Marian looked down at my mother's headstone. "You're right. You need to know."
"I want the truth."
"That's what I intend to give you." Her voice was shaking. "If you know about the Arclight, I assume you know why Macon gave it to your mother."
"So she could protect herself from him." I'd felt sorry for Macon before. Now I felt sick. My mom was Juliet in some kind of twisted play where Romeo was an Incubus, even if it was Macon.
"That's right. Macon and Lila struggled with the same reality as you and Lena. It has been hard to watch you these past few months without drawing certain ... comparisons. I can't think how difficult it must have been for Macon."
"Please. Stop."
"Ethan, I understand this is hard for you, but it doesn't change what happened. I'm a Keeper, and these are the facts. Your mother was a Mortal. Macon was an Incubus. They couldn't be together, not after Macon changed and became the Dark creature he was born to be. Macon didn't trust himself. He was afraid he might hurt your mother, so he gave her the Arclight."
"Facts. Lies. Whatever." I was so tired of it al .
"Fact. He loved her more than his own life." Why was Marian defending him?
"Fact. Not kil ing the love of your life doesn't make you a hero." I was furious.
"It nearly kil ed him, Ethan."
"Yeah? Wel , look around. My mom's dead. They both are. So Macon's plan didn't real y help much, did it?"
Marian took a deep breath. I knew the look, and a lecture was coming. She pul ed me by the arm, and we walked away from the graveyard, away from everyone above and below the ground. "They met at Duke. They were both studying American history. They fel in love, like any two people."
"You mean, like any unsuspecting undergraduate and an evolving Demon. If we're sticking to the facts."
"'In Light there is Dark, and in Dark there is Light.' Your mother used to say that."
I wasn't interested in philosophical ideas about the nature of the Caster world. "When did he give her the Arclight?"
"Eventual y, Macon told Lila what he was and what he would become -- that a future between the two of them was impossible." Marian spoke slowly and careful y. I wondered if it was as hard to say as it was to hear, and I felt sorry for both of us.
"It broke her heart, and his. He gave her the Arclight, which thankful y she never had to use. He left the university and came back home to Gatlin."
She waited for me to say something cruel. I tried to come up with something, but in spite of everything, I was curious. "What happened after Macon came back? Did they see each other again?"
"Sadly, no."
I gave her an incredulous look. "Sadly?"
Marian shook her head at me. "It was sad, Ethan. It was the saddest I'd ever seen your mother. I was so worried, and I didn't know what to do. I thought she was going to die from a broken heart, from how broken every part of her was."
We had been walking the loop that circled Perpetual Peace. Now we were surrounded by trees and out of sight from most of Gatlin.
"But." I had to know the end, even if it hurt to hear.
"But your mother fol owed Macon to Gatlin, through the Tunnels. She couldn't bear to be away from him, and she swore to find a way they could be together. A way Casters and Mortals could spend their lives together. She was obsessed with the idea."
I understood. I didn't like it, but I understood.
"The answer to that question did not lie in the Mortal world but in the Caster world. So your mother found a way to become part of it, even if she couldn't be with Macon."
We started walking again. "You're talking about her job as a Keeper, right?"
Marian nodded. "Lila found a cal ing that al owed her to study the Caster world and its laws, its Light and its Darkness. A way to look for the answer."
"How did she get the job?" I didn't think there was a Caster Yel ow Pages, but since Carlton Eaton delivered our Yel ow Pages aboveground and the Caster mail below, who knew?
"At the time, there was no Keeper in Gatlin." Marian paused, uncomfortable. "But a powerful Caster requested one, since the Lunae Libri resides here and, at one time, The Book of Moons. "
Now it al made sense.
"Macon. He asked for her, didn't he? He couldn't stay away, after al that."
Marian wiped her face with a handkerchief. "No. It was Arelia Valentin, Macon's mother."
"Why would Macon's mother want my mom to be a Keeper? Even if she felt sorry for her son, she knew they couldn't be together."
"Arelia is a powerful Diviner, capable of seeing fragments of the future."
"Like a Caster version of Amma?"
Marian wiped her face. "I guess you could think of it that way. Arelia recognized something in your mother, her ability to find the truth -- to see what is hidden. I think she was hoping your mother would find the answer, a way Casters and Mortals could be together. Light Casters have always hoped for that possibility. Genevieve wasn't the first Caster to fal in love with a Mortal." Marian looked off into the distance, where families were beginning to lay out their picnics on the sloping grass. "Or maybe she did it for her son."
Marian stopped walking. We had made another circle and were standing at Macon's grave. I could see the angel weeping in the distance. Only the grave looked nothing like it had at his funeral. Where there had only been dirt, now there was a wild garden shaded by two impossibly tal lemon trees, flanking either side of the headstone. In the shade, a bed of spreading jasmine and tangles of rosemary grew over his grave. I wondered if anyone had visited him today to notice.
