Beautiful Creatures(152)

Macon, wet from the raindrops for the first time.

The next morning, I pieced together a few things about the night of Lena’s birthday. Macon was the only casualty. Apparently, Hunting had overpowered him after I lost consciousness. Gramma explained that feeding on dreams was much less substantial than feeding on blood. I guess he had never really stood a chance against Hunting. Still, it hadn’t stopped him from trying.

Macon always said he would do anything for Lena. In the end, he was a man of his word.

Everyone else seemed to be all right, at least physically. Aunt Del, Gramma, and Marian had dragged themselves back to Ravenwood, with Boo trailing behind them, whimpering like a lost pup. Aunt Del couldn’t understand what had happened to Larkin. Nobody knew how to break the news to her that she had not one but two bad seeds in her family, so no one said a thing.

Mrs. Lincoln didn’t remember anything, and Link had a hard time explaining what she was doing in the middle of the battlefield in her petticoat and pantyhose. She had been appalled to find herself in the company of Macon Ravenwood’s family, but had been civil as Link helped her to the Beater. Link had a lot of questions, but I figured it could wait until Algebra II. It would give us both something to do when things returned to normal, whenever that would be.

And Sarafine.

Sarafine, Hunting, and Larkin were gone. I knew that because when I came to, they had disappeared, and Lena was there, leaning against me as we walked back toward Ravenwood. I was fuzzy on the details, like everything else right now, but it appeared that Lena, Macon, all of us had underestimated Lena’s powers as a Natural. She had somehow managed to block out the moon and save herself from being Claimed after all. Without the Claiming, it looked like Sarafine, Hunting, and Larkin had fled, at least for now.

Lena still wasn’t talking about it. She still wasn’t talking much at all.

I had fallen asleep on the floor of her bedroom, next to her, our hands still intertwined. When I woke up, she was gone and I was alone. Her bedroom walls, the same ones that had been so covered with writing you couldn’t see an inch of the white walls underneath all the black, were now completely blank. Except for one, the wall that faced the windows was covered from floor to ceiling with words, only the writing no longer looked like Lena’s. The girly script was gone. I touched the wall as if I could feel the words, and I knew she had been up all night, writing.

macon ethan

i lay my head down on his chest and cried because he had lived because he had died

a dry ocean, a desert of emotion

happysad darklight sorrowjoy swept over me, under me

i could hear the sound but i could not understand the words and then i realized the sound was me, breaking

in one moment i was feeling everything and i was feeling nothing i was shattered, i was saved, i lost everything, i was given everything else

something in me died, something in me was born, i only knew the girl was gone

whoever i was now, i would never be her again this is the way the world ends not with a bang but a whimper

claim yourself claim yourself claim yourself claim

gratitude fury love despair hope hate

first green is gold but nothing green can stay

don’t

try

nothing

green

can

stay

T. S. Eliot. Robert Frost. Bukowski. I recognized some of the poets from her shelf and her walls.

Except for the Frost, Lena got it backward, which wasn’t like her. Nothing gold can stay, that’s how the poem goes.

Not green.

Maybe it all looked the same to her now.

I stumbled down into the kitchen, where Aunt Del and Gramma were talking in low tones about arrangements. I remembered the low tones and the arrangements when my mom died. I hated them both. I remembered how much it hurt for life to go on, for aunts and grandmothers to be making plans, calling relatives, sweeping up the pieces when all you wanted to do was crawl into the coffin, too. Or maybe plant a lemon tree, fry some tomatoes, build a monument with your bare hands.

“Where’s Lena?” My tone was not low, and I startled Aunt Del. Nothing could startle Gramma.

“Isn’t she in her room?” Aunt Del was flustered.

Gramma calmly poured herself another cup of tea. “I believe you know where she is, Ethan.”

I did.

Lena was lying on the crypt, right where we had found Macon. She was staring up at the gray morning sky, muddy and wet in her clothes from the night before. I didn’t know where they had taken his body, but I understood her impulse to be here. To be with him, even without him.

She didn’t look at me, though she knew I was there. “Those hateful things I said, I’ll never get to take them back. He never knew how much I loved him.”

I lay down next to her in the mud, my sore body groaning. I looked over at her, her black hair curling, and her dirty wet cheeks. The tears ran down her face, but she didn’t try to wipe them away. Neither did I.

“He died because of me.” She stared up at the gray sky, unblinking. I wished there was something I could say to make her feel better, but I knew better than anyone that words like that didn’t really exist.

So I didn’t say them. Instead, I kissed all the fingers on Lena’s hand. I stopped when my mouth tasted metal, and I saw it. She was wearing my mom’s ring on her right hand.

I held up her hand.

“I didn’t want to lose it. The necklace broke last night.”