by Garcia, Kami
"She's not, but I think I can find her."
Aunt Del smoothed her rumpled skirt. "Then I can help you."
Link scratched his head. He had met Aunt Del, but he'd never seen a demonstration of her gifts as a Palimpsest. It was clear he couldn't see how a scattered old woman was going to help us. After spending a dark night with her at Genevieve Duchannes' grave, I knew better.
I struck the heavy iron knocker against the door. Aunt Caroline opened the door, wiping her hands on her G.R.I.T.S. apron. Girls Raised in the South. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Ethan, whateva are you doin' here? I didn't know you were goin' to be in Savannah."
I hadn't thought far enough ahead to come up with a good lie, so I had to settle for a bad one. "I'm in town visiting ... a friend."
"Where's Lena?"
"She couldn't make it." I stepped away from the door so I could distract her with introductions. "You know Link, and this is Liv and Lena's Aunt Delphine." I was sure the first thing Aunt Caroline would do after I left was call my dad to say how nice it had been to see me. So much for keeping my whereabouts a secret from Amma and living to see my seventeenth birthday.
"Nice to see you again, ma'am." I could always count on Link to be a good old boy when I needed him to be. I tried to think of someone in Savannah my aunt wouldn't know, as if that was possible. Savannah was bigger than Gatlin, but all Southern towns are the same. Everyone knows each other.
Aunt Caroline ushered us all inside. In a matter of seconds, she disappeared and reappeared with sweet tea and a plate of Benne Babies, maple cookies that were even sweeter than the tea. "Today has been the strangest day."
"What do you mean?" I reached for a cookie.
"This mornin' when I was at the museum, someone broke into the house, but that's not even the oddest part. They didn't take a thing. Ransacked the entire attic and didn't even touch the rest of the house."
I glanced at Liv. There were no coincidences. Aunt Del might have been thinking the same thing, too, but it was hard to tell. She was looking a little woozy, like she was having trouble sorting through all the different things that had happened in this room since the house was built in 1820. She was probably flashing through two hundred years all at once while we sat here eating cookies. I remembered what she said about her gift the night in the graveyard with Genevieve. Palimpsestry was a great honor and an even greater burden.
I wondered what Aunt Caroline could possibly have that was worth stealing. "What's in the attic?"
"Nothing, really. Christmas ornaments, some architectural plans for the house, some of your mother's old papers." Liv nudged my foot underneath the table. I was thinking the same thing. Why weren't they in the archive?
"What sort of papers?"
Aunt Caroline put out some more cookies. Link was eating them faster than she could serve them. "I'm not really sure. A month or so before she died, your mother asked me if she could store a few boxes here. You know your mother with her files."
"Do you mind if I take a look? I'm working at the library this summer with Aunt Marian, and she may be interested in some of them." I tried to sound casual.
"Be my guest, but it's a mess up there." She picked up the empty plate. "I have a few calls to make, and I still have to finish filin' the police report. But I'll be down here if you need me."
Aunt Caroline was right; the attic was a mess. Clothes and papers were strewn everywhere. Someone must have dumped the contents of every box up there into one gigantic pile. Liv picked up a few stray papers.
"How the --" Link looked at Aunt Del, embarrassed. "I mean, how the heck are we gonna find anything in here? What are we even lookin' for?" He kicked an empty box across the floor.
"Anything that could've been my mom's. Someone was looking for something up here." Everyone dove into a different part of the pile.
Aunt Del found a hatbox full of Civil War shell casings and round balls. "There used to be a lovely hat in here."
I picked up my mom's old high school yearbook and a field guide to the battlefield at Gettysburg. I noticed how worn the field guide was, compared to her yearbook. That was my mom.
Liv knelt over a stack of papers. "I think I found something. I mean, it seems these belonged to your mother, but they're nothing, really -- old sketches of Ravenwood Manor and some notes on Gatlin's history."