I pressed my hands against my temples, trying to keep my head from exploding. Marian laid her hand gently on my back. "I know it's a lot to take in, but it doesn't change anything. Your mother loved you."
I shrugged Marian's hand away. "Yeah, she just didn't love my dad."
Marian jerked my arm, forcing me to face her. My mother may have been my mom, but she was also Marian's best friend, and I wasn't going to get away with questioning her integrity in front of Marian. Not today, or any day. "Don't you say that, EW. Your mother loved your father."
"But she didn't move to Gatlin for my dad. She moved here for Macon."
"Your parents met at Duke when we were working on our dissertation. As the Keeper, your mother was living in the Tunnels underneath Gatlin, traveling between the Lunae Libri and the university to work with me. She wasn't living in the town, in the world of the DAR and Mrs. Lincoln. So she did move to Gatlin for your father. She moved out of the darkness and into the light, and believe me, it was a big move for your mom. Your father saved her from herself when none of us could. Not me. Not Macon."
I stared at the lemon trees shading Macon's grave, and past them, to my mom's gravesite. I thought about my dad kneeling there. I thought of Macon, braving the Garden of Perpetual Peace, if only so he could rest one tree over from my mom.
"She moved into a town where no one accepted her, because your father wouldn't leave, and she loved him." Marian held my chin between her thumb and her fingers. "She just didn't love him first."
I took a deep breath. At least my whole life wasn't a total lie. She loved my dad, even if she loved Macon Ravenwood, too. I took the Arclight from Marian's hand. I wanted to hold it, to have a piece of both of them. "She never found the answer, the way Mortals and Casters can be together."
"I don't know if there is a way." Marian put her arm around me, and I leaned my head on her shoulder. "You're the one who might be a Wayward, EW. You tel me."
For the first time since I saw Lena standing in the rain, almost a year ago, I didn't know. Like my mom, I hadn't found any answers. Al I had found was trouble. Was that what she found, too?
I looked at the box in Marian's hands. "Is that why my mom died? Trying to find the answer?"
Marian took my hand and pressed the box into it, wrapping my fingers around it with hers. "I've told you what I know. Draw your own conclusions, but I can't interfere. Those are the rules. In the great Order of Things, I don't matter. Keepers never do."
"That's not true." Marian mattered to me, but I couldn't say it. My mom mattered. That part I didn't have to say.
Marian smiled as she lifted her hand, leaving the box in mine. "I'm not complaining. I chose this path, Ethan. Not everyone gets to choose their place in the Order of Things."
"You mean not Lena? Or not me?"
"You matter, whether you like it or not, and so does Lena. That's not a choice." She pushed the hair out of my eyes, the way my mom used to. "The truth is the truth. 'Rarely pure and never simple,' as Oscar Wilde would say."
"I don't understand."
"'Al truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.' "
"More Oscar Wilde?"
"Galileo, the father of modern astronomy. Another man who rejected his place in the Order of Things -- the idea that the sun didn't revolve around the Earth. He knew, perhaps better than anyone, that we don't get to choose what is true.
We only get to choose what we do about it."
I took the box, because deep down I knew what she was saying, even if I didn't know anything about Galileo and knew even less about Oscar Wilde. I was part of al this, whether I wanted to be or not. I couldn't run from it, any more than I could stop the visions.
Now I had to decide what to do about it.
6.17
Jump
When I crawled into bed that night, I was dreading my dreams. They say you dream about the last thing you were thinking about before you fel asleep, but the more I tried to not think about Macon and my mom, the more I thought about them. Exhausted from al that thinking about not thinking, it was only a matter of time before I sunk through the mattress into the blackness, and my bed became a boat....
The wil ows were waving over my head.
I could feel myself rocking back and forth. The sky was blue, cloudless, surreal. I turned my head and looked to the side. Splintery wood, painted a peeling shade of blue that looked a lot like the ceiling in my bedroom. I was in a dinghy or a rowboat, floating along the river.
I sat up and the boat rocked. A smal white hand fel to the side, dragging a slender finger through the water. I stared at the ripples disturbing the reflection of the perfect sky, otherwise cool and calm as glass.
Lena was lying across from me at the end of the boat. She wore a white dress, the kind you saw in old movies, where everything is shot in black and white. Lace and ribbon and tiny pearl buttons. She was holding a black parasol, and her hair, her nails, even her lips, were black. She lay curled on her side, slumped against the dinghy, her hand dragging along behind us as we floated.
"Lena?"
She didn't open her eyes, but she smiled. "I'm cold, Ethan."
I looked at her hand, which was now up to her wrist in the water. "It's summer. The water's warm." I tried to crawl over to her, but the boat rocked, and she slumped farther over the edge, exposing the black Chucks beneath her dress.
I couldn't move.
Now the water was up to her arm, and I could see strands of her hair beginning to float on the surface.