Two hours later, the sun was still shining, and my uneasy feelings were growing. Liv and Link were walking ahead of me, which was Liv's way of avoiding me, or at least the situation. I couldn't blame her. She'd seen my mother and heard everything Amma said. She knew what Lena had done for me, how it explained her Dark and erratic behavior. Nothing had changed, but the reasons for everything had. For the second time this summer, a girl I cared about — who cared about me — couldn't bear to look me in the eye.
Instead, she was passing the time walking up the path with Link, teaching him British insults and pretending to laugh at his jokes.
“Your room is grotty. Your car is skanky, maybe manky,” Liv teased, but her heart wasn't in it.
“How do you know?”
“From looking at you.” Liv sounded distant. Teasing Link didn't seem to be enough of a distraction.
“What about me?” Link ran his hand over his spiky hair, to make sure it was sticking up just right.
“Let's see. You, you're a git, a prat.” Liv tried to force a smile.
“That's all good, right?”
“Of course. The best.”
Good old Link. His trademark charmless charm could salvage almost any desperate social situation.
“Do you hear that?” Liv stopped walking. Usually when I heard singing, I was the only one, and it was Lena's song. This time, everyone heard it, and the song was a far cry from the hypnotic voice of Seventeen Moons. This was bad singing, dying animal bad. Lucille meowed, her hair standing on end.
Link looked around. “What is that?”
“I don't know. It sounds almost like …” I stopped.
“Someone in trouble?” Liv held her hand near her ear.
“I was going to say ‘Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.’ ” It was an old hymn they sang at the Sisters’ church. I was half right.
When we rounded the corner, Aunt Prue was walking toward us holding on to Thelma's arm, singing as if it was Sunday at church. She was wearing her white flowered dress and matching white gloves, shuffling along in her beige orthopedic shoes. Harlon James was scampering along behind them, nearly as large as Aunt Prue's patent-leather handbag. It looked like the three of them were out for a stroll on a sunny afternoon.
Lucille meowed and sat down on the path in front of us.
Link scratched his head behind her. “Dude, am I seein’ things? ’Cause that looks a lot like your crazy aunt and that fleabag dog a hers.” At first, I didn't answer him. I was too busy figuring the odds of this being some kind of Caster mind trick. We'd get close enough, then Sarafine would step right out of my aunt's skin and kill all three of us.
“Maybe it's Sarafine.” I was thinking out loud, trying to find the logic in something completely illogical.
Liv shook her head. “I don't think so. Cataclysts can project themselves into the bodies of others, but they can't inhabit two people at once. Three, if you count the dog.”
“Who would count that dog?” Link made a face.
Part of me, the biggest part of me, wanted to take off and figure it out later. But they saw us. Aunt Prue, or the creature impersonating Aunt Prue, waved her hankie in the air. “Ethan!”
Link looked back at me. “Should we make a run for it?”
“Findin’ you was harder than herdin’ cats!” Aunt Prue called, shuffling across the grass as fast as she could. Lucille meowed, tossing her head. “Now, Thelma, keep up.” Even at a distance, it was impossible to mistake the off-kilter walk and the bossy tone.
“No, that's her.” Too late to run.
“How did they get down here?” Link was as stumped as I was. It was one thing to find out Carlton Eaton delivered the mail to the Lunae Libri, but seeing my hundred-year-old great-aunt wandering around in the Tunnels in her church dress was something else.
Aunt Prue dug her cane into the grass, working her way up the path. “Wesley Lincoln! Are you gonna stand there and watch an old woman work herself inta a state, or are you gonna get on over here and help me up this hill?”
“Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am.” Link almost tripped as he ran to hook his arm through hers. I caught the other.
The shock of seeing her was starting to wear off a little. “Aunt Prue, how did you get down here?”
“Same way as you, I expect. Came down through one a them doors. There's one right behind Missionary Baptist. I used it ta sneak outta Bible school when I was younger than you.”
“But how did you know about the Tunnels?” I couldn't figure it. Had she followed us?
“I've been down in these Tunnels more times than a sinner's swore offa the bottle. You think you're the only one who knows ’bout what goes on in this town?” She knew. She was one of them, like my mom and Marian and Carlton Eaton — Mortals who had somehow become part of the Caster world.
“Do Aunt Grace and Aunt Mercy know?”
“ ’Course not. Those two can't keep a secret ta save their lives. That's why my daddy only told me. And I never told a soul, ’cept Thelma.”
Thelma squeezed Aunt Prue's arm affectionately. “She only told me because she couldn't climb down the stairs on her own anymore.”
Aunt Prue swatted at Thelma with her handkerchief. “Now, Thelma, you know that's not true. Don't tell stories.”