Anything that had to do with Ravenwood was something. She handed me the notes and I flipped through the pages. Gatlin Civil War registries, yellowed sketches of Ravenwood Manor and the older buildings in town -- the Historical Society, the old firehouse, even our house, Wate's Landing. But none of it seemed to amount to anything.
"Here, kitty kitty. Hey, I found a friend for ..." Link lifted up a cat preserved by the Southern art of taxidermy, then dropped it when he realized it was a stuffed dead cat with mangy black fur. "Lucille."
"There has to be something else. Whoever was here wasn't looking for Civil War registries."
"Maybe they found what they came for." Liv shrugged.
I looked at Aunt Del. "There's only one way to find out."
A few minutes later, we were all sitting cross-legged on the floor, like we were in a campfire circle. Or a seance. "I'm really not sure this is a good idea."
"It's the only way to find out who broke in here, and why."
Aunt Del nodded, barely convinced. "All right. Remember, if you feel sick, put your head between your knees. Now join hands."
Link looked at me. "What's she talkin' about? Why would we feel sick?"
I grabbed Liv's hand, completing the circle. It was soft and warm in mine. But before I could think about the fact that we were holding hands, images started to flash before my eyes --
One after the next, opening and closing like doors. Each image cued the next, like dominoes, or one of those flip-books I read as a kid.
Lena, Ridley, and John dumping out boxes in the attic
...
"It has to be here. Keep looking." John tosses old books onto the floor.
"How can you be so sure?" Lena reaches inside another box, her hand covered in black designs.
"She knew how to find it, without the star."
Another door opened. Aunt Caroline, dragging boxes across the attic floor. She kneels in front of a box, holding an old photo of my mother, and runs her hand over the picture, sobbing.
And another. My mother, her hair hanging over her shoulder, held back by her red reading glasses. I could see her as clearly as if she was standing right in front of me. She scribbles madly in a weathered leather journal, then rips out the page, folds it, and slides it into an envelope. She scrawls something across the front of the envelope and slips it into the back of the journal. Then she pushes an old trunk away from the wall. Behind the trunk, she pulls a loose board free from the wainscoting. She looks around, as if she senses someone might be watching, and slides the journal into the narrow opening.
Aunt Del let go of my hand.
"Holy crap!" Link was way beyond remembering his manners in front of a lady. He was green, and stuck his head between his knees immediately, like he was coming in for a crash landing. I hadn't seen him like that since the day after Savannah Snow dared him to drink an old bottle of peppermint schnapps.
"I'm so sorry. I know it's difficult to acclimate after a trip." Aunt Del patted Link's back. "You're doing fine for your first time."
I didn't have time to think about everything I'd seen. So I focused on one thing: She knew how to find it, without the star. John was talking about the Great Barrier. He thought my mom knew something about it, something she may have written in her journal. Liv and I must have been thinking the same thing, because we touched the old trunk at the same time.
"It's heavy. Be careful." I started to pull it away from the wall. It felt like someone had filled it with bricks.
Liv reached for the wall, working the board free. But she didn't reach into the opening. I put my hand inside and immediately touched the battered leather. I pulle
d out the journal, feeling the weight of it in my hand. It was a piece of my mother. I flipped to the back. My mother's delicate handwriting stared back at me from the front of the envelope.
Macon
I ripped it open, unfolding the single sheet.
If you're reading this, it means I wasn't able to get to you in time to tell you myself. Things are much worse than any of us could have imagined. It may already be too late. But if there is a chance, you are the only one who will know how to prevent our worst fears from becoming reality.
Abraham is alive. He's been in hiding. And he's not alone. Sarafine is with him, as devoted a disciple as your father.
You have to stop them before we all run out of time.
- LJ
My eyes dragged across the bottom of the page. LJ. Lila Jane. I noticed something else -- the date. I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. March 21st. A month before my mother's accident. Before she was murdered.
