with one hand, careful to keep the hand tethered to my throat tightly clenched.

“I always say it’s not a party until something catches fire.”

My uncle rose to his feet, his black hair messy and his green eyes glowing even brighter than before. “I would have to agree.”

The light in the sky intensified, blazing like a spotlight on Abraham. As we watched, the beam exploded in a blinding flash of white—forming two horizontal beams of pure energy.

Abraham swayed, shielding his eyes. His iron grip retracted, and my body fell to the rotting soil.

Time seemed to stop.

We all stared at the white beams spreading across the sky.

Except one of us.

Link ripped before anyone else had a chance to react—dematerializing in a split second, like he was a pro. I couldn’t believe it. The only times he’d ever ripped in front of me, he practically flattened me like a pancake.

Not this time.

A crack in space opened up for him, only inches in front of Abraham Ravenwood.

Link yanked the garden shears out of the waistband of his jeans, raising them above his head. He plunged them into Abraham’s heart before the old Incubus even realized what had happened.

Abraham’s black eyes widened and he stared at Link, struggling to stay alive as a circle of red seeped slowly out around the blades.

Link leaned in close. “All that engineerin’ wasn’t for nothin’, Mr. Ravenwood. I’m the best a both worlds. A hybrid Incubus with his own onboard navigation.”

Abraham coughed desperately, his eyes fixed on the mostly Mortal boy who had taken him down. Finally, his body slid to the ground, the stolen science lab shears protruding from his chest.

Link stood over the body of the Blood Incubus who had hunted us for so long. The one person generations of Casters hadn’t been able to touch.

Link grinned at John and nodded. “Screw all that Incubus crap. That’s how you do it Mortal-style.”

CHAPTER 25

Death’s Door

Link stood over Abraham’s body, watching as it started to disintegrate into tiny particles of nothing.

Ridley stepped up beside him, looping her arm through his. “Grab the scissors, Hot Rod. They might come in handy if I need to cut myself out of a cage sometime.”

Link pulled the shears from what was left of the Blood Incubus. “I would like to take this opportunity to thank the Jackson High Biology Department. Stay in school, kids.” He shoved the shears back into his jeans.

John walked over and slapped Link on the shoulder. “Thanks for saving my ass. Mortal-style.”

“You know it. I got some mad skills.” Link grinned.

Uncle Macon brushed off his trousers. “I don’t think anyone can argue with that assessment, Mr. Lincoln. Well played. Your timing was impeccable.”

“How did you know we were here?” I asked. Had Amma seen something and given us away?

“Mr. Breed was kind enough to leave a note.”

I turned to John, who was kicking at the dirt with his boot. “You told him what we were doing? What about our plans? What about the part where we agreed not to tell my uncle anything?”

“I didn’t. The note was for Liv,” he answered sheepishly. “I couldn’t just disappear without saying good-bye.” Link shook his head. “Seriously, dude? Another note? Why didn’t you just leave a map?” This was the second time John’s guilty conscience and one of his notes had led Liv—or, in this case, my uncle—to him.

“You should all be grateful for Mr. Breed’s sentimental inclinations,” Uncle M said. “Or I’m afraid this evening could have resulted in a very unfortunate outcome.”

Link elbowed John. “You’re still a sap.”

I stopped listening.

Why couldn’t Liv keep her mouth shut?

Another voice entered my mind.

I hardly think blaming Liv for your mistakes is necessary.

I was almost too stunned to speak. My uncle had never Kelted with me before. It was a power he could only have acquired after his transition into a Caster.

“How?”

“You know my abilities are constantly evolving. This one is unpredictable, I’m afraid.” He shrugged innocently.

I tried not to think. It didn’t seem to stop him from scolding me.

Really? You thought you could take on Abraham alone, in a graveyard?

“But how did you know where we were?” John asked. “I didn’t put that in the note.” Oh my God….

“Uncle M? Can you read minds?”

“Hardly.” My uncle snapped his fingers, and Boo lumbered up the hill. Knowing my uncle, it was practically a confession.

I felt my hair lift from my shoulders as a gentle wind whipped around me. I tried to calm down. “You were spying on me? I thought we made a deal about that.”

“That was before you and your friends decided you were equipped to take on Abraham Ravenwood on your own.” His voice rose. “Have you learned nothing?”

The Book of Moons lay in the dirt, the moon embossed on its black leather cover facing the sky.

Link bent down to pick it up.

“I wouldn’t do that, Hot Rod,” Ridley said. “You don’t have that much Incubus in you.” She picked up the Book and touched her lollipop to his lips almost like a kiss. “Wouldn’t want those pretty hands to get burned.”

“Thanks, Babe.”

“Don’t call me—”

Link grabbed the lollipop out of her hand. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

I watched the way they looked at each other. Any idiot could see they were in love, even if they were the only two

idiots who couldn’t.

My chest ached, and I thought about Ethan.

the missing piece

my breath

my heart

my memory

me

the other half

the missing half

Stop.

I didn’t want to write poems in my mind, especially if my uncle could hear them. I needed to send a completely different kind of message. “Rid, give it to me.”

She nodded and handed me The Book of Moons .

The Book that nearly killed Ethan and then Uncle Macon. The Book that took more than it ever gave. Part of me wanted to set it on fire and see if it would burn, though I doubted something as mundane as fire could destroy it.

It still would have been worth a try if it prevented even one person from using the Book to hurt someone else—or themselves. But Ethan needed it, and I trusted him. Whatever he was doing, I believed he wouldn’t use it to hurt anyone.

And I wasn’t sure he could hurt himself now.

“We have to take it to Lila’s grave.”

Uncle Macon studied me for a long moment, an unfamiliar mixture of sadness and worry warring in his eyes. “All right.”

I recognized his tone. He was indulging me.

I started walking toward Lila Wate’s grave, next to the empty plot where the good folks of Gatlin believed my uncle was buried.

Ridley sighed dramatically. “Great. More time in the creepy graveyard.” Link slung his arm over her shoulders casually. “Don’t worry, Babe. I’ll protect you.” Ridley looked at him suspiciously. “Protect me? You do realize I’m a Dark Caster again?”

“I like to think you’re kinda on the gray side. Either way, I’ll give you a pass today. I did just kill the Galactus of Incubuses.”

Rid flipped her blond and pink hair. “Whatever that means.”

I stopped listening and wove my way through the cemetery, The Book of Moons pressed against my chest. I felt the heat radiating from it, as if the worn leather cover might burn me, too.

I knelt in front of Ethan’s mother’s grave. This was the spot where I’d left the black stone from my necklace for him. It seemed to work then; I could only hope it would work again. The Book of Moons had to be a whole lot more important than a rock.

My uncle stared at the headstone, transfixed. I wondered how long he would love her. Forever, that was my best guess.

For whatever reason, this place was a doorway I couldn’t find my way through. The important thing was that Ethan could open it somehow.

He had to.

I put the Book on the grave, touching it for what I hoped would be the last time.

I don’t know why you need it, Ethan. But here it is. Please come home.

I waited as if it might disappear right in front of me.

Nothing happened.

“Maybe we should leave it alone,” Link suggested. “Ethan probably needs privacy or somethin’ to do his ghost tricks.”

“He’s not a ghost,” I snapped.

Link held up his hands. “Sorry. His Sheer tricks.”

He didn’t realize that the word didn’t matter. It was the image the word called up in my mind. A pale, lifeless Ethan.

