Beautiful Darkness

  It was empty. Though Marian always said the Lunae Libri was a place of old magic, neither Dark nor Light, without her the whole library felt pretty Dark.

  “No one’s here.” Link sounded defeated.

  I grabbed a torch off the wall and handed it to him, taking another for myself. “They’re down here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.”

  I plowed ahead into the stacks as if I knew where I was going. The air was thick with the smell of the bent and crumbling spines of old books and ancient scrolls, the dusty oak shelves straining under the weight of hundreds of years and centuries of words. I held my torch up to the nearest shelf. “Toes: to Caste Hair on Your Maiden’s. Tongues for Binding and Casting. Toffee: Casts Hidden Inside. We must be in the T’s.”

  “Destruction of Mortal Life, Total. That should be in the D’s.” Link reached for the book.

  “Don’t touch that. It’ll burn your hand.” I had learned the hard way, from The Book of Moons.

  “Shouldn’t we at least hide it or something? Behind the Toffee one?” Link had a point.

  We hadn’t gone ten feet when I heard a laugh. A girl’s laugh, unmistakable, echoing off the carved ceilings. “You hear that?”

  “What?” Link waved his torch, almost setting the nearest pile of scrolls on fire.

  “Watch it. There’s no fire escape down here.”

  We reached a crossroads in the stacks. I heard it again, the almost musical laughter. It was beautiful and familiar, and the sound of it made me feel safe, the world I was standing in a little less foreign. “I think it’s a girl laughing.”

  “Maybe it’s Marian. She’s a girl.” I looked at him like he was insane, and he shrugged. “Sort of.”

  “It’s not Marian.” I motioned for him to listen, but the sound was gone. We walked in the direction of the laughter, and the passageway turned until we reached another rotunda, similar to the first.

  “You think it’s Lena and Ridley?”

  “I don’t know. This way.” I could barely follow the sound, but I knew who it was. Part of me always suspected I could find Lena no matter where she was. I couldn’t explain it, I just knew.

  It made sense. If our connection was so strong we could dream the same dreams and speak without speaking, why wouldn’t I be able to sense where she was? It’s like when you drive home from school, or some place you go every day, and you remember leaving the parking lot, then the next thing you know you’re pulling into your driveway and you don’t remember how you got there.

  She was my destination. I was always on the way to Lena, even when I wasn’t. Even when she wasn’t on her way to me.

  “A little farther.”

  The next twist in the passage revealed a corridor covered with ivy. I held up my torch, and a brass lantern lit itself in the middle of the leaves. “Look.” The light from the lantern illuminated the outline of a doorway hidden beneath the vines. I felt along the wall until I found the cold, round iron of the latch. It was in the shape of a crescent. A Caster moon.

  I heard it again, laughter. It had to be Lena. There are some things a guy just knows. I knew L. And I knew my heart wouldn’t lead me astray.

  My chest was pounding. I pushed open the door, heavy and groaning. It opened into a magnificent study. Along the far wall of the study, a girl was lying on an enormous four-poster bed, scribbling in a tiny red notebook.

  “L!”

  She looked up, surprised.

  Only it wasn’t Lena.

  It was Liv.

  6.15

  Wayward Soul

  The first moment hung in the air, silent and awkward. The second erupted into noisy confusion. Link yelled at Liv, who yelled at me, and I yelled at Marian, who waited for us to stop.

  “What are you doin’ here?”

  “Why did you leave me at the fair?”

  “What is she doing here, Aunt Marian?”

  “Come in.” Marian pulled the paneled door open and stepped back to let us pass. The door banged shut behind me, and I heard her bolt the lock. I felt a surge of panic, or claustrophobia, which didn’t make any sense because the room wasn’t small. But it felt close. The air was heavy, and I had the feeling that I was standing someplace very private, like a bedroom. Like the laughter, it felt familiar, even if it wasn’t. Like the face in the stone.

  “Where are we?”

  “One question at a time, EW. I’ll answer one of yours, and you’ll answer one of mine.”

