Reckoning
We were sitting in the archive, in the flickering candlelight. The room was relatively undamaged, which was a miracle. The archive had been soaked, not burned—thanks to the automatic sprinklers in the ceiling. The three of us waited at the long table in the center of the room, having tea from a Thermos.
I stirred mine absentmindedly. “Shouldn’t the Council be visiting you in the Lunae Libri?”
Marian shook her head. “I’m not even sure if they want me back there. This is the only place they’ll speak to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Lena said.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I only hope—”
The cracking sound of lightning filled the room, then the rumble of thunder, and blinding flashes of light. Not the ripping sound of Traveling, but something new. The book appeared first.
That was the name inscribed on the front. It landed on the table between us. The book was so massive that the table groaned under its weight.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Marian put her finger to her lips. “Shh.”
Three cloaked figures appeared, one after the next. The first, a tall man with a shaved head, held up his hand. The thunder and lightning stopped instantly. The second, a woman, flung a hood back over her shoulder to reveal an unnatural and overwhelming whiteness. White hair, white skin, and irises so white she appeared to be made of nothing at all. The last, a man the size of a linebacker, appeared between the table and my mother’s old desk, disrupting her papers and books in the process. He was holding a large brass hourglass. But it was empty. There wasn’t a single grain of sand inside.
The only thing the three of them had in common was what they had on. Each wore a heavy, hooded black robe and a strange pair of glasses, as if it was some kind of uniform.
I looked at the glasses more closely. They seemed to be made of gold, silver, and bronze, twisted together into one thick braid. The glass in the lenses was cut into facets, like the diamond in my mother’s engagement ring. I wondered how they could see.
“Salve, Marian of the Lunae Libri, Keeper of the Word, the Truth, and the World Without End.” I almost jumped out of my skin, because they spoke in perfect unison, as if they were one person. Lena grabbed my hand.
Marian stepped forward. “Salve, Great Council of the Far Keep. Council of the Wise, the Known, and That Which Cannot Be Known.”
“You know for what purpose we have come to this place?”
“Yes.”
“Have you anything to say other than that which we know?”
Marian shook her head. “I do not.”
“You admit to taking action inside the Order of Things, in violation of your sacred oath?”
“I allowed one who was in my charge to do so, yes.”
I wanted to explain, but between the perfectly hollow sound of their choral voices and the white eyes of the woman, I could barely breathe.
“Where is the one?”
Marian pulled her own robe tighter around her body. “She isn’t here. I sent her away.”
“Why?”
“To keep her from harm,” Marian answered.
“From us.” They said it without even the slightest hint of emotion.
“Yes.”
“You are wise, Marian of the Lunae Libri.”
Marian didn’t look as wise right now. She looked terrified. “I have read about The Caster Chronicles— the stories and records of the Casters you keep. And I know what you’ve done to Mortals who have transgressed as she has. And to Casters.”
They studied Marian like an insect under glass. “You care for this one? The Keeper who is not to be? A girl child?”
“Yes. She is like a daughter to me. And she is not for you to judge.”
The voices rose. “You do not speak to us of our powers. We speak to you of yours.”
Then I heard another voice, one I had heard so many times before when I’d felt this helpless. “Now, gentlemen, madam, that’s not the way we speak to ladies of good report here in the South.” Macon was standing behind us, with Boo Radley at his feet. “I’m going to have to ask you to conduct yourselves with a little more respect for Dr. Ashcroft. She is a beloved Keeper of this community. Beloved by many, who possess great power in the Caster and Incubus worlds alike.”
Macon was impeccably dressed. I was pretty sure he was in the same suit he wore to the Disciplinary Committee Meeting, when he showed up to rescue Lena from Mrs. Lincoln and her lynch mob.
Leah Ravenwood materialized next to him in her black coat, holding her staff. Bade, her mountain lion, growled, pacing in front of Leah. “My brother speaks the truth. Our family supports him, and the Keeper. You should know that before you continue down this road. She doesn’t stand alone.”