Dead. The way I found him the night of my Sixteenth Moon, after Sarafine stabbed him. Panic pressed against my lungs like two hands squeezing the breath out of me. I couldn’t stand to think about it.

“Let’s leave it and see what happens,” John said.

“Absolutely not.” Uncle Macon was done indulging me. “I’m sorry, Lena—”

“What if it was Lila?”

His face clouded over at the mention of her name. The question hung in the air, but we both knew the answer.

If the woman he loved needed him, he would do anything to help—from this side of the grave or any other.

I knew that, too.

He studied me for a long moment. Then he sighed, nodding. “All right. You can try. But if it doesn’t work—”

“Yeah, yeah. We can’t just ditch the most powerful book in the Caster and Mortal worlds on some grave and walk away.” Ridley was still perched on the headstone, smacking her gum. “What if someone finds it?”

“I’m afraid Ridley’s right.” Uncle Macon sighed. “I’ll wait here.”

“I don’t think it will work if you’re here, sir. You’re a scary kinda person, too,” Link said as respectfully as possible.

“Sir.”

“We are not leaving The Book of Moons unattended, Mr. Lincoln.” An idea took hold slowly, stretching out until it was perfectly formed. “Maybe we don’t need someone to stay with the Book, but something.”

“Huh?” Link scratched his head.

I bent down. “Boo, come here, boy.”

Boo Radley stood up and shook his black fur, which was as thick as a wolf’s.

I dug my fingers behind his ears. “That’s my good boy.”

“Not a bad idea.” Rid put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

“You really think one dog can fight off the Blood Pack if they show up?” Link asked.

Uncle Macon crossed his arms. “Boo Radley is hardly a common dog.”

“Even a Caster dog can use a little help,” Rid said.

A branch cracked, and something leaped from the bushes.

“Holy crap!” Link yanked the garden shears out of his waistband just as Bade’s paws hit the ground.

Leah Ravenwood’s enormous mountain cat growled.

Uncle M smiled. “My sister’s cat. An excellent idea. She does provide a certain level of intimidation that Boo lacks.” Boo barked, offended.

“Here, kitty kitty….” Ridley reached out her hand, and Bade stalked over.

Link stared at her. “You’re a total psycho.”

Bade growled at Link again, and Rid laughed. “You’re just mad because Bade doesn’t like you, Hot Stuff.” John took a step back. “Yeah, well, I’m not petting her either.”

“So we leave the Book for a little while and see what happens.” I hugged Boo. “You stay here.” The Caster dog sat down in front of the grave like a guard dog, and Bade came over and stretched out in front of him lazily.

I stood up, but I was having trouble forcing myself to walk away.

What if something happened to it? The Book might be Ethan’s only chance to get back to me. Could I risk it?

John noticed I wasn’t moving, and pointed to the rise a few yards beyond the grave. “We can hang out on the other side in case they need some backup. Okay?”

Ridley hopped off the headstone, her platforms smacking against the border of the plot. In the South, that had to be the equivalent of something like seven years of bad luck. Maybe more in Gatlin.

She draped her arm over my shoulders and waved a lollipop in front of me. “Come on. I’ll tell you all about my adventures in shackles.”

Link jogged up next to us. “Did you say shackles? Those are like handcuffs, right?” He seemed a little too excited about hearing the details.

“Mr. Lincoln!” Uncle M looked like he wanted to strangle him.

Link stopped in his tracks. “Uh, sorry, sir. It was just a joke. You know…” I let Ridley drag me down the other side of the hill while Link tried to talk his way out of trouble with Uncle Macon.

John trudged behind us, his boots as heavy as any Mortal’s footsteps.

If I closed my eyes, I could pretend they were Ethan’s.

But it was getting harder and harder to pretend. I was Kelting to him before I even realized it, the same three words over and over.

Please come home.

I wondered if he could hear me. If he was already on his way.

I counted the minutes, wondering how long we should wait before checking on the Book. Even Link and Ridley’s banter couldn’t distract me, which was saying a lot.

“I think all this quarter-Incubus stuff is going to your head,” Ridley said.

Link flexed. “Or maybe it’s taking out the baddest badass around.”

Ridley rolled her eyes. “Please.”

“Do you two ever stop?” John asked.

They both whipped around to look at him. “Stop what?” they asked at the same time.

I was about to tell John not to bother, when I saw a streak of black in the sky.

The crow. The same one that had watched us when we went to meet Abraham. Maybe it was following us.

Maybe it knew something.

It dipped and circled the area above Ethan’s grave.

“It’s the crow.” I took off back up the hill.

John ripped and appeared at my side. “What are you talking about?”

Link and the others caught up to us. “Where’s the fire?”

I pointed at the bird. “I think that crow has been following us.”

Uncle Macon studied the bird. “Interesting.”

Ridley smacked her gum. “What?”

“A Seer like Amarie would tell you that many believe crows can cross between the world of the living and the world of the dead.”

We made it over the rise. Bade and Boo were staring up at the sleek black bird.

“So what? Even if it could fly from world to world, you really think that little bird could carry The Book a Moons ?” Link asked.

I didn’t know. But the crow was connected to Ethan somehow. I was sure of it.

“Why is it circling like that?” John asked.

Ridley strolled up behind us. “It’s probably scared of the giant cat.” For once, she might be right.

“Bade and Boo, go home,” I called. The big cat’s ears perked up at the sound of her name.

Boo hesitated and looked up at Uncle Macon.

He nodded to the dog. “Go on.”

Boo cocked his head. Then he turned and lumbered through the tall grass. Bade yawned, baring her huge white teeth, and followed, her tail swishing like a lion’s from one of the nature shows Link was always watching on the Discovery Channel. He blamed it on his mom, but in the last couple of months, I’d noticed him watching it by himself more than a few times.

The crow circled again and swooped toward us, landing on the headstone. Its beady black eyes seemed to be staring right at me.

“How come it’s checkin’ you out like that?” Link asked.

I stared back at the black bird.

Please. Take the Book or make it disappear. Whatever you have to do to get it to Ethan.

Uncle Macon looked at me from the other side of the headstone.

He can’t hear you, Lena. You can’t Kelt with a bird, I’m afraid.

I glared at my uncle. At this point, I would try anything.

How do you know?

The crow hopped down, its talons touching the thick leather cover for a split second before it squawked and pulled its legs up again quickly.

“I think the Book burned it,” John said. “Poor guy.”

I knew he was right. I felt the tears welling in my eyes. If the crow couldn’t touch the Book, how would we get it to Ethan? I’d left the black stone Ethan had asked for, the one from my charm necklace, right here on the grave. I didn’t know what had happened to it after that.

“Maybe the bird has nothing to do with it, and he’s just a messenger or something,” John offered.

I sniffled, swiping at my face. “Then what’s the message?”

John squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

“How are we going to get the Book to Ethan? He needs it, or he can’t—” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t stand to even think it.

We had risked our lives to track down Abraham Ravenwood, and we had found a way to kill him—at least Link had.

The Book of Moons was right here at my feet, and there was no way to get it to Ethan.

“We’ll figure it out, Cuz.” Ridley picked up the Book, the back cover dragging across the stone. “Someone must have the answer.”

John smiled at me. “Someone does. Especially when it comes to that book. Come on—let’s go ask her.” A flutter of hope filled my chest. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He nodded. “It is Presidents’ Day, which was still a bank holiday the last time I checked.” Ridley pulled on the bottom of her miniskirt, which didn’t move an inch. “Who’s thinking what, and where are we going?”

