Beautiful Darkness (16 page)

But something else was on my mind. “
That
’s your summer intern?”

“Of course.”

“You didn't tell me she'd be like that.”

“Like what, Ethan?”

“Like you.”

“Is that what's bothering you? The brains, or is it perhaps the long blond hair? Is there a certain way a librarian should look? Big glasses and hair in a graying bun? I would have thought between your mother and me, we would have disabused you of at least that notion.” She was right. My mom and Marian had always been two of the most beautiful women in Gatlin. “Liv won't be here very long, and she's not much older than you are. I was thinking the least you could do would be to show her around town, introduce her to some people your age.”

“Like who? Link? To improve his vocabulary and kill off a few thousand of her brain cells?” I didn't mention that Link would spend most of his time trying to hook up with her, which I didn't see happening.

“I was thinking of Lena.” The silence in the room was embarrassing, even to me. Of course she had been thinking of Lena. The question was, why hadn't I? Marian looked at me evenly. “Why don't you tell me what's really on your mind today?”

“What is it you need me to do in here, Aunt Marian?” I didn't feel like talking about it.

She sighed and turned back to the archive. “I thought maybe you could help me sort through some of this. Obviously a great deal of the material in here relates to the locket and Ethan and Genevieve. Now that we know the end of that story, we might want to make some room for the next one.”

“What's the next one?” I picked up the old photo of Genevieve wearing the locket. I remembered the first time I looked at it with Lena. It felt like years since then, instead of months.

“It would seem to me that it's yours and Lena's. The events on her birthday raised a number of questions, most of which I can't answer. I've never heard of an incident when a Caster didn't have to choose Light or Dark on the night of their Claiming — except in the case of Lena's family, when the choice is made for them. Now that we don't have Macon to help us, I'm afraid we're going to have to search out the answers ourselves.” Lucille jumped up onto my mother's chair, her ears perking up.

“I wouldn't know where to start.”

“‘He who chooses the beginning of the road chooses the place it leads to.’ ”

“Thoreau?”

“Harry Emerson Fosdick. A bit older and more obscure, but still quite relevant, I think.” She smiled and put her hand on the edge of the door.

“Aren't you going to help me?”

“I can't leave Olivia alone for long, or she'll reshelve the entire collection, and then we'll all have to learn Chinese.” She paused for a moment, watching me, looking so much like my mom. “I think you can handle this one on your own. At least the beginning.”

“I don't have a choice, do I? You can't really help me since you're a Keeper.” I was still bitter about Marian's revelation that she had known my mother was involved with the Caster world, but she would never explain why or how. There were so many things about my mother and her death that Marian had never told me.
It always came back to the endless rules that Bound Marian to her job as a Keeper.

“I can only help you help yourself. I can't determine the course of events, the unraveling of Darkness and Light, the Order of Things.”

“That's such a load of crap.”

“What?”

“It's like the prime directive on
Star Trek
. You have to let the planet evolve at its own pace. You can't introduce hyperspace or warp speed until they discover it for themselves. But Captain Kirk and the crew of the
Enterprise
always end up breaking the rule.”

“Unlike Captain Kirk, there is no choice in my case. A Keeper is powerfully Bound to act neither for the Dark nor the Light. I couldn't change my destiny, even if I wanted to. I have my own place in the natural order of the Caster world, in the Order of Things.”

“Whatever.”

“It's not a choice. I don't have the authority to change the way things work. If I so much as tried, I might destroy not only myself but the very people I was trying to help.”

“But my mom still ended up dead.” I don't know why I said it, but I couldn't understand the logic. Marian had to remain uninvolved to protect the people she cared about, but the person she cared about most died anyway.

“Are you asking me if I could've prevented your mother's death?” She knew I was. I looked down at my sneakers. I wasn't sure I was ready to hear the answer.

Marian put her hand under my chin and pulled my face up to meet hers. “I didn't know your mother was in danger, Ethan. But
she knew the risks.” Her voice was uneven, and I knew I had gone too far, but I couldn't help it. I'd been trying to get up the courage to have this conversation for months now. “I would have gladly taken her place in that car. Don't you think I have wondered a thousand times if there was something I knew or could have done that might have saved Lila …” Her voice trailed off.

I feel the same way. You're just holding on to a different edge of the same jagged hole. We're both lost.
That's what I wanted to say. Instead, I let her put her arm around my shoulder and pull me into a rough hug. I barely felt it when the arm slipped away and the door closed behind her.

I stared at the stacks of paper. Lucille jumped down from the chair and onto the table. “Be careful. These are a lot older than you.” She tilted her head and looked at me with her blue eyes. Then she froze.

She was staring at my mother's chair, eyes wide, fixated. There was nothing there, but I remembered what Amma told me. “Cats can see the dead. That's why they stare at things the way they do for so long, like they're just lookin’ into thin air. But they're not. They're lookin’ through it.”