Marian looked at Macon and Leah gratefully.
Someone stepped through the doorway behind Leah. “And if there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.” Liv walked past Leah and Macon. “Aren’t I the one you’ve come to punish? I’m here. Have at it.”
Marian grabbed Liv’s hand, refusing to let her go any farther.
The Council regarded her solemnly. “The Incubus and the Succubus are of no concern to us.”
“They’re standing in for my family,” Liv said. “I have no one else except Professor Ashcroft.”
“You are brave, child.”
Liv didn’t move or let go of Marian’s hand. “Thank you.”
“And foolish.”
“So I’ve been told. Quite often, actually.” Liv looked at them as if she wasn’t the least bit afraid, which I knew was impossible. But her voice didn’t waver. Like she was relieved this moment was finally happening, and she could stop dreading it.
The Council wasn’t finished with her. “You held a sacred trust and chose to break it.”
“I chose to help a friend. I chose to save a life. I’d do it again,” Liv answered.
“Those were not your decisions to make.”
“I accept the consequences of my actions. Like I said, I’d do it all again if I had to. That’s what you do for the people you love.”
“Love is not our concern,” the voices answered as one.
“ ‘All you need is love.’ ” Liv was quoting the Beatles to the Council of the Far Keep. If she was going down, she was going down in style.
“You understand what it is you say?”
Liv nodded. “Yes.”
The Council members looked around the room, their eyes moving from Liv and Marian to Macon and Leah.
Lightning cracked, and the room filled with heat and energy. The Caster Chronicles radiated light.
The tall man spoke to the other two, his voice deeper without theirs blending into it. “We will take what has been spoken to the Far Keep. There is a price to be paid. It shall be paid.”
Macon bowed. “Have a safe journey. Be sure to visit us if you’re ever passing through our fair town again. I do hope you can stay longer next time and try some of our famous buttermilk pie.”
The woman with the milky white eyes removed her glasses and stared in Macon’s direction. But it was impossible to tell what she was really looking at, because her eyes didn’t move at all.
The lightning cracked again, and they were gone.
Thunder rumbled while the book lingered on the table for another second. Then it disappeared, following the dark figures into the light.
“Bloody hell!” Liv collapsed into Marian’s arms.
I stood frozen in place.
Hell didn’t begin to cover it.
Once Macon was satisfied that the Keepers were gone, he moved toward the door. “Marian, I hate to leave you, but there are a few things I want to look into. Or rather, look up.”
Liv recognized her cue and started to follow him.
But Macon wasn’t looking at Liv. “Lena, I’d like you to come with me if you don’t mind.”
“What?” Lena looked confused.
But not as confused as Liv, who was already gathering her notebook. “I can help. I know where all the books are—”
“That’s quite all right, Olivia. The sort of information I’m looking for is not in the books you’ve read. The Far Keep doesn’t provide other Keepers with access to information regarding the origins of the Council. Those records are kept by Casters.” He nodded at Lena, who was already shoving her things into her bag.
“Of course. Yes.” Liv looked hurt. “I can only imagine.”
Macon paused at the door. “Leah, would you mind leaving Bade? I believe Marian could use her company tonight.” Which really meant he didn’t want to leave Marian alone, without a two-hundred-pound bodyguard on the premises.
Leah scratched the big cat’s head. “Not at all. I have to get back to County Care anyway, and they aren’t partial to animals.”
Bade circled the table where we were sitting, finally settling on a spot beside Marian.
Lena looked at me, and I could tell she didn’t want to leave me alone with Liv and Marian, but she didn’t want to let Macon down either. Especially not when he was asking for her help, instead of Liv’s.
Go on, L. It’s fine. I don’t mind.
Her answer was a very public kiss and a meaningful look at Liv. Then they were gone.
After they left, I sat in the archive with Liv and Marian, drawing out the moment as long as we could. I couldn’t remember the last time the three of us were alone together, and I missed it. Liv and Marian tossing around quotes, and me always coming up with the wrong answer.