I grabbed her arm, tugging her down the hill. “Your favorite place, Rid. The library.”

“It’s not that bad,” she said, inspecting her purple nail polish. “Except for all those books.” I didn’t respond.

There was only one book that mattered right now, and my whole world—and Ethan’s future—depended on it.

CHAPTER 26

Quantum Physics

From just inside the hidden grating that led into the Lunae Libri, I could see all the way down to the bottom of the stairs.

Marian sat behind the circular reception desk, exactly where I knew she would be. Liv was pacing at the far end of the room, where the stacks began.

As we came down into the Lunae Libri, Liv’s neck snapped up. She bolted across the room the moment she saw John.

But he was faster. John ripped, materializing in Liv’s path and gathering her up in his arms. My heart broke a little as I watched the relief spread across her face. I tried not to feel envious.

“You’re all right!” Liv threw her arms around John’s neck. She pulled back, her expression changing. “What were you thinking? How many times are you going to sneak off to do something completely insane?” Liv turned her scowl on Link and me. “And how many times are you going to let him?”

Link raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, we weren’t even there the last time.” John leaned his forehead against hers. “He’s right. I’m the one you should be angry with.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t know what I would have done—”

“I’m okay.”

Link puffed his chest out. “Thanks to me.”

“It’s true,” John said. “My protégée saved our asses.”

Link raised an eyebrow. “That better mean somethin’ good.”

Uncle Macon cleared his throat and adjusted a cuff of his crisp white shirt. “It does indeed, Mr. Lincoln. It does indeed.”

Arms crossed, Marian stepped out from behind the desk. “Would someone like to tell me exactly what happened tonight?” She stared at my uncle expectantly. “Liv and I have been worried sick.” He glared at me. “As you can imagine, their little showdown with my brother and Abraham did not go according to plan. And Mr. Breed almost met an untimely end.”

“But Uncle M saved the day.” Ridley didn’t even try to hide her sarcasm. “He gave Hunting a sunburn where the sun don’t shine. Now let’s get on with the part where you give us a big lecture and we all get grounded.” Marian turned to my uncle. “Is she implying—?”

Uncle Macon nodded. “Hunting is no longer with us.”

“Abraham’s dead, too,” John added.

Marian stared at Uncle Macon as if he had just parted the Red Sea. “You killed Abraham Ravenwood?” Link cleared his throat loudly, grinning. “No, ma’am. I did.”

For a moment Marian was speechless. “I think I need to sit down,” she said, her knees beginning to buckle. John rushed behind the desk to get her a chair.

Marian pressed her fingers against her temples. “You’re telling me that Hunting and Abraham are dead?”

“That would be correct,” Uncle Macon said.

Marian shook her head. “Anything else?”

“Just this, Aunt Marian.” Ethan’s nickname for her just slipped out before I realized it. I dropped The Book of Moons on the polished wood tabletop next to her.

Liv inhaled sharply. “Oh my God.”

I stared down at the worn black leather, embossed with a crescent moon, and the weight of the moment closed in on me. My hands shook, and my legs felt like they were about to give out, too.

“I can’t believe it.” Marian inspected the book suspiciously, as if I were returning a late library book into her system.

She would never be anything less than 100 percent librarian.

“It’s the real deal.” Ridley leaned against one of the marble columns.

Marian stood up in front of her desk as if trying to position herself between Ridley and the most dangerous book in the Mortal and Caster worlds. “Ridley, I don’t think you belong in here.” Ridley pushed her sunglasses up on her head, yellow cat eyes blinking back at Marian. “I know, I know. I’m a Dark Caster, and I don’t belong in the good guys’ secret clubhouse, right?” She rolled her eyes. “I am so over this.”

“The Lunae Libri is open to all Casters, Light and Dark,” Marian answered. “What I meant is that I’m not sure you belong with us.”

“It’s okay, Marian. Rid helped us get the Book,” I explained.

Ridley blew a bubble and waited for it to pop, the sound echoing loudly off the walls. “Helped you? If by help, you mean set Abraham up for you so you could get The Book of Moons and kill him, then, yeah, I guess I helped.” Marian stared at her, speechless. Without a word, she walked over and held up a trash can in front of Ridley’s mouth. “Not in my library. Spit it out now.”

Ridley sighed. “You know it’s not just gum, right?”

Marian didn’t move.

Ridley spit.

Marian dropped the can. “What I don’t understand is why you would risk your lives for that dreadful book. I appreciate the fact it is no longer in the hands of Blood Incubuses, but—”

“Ethan needs it,” I blurted out. “He found a way to contact me, and he needs The Book of Moons . He’s trying to get back here.”

“Have you gotten another message?” Marian asked.

I nodded. “In the latest Stars and Stripes .” I took a deep breath. “I need you to trust me.” I looked into her eyes. “And I need your help.”

Marian studied me for a long moment. I don’t know what she was thinking, or debating, or even deciding. All I know is, she didn’t say a word.

I don’t think she could.

Then she nodded, pulling her chair a bit closer to me. “Tell me everything.” So I started talking. We took turns filling in the blanks—Link and John all but acting out our encounter with Abraham, and Rid and Uncle Macon helping me explain our plan to trade John for The Book of Moons . Liv looked on unhappily, as if she could hardly bear to hear it.

Marian didn’t say a word until we finished, though it was easy to read her expressions, which ranged from shock and horror to sympathy and despair.

“Is that everything?” She looked at me, exhausted by our story.

“It gets worse.” I looked at Ridley.

“You mean aside from the fact that Link dissected Abraham with the giant scissors?” Rid made a face.

“No, Rid. Tell her about Abraham’s plans. Tell her what you heard about Angelus,” I said.

Uncle Macon’s head snapped up at the sound of the Keeper’s name. “What is Lena talking about, Ridley?”

“Angelus and Abraham were up to something, but I don’t know the details.” She shrugged.

“Tell us exactly what you know.”

Ridley twisted a lock of pink hair around her finger nervously. “This Angelus guy is a nutcase. He hates Mortals, and he thinks the Dark Casters and the Far Keep should be in control of the Mortal world, or something like that.”

“Why?” Marian was thinking out loud. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. Marian’s own trouble with the Far Keep was all too fresh in her memory.

Rid shrugged. “Ah, maybe because he’s Special K-razy? ”

Marian looked over at my uncle, a silent conversation passing between them. “We can’t let Angelus gain a foothold here. He’s far too dangerous.”

Uncle M nodded. “I agree. We need—”

I cut him off before he could finish. “All I know is first we need to get The Book of Moons to Ethan. There’s still a chance we can get him back.”

“Do you really think so?” Marian said the words quietly, almost under her breath. Though I couldn’t be certain, it seemed like only I could hear them. Still, I knew Marian believed in the impossibilities of the Caster world—she’d seen them firsthand—and she loved Ethan as much as I did. He was like a son to her.

We both wanted to believe.

I nodded. “I do. I have to.”

She rose from her chair and came back around the desk, poised as ever.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll get Ethan The Book of Moons , one way or another.” I smiled at her, but she was already lost in thought, looking around the library as if it held the answers to all our problems.

Which, sometimes, it did.

“There has to be a way, right?” John asked. “Maybe in one of these scrolls or one of these old books—” Ridley unscrewed the top of her nail polish bottle, wrinkling her nose. “Goody. Old books.”

“Try to have a bit more respect, Ridley. A book is the reason the children in the Duchannes family suffered for generations.” Marian was referring to our curse.

