Aunt Del paused on the stairwell and motioned to me to pass. She knew we were nearly out of time. I ducked my head under the hanging moss and smelled the dank air as I made my way up the stone steps. I climbed out of the tunnel, but when I got to the top, I froze. I could see the crypt’s stone table, where The Book of Moons had lain for so many years.
And I knew it was the same table, because the Book was lying on it now.
The same book that was missing from my closet shelf this morning. I had no idea how it had gotten there, but there was no time to ask. I could hear the fire before I saw it.
Fire is loud, full of rage and chaos and destruction. And fire was all around me. The smoke in the air was so thick, I was choking on it. The heat was singeing the hair right off my arms. It was like a vision from the locket, or worse, like the last of my nightmares—the one where Lena was consumed by fire.
The feeling that I was losing her. It was happening.
Lena, where are you?
Help Uncle Macon.
Her voice was dimming. I waved the smoke away so I could see my cell.
11:53. Seven minutes to midnight. We were out of time.
Gramma grabbed my hand. “Don’t just stand there. We need Macon.”
Gramma and I ran, hand in hand, out into the fire. The long row of willows that framed the archway leading into the graveyard and the gardens was burning. The brush, the scrub oaks, the palmettos, the rosemary, the lemon trees—everything was on fire. I could hear the last few canisters in the distance. Honey Hill was wrapping up, and I knew the reenactors would be on to the fireworks soon, as if the fireworks in the Safe Zone could in any way compare to the fireworks going on out here. The whole garden as well as the clearing was burning, surrounding the crypt.
Gramma and I stumbled through the smoke until we neared the burning oaks, and I found Macon lying where we had left him. Gramma leaned over him and touched his cheek with her hand. “He’s weak, but he’ll be all right.” At the same moment, Boo Radley rolled over and jumped up onto all fours. He slunk over and lay down on his belly next to his master.
Macon struggled to turn his head toward Gramma. His voice was barely a whisper. “Where’s Lena?”
“Ethan’s going to find her. You rest. I’m going to help Mrs. Lincoln.”
Link was by his mom’s side and Gramma hustled in their direction without another word. I stood up, scanning the fires for Lena. I couldn’t see any of them, anywhere. Not Hunting, Larkin, Sarafine—anyone.
I’m up here. On top of the crypt. But I think I’m stuck.
Hold on, L. I’m coming.
I made my way back through the flames, trying to stick to the pathways I remembered from being in Greenbrier with Lena. The closer I got to the crypt, the hotter the flames were. My skin felt like it was peeling off, but I knew it was actually burning.
I climbed on top of an unmarked gravestone, found a foothold in the crumbling stone wall, and pulled myself up as far as I could. On top of the crypt was a statue, some kind of angel, with part of her body broken off. I grabbed onto its—I don’t know what, it felt something like an ankle—and pulled myself over the edge.
Hurry, Ethan! I need you.
That’s when I found myself face to face with Sarafine.
Who plunged a knife into my stomach.
A real knife, into my real stomach.
The end of the dream we had never been allowed to see. Only this part wasn’t a dream. I know, because it was my stomach, and I felt every inch of the blade.
Surprised, Ethan? You think Lena’s the only Caster on this channel?
Sarafine’s voice began to fade.
Let her try to stay Light now.
As I drifted away, all I could think was if you stuck me in a Confederate uniform, I’d be Ethan Carter Wate. Even down to the same stomach wound, with the same locket in my pocket. Even if all I had ever deserted was the Jackson High basketball team, rather than Lee’s army.
Dreaming about a Caster girl I would always love. Just like the other Ethan.
Ethan! No!
No! No! No!
One minute I was screaming, the next, the sound was stuck in my throat.
I remember Ethan falling. I remember my mother smiling. The glint of the knife, and the blood.
Ethan’s blood.
This couldn’t be happening.
Nothing moved, nothing. Everything was frozen perfectly in place, like a scene in a wax museum. The billows of smoke remained billows. They were fluffy and gray, but they went nowhere, neither up nor down. They just hung in the air as if they were made of cardboard, part of a backdrop in a play. The tongues of flame were still transparent, still hot, but they consumed nothing and made no sound. Even the air didn’t move. Everything was exactly as it had been a second before.
Gramma was hunched over Mrs. Lincoln, about to touch her cheek, her hand hanging in the air. Link was holding his mother’s hand, kneeling in the mud like a scared little boy. Aunt Del and Marian were crouched on the lower steps of the crypt passageway, shielding their faces from the smoke.
Uncle Macon lay on the ground, Boo crouching next to him. Hunting was leaning against a tree a few feet away, admiring his handiwork. Larkin’s leather coat was on fire and he was facing the wrong direction, halfway down the road toward Ravenwood. Predictably running from, rather than toward, the action.
And Sarafine. My mother held a carved dagger, an ancient Dark thing, high above her head. Her face was feverish with fury and fire and hate. The blade still dripped blood over Ethan’s lifeless body. Even the drops of blood were frozen in the air.