Liv finally stood up. “I have to go. I don’t want you to get in any more trouble.”
Marian stared into the bottom of her teacup. “Olivia, don’t you think I could have stopped you if I’d wanted to?”
Liv looked like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “You weren’t even there when I helped Ethan release Macon from the Arclight.”
“I was there when you took off into the Tunnels with Ethan and Link. I could’ve stopped you then.” Marian took a shaky breath. “But I had a friend once, too. And if I could turn back the clock—if there was anything I could’ve done to save her—I would have done it. Now she’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do to get her back.”
I squeezed Marian’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” Liv said. “And I’m sorry I got you into so much trouble. I wish I could persuade them to leave you alone.”
“You can’t. No one can. Sometimes everyone does the right thing and there’s still a mess left to clean up. Someone has to take responsibility for it.”
Liv stared at a water-stained box on the floor. “It should be me.”
“I disagree. This is my chance to help another friend, one I love very much.” Marian smiled and reached for Liv’s hand. “And there has to be at least one librarian in this town—Keeper or not.”
Liv threw her arms around Marian and hugged her like she was never going to let go. Marian gave Liv one last squeeze and looked over at me. “EW, I’d appreciate it if you would see Liv back to Ravenwood. If I gave her my car, I’m afraid it would end up on the wrong side of the road.”
I hugged Marian, whispering to her as I did. “Be careful.”
“I always am.”
We had to make a lot of detours to get anywhere in Gatlin now. So five minutes later, I was driving past my own house, with Liv in the passenger seat—like we were on our way to deliver library books or stop at the Dar-ee Keen. Like it was last summer.
But the overwhelming brown of everything and the buzzing of ten thousand lubbers reminded me it wasn’t.
“I can almost smell the pie from here,” Liv said, looking toward my house longingly.
I glanced at the open window. “Amma hasn’t made a pie in a while, but you can probably smell her pecan fried chicken.”
Liv groaned. “You’ve no idea what it’s like living in the Tunnels, especially when Kitchen is out of sorts. I’ve been living on my stash of HobNobs for weeks now. If I don’t get another package soon, I’m doomed.”
“You know, there is a little thing called the Stop & Steal around here,” I said.
“I know. There’s also a little thing called Amma’s homemade fried chicken.”
I knew where this conversation was heading all along and was halfway to the curb by the time she said it. “Come on. I bet you ten bucks she made biscuits, too.”
“You had me at ‘fried.’ ”
Amma gave Liv all the thighs, so I knew she was still feeling sorry for Liv after last summer. Luckily, the Sisters were asleep. I didn’t feel like answering questions about why there was a girl at my house who wasn’t Lena.
Liv stuffed her face faster than Link in his prime. By the time I was on my third piece, she was on her second plateful.
“This is the second-best piece of fried chicken I’ve ever tasted in my life.” Liv was actually licking her fingers.
“Second best?” I was the one who said it, but I saw Amma’s face when I did. Because by Gatlin standards, those two words alone were blasphemy. “What’s better?”
“The piece I’m about to have. And possibly the piece after that.” She slid her empty plate across the table.
I could see Amma smiling to herself as she added more Wesson oil to her five-gallon pot. “Wait till you taste a batch right outta the fryer. Can’t say you’ve tried that, have you, Olivia?”
“No, ma’am. But I also haven’t had any homemade food since the Seventeenth Moon.” There it was again. The familiar cloud settled back over the kitchen, and I pushed my plate away. The extra-crispy crust was choking me.
Amma dried the One-Eyed Menace with a dishrag. “Ethan Lawson Wate. You go get our friend some a my best preserves. Back a the panty. Top shelf.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Amma called after me before I made it to the hall. “And none a that pickled watermelon rind. I’m savin’ that for Wesley’s mamma. It turned out sour this year.”