Rid crossed her arms, pouting. “Whatever.”

Marian swiped the bottle out of her hand. “Another thing I don’t allow in my library.” It clattered to the bottom of the trash can.

Ridley glared, but she didn’t say a word.

“Dr. Ashcroft, have you ever delivered a book to the Otherworld?” Liv asked.

Marian shook her head. “I can’t say that I have.”

“Maybe Carlton Eaton could just run it on over.” Link looked hopeful. “You could wrap it up in one a those brown paper packages, like you do for my mom’s books. And, you know, circulate it or somethin’.” Marian sighed. “I’m afraid not, Wesley.” Even Carlton Eaton, who had his nose in every letter in town in both the Mortal and Caster worlds, couldn’t make a delivery like that.

Frustrated, Liv flipped through her little red notebook. “There has to be a way. What were the odds you could get the Book from Abraham at all? And now that we have it, we’re just going to give up?” She pulled the pencil from behind her ear, scribbling and mumbling to herself. “The laws of quantum physics must allow for this sort of eventuality….” I didn’t know anything about the laws of quantum physics, but I knew one thing. “The stone from my charm necklace disappeared when I left it for Ethan. Why would the Book be any different?” I know you took it, Ethan. Why couldn’t you take the Book, too?

I realized Uncle Macon could probably hear me, and I tried to stop.

It was no use. I couldn’t stop Kelting any more than I could stop the words that strung themselves together, waiting for me to write them down somewhere.

laws of physics

laws of love

of time and space

and the (in)between place

(in)between you and me

and where we are

lost and looking

looking and lost

“Maybe the Book’s too heavy,” Link offered. “That little black rock wasn’t any bigger than a quarter.”

“I’m not sure that’s the reason, Wesley. Though anything is possible,” Marian said.

“Or impossible.” Ridley pushed her sunglasses back into place and stuck out her red tongue.

“So why can’t it make the jump?” John asked.

Marian glanced at Liv’s notes, considering the question. “The Book of Moons is a powerful supernatural object. No one really understands the scope of its power. Not the Keepers or the Casters.”

“And if the origin of its magic is in the Caster world, it could be deeply rooted here,” Liv said. “The way a tree is rooted to a particular spot.”

“Are you saying the Book doesn’t want to cross over?” John asked.

Liv tucked the pencil behind her ear. “I’m saying maybe it can’t.”

“Or shouldn’t.” Uncle Macon’s tone grew more serious.

Ridley slid to the floor and stretched out her long legs. “This is so messed up. I risked my life, and now we’re stuck with that thing. Maybe we need to hit the Tunnels and see if any of the other bad guys know the answer. You know

—Team Dark.”

Liv crossed her arms over her EDISON DIDN’T INVENT THE LIGHTBULB T-shirt. “You want to take The Book of Moons to a Dark Caster bar?”

“You have a better idea?” Rid asked.

“I think I do.” Marian slipped her red wool jacket on.

Liv scrambled after her. “Where are you going?”

“To see someone who knows a great deal about not just that book but a world that defies the physics of both the Caster and Mortal worlds. Someone who just may have the answers we need.” My uncle nodded. “An excellent idea.”

There was only one person who fit that description.

Someone who loved Ethan as much as I did. Someone who would do anything for him, even rip a hole in the universe.

CHAPTER 27

The Cracks in Everything

Now, don’t you tell me you’re thinkin’ a settin’ foot on my front walkway, you hear?” Amma refused to let Ridley anywhere near Wate’s Landing. She said so in about fifteen different ways in the first conversation we unsuccessfully tried to have with her.

“Mmmm-nnnnnnn. No Dark Casters are comin’ into this house while I’m here on this sweet earth. Or after I leave it.

No, sir. No, ma’am. No how.”

She agreed to meet us at Greenbrier instead.

Uncle Macon hung back. “It’s better this way. Amarie and I haven’t seen each other since the night… it happened,” he explained. “I’m not sure this is the right moment.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re scared of her, too?” Ridley eyed him with new interest. “Imagine that.”

“I’ll be at Ravenwood if you need me,” he said, giving Ridley a withering stare.

“Imagine that.” I smiled.

The rest of us waited inside the crumbling wall of the old graveyard. I resisted the urge to wander over to Ethan’s plot, though I felt the familiar pull, the longing to be with him there. I believed, with all my heart, that there was a way to get Ethan back, and I wasn’t going to stop trying until I found it.

Amma was hopeful, too, but I had seen the fear and doubt in her eyes. She had already lost him twice. Every time I took her another crossword puzzle, she was desperate to get him back.

I think Amma wasn’t about to let herself believe in anything she could stand to lose again.

With the Book, though, we were one step closer.

Ridley was leaning against a tree, a safe distance from the hole in the stone wall. I knew she was just as afraid of Amma as Uncle Macon was, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“Don’t say anything to her when she gets here,” Link warned Ridley. “You know how she gets about that book.” Ridley rolled her eyes. “I thought Abraham was a pain. Amma’s even worse.” I saw a black orthopedic lace-up step through the opening.

“Worse than what?” Amma demanded. “Worse than your manners?” She looked Ridley up and down. “Or your taste in clothes?”

She was wearing a yellow dress, all sunlight and sweetness, which didn’t match her expression. Her grayish-black hair was twisted into a neat bun, and she was carrying a patterned quilting bag. I’d been around long enough to know there weren’t any quilting supplies inside.

“Or a stitch worse than the girl who gets pulled outta Hell only to walk back into the fire on her own?” Amma watched Ridley carefully.

Ridley didn’t take off her sunglasses, but I could see the shame anyway. I knew her too well. There was something about Amma that made you feel completely awful if you disappointed her—even if you were a Siren with no ties to her.

“That’s not what happened,” Ridley said quietly.

Amma dropped her bag on the ground. “Isn’t it, then? I have it on good authority that you had a chance to be on the right side a wrong for once, and you gave it up. Did I miss somethin’ in the fine print?” Ridley shifted nervously. “It’s not that simple.”

Amma sniffed. “You go on tellin’ yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, but don’t try to sell it to me, because I’m not buyin’ it.” Amma pointed to the lollipop in Ridley’s hand. “And all that sugar will rot those teeth right outta your head, Caster or no Caster.”

Link laughed nervously.

Amma focused her eagle eye on him. “What’re you laughin’ about, Wesley Lincoln? You’re knee deep in more trouble than the day I caught you in my basement when you were nine years old.” Link’s face reddened. “It sorta finds me, ma’am.”

“You know you go lookin’ for it, sure as the sun shines the same on the saints as it does on the sinners.” She glanced at each of us. “So what is it this time? And it better not have anythin’ to do with destroyin’ the balance a the universe.”

“All saints, ma’am. No sinners.” Link backed away an inch or two, looking at me for help.

“Spit it out. I’ve got Aunt Mercy and Aunt Grace at the house, and I can’t leave them alone with Thelma for too long, or the three a them will order everything that comes on the shoppin’ channel.” Amma rarely called Ethan’s great-aunts

“the Sisters” anymore, now that one of them was gone.

But now it was Marian who walked over and took Amma’s arm reassuringly. “It’s about The Book of Moons .”

“We have it,” I blurted out.

Liv stepped aside, revealing The Book of Moons lying on the ground behind her. Amma’s eyes widened. “Do I wanna know how you got it?”

Link jumped in. “Nope. I mean no, ma’am, you sure don’t.”

“The fact remains we have it now,” Marian said.

