“It's all right, Lena.” He reached out for her, but she stood on her own.
“It's not.” She shook her head. “Look what I've done. Auntie Twyla and Ridley are gone, and Larkin …”
Macon looked at Lena as if he was seeing her for the first time. “You did what you had to do. You Claimed yourself. You didn't pick a place in the Order. You changed it.”
Her voice was hesitant. “What does it mean?”
“It means you are yourself — powerful and unique — like the Great Barrier, a place where there is no Dark or Light, only magic. But unlike the Great Barrier, you are both Light and Dark. Like me. And after what I saw tonight, like Ridley.”
“But what happened to the moon?” Lena looked at Gramma, but it was Amma who spoke up, from the rocky ledge.
“You split it, child. Melchizedek's right, the Order a Things is broken. Can't say what'll happen now.” The way she said broken made it clear that broken wasn't something we wanted the Order to be.
“I don't understand. You're all here, but so were Hunting and Abraham. How is that possible? The curse —” Lena faltered.
“You possess both Light and Darkness, a possibility the curse did not account for. None of us did.” There was pain in Gramma's voice. She was hiding something, and I sensed things were more complicated than she was letting on. “I'm just glad you're all right.”
The sound of water splashing echoed through the cavern. I turned in time to see Ridley's blond and pink hair whip around the corner. Link was right behind her.
“Guess I really am a Mortal.” Ridley said it with her usual brand of sarcasm, but she looked relieved. “You always have to be different, don't you? Way to go and screw things up again, Cuz.”
I heard Lena's breath catch, and for a second she didn't move.
It was all too much. Macon was alive, when Lena believed she'd killed him. She had Claimed herself and remained both Dark and Light. As far as I could tell, she had broken the moon. I knew Lena would fall apart moments from now. When she did, I would be there to carry her home.
Lena grabbed Ridley and Macon, practically strangling them in her own kind of Caster circle, seeming neither Light nor Dark. Just very tired, but no longer very alone.
6.22
The Way Back Home
I couldn't sleep anymore. I had crashed hard last night, on the familiar pine-board floor of Lena's room. We had both passed out, still wearing our clothes. Twenty-four hours later, it was weird to be in my own room, in a bed again, after sleeping between tree roots on muddy forest floors. I had seen too much. I got up and shut my window, in spite of the heat. There were too many things out there to be afraid of, too many to fight.
It was a wonder anyone in Gatlin slept at all.
Lucille didn't have that problem. She was kneading a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, fluffing up her bed for the night. That cat could sleep anywhere.
Not me. I flipped over. I was having a hard time getting comfortable with comfortable.
Me, too.
I smiled. Floorboards creaked, and my door swung open. Lena was standing in my doorway, in my faded Silver Surfer T-shirt. I could see the tip of pajama shorts underneath. Her hair was wet and she was wearing it down again, the way I liked it best.
“This is a dream, right?”
Lena closed the door behind her, the slightest twinkle in her gold and green eyes. “Do you mean your kind of dream or mine?” She pulled up the covers and climbed in next to me. She smelled like lemons and rosemary and soap. It had been a long road for both of us. She tucked her head under my chin and leaned against me. I could feel her questions and her fears, beneath the covers with us.
What is it, L?
She burrowed deeper into my chest.
Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me? I know things won't be the same —
I tightened my arms around her, remembering all the times it felt like I'd lost her forever. Those moments wound themselves around me, threatening to crush me under their weight. There was no way I could be without her. Forgiving her wasn't a question.
Things will be different. Better.
But I'm not Light, Ethan. I'm something else. I'm … complicated.
I reached under the covers and brought her hand to my mouth. I kissed her palm where the swirling black patterns hadn't disappeared. It almost looked like Sharpie, but I knew it would never fade.
“I know what you are, and I love you. Nothing can change that.”
“I wish I could go back. I wish …”
I pressed my forehead against hers. “Don't. You're you. You chose to be yourself.”
“It's scary. My whole life, I've grown up with Dark and Light. It feels strange not to fit in anywhere.” She flopped onto her back. “What if I'm not anything?”
“What if that's the wrong question?”
She smiled. “Yeah? What's the right one?”