Liv stepped away, sensing she was witnessing something private and painful. I flipped through the pages of the journal, looking for answers. There was another copy of the Ravenwood Family Tree. I'd seen it before in the archive, but this one looked different. Some of the names were crossed out.
As I turned the pages, a loose paper slipped out and floated to the floor. I picked it up, unfolding the fragile sheet. It was vellum, thin and slightly transparent, like tracing paper. There were strange shapes penned on one side. Misshapen ovals, with dips and rises, as if a child were drawing clouds. I turned to Liv, holding the vellum open so she could see the shapes. She shook her head without a word. Neither one of us knew what it meant.
I folded the delicate paper and replaced it in the journal, skipping ahead to the end. I turned to the last page. There was something else that didn't make any sense, at least not to me.
In Luce Caecae Caligines sunt,
Et in Caliginibus, Lux.
In Arcu imperium est,
Et in imperio, Nox.
Instinctively, I ripped out the page and shoved it in my pocket. My mother was dead because of the letter, and possibly what was written on these pages. They belonged with me now.
"Ethan, are you all right?" Aunt Del's voice was full of concern.
I was so far from right I couldn't remember what it felt like. I had to get out of this room, away from my mom's past, out of my head.
"Be right back." I bolted down the stairs to the guest room and lay on the bed in my dirty clothes. I stared at the ceiling, painted sky blue, just like the one in my bedroom. Stupid bees. The joke was on them, and they didn't even know.
Or maybe on me.
I was numb, the way you get when you try to feel everything at once. I might as well have been Aunt Del walking into this old house.
Abraham Ravenwood wasn't a piece of the past. He was alive, hiding in the shadows with Sarafine. My mother had known, and Sarafine had killed her because of it.
My eyes were blurry. I wiped them, expecting tears, but there was nothing there. I squeezed my eyes shut, but when I opened them all I could see were colors and lights flashing by me, as if I was running. I saw bits and pieces -- a wall, dented silver trash cans, cigarette butts. Whatever I'd experienced when I was staring into my bathroom mirror was happening again. I tried to get up, but I was too dizzy. The pieces kept flying by, finally slowing so my mind could catch up.
I was in a room, a bedroom, maybe. It was hard to tell from where I was standing. The floor was gray concrete, and the white walls were covered in the same black designs I had seen on Lena's hands. As I looked at them, they seemed to move.
I scanned the room. She had to be here somewhere.
"I feel so different from everyone else, even other Casters." It was Lena's voice. I looked up, following the sound.
They were above me, lying on the black-painted ceiling. Lena and John were head to head, talking back and forth without looking at each other. They were staring at the floor the way I stared at my ceiling at night, when I couldn't fall asleep. Lena's hair fell around her shoulders, flat against the ceiling as if she was lying on the floor.
It would seem impossible, if I hadn't already seen it. Only this time, she wasn't the only one on the ceiling. And I wasn't there to pull her back down.
"No one can explain my powers to me, not even my family. Because they don't know." She sounded miserable and far away. "And every day I wake up, and I can do things I couldn't the day before."
"It's the same for me. One day I woke up and thought about somewhere I wanted to go, and a second later I was there." John was tossing something up in the air and catching it, over and over. Except he was tossing it toward the floor instead of the ceiling.
"Are you saying that you didn't know you could Travel?"
"Not until I did it." He closed his eyes, but he didn't stop tossing the ball.
"What about your parents? Did they know?"
"I never knew my parents. They took off when I was little. Even Supernaturals know a freak when they see one." If he was lying, I couldn't tell. His voice was bitter and hurt, which sounded genuine to me.
Lena rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow so she could see him. "I'm sorry. That must have been awful. At least I had my gramma to take care of me." She looked at the ball and it froze in midair. "Now I don't have anyone."
The ball dropped to the floor. It bounced a few times and rolled under the bed. John turned to look at her. "You have Ridley. And me."
"Trust me, once you get to know me, you won't be able to get away fast enough."