“But we can’t get it to Ethan—” I heard the desperation in my voice.

Amma shook her head and approached the Book, circling it like she didn’t want to get too close. “ ’Course you can’t. This book is too powerful for one world. If you want to send it from the world a the livin’ to the world a the dead, we’ll need the power a both worlds to send it.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I only cared about one thing. “Will you help us?”

“Not my help you need. You need help on the receivin’ end.”

Liv inched closer to Amma. “We left the Book for Ethan, but he didn’t take it.” She sniffed. “Hmm. Ethan’s not strong enough to carry that kinda weight across. He probably doesn’t even know how.”

“But there is someone strong enough,” Marian coaxed. “Perhaps more than one someone.” She was talking about the Greats.

The question was, would Amma call them?

I bit my lip.

Please say yes.

“Figured if you were callin’, you were lookin’ to test out just how far crazy will go.” Amma opened the quilting bag and took out a shot glass and a bottle of Wild Turkey. “So I came prepared.” She poured a shot and pointed to me.

“You’re gonna have to help, though. We need the power a both worlds, don’t forget.” I nodded. “I’ll do whatever I need to.”

Amma nodded in the direction of Ravenwood. “You can start by gatherin’ up the rest a your kin. You don’t have the kinda power we need on your own.”

“Rid is here, and John can help, too. He’s half Caster.”

Amma shook her head. “If you want that book to cross, you’re gonna have to go get the rest a them.”

“They’re in Barbados.”

“Actually, they returned a few hours ago,” Marian said. “Reece stopped by the library earlier tonight. She said your grandmother wasn’t fond of the humidity.”

I tried not to smile. What my grandmother wasn’t fond of was missing all the action, and Reece wasn’t much better.

With every Caster power in my extended family, I was certain they knew something was going on.

“I could ask them. But they might be tired from all the travel.” I was worried enough that Uncle M was going to change his mind about all this. Adding the rest of my family into the mix fell somewhere between risky and idiotic.

Amma crossed her arms, as determined as I’d ever seen her. “What I know is that this book isn’t going anywhere without them.”

There was no use arguing with her. I had watched Ethan try to talk her down when her mind was made up, and he rarely succeeded. And Amma loved him more than anyone in the world. I didn’t stand a chance.

Ridley nodded at me. “I’ll go with you for backup.”

“Your mom will freak if you just show up. I’m going to have to tell her you’re back. And I should probably tell them that you’ve—” I hesitated. It wasn’t going to be easy for anyone in my family to deal with the fact that Ridley ran back to Sarafine for her Dark Caster powers. “Changed.”

Link looked away.

That wasn’t the worst of it. “It’s going to be hard enough to explain to Gramma why I have the Book.” Rid slung her arm over my shoulder. “Don’t you know that the best way to distract someone from bad news is to give them some worse news?” She smiled, leading me toward Ravenwood. “News doesn’t get much worse than me.” Link shook his head. “No kidding.”

Ridley spun around and pushed her sunglasses up. “Zip it, Shrinky Dink. Or I’ll make you want to rip into your mother’s room and tell her you’re becoming a Methodist.”

“Your powers don’t work on me anymore, Babe.”

Ridley blew him a sticky pink kiss. “Try me.”

CHAPTER 28

Caster Catfight

I opened the front door, and the air inside the house seemed to move. No—it was moving. Hundreds of butterflies fluttered through the air while others rested on the delicate antique furniture Uncle Macon had spent years collecting.

Butterflies.

What was I doing to Ravenwood?

A tiny green butterfly with streaks of gold across its wings landed on the bottom of the banister.

“Macon?” Gramma’s voice called from the second floor. “Is that you?”

“No, Gramma. It’s me. Lena.”

She swept down the stairs in a high-neck white blouse, her hair gathered neatly in a bun and her lace-up boots peeking out from under her long skirt. Against the perfectly restored flying staircase, she looked like a Southern belle right out of an old movie.

She glanced at the butterflies flitting around the room and gave me a hug. “I’m so glad to see you’re in a good mood.” Gramma knew Ravenwood’s interior constantly changed to mirror my moods. To her, a room full of butterflies meant happiness. But for me, it meant something entirely different—something I had been clinging to tightly.

Hope, borne on green and gold wings. Dark and Light, like I had become the night of my Claiming.

I touched the wire Christmas tree star on my charm necklace. I had to focus. Everything had come down to this.

Ethan was out there somewhere, and there was a chance we could bring him home. I just had to convince my family to lend their powers to us.

“Gramma, I need your help with something.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew what I was about to tell her. “What if I told you I found The Book of Moons?”

Gramma froze. “Why would you ask me something like that, Lena? Do you know where it is?” I nodded.

She gathered her skirt, rushing toward the stairs. “We have to tell Macon. The sooner we get that book back to the Lunae Libri, the better.”

“We can’t.”

Gramma turned around slowly, her eyes looking right through me. “Start explaining, young lady. And you can start by telling me how you found The Book of Moons .”

Ridley stepped out from behind a marble column. “I helped her.”

For one long moment, I held my breath, until it became clear Ravenwood wasn’t about to fall to the ground.

“How did you get in here?” Gramma’s voice was as controlled as Ridley’s, maybe more. She’d been around a long time, and it would take more than my Dark-again cousin to throw her.

“Lena let me in.”

There was a flicker of disappointment in my grandmother’s eyes. “I see you’re wearing your sunglasses again.”

“It was kind of a self-preservation thing.” Ridley bit her lip nervously. “The world’s a dangerous place.” It was something my grandmother said to us all the time when we were kids—particularly to Ridley. I remembered something else she said, something that might delay the confession of the Abraham story long enough for me to get the Book to Ethan.

“Gramma, do you remember the deal you made with Ridley the first time she went to a party?” She looked at me blankly. “I’m not sure I do.”

“You told her not to get in a car with anyone who had been drinking.”

“Certainly good advice, but I’m not sure how it relates to this situation.”

“You told Rid that if she called and said her ride was drinking, you would send someone to pick her up, no questions asked.” I saw a hint of recognition pass across her face. “You said she wouldn’t get in trouble, no matter where she was or what she did.”

Ridley leaned against the column awkwardly. “Yeah. It was like a Get Out of Jail Free card. I definitely needed one of those recently.”

“Is this conversation going to explain why you two are in possession of the most dangerous book in the Caster or Mortal world?” Gramma looked skeptically from my cousin to me.

“I’m calling to tell you my ride has been drinking,” I blurted out.

“Pardon me?”

“I need you to trust me and do something without asking any questions. Something for Ethan.”

“Lena, Ethan is—”

I held up my hand. “Don’t say it. We both know people can communicate from the other side. Ethan sent me a message. And I need your help.”

“She’s telling the truth. At least she thinks she is, for what it’s worth.” Reece was standing in the darkened doorway to the dining room. I hadn’t even seen her, but she had obviously seen me. It only took a Sybil one look at your face to read it, and Reece was among the best. Finally, it was working to my advantage.

“Even if you are telling the truth, you are asking for more than just a little faith. And no matter how much I love you, I can’t help you use—”

“We aren’t trying to use The Book of Moons .” I wondered if she would believe me. “We’re trying to send it to Ethan.” The room was silent, and I waited for her to say something. “What would lead you to believe that’s possible?” I explained the messages Ethan had been leaving in the crosswords, but I left out the part about how we actually got our hands on The Book of Moons , invoking the “my ride is drunk” clause. I wouldn’t get away with it forever.

