by Kami Garcia
“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.
Marian pushed with two hands on a heavy stone door, murmuring a few words of Latin that Lila Jane couldn’t make out. The rock disappeared beneath her touch. “What just—?”
“Save that thought, Janie,” Marian said, taking her friend by both shoulders. “Because things are about to get even crazier.” She pushed Lila Jane through the door. The moment Lila Jane stepped into the room, she knew Marian was right. They entered what appeared to be the central hub of the space, a large vaulted chamber that seemed utterly without end. Lila Jane stopped, stunned. “It’s incredible.” She reached out and touched the closest row of books, but Marian grabbed her arm.
“And powerful. Only a Caster can touch these books.”
“A what?” Lila Jane stared at her friend. “As in—”
“As in spell caster,” Marian said slowly.
Lila Jane stared wide-eyed at the surrounding stacks, speechless.
Marian tried again. “As in a race of gifted Supernaturals who can and always have been able to bend Mortal existence to their will—in different ways, depending on their different powers.”
Lila Jane put her hand down on the counter behind her for support—but accidentally touched the edge of a stray piece of parchment, sending sparks flying. “Ouch.”
“Careful—” Marian grabbed her friend by the arm.
“Macon’s spell book,” Lila Jane finally said. “It really is a spell book.” She shook her burning fingers. “I didn’t believe it.”
“A book of Casts? Possibly. Yes.” Marian hesitated. “I know there’s a lot to explain, so just trust me on this. If you touch anything in this library, you’ll burn your hands off.”
“Mare. You forget who you’re talking to.” Lila Jane pulled her beloved white archival gloves from her bag and waved them at her friend. “Not a problem.”
Marian smiled. “Of course.”
Lila Jane pulled out the nearest book, holding it carefully in her gloved fingers. “Castere Compoundes of Alchemies Elementaus? Is this for real?”
“It depends,” Marian said, looking over Lila’s shoulder.
“On what?”
“On whether or not you really want to know the answer to that question.” Marian looked at Lila Jane. “Or the answer to exactly what sort of Supernatural your beloved Macon Ravenwood is.”
“So there are different sorts, now?” Lila Jane looked overwhelmed.
Marian kept going. “Or the answer to where I go when I’m not at home at night.”
Lila Jane nodded, keeping her expression remarkably composed. “What if I do?”
Marian looked at her. “Are you sure? Because there’s no going back.”
Lila Jane nodded, moving down the aisle. The stacks appeared to spread in radial spokes, branching through the massive underground cavern in every possible direction. “It seems to me we came to the no-going-back place the moment you made the stone door abracadabra away.” She pulled out a thick parchment scroll, examining it every bit as thoroughly as if she were in the rare books reading room.
Marian shook her head. “These aren’t small decisions, Janie. These are the moments that shape a life, even a destiny. The first time I saw this place, I couldn’t eat for a week. Everything I’d ever understood about the world was fundamentally and forever changed.”
Lila Jane replaced the scroll and looked up at her friend. “But that’s the thing you don’t understand, Mare. My world already changed. It changed the day I met Macon Ravenwood. And if this is a part of his world, then last Sunday it became a part of mine.”
Marian pulled her friend into a fierce hug.
Lila Jane stared at the world beyond Marian’s pale cashmere shoulder, considering the words she’d just spoken.
They seemed real, but it was hard to tell what was real anymore. Especially now, when her entire world had just turned upside down.
“I think I’m going to love him, Mare.” The words sounded odd as they echoed through the vast cavern, as if they surprised even her.
“Then we should talk.” Macon stepped out of the shadows and held out his hand.
Slowly, Lila Jane let go of her friend and took it. He pulled her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing her white-gloved fingers with a smile. As he did, the look in his eyes said more than he could otherwise ever possibly hope to express.
Lila Jane understood it all.
I’ve broken him, she thought. I’ve never seen him look happier and sadder, all a
t the same time.
“What’s this? A kiss on the hand? Surely you can do better than that, my dear Macon Ravenwood,” Lila Jane said, smiling back at him.
“Come here, Jane.”
Marian disappeared before the gloves even came off.
By the time Lila Jane crept back home, it was the middle of the night, though every light in the apartment was on.
