Ethan. I’m tired.
She sputtered back to life, choking, spitting water across her jacket. I smiled in spite of everything, and she smiled back at me. If this was what the dreams were about, we had changed the way they ended.
This time, I had held on. But in the back of my mind, I think I knew. This wasn’t the moment when she slipped out of my arms. It was only the beginning.
Even if that was true, I had saved her this time.
I reached down to pull her into my arms. I wanted to feel the familiar current between us. Before I could wrap my arms around her, she jerked up and out of my arms. “Uncle Macon!”
Macon stood across the room, propped against the crypt wall, barely able to support his own weight.
He leaned his head back against the stone. He was sweating, breathing heavily, and his face was chalk white.
Lena ran and clung to him, a child worried for her father. “You shouldn’t have done that. She could have killed you.” Whatever he was doing when he was Traveling, whatever that meant, the effort had cost him.
So this was Sarafine. This thing, whoever She was, was Lena’s mother.
If this was a trip to the library, I didn’t know if I was ready for what might happen in the next few months.
Or as of tomorrow morning, 74 days.
Lena sat, still dripping wet, wrapped in a blanket. She looked about five years old. I glanced at the old oaken door behind her, wondering if I could ever find my way out alone. Unlikely. We’d gone about thirty paces down one of the aisles, and then disappeared down a stairwell, through a series of small doors, into a cozy study that was apparently some sort of reading room. The passageway had seemed endless, with a door every few feet like some sort of underground hotel.
The moment Macon sat down, a silver tea service appeared in the center of the table, with exactly five cups and a platter of sweet breads. Maybe Kitchen was here, too.
I looked around. I had no idea where I was, but I knew one thing. I was somewhere in Gatlin, yet somewhere further away from Gatlin than I’d ever been.
Either way, I was out of my league.
I tried to find a comfortable spot in an upholstered chair that looked like it could have belonged to Henry VIII. Actually, there was no way of knowing that it hadn’t. The tapestry on the wall also looked as if had come from an old castle, or Ravenwood. It was woven into the shape of a constellation, midnight blue and silver thread. Every time I looked at it, the moon appeared in a different stage.
Macon, Marian, and Amma sat across the table. Saying Lena and I were in trouble was putting the best possible spin on it. Macon was furious, his teacup rattling in front of him. Amma was beyond that.
“What makes you think you can take it upon yourself to decide when my boy is ready for the Underground? Lila would skin you herself, if she was here. You’ve got some nerve, Marian Ashcroft.”
Marian’s hands were shaking as she lifted her teacup.
“Your boy? What about my niece? Since I believe she was the one who was attacked.” Macon and Amma, having ripped us to shreds, were starting in on each other. I didn’t dare look at Lena.
“You’ve been trouble since the day you were born, Macon.” Amma turned to Lena. “But I can’t believe you would drag my boy into this, Lena Duchannes.”
Lena lost it. “Of course I dragged him into this. I do bad things. When are you going to understand that? And it’s only going to get worse!”
The tea set flew off the table and into the air, where it froze. Macon looked at it, without so much as blinking. A challenge. The entire set righted itself and landed gently back on the table. Lena looked at Macon as if there were no one else in the room. “I’m going to go Dark, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? I’m going to end up just like my—” She couldn’t say it.
The blanket fell from her shoulders, and she took my hand. “You have to get away from me, Ethan.
Before it’s too late.”
Macon looked at her, irritated. “You’re not going to go Dark. Don’t be so gullible. She only wants you to think that.” The way he said She reminded me of the way he said Gatlin.
Marian put her teacup down on the table. “Teenagers—everything is so apocalyptic.”
Amma shook her head. “Some things are meant to be and some take some doin’. This one isn’t done just yet.”
I could feel Lena’s hand shaking in mine. “They’re right, L. Everything’s going to be okay.”
She yanked her hand away. “Everything’s going to be okay? My mother, a Cataclyst, is trying to kill me. A vision from a hundred years ago just clarified that my whole family has been cursed since the Civil War. My sixteenth birthday is in two months, and that’s the best you can do?”