Beautiful Creatures

Amma pulled a small pouch that was dangling from a leather cord around her neck out of her shirt and clutched it, lowering her voice like she was afraid someone might hear her. “Sarafine. The Dark One.”

 

“Who’s Sarafine?”

 

Amma hesitated, clutching the pouch even tighter.

 

“Your mamma.”

 

“I don’t understand. My parents died when I was a child, and my mother’s name was Sara. I’ve seen it on my family tree.”

 

“Your daddy died, that’s the truth, but your mamma’s alive as sure as I’m standin’ here. And you know the thing about family trees down South, they’re never quite as right as they claim to be.”

 

The color drained from Lena’s face. I strained to reach out and take her hand, but only my finger trembled. I was powerless. I couldn’t do anything but watch as she tumbled into a dark place, alone.

 

Just like in the dreams. “And she’s Dark?”

 

“She’s the Darkest Caster livin’ today.”

 

“Why didn’t my uncle tell me? Or my gramma? They said she was dead. Why would they lie to me?”

 

“There’s the truth and then there’s the truth. They aren’t likely the same thing. I reckon they were tryin’

 

to protect you. They still think they can. But the Greats, they’re not so sure. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but Melchizedek’s a stubborn one.”

 

“Why are you trying to help me? I thought—I thought you didn’t like me.”

 

“Doesn’t have anything to do with likin’ or not likin’. She’s comin’ for you, and you don’t need any distractions.” Amma raised an eyebrow. “And I don’t want anything to happen to my boy. This is bigger than you, bigger than the both a you.”

 

“What’s bigger than both of us?”

 

“All of it. You and Ethan just aren’t meant to be.”

 

Lena looked confused. Amma was talking in riddles again. “What do you mean?”

 

Amma jerked around as if someone behind her had tapped her on the shoulder. “What’d you say, Aunt Delilah?” Amma turned to Lena. “We don’t have much time left.”

 

The pendulum on the clock began to move almost imperceptibly. The room began to come back to life.

 

My dad’s eyes started to blink slowly, so that it took seconds for his lashes to brush his cheeks.

 

“You put that bracelet back on. You need all the help you can get.”

 

Time snapped back into place—

 

I blinked a few times, glancing around the room. My father was still staring at his potatoes. Aunt Mercy was still wrapping a biscuit in her napkin. I lifted my hands in front of my face, wiggling my fingers.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

“Ethan Wate!” Aunt Grace gasped.

 

Amma was splitting her biscuits and filling them with ham. She looked up at me, caught off guard. It was obvious she hadn’t intended for me to hear their little girl talk. She gave me the Look. Meaning, you keep your mouth shut, Ethan Wate.

 

“Don’t you use that kinda language at my table. You’re not too old for me to wash your mouth out with a bar a soap. What do you think it is? Ham and biscuits. Turkey and stuffing. Now I been cookin’ all day, I expect you to eat.”

 

I looked over at Lena. The smile was gone. She was staring at her plate.

 

Lena Beana. Come back to me. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’ll be okay.

 

But she was too far away.

 

Lena didn’t say a word the whole way home. When we got to Ravenwood, she yanked open the car door, slammed it behind her, and took off toward the house without a word.

 

I almost didn’t follow her in. My head was reeling. I couldn’t imagine what Lena was feeling. It was bad enough to lose your mother, but even I couldn’t guess what it would feel like to find out your mother wanted you dead.

 

My mother was lost to me, but I wasn’t lost. She had anchored me, to Amma, my father, Link, Gatlin, before she left. I felt her in the streets, my house, the library, even the pantry. Lena had never had that.

 

She was cut loose and coming unmoored, Amma would say, like the poor man’s ferries on the swamp.

 

I wanted to be her anchor. But right now, I didn’t think anyone could.

 

Lena stalked past Boo, who was sitting on the front veranda not even panting, even though he had dutifully run behind our car the whole way home. He had also sat in my front yard all through dinner.

 

He seemed to like the sweet potatoes and little marshmallows, which I had chucked out the front door when Amma went into the kitchen for more gravy.

 

I could hear her shouting from inside the house. I sighed, got out of the car, and sat down on the porch steps next to the dog. My head was already pounding, a sugar low. “Uncle Macon! Uncle Macon! Wake up! The sun’s down, I know you’re not asleep in there!”

 

I could hear Lena yelling from inside my head, too.

 

The sun’s down, I know you’re not asleep!