Ethan’s arm was stretched out, over the edge of the crypt roof. It hung, dangling, down toward the graveyard below.
Like our dream, but in reverse.
I hadn’t fallen through his arms. He was ripped from mine.
Below the crypt, I reached up, pushing aside flame and smoke, until my fingers interlocked with Ethan’s. I was standing on my toes, but I could barely reach him.
Ethan, I love you. Don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.
If there was moonlight, I could have seen his face. But there was no moon, not now, and the only light came from the fire, still frozen, surrounding me on every side. The sky was empty, absolutely black. There was nothing. I had lost everything tonight.
I sobbed until I couldn’t breathe and my fingers slipped through his, knowing I would never feel those fingers in my hair again.
Ethan.
I wanted to scream out his name even though no one would hear me, but I didn’t have a scream left in me. I had nothing left, except those words. I remembered the words from the visions. I remembered every one of them.
Blood of my heart.
Life of my life.
Body of my body.
Soul of my soul.
“Don’t do this, Lena Duchannes. Don’t you mess with that Book a Moons and start this darkness all over again.” I opened my eyes. Amma stood next to me, in the fire. The world around us was still frozen.
I looked at Amma. “Did the Greats do this?”
“No, child. This is your doin’. The Greats just helped me come along.”
“How could I have done this?”
She sat down next to me, in the dirt. “You still don’t know what you’re capable of, do you? Melchiz-edek was right about that, at least.”
“Amma, what are you talking about?”
“I always told Ethan he might pick a hole in the sky one day. But I reckon you’re the one who did that.”
I tried to wipe the tears off my face, but more just kept coming. When they reached my lips, I could taste the soot in my mouth. “Am I—Am I Dark?”
“Not yet, not now.”
“Am I Light?”
“No. Can’t say you’re that, either.”
I looked up in the sky. The smoke covered everything—the trees, the sky, and where there should have been a moon and stars, there was only a thick black blanket of nothing. Ash and fire and smoke and nothing.
“Amma.”
“Yes?”
“Where’s the moon?”
“Well if you don’t know, child, I sure don’t. One minute I was lookin’ up at your Sixteenth Moon. And you were standin’ under it, starin’ up at the stars like only God in Heaven could help you, palms raised like you was holdin’ up the sky. Then, nothin’. Just this.”
“What about the Claiming?”
She paused, considering. “Well, I don’t know what happens when there’s no Moon on your birthday on the Sixteenth Year, at midnight. It’s never happened before, far as I know. Seems to me there can’t be a Claimin’, if there’s no Sixteenth Moon.”
I should have felt relief, joy, confusion. But all I could feel was pain. “Is it over, then?”
“Don’t know.” She held out her hand and pulled me up, until we were both standing. Her hand was warm and strong, and I felt clear-headed. Like we both knew what I was going to do. Just as, I suspect, Ivy had known what Genevieve would do, on this spot, more than a hundred years ago.
As we opened the cracked cover of the Book, I knew immediately which page to turn to, as if I had known all along.
“You know it’s not natural. And you know there’s bound to be consequences.”
“I know.”
“And you know there’s no guarantee it’ll work. It didn’t turn out so well the last time. But I can tell you this: I’ve got my great-great-aunt Ivy downtown with the Greats, and they’ll help us if they can.”
“Amma. Please. I don’t have a choice.”
She looked into my eyes. Finally, she nodded. “I know there’s nothin’ I can say that’ll keep you from doin’ it. Because you love my boy. And because I love my boy, I’m goin’ to help you.”
I looked at her and I understood. “Which is why you brought The Book of Moons here tonight.”
Amma nodded, slowly. She reached toward my neck with her hand, and pulled the necklace holding the ring out from inside Ethan’s Jackson High sweatshirt, which I still was wearing. “This was Lila’s ring. He had to love you somethin’ fierce to give it to you.”
Ethan, I love you.
“Love is a powerful thing, Lena Duchannes. A mother’s love, that’s not somethin’ to be trifled with. Seems to me, Lila’s been tryin’ to help out, as best she could.”
She ripped the ring off my neck. Where the chain broke, I could feel a mark, cutting into my skin. She slipped the ring on my middle finger. “Lila would’ve liked you. You have the one thing Genevieve never had when she used the Book. The love a two families.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the cool metal against my skin. “I hope you’re right.”
“Wait.” Amma reached down and pulled Genevieve’s locket, still wrapped in her family handkerchief, out of Ethan’s pocket. “Just to remind everyone that you’ve already got the curse.” She sighed uneasily. “Don’t want to be tried twice for the same crime.”
She laid the locket on the Book. “This time we make it right.”
Then she took the well-worn charm off her own neck, and laid it on the Book, next to the locket. The small gold disc looked almost like a coin, the image faded with wear and time. “To remind everyone, if they’re messin’ with my boy, they’re messin’ with me.”