The basement door was across from Amma’s room. The wooden stairs were scarred with black marks, like a burnt marshmallow, from the time me and Link put a hot pot on the stairs when we were trying to make Rice Krispies Treats on our own. We almost burned a hole in one step, and Amma gave me stinkeye for days. I made sure to step on the mark every time I went down those stairs.
Going down into a basement in Gatlin wasn’t all that different from going through a Caster Doorwell. Our basement wasn’t the Tunnels, but I’d always thought of it as some kind of mysterious underworld. Under beds and in basements—that’s where all the best secrets were kept in our town. The treasure might be stacks of old magazines in the furnace room, or a week’s worth of icebox cookies from Amma’s industrial freezer. Either way, you were going back up with an armload or a stomach full of something.
At the bottom of the stairs was a doorway framed in two-by-fours. No door, just a string hanging on the other side of the doorframe. I yanked the string as I had a thousand times before, and there was Amma’s prized collection. Every house around here had a pantry, and this was one of the finest pantries in three counties. Amma’s mason jars held everything from pickled watermelon rinds and the skinniest green beans to the roundest onions and the most perfectly green tomatoes. Not to mention the pie fillings and preserves—peach, plum, rhubarb, apple, cherry. The rows stretched back so far your teeth started to ache just from looking at them.
I ran my hand along the top shelf, where Amma kept all her prizewinners, the secret recipes and jars she saved for company. Everything in here was rationed, as if we were in the army and these jars were filled with penicillin or ammunition—or maybe land mines, because that’s how carefully you had to hold them.
“It’s quite a sight.” Liv was standing in the doorway behind me.
“I’m surprised Amma let you down here. This is her secret stash.”
She picked up a jar, holding it in front of her. “It’s so shiny.”
“You want your jelly to sparkle and your fruit not to float. You want your pickles cut to the same size, your carrots nice and round, your pack even.”
“My what?”
“How it goes in the jar, see?”
“Of course.” Liv smiled. “How would Amma feel if she knew you were sharing the secrets of her kitchen?”
If anyone knew them, it was me. I’d been by Amma’s side in the kitchen longer than I could remember, burning my hands on everything I wasn’t supposed to touch, sneaking rocks and twigs and all kinds of things into unsuspecting pans of preserves. “You want the liquid to cover the top of whatever’s inside.”
“Are bubbles good or bad?”
I laughed. “You’ll never see a bubble in one of Amma’s jars.”
She pointed to the bottom shelf. There was a jar so full of bubbles you’d think the bubbles themselves were what Amma was trying to bottle, instead of the cherries. I knelt down in front of the shelf and pulled it out. It was an old mason jar covered in cobwebs. I had never noticed it before.
“That can’t be Amma’s.” I rotated the jar in my hand. FROM THE KITCHEN OF PRUDENCE STATHAM. I shook my head. “It’s my Aunt Prue’s. She must have been crazier than I thought.” Nobody ever gave Amma anything that came out of another kitchen. Not if they knew what was good for them.
As I slid the jar back in place, I noticed a dirty loop of rope hanging back in the shadow of the bottom shelf.
“Hold on. What’s that?” I pulled on the rope, and the shelves made a groaning sound, like they were about to fall over. I felt around with my hand until I found the place where the rope met the wall. I pulled again, and the wood began to give way. “There’s something back here.”
“Ethan, be careful.”
The shelves swung forward slowly, revealing a second space. Behind the pantry was a secret room, with crude brick walls and a dirt floor. The room stretched back into a dark tunnel. I stepped inside.
“Is that one of the Tunnels?” Liv looked into the darkness behind me.
“I think this is a Mortal tunnel.” I glanced at Liv from the shadows of the tunnel. She looked safe and small inside the pantry, surrounded by Amma’s old rainbows caught in a jar.
I realized where I was standing. “I’ve seen pictures of hidden rooms and tunnels like these. Runaway slaves used them to leave houses at night without being seen.”
“Are you saying—?”
I nodded. “Ethan Carter Wate, or someone in his family, was part of the Underground Railroad.”