They were only inches apart now. "You're wrong. I know what it's like to feel alone even when you're with other people."
She didn't say anything. Is that what it was like when she was with me? Did she feel alone even when we were together? When she was in my arms?
"L?" I felt sick when he said it. "When we get to the Great Barrier, it's gonna be different, I promise."
"Most people say it doesn't exist."
"That's because they don't know how to find it. You can only get there through the Tunnels. I'm going to take you there." He lifted her chin so she could see into his eyes. "I know you're scared. But you have me, if you want me."
Lena looked away, wiping one of her eyes with the back of her hand. I could see the black designs, which looked darker now. Less like Sharpie and more like Ridley's and John's tattoos. She was staring right at me, but she couldn't see me. "I have to make sure I can't hurt anyone else. It doesn't matter what I want."
"It matters to me." John ran his thumb under her eye, catching her tears, leaning closer to her. "You can trust me. I'd never hurt you." He pulled her to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.
Can I?
I couldn't hear anything else, and it became harder to see her, like I was zooming out somehow. I blinked hard, trying to stay focused, but when I opened my eyes again, all I could see was the swirling blue ceiling. I turned on my side, facing the wall.
I was back in Aunt Caroline's room, and they were gone. Together, wherever they were.
Lena was moving on. She was opening up to John, and he was reaching a part of her I thought was gone. Maybe I was never meant to reach it.
Macon had lived in the Dark, and my mom in the Light.
Maybe we weren't meant to find a way that Mortals and Casters could be together, because we weren't meant to be.
Someone knocked on the door, even though it was open. "Ethan? Are you okay?" Liv. Her footsteps were quiet, but I could hear them. I didn't move.
The edge of the bed sank a little when she sat down. I felt her hand as she rubbed the back of my head. It was soothing and familiar, as if she'd done it a thousand times. That was the thing about Liv -- it was like I'd known her forever. She always seemed to sense what I needed, as if she knew things I didn't even know about myself.
"Ethan, it's going to be okay. We'll figure out what it all means, I promise." I knew she meant it.
I rolled over. The sun had set, and the room wa
s dark. I hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. But I could make out her silhouette as she stared down at me.
"I thought you weren't supposed to get involved."
"I'm not. It's the first thing Professor Ashcroft taught me." She paused. "But I can't help it."
"I know."
We stared at each other in the darkness, her hand resting against my jaw, where it had fallen when I rolled over. But I was really seeing her, the possibility of her, for the first time. I felt something. There was no denying it, and Liv felt it, too. I could tell every time she looked at me.
Liv slid down and curled up against me, leaning her head on my shoulder.
My mom found a way to move on after Macon. She had fallen in love with my dad, which seemed to prove you could lose the love of your life and fall in love all over again.
Didn't it?
I heard a quiet whisper, not from inside my heart but a breath away from my ear. Liv leaned closer. "You'll figure this out, like everything else. Besides, you have something most Waywards don't have."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"An excellent Keeper."
I slid my hand to the back of Liv's neck. Honeysuckle and soap -- that's what she smelled like.
"Is that why you came? Because I needed a Keeper?"
She didn't answer right away. I could sense her trying to work it out in her mind. How much she should say, what she should risk. I knew that's what she was doing, because I was doing the same thing.
"It's not the only reason, but it should be."
"Because you aren't supposed to get involved?"
I could feel her heart beating against my chest. She fit under my shoulder perfectly.
"Because I don't want to get hurt." She was scared, but not of Dark Casters or mutant Incubuses or golden eyes. She was afraid of something simpler but equally dangerous. Smaller but infinitely more powerful.
I pulled her closer. "Me neither." Because I was afraid of it, too.
We didn't say anything else. I held her close, and I thought about all the ways a person could get hurt. The ways I could hurt her and hurt myself. Those two things were intertwined somehow. It's hard to explain, but when you were as closed off as I was the past few months, opening up felt about as wrong as stripping naked in church.