Eventually, Gramma would insist on an explanation. But I didn’t need forever—just tonight. After we sent the Book to Ethan, Gramma could interrogate me all she wanted.

Besides, Uncle M already had first dibs on the grounding.

She listened carefully, sipping from a black porcelain teacup that appeared in her hand, compliments of Kitchen.

She didn’t offer a single word, and she didn’t look away from me as I spoke.

Finally, the cup found its way back into the saucer, and I knew she had made a decision. My grandmother drew a deep breath. “If Ethan needs our assistance, we have no choice but to give it to him. After what he sacrificed for us all, it’s the least we can do.”

“Gramma!” Reece threw up her hands. “Listen to yourself!”

“How can she, when you’re yelling?” Ridley snapped.

Reece ignored her. “You’re really going to send the most powerful book in the Caster universe into the Otherworld, with no way of knowing who’ll be on the other end?”

Rid shrugged. “At least you won’t be there.”

Reece looked like she wanted to stab Ridley with garden shears of her own.

“Ethan will be there,” I argued.

Gramma hesitated, a new thought shaking her resolve. “It’s not as if we are shipping a package, Lena. What if the Book doesn’t end up where we intend?”

Reece looked satisfied. Ridley looked like now she was the one thinking about garden shears.

“Amma’s going to call the Greats.”

Gramma finished her tea, and the cup vanished. “Well, if Amarie is involved, I’m sure she has a plan. I’ll get my coat.”

“Wait.” I looked over at Reece. “We need everyone to come. Amma says we won’t have enough power unless we do this together.”

Reece looked at Uncle Macon, who had sidled into the room at the first sign of the Caster family fighting. “Are you going to let her do this?”

He chose his words carefully. “On the one hand, I think this is a very bad idea.”

“There.” Reece smiled.

“What?” Losing my uncle’s support was the one thing I had been afraid of when Amma sent me for reinforcements.

“Let him finish, girls.” Gramma raised her voice.

“But,” Uncle M continued, “we owe Ethan a debt we will never be able to properly repay. I watched him give his life for us, and I don’t take that lightly.”

I exhaled. Thank goodness.

“Uncle Macon—” Reece started.

He silenced her with a gesture. “This isn’t up for discussion. If it weren’t for Ethan, you could be powerless right now—or worse. The Order was broken, and we were only beginning to see the effects. Things were headed in a very grave direction indeed. I promise you that.”

“I don’t know why we’re still talking about it, then.” Gramma gathered her skirt and ascended the stairs. “I’ll get Del, Barclay, and Ryan.”

Ridley swallowed hard at the sound of her mother’s name. Aunt Dell was always heartsick when Ridley disappeared, and she had no idea her daughter was back. Or that she had returned as a Dark Caster.

I remembered how happy Aunt Dell looked when Ridley lost her powers last summer. Being a Mortal was better than being Dark, especially in this family.

Reece turned to face her sister. “You shouldn’t be here. Haven’t you put everyone through enough pain?” Ridley stiffened. “I thought you deserved a little more, Sis. Wouldn’t want to leave you hanging. I mean, seeing how you’ve always been there for me.” She said it sarcastically, but I could hear the pain. Ridley only pretended she didn’t have a heart.

I heard voices, and Aunt Dell appeared at the top of the staircase. Uncle Barclay’s arm was wrapped tightly around her. I wasn’t sure if she’d overheard us or if Gramma told her about Ridley. But I could tell by the way Aunt Dell was wringing her hands that she already knew the truth.

Uncle Barclay led her down the stairs, his tall frame looming over her. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed neatly, and for once he looked like he belonged in the same era as the rest of us. Ryan trailed behind them, her long blond hair swinging in a ponytail.

When Ryan and Ridley were standing in the same room, it was impossible to ignore how much they resembled each other. In the last six months, Ryan had come to look more like a teenager than a little girl, even though she was only twelve.

Aunt Dell smiled at Rid weakly. “I’m glad you’re all right. I was so worried.” Ridley bit her lip and teetered on her stacked heels. “I’m sorry, you know. I couldn’t exactly call.”

“Abraham had Rid locked up.” I blurted it out before I could stop myself. Ridley was guilty of lots of things, but it was hard to watch them judge her for something that was out of her control.

Aunt Del’s face crumpled—everyone’s did, except for Reece’s. She positioned herself protectively between her mother and her Dark sister.

“Is that true?” Uncle Barclay sounded genuinely concerned.

Ridley twisted a pink strand between her fingers nervously. “Yeah. He was a real prince.” She Kelted to me desperately. Don’t tell them, Cuz. Not now. “I’m fine,” Ridley went on, waving off her father’s concern. “Let’s worry about Ethan. No one wants to hear about me and the Big Bad Wolf.”

Ryan stepped closer to Ridley tentatively. “I do,” she said quietly.

Rid didn’t respond. Instead, she held out her empty hand.

I waited for a mouse or a lollipop to appear in her palm, some cheap trick to distract her sister from what she was now. But her hand stayed empty.

Ryan smiled and reached out her own hand, closing it around Ridley’s.

I heard Aunt Del’s breath catch, or maybe it was mine.

“If Lena trusts you, so do I,” Ryan said. She looked at Reece. “Sisters should trust each other.” Reece didn’t move, but I didn’t need to be a Sybil to read her face.

Tiny cracks were already forming in the tough exterior Reece worked so hard to maintain. They were hard to see, but they were there. The beginning of something—tears, forgiveness, regret—I couldn’t be sure.

It reminded me of something Marian told Ethan before everything happened. It was one of her famous quotes, by a guy named Leonard Cohen: “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” That’s what I thought of when I saw Reece’s face.

The light was finally getting in.

“Lena, are you all right?” Uncle Barclay glanced at the ceiling. The crystal chandelier was swinging dangerously above us.

I took a deep breath, and it stopped immediately. Get control of yourself.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

I composed the words in my head, even if I wouldn’t let my pen write them.

bent

like the branches of a tree

broken

like the pieces of my heart

cracked

like the seventeenth moon

shattered

like the glass in the window

the day we met

I closed my eyes, trying to silence the words that wouldn’t stop coming.

No.

I ignored them, forcing them out of my mind. I wasn’t Kelting them to Uncle Macon, and I wasn’t writing a word until Ethan came back.

Not a single word.

“Amarie is expecting us. We should go.” Uncle Macon slipped on his black cashmere coat. “She is not a woman who appreciates being kept waiting.”

Boo lumbered behind him, his thick fur blending seamlessly into the darkness of the room.

Ridley opened the door, fleeing as fast as she could. She unwrapped a red lollipop before she even made it down the steps of the veranda. She hesitated for a second near the flower bed before pocketing the wrapper.

Maybe people could change—even the ones who made the wrong choices, if they tried hard enough to make them right. I wasn’t sure, but I hoped so. I had made enough bad choices myself in the last year.

I walked toward the only one that had been right.

The only one that mattered.

Ethan.

I’m coming.

CHAPTER 29

The Hands of the Dead

It’s about time.” Her arms crossed impatiently, Amma was staring at the opening in the old stone wall when we stepped through.

Uncle Macon was right; she didn’t like to be kept waiting.

Marian gently put her hand on Amma’s shoulder. “I’m sure it was difficult to round everyone up.” Amma sniffed, ignoring the excuse. “There’s difficult, and then there’s difficult.” John and Liv were sitting on the ground next to each other, Liv’s head resting casually on John’s shoulder. Uncle Barclay stepped through after me and helped Aunt Dell navigate the broken pieces of the wall. She blinked hard, staring at a spot not far from Genevieve’s grave. She swayed, and Uncle Barclay steadied her.

