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There were only two kinds of people in our town. “The stupid and the stuck,” my father had affectionately classified our neighbors. “The ones who are bound to stay or too dumb to go. Everyone else finds a way out.”
There were no surprises in Gatlin County. We were pretty much the epicenter of the middle of nowhere. At least, that’s what I thought, when I closed my battered copy of Slaughterhouse-Five, clicked off my iPod, and turned out the light on the last night of summer. Turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong. There was a curse. There was a girl. And in the end, there was a grave. I never even saw it coming.
I was falling. I had to hold on, but I couldn’t. If I let go, something terrible would happen to her. But that’s the thing. I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t lose her. It was like I was in love with her, even though I didn’t know her. Kind of like love before first sight. Which seemed crazy because she was just a girl in a dream.
Link turned down the music, which was good, because it was terrible and he was about to ask me how I liked it, like he did every day. The tragedy of his band, Who Shot Lincoln, was that none of them could actually play an instrument or sing.
It was a never-ending source of amusement for the guys, who kept expecting us to get back together. The thing they didn’t know was, I wasn’t into girls like Emily. She was pretty, but that was it. And looking at her didn’t make up for having to listen to what came out of her mouth.
“So she’s a band geek?” “No. A musician. Maybe she shares my love a classical music.” “Classical music?” The only classical music Link had ever heard was in the dentist’s office. “You know, the classics. Pink Floyd. Black Sabbath. The Stones.” I started laughing.
Oh dear… LMAO!
“I know they’re idiots. Of course they’re idiots. All that dyed blond hair and those stupid little matching metallic bags.” “Exactly. They’re stupid. Who cares?” “I care. They bother me. And that’s why I’m stupid. That makes me exponentially more stupid than stupid. I’m stupid to the power of stupid.”
“I knew it was you, and you knew it was me. You knew what I was talking about the whole time.” I pulled her hands away from her face, and the current buzzed up my arm. You’re the girl. “Why didn’t you say something last night?” I didn’t want you to know. She wouldn’t look at me. “Why?” The word sounded loud, in the quiet of the garden. And when she looked at me, her face was pale, and she looked different. Frightened. Her eyes were like the sea before a storm on the Carolina coast. “I didn’t expect you to be here, Ethan. I thought they were just dreams. I didn’t know you were a real person.”
I hesitated, and put my hand on her shoulder. It was warm from the fading sun. I could feel the bone beneath her shirt, and in that moment she seemed like a fragile thing, like in the dreams. Which was weird, because when she was facing me, all I could think of was how unbreakable she seemed. Maybe it had something to do with those eyes.
Burning a house with women in it, a house lined with lemon trees. A house where I’d bet Genevieve had lost her locket. A locket engraved with the day Lena was born, but over a hundred years before. No wonder Lena didn’t want to see the visions. I was starting to agree with her. There were no coincidences.
The library was home away from home to my mom, and my family. We had spent every Sunday afternoon there since I was a little boy, wandering around the stacks, pulling out every book with a picture of a pirate ship, a knight, a soldier, or an astronaut. My mom used to say, “This is my church, Ethan. This is how we keep the Sabbath holy in our family.”
I sooo relate.
I was afraid to ask, but I had to know. “And what, exactly, are you?” It sounded so crazy that I almost couldn’t say the words. “Casters,” she said quietly. “Casters?” She nodded. “Like, spell casters?” She nodded again. I stared at her. Maybe she was crazy. “Like, witches?” “Ethan. Don’t be ridiculous.” I exhaled, momentarily relieved. Of course, I was an idiot. What was I thinking? “That’s such a stupid word, really. It’s like saying jocks. Or geeks. It’s just a dumb stereotype.”
“You can Bind the house all you want, Macon. But I’m your mother and I’m tellin’ you that you can bring in every Duchannes, every Ravenwood, make the Circle as wide as this godforsaken county if you want. Cast all the Vincula you can. It’s not the house that protects her. It’s the boy. I’ve never seen anything like it. No Caster can come between them.”
“You’re cursed now, Miss Genevieve. You been Claimed. You’ve Turned, and there’s nothin’ we can do to stop it. A bargain. You can’t get nothin’ from The Book a Moons without givin’ somethin’ in return.” “What? What did I give?” “Your fate, child. Your fate and the fate a every other Duchannes child that’s born after you.”
“When I die, I want ta be buried with my fur stole and my Bible,” Aunt Prue said. “You aren’t goin’ ta get extra points with the Good Lord for that, Prudence Jane.”
“Mortals. I envy you. You think you can change things. Stop the universe. Undo what was done long before you came along. You are such beautiful creatures.”
He had sacrificed himself for Lena, I was sure of that. The right thing and the easy thing are never the same. No one knew that better than Macon.