Marian sat up on her futon. “Do you have any idea what time it is? I was worried sick about you.” Her futon was full of books, and Lila Jane flopped on top of them.
“You’re the one who left me in the Caster Library,” she said.
“Would you have preferred I stay?” Marian raised an eyebrow.
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.
“It’s funny to see you with a dog,” Macon said. “Since you always refused to let us have one growing up.”
Silas walked over to the stone fireplace. “Pets make children sentimental and weak. Comfort is for prey—and they pay people like me for it with their lives. I did you a favor.” He pointed at the animal across the room with the end of his cigar. “Lucifer is knocked up. If you want a puppy so bad, I’ll give you one.”
Macon shook his head. “Her name is Lucifer? A little on the nose for you, isn’t it?”
Silas shrugged. “Her namesake was misunderstood. Lucifer was just trying to make things better for his kind.”
“You aren’t actually defending the Devil, are you?” Macon held up his hand. “Wait. What am I saying? He’s probably your mentor.”
Silas walked the perimeter of the living room, opening drawers and pocketing anything that appeared the least bit interesting. “From what I hear, you’re the one in need of a mentor.”
Here it comes.
“Your brother told me you’ve been following around a Mortal girl at school,” Silas continued. “And here I thought Hunting was the stalker in the family.”
Macon flinched involuntarily.
“Are you going through the Transition? Is that it? I respect a man who chooses his meals carefully.” Silas smiled. “Especially the pretty ones.”
Macon kept his face unreadable.
Don’t react. Don’t give him that. Don’t let him see how close he’s struck.
He wasn’t about to admit the truth to his father—that he was the prey.
That he craved blood, even dreamed about it. But not Jane’s.
Never Jane’s.
She could stalk me, he thought. She has perfect control of me, at least for now. His father would never understand that, not even in an Incubus’ lifetime. He took a breath.
“She isn’t a meal, Silas,” Macon said carefully. “But she also isn’t someone you need to worry about.” He felt sick talking about Jane this way, but he had to convince his father that she wasn’t important.
Silas crossed the room, stopping only a foot away from Macon. “You don’t tell me what to worry about, bo
y. You have embarrassed me—and this family—for the last time.” He jabbed his finger against Macon’s chest. “Incubuses are at the top of the supernatural hierarchy—kings of the supernatural world. It would be shameful enough if you dragged a Caster home, but chasing a Mortal girl? You’d be better off with Lucifer.”
Macon didn’t mention that Silas had married not one but two Mortal women and fathered children with both of them. His racist manifesto—whether or not he adhered to it himself—had been handed down directly from Silas’ great-great-grandfather Abraham Ravenwood, who believed every word of it.
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Macon lied. “Trust me.”
Silas shoved him against the wall. “I don’t trust you. Not a single bit. And if I wasn’t sure you were going to kill that piece of Mortal trash the minute the Transition hits, I would’ve killed her already.” Silas lit a fresh cigar and winked at Macon. “Then again, there’s still time.”
His father’s laughter was the last sound Macon heard when Silas Ravenwood dematerialized, leaving only the scent of his cigar lingering in the empty room.
Macon’s heart jumped in his chest. His father’s words weren’t a warning—they were a promise. Silas would make sure Lila Jane ended up dead one way or another. But what terrified Macon most was that Silas was confident Macon would end up killing her first.
What if it’s true, and I lose control? I can’t let anything happen to Jane. But how can I protect her from my father and Hunting? From myself?
Macon knew the answer.
He’d known it all along, but knowing it and doing it felt like they were a thousand miles apart.
I have to let her go.
Macon had always wondered if a Ravenwood Blood Incubus like him really had a heart—the kind capable of real love.
But now he knew he did, because it was breaking, one tiny crack at a time.
He held on to the pain. He savored it, the way Silas savored a kill. The pain was real. The pain was his. The pain would never end.
And soon it will be all I have left of her.
“Janie,” he said again. “Please.”
Lila Jane clung desperately to him, her face buried in his chest. The branches of a huge oak reached down around them, creating the impression they were alone instead of a few yards away from clusters of Duke’s ivy-covered buildings.