  “What’s Liv doing here?” I don’t know why I was angry, but I was. Could anybody in my life be a normal person? Did everyone have to have a secret life?

  “Sit. Please.” Marian gestured to the circular table in the center of the room.

  Liv looked irritated, and got up from her spot on the bed in front of an impossibly lit fireplace, the smoldering fire white and bright instead of orange and burning.

  “Olivia is here because she is my summer research assistant. Now I have a question for you.”

  “Wait. That’s not a real answer. I already knew that.” I was every bit as stubborn as Marian was. My voice echoed across the chamber, and I noticed an intricate chandelier hanging from the high, vaulted ceiling. It was made of some kind of smooth, white polished horn, or was it bone? The ironwork held long tapered candles that lit the room with a delicate flickering light, illuminating some corners while leaving others dark and unexposed. In the shadows of the far corner, I noticed the spindles of a tall, ebony four-poster bed. I had seen a bed exactly like it somewhere before. Everything about today was one monster déjà vu, and it was driving me crazy.

  Marian sat back in her chair, undeterred. “Ethan, how did you find this place?”

  What could I say with Liv standing next to me? I thought I heard Lena, sensed her? But my instincts led me to Liv instead? I didn’t understand it myself.

  I looked away. Black wooden bookcases ran from floor to ceiling, crammed with books and objects of curiosity that were obviously the personal collection of someone who had been around the world and back more times than I had been to the Stop & Steal. A collection of antique bottles and vials lined one of the shelves, like in an old apothecary. Another was stacked with books. It reminded me of Amma’s room, without the stacks of old newspapers and jars of graveyard dirt. But one book stood out from the others: Darkness and Light: The Origins of Magic.

  I recognized it—and the bed, and the library, and the immaculate arrangement of beautiful things. This room could only belong to one person, who wasn’t even a person. “This was Macon’s room, wasn’t it?”

  “Possibly.”

  Link dropped a strange ceremonial dagger he had been playing with. It clattered to the floor, and he tried to put it back on the shelf, flustered. Dead or not, Macon Ravenwood still scared Link plenty.

  “I’m guessing a Caster Tunnel connects it directly to his bedroom at Ravenwood.” This room was almost a mirror image of his bedroom in Ravenwood, with the exception of the heavy drapes that blocked out the sunlight.

  “It may.”

  “You brought that book down here because you didn’t want me to see it after I had the vision in the archive.”

  Marian answered carefully. “Let’s say you’re right, and this is Macon’s private study, the place where he collected his thoughts. Even so, how did you find us tonight?”

  I kicked the thick Indian rug under my feet. It was black and white, stitched in a complicated pattern. I didn’t want to explain how I found this place. It was confusing. And if I said it, it might be true. But how could it be? How could my instincts lead me to anyone but Lena?

  Then again, if I didn’t tell Marian, I’d probably never get out of this room. So I settled for half of the truth. “I was looking for Lena. She’s down here with Ridley, and her friend John, and I think she’s in trouble. Lena did something today, at the fair—”

  “Let’s just say, Ridley was bein’ Ridley. But Lena was bein’ Ridley, too. The lollipops might be workin’
overtime.” Link was unwrapping a Slim Jim, so he didn’t notice me staring him down. I hadn’t planned on telling Marian or Liv the details.

  “We were in the stacks, and I heard a girl laughing. She sounded—I don’t know—happy, I guess. I followed her here. I mean, her voice. I can’t really explain it.” I stole a glance at Liv. I saw the pink flush in her pale skin. She was staring at a particular spot of nothing on the wall.

  Marian clapped her hands together, the sign of a great discovery. “I’m guessing the laughter was familiar.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you followed it without a thought. More of an instinct.”

  “You could say that.” I wasn’t sure where this was going, but Marian had that mad scientist look in her eye.

  “When you’re with Lena, can you sometimes speak to her without words?”

  I nodded. “You mean, Kelting?”

  Liv looked up at me, shocked. “How could a regular Mortal possibly know about Kelting?”