The layers of time were obviously peeling themselves back, the way they did only for Aunt Del.

I wondered what she saw. So much had happened at Greenbrier. Ethan Carter Wate’s death, the first time Genevieve used The Book of Moons to bring him back, the day Ethan and I found her locket and had the vision, and the night Aunt Dell used her powers to show us those pieces of Genevieve’s past in this very spot.

But everything had changed since then. The day Ethan and I were trying to figure out how to repair the Order and I accidentally burned the grass beneath us.

When I watched my mother burn to death.

Can Aunt Dell see all of it? Can she see that?

An unexpected feeling of shame washed over me, and I secretly hoped she couldn’t.

Amma nodded at Gramma. “Emmaline. You’re lookin’ well.”

Gramma smiled. “As are you, Amarie.”

Uncle Macon was the last one to enter the lost garden. He lingered near the wall, an uncharacteristic and almost imperceptible unease about him.

Amma locked eyes with him, as if they were having a conversation that only they could hear.

The tension was impossible to ignore. I hadn’t seen them together since the night we lost Ethan. And both of them claimed everything was fine.

But now that they were standing only feet apart, it was clear nothing was fine. Actually, Amma looked like she wanted to tear my uncle’s head off.

“Amarie,” he said slowly, bowing his head respectfully.

“I’m surprised you showed up. Aren’t you worried some a my wickedness might stain those fancy shoes a yours?” she said. “Wouldn’t want that. Not when your party shoes cost such a pretty penny.” What is she talking about?

Amma was a saint—at least that’s how I’d always thought of her.

Gramma and Aunt Dell exchanged glances, looking equally confused. Marian turned away. She knew something, but she wasn’t saying.

“Grief makes people desperate,” Uncle M responded. “If anyone understands that, I do.” Amma turned her back on him, facing the whiskey and shot glass lying on the ground next to The Book of Moons .

“I’m not sure you understand anything that doesn’t suit your purpose, Melchizedek. If I didn’t think we’d need your help, I would send you packin’ straight back to your house.”

“That’s hardly fair. I was trying to protect you—” Uncle Macon stopped when he noticed we were all staring. All of us except Marian and John, who were doing everything they could not to look at Amma or my uncle. That pretty much meant looking at the mud on the ground or The Book of Moons , neither of which was going to make anyone any less uncomfortable.

Amma spun back around to face Uncle Macon. “Next time, try protectin’ me a little less and my boy a little more. If there is a next time.”

Did she blame Uncle Macon for not doing a better job of protecting Ethan when he was alive? It didn’t make any sense….

“Why are you two fighting like this?” I demanded. “You’re acting like Reece and Ridley.”

“Hey,” said Reece. Rid just shrugged.

I shot Amma and my uncle a look. “I thought we were here to help Ethan.” Amma sniffed, and my uncle looked unhappy, but neither of them said a word.

Marian finally spoke up. “I think we’re all worried. It would probably be best if we put everything else aside and focused on the issue at hand. Amma, what is it you need us to do?”

Amma didn’t take her eyes off my uncle. “Need the Casters to form a circle around me. Mortals can spread out between ’em. We need the power a this world to hand that evil thing off to the ones who can take it the rest a the way.”

“The Greats, right?” I hoped so.

She nodded. “If they answer.”

If they answered? Was there a chance they wouldn’t?

Amma pointed to the ground at my feet. “Lena, I need you to bring me the Book.” I lifted the dusty leather volume and felt the power pulsing through it like a heartbeat.

“The Book’s not gonna want to go,” Amma explained. “It wants to stay here, where it can cause trouble. Like your cousin there.” Ridley rolled her eyes, but Amma only looked at me. “I’ll call the Greats, but you need to keep a hand on it till they take it.”

What was it going to do? Fly away?

“Everyone else, make that circle. Hold hands nice and tight.”

After Ridley and Link bickered about holding hands, and Reece refused to hold hands with Ridley or John, they finally completed the circle.

Amma glanced over at me. “The Greats haven’t been exactly happy with me. They may not come. And if they do, I can’t promise they’ll take the Book.”

I couldn’t imagine the Greats being upset with Amma. They were her family, and they had come to our rescue more than once.

We just needed them to do it one more time.

“I need the Casters to concentrate everything you got inside the circle.” Amma bent down and filled the shot glass with Wild Turkey. She drank the shot and then refilled it for Uncle Abner. “I don’t care what happens—you send the power my way.”

“What if you get hurt?” Liv asked, concerned.

Amma stared back at Liv, her expression twisted and broken. “Can’t get any more hurt than I am already. You just hold on.”

Uncle Macon stepped forward, dropping Aunt Del’s hand. “Would it help if I assisted you?” he asked Amma.

She pointed a shaky finger at him. “You get outta my circle. You can do your part from there.” I felt a surge of heat from the Book, as if its anger flared to meet Amma’s.

Uncle Macon stepped back and joined hands with everyone else. “One day you will forgive me, Amarie.” Her dark eyes narrowed to meet his green ones. “Not today.”

Amma closed her eyes, and my hair began to curl involuntarily as she spoke the words only she could.

“Blood a my blood,

and roots a my soul,

I’m in need a your intercession.”

The wind began to whip around me within the circle, and lightning cracked overhead. I felt the heat of the Book joining with the heat of my hands, the heat I could command—to burn and destroy.

Amma didn’t stop, as if she was talking to the sky.

“I call you to carry what I cannot.

To see what I cannot.

To do what I cannot.”

A green glow surged from Uncle Macon’s hands and spread around the circle from one hand to the next. Gramma closed her eyes, as if she was trying to channel Macon’s power. John noticed and closed his eyes, too, and the light intensified.

Lightning tore across the sky, but the universe didn’t open up, and the Greats didn’t appear.

Where are you? I pleaded silently.

Amma tried again.

“This is the crossroads I can’t cross.

Only you can take this book to my boy.

Deliver it to your world from ours.”

I concentrated harder, ignoring the heat of the Book in my hands. I heard a branch break, then another. I opened my eyes, and a burst of flames sprang up outside the circle. It caught like someone had lit the wick on a stick of dynamite, tearing through the grass and creating another circle outside the first.

The Wake of Fire—the uncontrollable flames that ignited sometimes against my will. The garden was burning again because of me. How many times could this earth char before the damage was irreparable?

Amma squeezed her eyes tighter. This time she spoke the words plainly. They weren’t a chant but a plea. “I know you don’t wanna come for me. So come for Ethan. He’s waitin’ on you, and you’re as much his family as you are mine.

Do the right thing. One last time. Uncle Abner. Aunt Delilah. Aunt Ivy. Grandmamma Sulla. Twyla. Please.” The sky opened up, and rain poured down from the heavens. But the fire still raged, and the Caster light still glowed.

I saw something small and black circling above us.

The crow.

Ethan’s crow.

Amma opened her eyes and saw it, too. “That’s right, Uncle Abner. Don’t punish Ethan for my mistakes. I know you been lookin’ after him over there, the same way you’ve always looked after us down here. He needs this book. Maybe you know why, even if I don’t.”

The crow circled closer and closer, and the faces began to appear in the dark sky, one by one—their features carving themselves out of the universe above us.

Uncle Abner appeared first, his lined face creased by time.

