The Mortal Heart

Suddenly, she wanted to know everything he knew—about the Lux and about anything else he might have seen from his seat in the back of the class.

He drew a pale bare hand out of his jacket pocket. “I’m Macon. Macon Ravenwood.”

She took his hand. It was freezing cold, colder than the night around them, which made no sense, considering it had been in his pocket. “What a grand old Southern name you have, Macon.”

He didn’t smile. “You have no idea. But there’s an all-night coffee shop a few blocks from here, if you have a craving for… research. We could call a cab.”

“Let’s walk. It’s not that cold, and I’ve never been afraid of the dark.”

He raised an eyebrow.

When she finally pulled her tingling hand away from his, she slid it back into her giant pocket with all the other things that couldn’t be explained, and followed Macon into the darkness of Chapel Drive.

Twenty minutes later, in a vinyl booth at the back of a nameless diner, Lila Jane Evers and Macon Ravenwood argued about history and syntax and Latin and Greek, over an old book and nearly as ancient coffee.

They didn’t notice the time until the sun came up again—but by then, even the least perceptive busboy could tell it was too late for both of them.

Lila Jane Evers and Macon Ravenwood were in love.





III. Brotherly Love


Just after dawn, Macon made his way to the Outer Door behind the Perkins Library, which led into the Caster Tunnels—the magical labyrinth of passageways that ran below the Mortal world. He quickly double-checked the surrounding area, but as usual, there was no one. Mortals rarely wandered around behind the library at this hour and even when they did, they never paid attention to what was happening around them.

Except Lila Jane Evers, he thought with a smile. She was easily the smartest and most perceptive Mortal girl he’d ever met. And the most beautiful.

Finally speaking to her, after watching her from the back of the lecture hall more times than he could count, had thrown him off-balance. Jane was no ordinary girl.

But she’s still a Mortal, which makes her off-limits.

Macon slipped through the Doorwell and stepped down into the shadows until his foot found the invisible stair below, as he knew it would. He needed the peace and quiet of his study in the Tunnels to think, and to continue his research. It was the reason he chose to walk instead of Traveling. Materializing whenever and wherever he wanted to go was one of the few perks of being an Incubus—at least if you were born into the Ravenwood line of Blood Incubuses. Maybe one day it would become less disturbing, but Macon found that difficult to imagine.

How long can I avoid it? How much time did he have until the Transition, when his powers and his thirst would be at their strongest?

Months? Weeks?

As he navigated through the damp stone that encased every inch of this particular Tunnel like a tomb, Macon let his mind drift back to Jane. He smiled at the thought of her navy peacoat, which was clearly meant for a man, and the way she seemed indifferent to her own beauty. Intelligence was a different matter.

She actually cares about ideas and opinions. About what people think and why they think it—unlike everyone else in my life.

Macon was still smiling when he opened the door to his study, until he noticed an unexpected—and uninvited—visitor.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” His brother Hunting lounged in Macon’s favorite armchair, with his black boots propped up on Macon’s claw-foot desk. Hunting picked up one of the books from the stack on the desk. “The Incubus and Succubus: Tracing the Roots of Bloodlust?” He tossed the rare book on the floor. “I can’t believe you read this crap. No wonder you’re depressed all the time.”

Macon crossed the room and shoved Hunting’s boots off his desk. “I don’t remember inviting you over or asking for your book recommendations—assuming you’ve learned to read by now.”

Hunting pointed a finger at his brother and winked, his pupil-less black eyes reflecting Macon’s image back at him. “Nice one. You can insult me later. I need a favor.”

Macon wasn’t interested in doing the sorts of favors that appealed to Hunting. “What is it this time? Grand larceny? Armed robbery? Am I getting warm?”

“Nothing quite that fun. Sorry to disappoint you.” Hunting rose and walked over to the mirror above Macon’s sink and admired his long canines. He had already Transitioned, becoming the newest addition to the Ravenwood family of Blood Incubuses. “I need a wingman. Found myself a pretty little Kappa Kappa Gamma debutante. Young and stupid, just the way I like ’em.”

Rage pulsed through Macon’s veins. “How many Mortal women have you bled dry since you Transitioned, Hunting? You tore your own girlfriend apart, for God’s sake.” It was an image burned in Macon’s memory—the sight of what was left of his brother’s Mortal girlfriend, a girl Hunting had loved as much as he was capable of loving anyone. Now Hunting was the equivalent of a supernatural serial killer, stalking Mortal girls with no mercy.