The Mortal Heart

Marian shook her head. “No, Macon—what are you thinking?” She stood up, grabbing Lila Jane by the arm. “Listen to me. You have to stay away from him. Macon Ravenwood is the kind of trouble you know nothing about.”

“Clearly,” Lila Jane said, yanking her arm away. “But it seems like you know all about him. You two had a thing, didn’t you? And now it’s awkward, and I’m in the middle of all of it?” She grabbed her bag. “Don’t let a harmless flirtation like me get in the way.”

“Jane,” Macon began. “Please.”

“It’s not what you think,” Marian said.

But Lila Jane Evers was out the door before either of them could tell her anything worse than what she already thought she knew.





Marian finally found Lila Jane, on the top floor, in the most remote stacks at Perkins, surrounded by a pile of ancient, open books. She had a finger in one book to hold her place, a glove in a second, and a sock in another.

This was her safe space.

Marian sat on the floor next to her best friend and leaned against the wall of books behind them. “Memoirs? What is it with you and memoirs?”

Lila Jane shrugged, closing the book in her lap. “It must be daunting to work out your own story. Lord knows, I never have. And this week wasn’t a step in the right direction.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Mare.”

“As if a stupid boy could ever come between us, Janie,” Marian said. She reached for Lila Jane’s hand, taking it in her own. “But speaking of our own stories… I think it’s time I told you mine.”

“If it’s about Macon Ravenwood, I don’t want to know.” Lila Jane sounded brokenhearted. “I should have known from the name. He sounds like the villain in one of the soap operas my mom watches.”

Marian stifled a laugh. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Men are terrible, and relationships are doomed from the start. I should know better by now. Everything is so much more complicated than it seems. You can’t tell me anything I don’t already know.”

“I’m willing to bet I can,” Marian said calmly. “And Macon Ravenwood isn’t the half of it.” She squeezed Lila Jane’s hand. “But to be clear, we never dated. And after you hear what I have to say, I think you’ll understand why.”

Lila Jane froze. “What’s wrong with him? He’s a criminal, right? Or a serial womanizer? A total creep?”

Marian rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Did you look at the guy? He’s not exactly a frat boy.”

“Thank God.” Lila Jane relaxed. “So what did you want to tell me?”

“Right.” Marian took a breath, staring at her friend as if she couldn’t find the words. “Right.”

Lila Jane would forever remember the sad look in her best friend’s eyes, in that last moment of her blissful ignorance.

“Janie. When I said you couldn’t go out with Macon Ravenwood, it wasn’t because he’s a horrible person. It’s because, well… he’s not a person at all.”

“Excuse me?”

“Macon Ravenwood’s not a Mortal.”

Lila Jane stared at her. What else could she do when her best friend had obviously lost her mind?

Marian stood and held out her hand. “I’ll explain everything, I promise. But first I have to take you to the library.”

“We—we’re in the library,” Lila Jane stammered.

“A different kind of library.” Marian took Lila’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.”





V. The Lunae Libri


Lila Jane stood in the stone Doorwell.

Behind her, worn, uneven rock steps led down into the Tunnels beneath Perkins. In front of her was an ancient door, weathered and grooved by time and the elements.

She shook her head. “How is this here? And how is it possible that I never knew this existed?”

“The great work must inevitably be obscure.” Marian shrugged.

“Except to the very few,” Lila Jane finished. “Don’t you use Henry Miller on me, Mare. I’m the person who pointed you to Tropic of Cancer.” It was true, and Marian smiled, pushing open the door.

“What the hell?”

The stone stairway twisted into another, and then another, and then a fourth, until Lila Jane could no longer track the difference between where they’d come from and where they were going.

“What is this place?” Lila Jane stopped on the step behind Marian.

“I told you,” Marian said. “My library.”

“This is not just a library,” Lila Jane said.

“No. It’s just not your idea of a library,” Marian said. “It’s not much farther now. Come on.”

Marian quickened her pace, and Lila Jane hurried to keep up. As she moved, she tried counting the flickering torches mounted on the mossy, damp walls, but it became impossible after the first few minutes, and she felt like the Tunnel would never end.

Then suddenly it did.