P. O. R. T. E. N. D. Seven down. As in, you be sure to pay attention to the what now, Ethan Wate, because that's gonna point the way to the what's next.
She was right, as usual — everything did mean something, didn't it? All the changes in Lena would have added up to the truth, if I had been able to see it. Even now, I tried to piece together my glimpses of the visions, to find the story they were trying to tell.
I didn't have time, though, because as we reached the bridge, I felt another surge, the walkway started to sway, and Ridley's and Link's voices faded —
The room was dark, but Macon didn't need light to see. The shelves were lined with books, as he had imagined they would be. Volumes on every aspect of American history, particularly the wars that had shaped this country — the Revolutionary War and the Civil War. Macon ran his fingers over the leather spines. These books were of no use to him now.
This was a different kind of war. A war among the Casters, waged within his own family.
He could hear footsteps above, the sound of the crescent key fitting into the lock. The door creaked, a slice of light escaping as the hatch in the ceiling opened. He wanted to reach out, offer his hand to help her down, but he didn't dare.
It had been years since he had seen or touched her.
They had only met in letters and between the covers of the books she left for him in the Tunnels. But he hadn't seen her or heard her voice in all that time. Marian had made sure of that. She stepped through the door cut into the ceiling, the light spilling into the room. Macon's breath caught in his throat. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her shiny brown hair was held away from her face by a pair of red reading glasses. She smiled.
“Jane.” He hadn't said her name aloud in such a long time. It was like a song.
“No one's called me that since …” She looked down. “I use Lila now.”
“Of course, I knew that.”
Lila was visibly nervous, her voice shaky. “I'm sorry I had to come, but this was the only way.” She avoided his eyes. It was too painful to look at him. “What I have to tell you — it's not something I could leave for you in the study, and I couldn't risk sending a message through the Tunnels.”
Macon had a small study in the Tunnels, a reprieve from the self-induced exile of his solitary life in Gatlin. Sometimes Lila pressed messages between the pages of the books she left for him. The messages were never personal. They always related to her research in the Lunae Libri — possible answers to the questions they were both asking.
“It's good to see you.” Macon took a step forward, and Lila stiffened. He looked hurt. “It's safe. I can control the urges now.”
“It's not that. I — I shouldn't be here. I told Mitchell I was working late in the archive. I don't like to lie to him.” Of course. She felt guilty. She was still as honest as Macon remembered.
“We are in an archive.”
“Semantics, Macon.”
Macon drew a heavy breath at the sound of his name from her lips. “What is so important that you would risk coming to me, Lila?”
“I've found something your father kept from you.”
Macon's black eyes darkened at the mention of his father. “I haven't seen my father in years. Not since —” He didn't want to say what he was thinking. He hadn't seen his father since Silas had manipulated Macon into letting Lila go. Silas and his twisted views, his bigotry against Mortals and Casters alike. But Macon didn't mention any of that. He didn't want to make it harder for her. “The Transformation.”
“There is something you need to know.” Lila dropped her voice, as if what she was about to say could only be spoken in whispers. “Abraham is alive.”
Macon and Lila didn't have time to react. There was a whirring sound, and a figure materialized in the darkness.
“Bravo. She really is much smarter than I had anticipated. Lila, is it?” Abraham was clapping loudly. “A tactical error on my part, but one your sister can correct easily enough. Wouldn't you agree, Macon?”
Macon's eyes narrowed. “Sarafine is not my sister.”
Abraham adjusted his string tie. With his white beard and Sunday suit, he looked more like Colonel Sanders than what he was — a killer.
“There's no need to be nasty. Sarafine is your father's daughter, after all. It's a shame you two can't get along.” Abraham walked casually toward Macon. “You know, I always hoped we would have a chance to meet. I'm sure once we talk, you'll understand your place in the Order of Things.”
“I know my place. I made my choice and Bound myself to the Light long ago.”
Abraham laughed loudly. “As if such a thing were even possible. You're a Dark creature by nature, an Incubus. This ridiculous alliance with the Light Casters, defending Mortals — it's inane. You belong with us, with your family.” Abraham looked at Lila. “And for what? A Mortal woman you can never be with? One who is married to another man?”