Beautiful Darkness(125)

I should have known better than to doubt the three of them. The ghostly figures of the Greats began to emerge: Uncle Abner, Aunt Delilah, Aunt Ivy, and Sulla the Prophet. They were forming from the sand and dirt, their bodies being woven from it bit by bit.

Our Three Fates kept spinning.

“Tear apart the Bridge



That carries these shadows from your world into the next.”





Within seconds, there were more spirits from the Otherworld, Sheers. They were being born from the spiraling earth, like butterflies from a cocoon. The Greats and the spirits attracted the Vexes, causing the shadowy creatures to rush toward them with the horrible scream I remembered from the Tunnels.

The Greats began to grow. Sulla was so big, her rows of necklaces looked like ropes. All Uncle Abner needed was a thunderbolt and a toga, and he could've been Zeus looming above us. The Vexes shot out from the flames of the Dark Fire, black streaks tearing across the sky. Just as quickly, the shrieking streaks disappeared. The Greats inhaled them, as Twyla had seemed to inhale the Sheers that night in the cemetery.

Sulla the Prophet glided forward, her heavily ringed fingers pointing at the last of the Vexes, turning and screaming in the wind. “Tear apart the Bridge!”

The Vexes were gone, leaving nothing except a dark cloud overhead and the Greats, Sulla in the forefront. She was shimmering in the moonlight as she spoke her final words. “Blood is always Blood. Even time cannot Bind it.”

The Greats disappeared, and the dark cloud dissipated. Only the billowing smoke from the Dark Fire remained. The pyre was still burning, and Sarafine and Lena were still tied to the slab.

The vortex of Vexes was gone, and something else had changed. We were no longer silently watching, waiting for an opportunity to make our move. The eyes of every Incubus and Dark Caster in the cave were on us, canines bared and yellow eyes blazing.

We had joined the party, whether we liked it or not.





6.20





Seventeen Moons


The Blood Incubuses reacted first, dematerializing one by one, and reappearing in pack formation. I recognized Scarface, the Incubus from Macon's funeral. He was in the front, his black eyes calculating. Hunting was predictably nowhere in sight, too important for simple slaughter. But Larkin was standing in front of them, a black snake coiled around his arm. Second in command.

They surrounded us in seconds, and there was nowhere to go. The pack was in front of us, and the cave wall behind us. Amma pushed her way between the Incubuses and me, as if she planned to fight them off with her bare hands. She didn't get the chance.

“Amma!” I called out, but it was too late.

Larkin was standing inches from her tiny frame, wielding a knife that didn't look anything like an illusion. “You're a real pain in the ass for an old lady, you know that? Always poking around where you don't belong and callin’ up your dead relatives. About time you joined them.”

Amma didn't move. “Larkin Ravenwood, you're gonna be ten kinds a sorry when you try to find your way outta this world and into the next.”

“Promise?” I could see the muscles in Larkin's shoulder move as he pulled back his arm, preparing to lunge at Amma.

Before he could strike, Twyla threw her hand open, and white particles flew through the air. Larkin cried out, dropping the knife and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

“Ethan, watch out!” I could hear Link's voice, but everything was happening in slow motion. I saw the pack coming at me, and I heard something else. A humming sound that started low and rose slowly, like the crest of a wave. A green light flew up in front of us. It was the same pure light the Arclight emitted when it spun in the air in front of us, right before we released Macon.

It had to be Macon.

The hum grew louder, and the light surged forward, hurling the Blood Incubuses backward. I looked around to see if everyone was all right.

Link was bent over, with his hands on his knees like he was going to puke. “That was close.” Ridley patted his back a little too hard and turned to Twyla.

“What did you throw at Larkin? Some kind of Charged Matter?”

Twyla smiled, rubbing the beads on one of the thirty or forty necklaces she wore. “Don't need Charged Matta, cher.”

“Then what was it?”

“Sèl manje.” She spoke the words in her thick Creole accent, but Ridley didn't understand.

Arelia smiled. “Salt.”

Amma whacked me on the arm. “Told you salt could keep away evil spirits. Evil boys, too.”

“We have to move. There isn't much time.” Gramma rushed toward the stairs, carrying her cane in her hand. “Ethan, come with me.” I followed Gramma up to the altar, the smoke from the fire creating a thick haze around me. It was intoxicating and suffocating at the same time.

We reached the top of the stairs. Gramma held her cane out toward Sarafine, and immediately it began to glow with golden light. I felt a wave of relief. Gramma was an Empath. She had no powers of her own, except the ability to use the powers of others. And the power she was taking now belonged to the most dangerous woman in the room — her daughter Sarafine.

The one channeling the energy of the Dark Fire to call the Seventeenth Moon.

“Ethan, get Lena!” Gramma called. She was in some sort of psychic holding pattern with Sarafine.