A hard time staying away from it.
My dad coughed and absentmindedly pushed his mashed potatoes around his plate. Lena saw an opportunity to change the subject. “So Ethan says you’re a writer, Mr. Wate. What kind of books do you write?”
My dad looked up at her, but didn’t say anything. He probably didn’t even realize Lena was talking to him.
“Mitchell’s workin’ on a new book. It’s a big one. Maybe the most important one he’s ever written. And Mitchell’s written a mess a books. How many is it now, Mitchell?” Amma asked, like she was talking to a child. She knew how many books my dad had published.
“Thirteen,” he mumbled.
Lena wasn’t discouraged by my dad’s frightening social skills, even though I was. I looked at him, hair uncombed, black circles under his eyes. When had it gotten this bad?
Lena pressed on. “What’s your book about?”
My dad came back to life, animated for the first time this evening. “It’s a love story. It’s really been a journey, this book. The great American novel. Some might say The Sound and the Fury of my career, but I can’t really talk about the plot. Not really. Not at this point. Not when I’m so close… to…” He was rambling. Then he just stopped talking, like someone had flipped a switch in his back. He stared at my mom’s empty chair as he drifted away.
Amma looked anxious. Aunt Caroline tried to distract everyone from what was quickly becoming the most embarrassing night of my life. “Lena, where did you say you moved here from?”
But I couldn’t hear her answer. I couldn’t hear anything. Instead, all I could see was everything moving in slow motion. Blurring, expanding and contracting, like the way heat waves look as they move through the air.
Then—
The room was frozen, except it wasn’t. I was frozen. My father was frozen. His eyes were narrow, his lips rounded to form sounds that hadn’t had a chance to escape his lips. Still staring at the plateful of mashed potatoes, untouched. The Sisters, Aunt Caroline, and Marian were like statues. Even the air was perfectly still. The pendulum of the grandfather clock had stopped in mid-swing.
Ethan? Are you all right?
I tried to answer her, but I couldn’t. When Ridley had me in her death grip, I had been sure I was going to freeze to death. Now I was frozen, except I wasn’t cold and I wasn’t dead.
“Did I do this?” Lena asked aloud.
Only Amma could answer. “Cast a Time Bind? You? About as likely as this turkey hatchin’ a gator.”
She snorted. “No, you didn’t do this, child. This is bigger than you. The Greats figured it was time we had ourselves a talk, woman to woman. Nobody can hear us now.”
Except me. I can hear you.
But the words didn’t come out. I could hear them talking, but I couldn’t make a sound.
Amma looked up at the ceiling, “Thank you, Aunt Delilah. ’Preciate the help.” She walked over to the buffet and cut a piece of pumpkin pie. She put it on a fancy china plate and laid the plate in the center of the table. “Now I’m gonna leave this piece for you and the Greats, and you be sure to remember I did.”
“What’s going on? What did you do to them?”
“Didn’t do anything to them. Just bought us some time, I reckon.”
“Are you a Caster?”
“No, I’m just a Seer. I see what needs to be seen, what no one else can see, or wants to.”
“Did you stop time?” Casters could do that, stop time. Lena had told me. But only incredibly powerful ones.
“I didn’t do a thing. I only asked the Greats for some assistance and Aunt Delilah obliged.”
Lena looked confused, or frightened. “Who are the Greats?”
“The Greats are my family from the Otherworld. They give me some help every now and again, and they’re not alone. They’ve got others with them.” Amma leaned across the table, looking Lena in the eye. “Why aren’t you wearin’ the bracelet?”
“What?”
“Didn’t Melchizedek give it to you? I told him you needed to wear it.”
“He gave it to me, but I took it off.”
“Now why would you go and do a thing like that?”
“We figured out it was blocking the visions.”
“It was blockin’ somethin’ all right. Until you stopped wearin’ it.”
“What was it blocking?”
Amma reached out and took Lena’s hand in her own, turning it over to reveal her palm. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, child. But Melchizedek, your family, they aren’t gonna tell you, not one a them. And you need to be told. You need to be prepared.”
“Prepared for what?”
Amma looked at the ceiling, mumbling under her breath. “She’s comin’, child. She’s comin’ for you, and she’s a force to be reckoned with. As Dark as night.”
“Who? Who’s coming for me?”
“I wish they’d told you themselves. I didn’t want to be the one. But the Greats, they say somebody has to tell you before it’s too late.”
“Tell me what? Who’s coming, Amma?”