I stepped closer to the chair. “Mom?” She didn't answer, or maybe she did, because there was a book lying on the chair that wasn't there a minute ago.
Darkness and Light: The Origins of Magic.
It was one of Macon's books. I had seen it in his library at Ravenwood. I lifted it up, and a gum wrapper fell out — one of my mother's bookmarks, no doubt. I bent down to pick up the wrapper, and the room began to sway, the lights and colors swirling around me. I tried to focus on something, anything, to keep from falling, but I was too dizzy. The wood floor rushed up to meet me, and as I hit the ground the smoke burned my eyes —

By the time Abraham returned to Ravenwood, the ash had already made its way inside the house. The charred remnants of Gatlin's great houses wafted down from the open windows on the second floor like black snowflakes. As he ascended the staircase, Abraham's footsteps left impressions in the thin black layer already coating the floor. He secured the upstairs windows, without putting
The Book of Moons
down for a second. But he couldn't have put it down even if he had wanted to. Ivy, the old cook from Greenbrier, was right; the Book was calling him, a whisper only he could hear.

When he reached the study, Abraham rested the Book on the polished mahogany desk. He knew exactly which page to turn to, as if the Book was flipping the pages itself. As if it knew what he wanted. Even though he had never seen the Book before, Abraham knew the answer was in those pages, an answer that would guarantee Ravenwood's survival.

The Book was offering him the one thing he wanted above all else. But it wanted something in return.

Abraham stared down at the Latin script. He recognized it immediately. It was a Cast he had read about in other books. One he had always considered more of a myth. But he had been wrong, because it was staring back at him.

Abraham heard Jonah's voice before he saw him. “Abraham, we have to get out of the house. The Federals are coming. They've burned everything, and they aren't planning to stop until they reach Savannah. We have to get into the Tunnels.”

Abraham's voice was resolute, and it sounded different somehow, even to him. “I'm not going anywhere, Jonah.”

“What are you talking about? We have to save what we can and get out of here.” Jonah grabbed his brother's arm, noticing the open page beneath them. He stared at the script, unsure he could trust what he was seeing.

“The
Daemonis Pactum
? The Demon's Trade?” Jonah stepped back. “Is this what I think it is?
The Book of Moons
?”

“I'm surprised you recognize it. You never paid much attention during our studies.”

Jonah was used to Abraham's insults, but there was something different about his tone tonight. “Abraham, you can't.”

“Don't tell me what I can't do. You would watch this house burn to the ground before you thought to act. You have never been capable of doing what was required. You are weak, like Mother.”

Jonah flinched, as if someone had struck him. “Where did you get it?”

“You don't need to worry about that.”

“Abraham, be sensible. The Demon's Trade is too powerful. It cannot be controlled. You are making a bargain, without knowing what you will have to sacrifice. We have other houses.”

Abraham pushed his brother aside. Though Abraham barely touched him, Jonah flew across the room. “Other houses? Ravenwood is the seat of our family's power in the Mortal world, and you think I intend to
allow a few soldiers to burn it to the ground? I can use this to save Ravenwood.”

Abraham's voice rose
.
“
Exscinde, neca, odium incende; mors portam patefacit
. Destroy, kill, hate; death opens the gate.”

“Abraham, stop!”

But it was too late. The words rolled off Abraham's tongue as if he had known them his entire life. Jonah looked around, panicked, waiting for the Cast to take effect. But he had no idea what his brother had asked for. He only knew that whatever it was, it would be done. That was the power of the Cast, but there was also a price. It was never the same. Jonah rushed toward his brother, and a small, perfectly round orb, the size of an egg, slipped from his pocket and rolled across the floor.

Abraham picked up the sphere, glowing at his feet, and rolled it between his fingers. “What are you doing with an Arclight, Jonah? Is there a particular Incubus you're planning to imprison in this archaic device?”

Jonah backed away as Abraham advanced, matching him step for step, but Abraham was too fast. In the blink of an eye, he pinned Jonah against the wall, his iron grip closing around his brother's throat.

“No. Of course not. I —”

Abraham tightened his hold. “What would an Incubus be doing with the only vessel capable of imprisoning his kind? Do you think I'm that stupid?”
“

I am only trying to protect you from yourself.”

In one fluid motion, Abraham lunged forward and
plunged his teeth into his brother's shoulder. Then he did the unthinkable.

He drank.

The bargain was made. He would no longer be sustained by the memories and dreams of Mortals. From this day forward, he would crave blood.

When he had his fill, Abraham dropped his brother's limp body and licked the ash from his hand, the taste of flesh still lingering in the black residue. “You should have been more concerned about protecting yourself.”

Abraham turned away from his brother's body. “Ethan.”

“Ethan!”

I opened my eyes. I was lying on the floor of the archive. Marian was hovering over me in an un-Marian state of panic. “What happened?”

“I don't know.” I sat up, rubbing my head, wincing. There was a knot growing underneath my hair. “I must have hit the table on my way down.”