  “That is an excellent question, Olivia.” The way the two of them were looking at each other irritated me. “One that deserves an answer.” Marian walked to the shelves, rummaging through Macon’s library like she was looking for car keys in her purse. Watching her flip through his books bothered me, even though he wasn’t here to see it.

  “It just happened. We sort of found each other in our heads.”

  “You can read minds, and you didn’t tell me?” Link stared at me like he just found out I was the Silver Surfer. He rubbed his head nervously. “Hey, man, all that stuff about Lena? I was yankin’ your chain.” He looked away. “Are you doin’ it now? You’re doin’ it, aren’t you? Dude, get out of my head.” He backed away from me and into the bookshelf.

  “I can’t read your mind, you idiot. Lena and I can hear each other’s thoughts sometimes.” Link look relieved, but he wasn’t getting off that easy. “What were you thinking about Lena?”

  “Nothin’. I was messin’ with you.” He pulled a book off the shelf and pretended to look through it.

  Marian took the book out of Link’s hands. “There it is. Exactly the book I was looking for.” She opened the tattered leather volume, flipping through the crackling pages so quickly it was obvious she was looking for something specific. It looked like an old textbook or reference manual.

  “There.” She held the book out to Liv. “Does any of this sound familiar?” Liv leaned closer, and they started to turn the pages together, nodding. Marian straightened and took the book from Liv. “Now. How can a regular Mortal Kelt, Olivia?”

  “He can’t. Unless he’s not a regular Mortal, Professor Ashcroft.” They were smiling at me like I was a kid who had taken his first steps, or like someone was about to tell me I had a terminal illness, and the combined effect made me want to bolt.

  “You mind letting me in on the joke?”

  “It’s no joke. Why don’t you see for yourself?” Marian handed me the book.

  I looked at the page. I was right about the textbook part. It was some kind of Caster encyclopedia, with drawings and languages I didn’t understand on every page. But some of it was in English. “The Wayward.” I looked up at Marian. “Is that what you think I am?”

  “Keep going.”

  “The Wayward: the one who knows the way. Synonyms: dux,speculator,gubernator. General. Scout. Navigator. The one who marks the path.” I looked up, confused.

  For once, Link wasn’t. “So he’s like a human compass? As far as superpowers go, that’s pretty lame. You’re like the Caster equivalent of Aquaman.”

  “Aquaman?” Marian didn’t read a lot of comics.

  “He talks to fish.” Link shook his head. “Not exactly X-ray vision.”

  “I don’t have any superpowers.” Did I?

  “Keep reading.” Marian pointed to the page.

  “Since before the Crusades, we have served. We have had many names, and none. Like the whisper in the ear of China’s first emperor as he contemplated the Great Wall, or the loyal companion at the side of Scotland’s most valiant knight as he toiled for his country’s independence, Mortals with great purpose have always had those who guided them. As the lost vessels of Columbus and Vasco da Gama had those who guided them to New Worlds, we exist to guide Casters whose paths hold great meaning. We are—” I couldn’t make sense of the words.

  Then I heard Liv’s voice next to me, as if she had committed the words to memory. “The one who finds what is lost. The one who knows the way.”

  “Finish it.” Marian was suddenly serious, as if the words were some kind of prophecy.

  “We are given to the great, for great purpose, to great ends. We are given to the grave, for grave purpose, to grave ends.” I closed the book and handed it back to Marian. I didn’t want to know any more.

  Marian’s expression was difficult to read. She turned the book over and over in her hands and looked at Liv. “Do you think?”

  “It’s possible. There have been others.”

  “Not for a Ravenwood. Or a Duchannes, for that matter.”

  “But you said it yourself, Professor Ashcroft. Lena’s decision carries consequences. If she chooses to go Light, all the Dark Casters in her family will die, and if she chooses to go Dark…” Liv didn’t finish. We all knew the rest. All the Light Casters in her family would die. “Wouldn’t you say her path holds great meaning?”

  I didn’t like the way this conversation was going, even though I wasn’t completely sure where it was headed. “Hello? I’m sitting right here. Want to clue me in?”

