“I'm sorry, Amma. I don't know what that thing wanted with us.”
She slammed the oven door shut, her back to me. “Of course you don't. There's a lot you don't know, but that didn't stop you from wanderin’ around where you didn't have any business. Now did it?” She picked up her mixing bowl, stirring the contents with the One-Eyed Menace, as if she hadn't used it to scare Ridley into submission the day before.
“I went down there looking for Lena. She's been hanging out with Ridley, and I think she's in trouble.”
Amma spun around. “You think she's in trouble? You have any idea what that thing was? The one that was about to take you outta this world and into the next?” She stirred madly.
“Liv said it was called a Vex, and it was summoned by someone powerful.”
“And Dark. Someone who doesn't want you and your friends pokin’ around in those Tunnels.”
“Who would want to keep us out of the Tunnels? Sarafine and Hunting? Why?”
Amma slammed the bowl on the counter. “Why? Why are you always askin’ so many questions about things that are none a your concern? I reckon it's my fault. I let you run me ragged with those questions when you weren't tall enough to see over this counter.” She shook her head. “But this is a fool's game. There can't be a winner.”
Great. More riddles. “Amma, what are you talking about?”
She pointed her finger at me again, the same way she had last night. “You've got no business in the Tunnels, you hear me? Lena's havin’ a hard time and I'm ten kinds a sorry, but she's got to figure all this out for herself. There's nothin’ you can do. So you stay out a those Tunnels. There are worse things down there than Vexes.” Amma turned back to her pie, pouring the filling from the bowl into a pie shell. The conversation was over. “You go on to work now, and keep your feet aboveground.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
I didn't like lying to Amma, but technically I wasn't. At least, that's what I told myself. I was going to work. Right after I stopped by Ravenwood. After last night, there was nothing left to say, and everything.
I needed answers. How long had she been lying to me and sneaking around behind my back? Since the funeral, the first time I saw them together? Or the day she took the picture of his motorcycle in the graveyard? Were we talking about months or weeks or days? To a guy, those distinctions mattered. Until I knew, it would gnaw away at me and what little pride I had left.
Because here's the thing: I heard her, inside and out. She'd said the words, and I saw her with John. I don't want you here, Ethan. It was over. The one thing I never thought we'd be.
I pulled up in front of Ravenwood's twisted iron gates and turned off the engine. I sat in the car with the windows rolled up, even though it was already sweltering outside. The heat would be suffocating in a minute or two, but I couldn't move. I closed my eyes, listening to the cicadas. If I didn't get out of the car, I wouldn't have to know. I didn't have to drive through those gates at all. The key was still in the ignition. I could turn it and drive back to the library.
Then none of this would be happening.
I turned the key, and the radio came on. It wasn't on when I turned the car off. The Volvo's reception wasn't much better than the Beater's, but I heard something buried in the static.
Seventeen moons, seventeen spheres,
The moon before her time appears,
Hearts will go and stars will follow,
One is broken, One is hollow …
The engine died, and the music with it. I didn't understand the part about the moon, except that it was coming, which I already knew. And I didn't need the song to tell me which one of us was gone.
When I finally opened the car door, the stifling Carolina heat seemed cool by comparison. The gates creaked as I slipped inside. The closer I got to the house, the sorrier it looked now that Macon was gone. It was worse than the last time I was here.
I walked up the steps of the veranda, listening to each board creak under my feet. The house probably looked as bad as the garden, but I couldn't see it. Everywhere I looked, the only thing I saw was Lena. Trying to convince me to go home the first night I met Macon, sitting on the steps in her orange prison jumpsuit the week before her birthday. Part of me wanted to walk the path out to Greenbrier, to Genevieve's grave, so I could remember Lena huddled up next to me with an old Latin dictionary while we tried to make sense of The Book of Moons.
But those were all ghosts now.