Lena stood straight and tall, a dark silhouette against the moon. She didn't cry, and she wasn't screaming. Her feet had settled on the ground, on either side of the giant crack that now marked the cave, splitting it almost entirely in two.
“What just happened?” Liv was looking at Amma and Arelia for answers.
I followed Lena's eyes across the great expanse of rocks and understood her silence. She was in shock, staring at one familiar face.
“It appears Abraham has been interfering with the Order of Things.” Macon stood in the cave entrance framed by light from a moon that was beginning to stitch itself back together. Leah and Bade were at his side. I wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, but I could tell from the look on his face he had seen everything. He walked slowly, still adjusting to the feeling of his feet touching the ground. Bade kept pace with him, and Leah kept one hand on his arm.
Lena softened at the sound of his voice, a voice from the grave. I heard the thought, barely a whisper. She was afraid to even think it.
Uncle Macon?
Her face went white. I remembered how I felt when I saw my mother at the cemetery.
“An impressive little trick you and Sarafine managed to pull off, Grandfather. I'll give you that. Calling a Claiming Moon out of time? You've outdone yourself, really.” Macon's voice echoed in the cavern. The air was so still, so quiet, you couldn't hear anything except the low churning of the tides. “Naturally, when I heard you were coming, I had to make an appearance.” Macon waited, as if he was expecting an answer. But when he didn't get one, he snapped. “Abraham! I see your hand in this.”
The cave began to shake. Rocks fell from the jagged crack in the ceiling, beating down onto the floor. It felt like the whole cavern was about to collapse. The sky above grew darker. The green-eyed Macon — the Light Caster, if that's what he truly was — seemed even more powerful than the Incubus he was before.
A rumbling laugh echoed off the rock walls. Down on the watery cave floor, where the moon no longer shone, Abraham stepped out of the shadows. With his white beard and matching white suit, he looked like a harmless old man instead of the Darkest of Blood Incubuses. Hunting stayed at his side.
Abraham stood over Sarafine, whose body was lying on the ground. She had turned completely white, covered in a thick layer of frost, an icy cocoon.
“You call on me, boy?” The old man laughed again, sharp and quick. “Ah, the hubris of youth. In a hundred years, you will learn your place, Grandson.” I tried to mentally calculate the generations between them — four, maybe even five.
“I am well aware of my place, Grandfather. Unfortunately, and this is exceptionally awkward, I believe I'll be the one to send you back to yours.”
Abraham smoothed his beard deliberately. “Little Macon Ravenwood. You were always such a lost boy. This is your doing, not mine. Blood is Blood, just as Dark is Dark. You should have remembered where your allegiances lie.” He paused, looking at Leah. “You would have done well to remember that, too, my dear. But then, you were raised by a Caster.” He shuddered.
I could see the anger in Leah's face, but I could also see the fear. She was willing to try her luck with the Blood pack, but she didn't want to challenge Abraham.
Abraham looked at Hunting. “On the subject of lost boys, where is John?”
“Long gone. Coward.”
Abraham whipped around to face Hunting. “John isn't capable of cowardice. It's not in his nature. And his life means more to me than yours. So I suggest you find him.”
Hunting lowered his eyes and nodded. I couldn't help but wonder why John Breed was so important to Abraham, who didn't seem to care about anyone.
Macon watched Abraham carefully. “It's touching to see how concerned you are about your boy. I certainly hope you find him. I know how painful it is to lose a child.”
The cavern started to shake again, and rocks fell around our feet. “What have you done with John?” In his rage, Abraham seemed less like a harmless old man and more like the Demon he truly was.
“What have I done with him? I think the question is what have you done to him?” Abraham's black eyes narrowed, but Macon only smiled. “An Incubus who can walk in the sunlight and retain his strength without feeding … it would require a very specific coupling to produce those qualities in a child. Wouldn't you agree? Scientifically speaking, you would need Mortal qualities, yet this boy John possesses the gifts of a Caster. He can't have three parents, which means his mother was —”