The Mortal Heart

Lila Jane smiled. “Of course not.” She crawled next to her friend, curling against the warm pile of comforters like a kitten.

Marian sighed. “I worked for hours, thinking you two would come up for air and I’d catch you on the way out. But apparently neither one of you requires oxygen.”

“I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

“You have a watch.”

“I lost it.”

“It’s on your wrist,” Marian said, looking at the delicate mother-of-pearl face.

Lila Jane slid off the silvery band. “Now it’s not.” She sat up. “Here, I want you to have it, Mare. I don’t want any more time to pass. I want it to always and only be tonight.”

“Janie,” Marian said. The word was a warning.

But Lila Jane shook her head. “Don’t. Just let me do this. I have to. I know my life could be headed into a great big disaster. But it’s my disaster.” She smiled. “It’s the greatest disaster of my life.” She looked over at Marian. “Even if it’s my last.”

“Your last disaster? I think we both know that’s not likely, though appropriately melodramatic.” Marian let Jane strap the watch onto her wrist.

“I’m in love.”

“Clearly.”

“But he’s an Incubus. Practically a mythological creature. Except, of course, he’s real.” Lila Jane shook her head in disbelief. “Which makes no sense whatsoever.”

“He’s a Dark creature, Lila.”

“Lila? I’m suddenly Lila now?” Lila Jane looked taken aback.

“Janie. I don’t know what Macon told you, but his very nature is darkness. He can’t be with you. You’re a Mortal. You are literally anathema to each other. Fire and water. Madness and reason. Death and life.”

“Who’s being dramatic now?”

“I want you to be happy, Janie.”

“I know, Mare.”

“But you can’t. Not like this. Not with him.”

“You’re the one who showed me the way into his world through Caster Tunnels, and now you just expect to take it all away again?”

“I wanted you to know the truth, and I wanted you to decide for yourself.”

“So let me. But give me more than a few hours to try to understand what’s going on. My whole concept of the universe just imploded. How am I supposed to know how I feel about things that I didn’t even know existed yesterday?”

“It’s tomorrow I’m worried about,” Marian said. “You don’t know what Macon can be like. You don’t know him at all—him or his world. You don’t know anything.”

“I don’t. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? How can I walk away when I don’t know what I’m leaving?” Lila Jane’s voice rose.

Marian bristled. “How can you stay when you don’t know what you’re risking?”

Lila Jane didn’t answer.

They lay next to each other in silence. There was nothing more to say.





VI. Sins of the Father


Macon spent every spare moment with Lila Jane. Whether it was researching side by side in the Caster Library, walking her to class, or stealing a kiss, he wanted every single memory burned into his dark heart.

Because she won’t be mine forever, he thought as he walked through the Tunnels to meet the one person he despised more than anyone else in the world—his own father.

Silas Ravenwood.

Macon was surprised it had taken almost a week for Silas to summon him. Maybe Hunting’s killing spree had distracted him, and his brother hadn’t gotten around to ratting him out until now.

Maybe Silas had been on a killing spree of his own. Or maybe my father wanted me to fall deeper in love with Jane before he crushes my dream of a life with her.

Torture and torment were Silas’ specialties. Macon’s father savored the misery of an innocent even more than Hunting savored draining the blood from an entire dressing room of chorus girls.

Macon opened the Outer Door that led into the study inside Ravenwood Manor. The house was located in Gatlin, South Carolina, a nothing of a town his family had mistakenly founded on their way to somewhere better. But no one had lived here for quite some time. White sheets covered the furniture, and dust glittered in the air. He wasn’t surprised this place was deserted.

Something moved in the corner of the room, underneath the sheet covering a grand piano.

A black dog—which looked more wolf than dog—raised its head.

So my father found himself a Caster dog. Of course.

Macon almost laughed. Silas hated animals. But he loved to spy—the unrivaled perk of watching the world through two pairs of eyes—your own and a Caster animal’s.

“You can come out now, Father,” Macon called.

Delicate smoke rings from Silas’ Barbadian cigar entered the room before he did. “As if I’d bother to hide from you.” Dressed in an expensive check dress shirt, rolled at the sleeves, and perfectly tailored Italian slacks, his father looked more like a member of the Mafia than a Dark creature from a race of Supernaturals.

Silas flicked his ash on the floor next to the wolf-dog, and the beast growled.