  Liv spoke slowly, as if I was a kid at the library for a read aloud. “Ethan, in the Caster world, only those with great purpose have a Wayward. Waywards don’t come along often, maybe once in a century, and never by accident. If you are a Wayward, you’re here for a reason—a great or terrible purpose, all your own. You’re a bridge between worlds for Casters and Mortals, and whatever you do, you have to be very careful.”

  I sat down on the bed, and Marian sat next to me. “You have a destiny of your own, like Lena. Which means things could become very complicated.”

  “You think these past few months haven’t been complicated?”

  “You have no idea of the things I’ve seen. The things your mother saw.” Marian looked away.

  “So you think I’m one of those Waywards? I’m a human compass or something, like Link said?”

  “It’s more than that. Waywards don’t just know the way. They are the way. They guide Casters along the path they are destined to take, a path they might not otherwise find on their own. You might be the Wayward for a Ravenwood or a Duchannes. It’s not clear which at the moment.” Liv seemed to know what she was talking about, which didn’t make sense. That’s what my mind kept going back to as I stumbled over what they were saying.

  “Aunt Marian, tell her. I can’t be one of these Waywards. My parents are regular Mortals.” Nobody said the obvious, that my mom had been a part of the Caster world, like Marian, only in a way no one would ever talk about, at least not to me.

  “Waywards are Mortals, a bridge between the Caster world and ours.” Liv reached for another book. “Of course, your mother was hardly what you could call a regular Mortal, any more than I am, or Professor Ashcroft.”

  “Olivia!” Marian froze.

  “You don’t mean—”

  “His mother didn’t want him to know. I promised, if anything were to happen—”

  “Stop!” I slammed the book down on the table. “I’m not in the mood for your rules. Not tonight.”

  Liv fidgeted with her science experiment of a watch, nervously. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “What do you know about my mother?” I turned on Liv. “Tell me right now.”

  Marian crumpled into the chair next to me. The pink spots on Liv’s cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, looking from Marian to me, helplessly.

  Marian held up her hand. “Olivia knows all about your mother, Ethan.”

  I turned to Liv. I kn
ew what she was going to tell me, before she said it. The truth had been pushing its way into my mind. Liv knew too much about Casters and Waywards, and she was here, in the Tunnels, standing in Macon’s study. If I hadn’t been so confused about what they thought I was, I would’ve realized what Liv was. I don’t know why it had taken me this long to see it.

  “Ethan.”

  “You’re one of them, like Aunt Marian and my mom.”

  “Them?” Liv asked.

  “You’re a Keeper.” The words made it real, and I was feeling everything and nothing at the same time—my mom, down here in the Tunnels with Marian’s massive ring of Caster keys. My mom with her secret life, in this secret world my father and I had never been, and could never be, part of.

  “I’m not a Keeper.” Liv looked embarrassed. “Not yet. One day, maybe. I’m training.”

  “Training to be more than the Gatlin County librarian, which is why you’re here, in the middle of nowhere with your fancy scholarship. If there is one. Or was that a lie, too?”

  “I’m a terrible liar. I do have a scholarship, but it’s paid by a society of scholars that far predates Duke University.”

  “Or the Harrow School.”

  She nodded. “Or Harrow.”

  “What about the Ovaltine? Was that even true?”

  Liv smiled ruefully. “I’m from Kings Langley, and I do love Ovaltine, but if I’m to be perfectly honest, I’ve come to prefer Quik since arriving in Gatlin.”

  Link sat down on the bed, speechless. “I don’t understand a word she’s sayin’.”

  Liv turned the pages of the book until a timeline of Keepers appeared. My mom’s name stared back at me. “Professor Ashcroft is right. I studied Lila Evers Wate. Your mother was a brilliant Keeper, a tremendous writer. It’s part of my coursework to read the notes left by the Keepers who have come before me.”

  Notes? My mom had notes Liv had seen, and I hadn’t? I resisted the urge to punch a hole through the wall. “Why? So you don’t make the mistakes they made? So you don’t end up dead in an accident nobody saw and no one can explain? So you don’t leave your family behind, wondering about your secret life and why you never told them about it?”