The crow landed on his shoulder like a tiny mouse at the feet of a giant.

Sulla the Prophet was next, regal braids cascading over her shoulder. Strands of tangled beads rested against her chest as if they weighed nothing. Or were worth the weight.

The Book of Moons bucked in my hands, as if trying to pull free. But I knew it wasn’t the Greats reaching for it.

The Book was resisting.

I tightened my grip as Aunt Delilah and Aunt Ivy appeared simultaneously, holding hands and looking down like they were evaluating the scene. Our intentions or our abilities—it was impossible to know.

But they were judging us nonetheless. I could feel it, and the Book could, too. It tried to pull free again, singeing the skin on my palms.

“Don’t let go!” Amma warned.

“I won’t,” I called over the wind. “Aunt Twyla, where are you?”

Aunt Twyla’s dark eyes appeared before her gentle face and arms laden with bracelets. Before her braided hair knotted with charms, or the rows of earrings that marched down her ears.

“Ethan needs this!” I shouted over the wind and the rain and the fire.

The Greats stared down at us, but they didn’t react.

The Book of Moons did.

I felt the pulse beating within it, the power and rage spreading through my body like poison.

Don’t let go.

Images flashed in front of my eyes.

Genevieve holding the Book, speaking the words that would bring Ethan Carter Wate back for a split second

—and curse our family for generations.

Amma and me speaking the same words, standing over Ethan Lawson Wate—our Ethan.

His eyes opening and Uncle Macon’s closing.

Abraham standing over the Book as the fire threatened Ravenwood in the distance, his brother’s voice begging him to stop, right before he killed Jonah.

I could see it all.

All the people this book had touched and hurt.

The people I knew and the ones I didn’t recognize.

I could feel it pulling away from me again, and I screamed louder this time.

Amma grabbed the Book, her hands over mine. Where parts of her skin were touching the leather, I could feel her skin burning.

Tears formed in her eyes, but she didn’t let go.

“Help us,” I screamed into the sky.

It wasn’t the sky that answered.

Genevieve Duchannes materialized in the darkness, her hazy form close enough to touch.

Give it to me.

Amma could see her; it was obvious from her haunted expression. But I was the only one who could hear her Kelting.

Her long red hair blew in the wind, in a way that seemed both impossible and right at the same time.

I’ll take it. It doesn’t belong in this world. It never did.

I wanted to hand her the Book—to send it to Ethan and to stop Amma’s hands from burning.

But Genevieve was a Dark Caster. I only had to look at her yellow eyes to remember.

Amma was trembling.

Genevieve reached out her hand. What if I made the wrong choice? Ethan would never get the Book, and I would never see him again….

How do I know I can trust you?

Genevieve’s heartbroken eyes stared back at me.

You’ll only know if you do.

The Greats looked down at us, and there was no way to know if they were going to help. Amma’s Mortal hands were burning alongside my Caster ones, and The Book of Moons was no closer to Ethan than when it was in Abraham Ravenwood’s hands, not long ago.

Sometimes there’s only one choice.

Sometimes you just have to jump.

Or let go…

Take it, Genevieve.

I pulled my hands away, and Amma’s moved with mine. The Book jerked free as if it sensed its only chance at escape. It lurched toward the outer circle, where John and Link were holding hands.

The glowing green light was still in place, and John concentrated his gaze on the Book. “I don’t think so.” It hit the light and ricocheted back into the center of the circle and Genevieve’s waiting hands. She closed her hazy palms around it, and the Book seemed to shudder.

Not this time.

I held my breath, listening to Amma cry.

Genevieve pressed the Book against her chest and dematerialized.

My heart dropped. “Amma! She took it!” I couldn’t think or feel or breathe. I had made the wrong choice. I would never see Ethan again. My knees gave out, and I felt myself falling.

I heard a rip, and an arm caught me around the waist.

“Lena, look.” It was Link.

I blinked back the tears and looked at him, his free hand pointing at the sky.

Genevieve was there in the darkness, her red hair trailing behind her. She held The Book of Moons out to Sulla, who took it from her hands.

Genevieve smiled at me.

You can trust me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

She disappeared, leaving the Greats looming in the sky behind her like giants.

Amma held her burnt hands to her chest and stared up at her family from another world. The world where Ethan was trapped. Tears ran down her cheeks as the green glow died around us.

“You take that book to my boy, ya hear?”

Uncle Abner tipped his hat to her. “Be expectin’ a pie now, Amma. One a those lemon meringues will do me just fine.”

Amma choked back a final sob as her legs gave out from under her.

I dropped with her, breaking her fall. I watched as the rain drowned out the fire and the Greats disappeared. I had no way of knowing what was going to happen next. There was only one thing I knew for sure.

Ethan had a chance now.

The rest was up to him.

BOOK THREE

CHAPTER 30

Lost Time

ll. Are you there? Can you hear me? I’m waiting. I know you’ll find the Book soon.

You wouldn’t believe this place. I feel like I’m living in a ten-thousand-year-old temple, or maybe a fortress. You wouldn’t believe this guy either. My friend Xavier. At least I think he’s my friend. He’s like a ten-thousand-year-old monk. Or maybe some kind of ancient temple wombat.

Do you know what waiting feels like in a world where no time passes? Minutes feel like centuries—eternities

—only worse, because you can’t even tell which is which.

I find myself counting things. Compulsively. It’s the only way I know how to mark the time.

Sixty-two plastic buttons. Eleven broken strands of between fourteen and thirty-six pearls each. One hundred and nine old baseball cards. Nine AA batteries. Twelve thousand seven hundred and fifty-four dollars and three cents in coins, from six countries. Or maybe just six centuries.

More or less.

I didn’t know how to count the doubloons.

This morning I counted grains of rice falling through the split seam of a stuffed frog. I don’t know where Xavier finds this stuff. I made it to nine hundred ninety-nine, and then I lost my place and had to start over again.

That was how I spent today.

Like I said, a person could go crazy trying to pass the time in a place with no time. When you find The Book of Moons, ll, I’ll know. I’ll be out of here the second I can. I keep my stuff ready to go, by the mouth of the cave. Aunt Prue’s map. An empty flask of whiskey and a tobacco tin.

Don’t ask.

Can you believe, after everything, that the Book is still coming between us? I know you’re going to find it. One day. You will.

And I’ll be waiting.

I’m not sure if thinking about Lena makes the time pass faster or slower. But it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t stop thinking about her if I tried. Which I have—playing chess with these creepy figures Xavier collects. Helping him catalog everything from bottle caps and marbles to ancient Caster volumes. Today it’s stones. Xavier must have hundreds of them, ranging from raw diamonds as big as strawberries to chunks of quartz and plain old rocks.

“It’s important to keep careful records of everything I have.” Xavier added three hunks of coal to the list.

I stared at the rocks in front of me. Gravel, Amma would say. Just the right shade of gray for Dean Wilks’ driveway.

I wondered what Amma was doing right now. And my mom. The two women who raised me were in two totally different worlds, and I couldn’t see either of them.

I held up a handful of dusty driveway gravel. “Why do you collect these, anyway? They’re just rocks.” Xavier looked shocked. “Stones have power. They absorb people’s feelings and their fears. Even their memories.” I didn’t need anyone else’s fears. I had enough of my own.

I reached into my pocket and took out the black stone. I rubbed the smooth surface between my fingers. This one was Sulla’s. It was shaped like a thick teardrop, while Lena’s was rounder.