Beautiful Creatures (Caster Chronicles 1)

I looked at Lena, hoping for some direction.

Tell him you don’t want to stay.

Trust me, I don’t.

“No, that’s okay, sir. I don’t want to intrude. I just wanted to drop off Lena’s homework.” I held the shiny blue folder up for the second time.

“Nonsense, you must stay. We’ll enjoy a few Cubans in the conservatory after dinner, or are you more of a Cigarillo man? Unless, of course, you’re uncomfortable coming in, in which case, I completely understand.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking.

Lena slipped her arm around his waist, and I could see his face change instantly. Like the sun breaking through the clouds on a gray day. “Uncle M, don’t tease Ethan. He’s the only friend I have here, and if you scare him away I’ll have to go live with Aunt Del, and then you’ll have no one left to torture.”

“I’ll still have Boo.” The dog looked up at Macon, quizzically.

“I’ll take him with me. It’s me he follows around town, not you.”

I had to ask. “Boo? Is the dog’s name Boo Radley?”

Macon cracked the smallest of smiles. “Better him than me.” He threw back his head and laughed, which startled me, since there was no way I could have imagined his features composing themselves into even so much as a smile. He flung open the door behind him. “Really, Mr. Wate, please join us. I so love company, and it’s been ages since Ravenwood has had the pleasure of hosting a guest from our own delicious little Gatlin County.”

Lena smiled awkwardly, “Don’t be a snob, Uncle M. It’s not their fault you never speak to any of them.”

“And it’s not my fault that I have a penchant for good breeding, reasonable intelligence, and passable personal hygiene, not necessarily in that order.”

“Ignore him. He’s in a mood.” Lena looked apologetic.

“Let me guess. Does it have something to do with Principal Harper?”

Lena nodded. “The school called. While the incident is being investigated, I’m on probation.” She rolled her eyes. “One more ‘infraction’ and they’ll suspend me.”

Macon laughed dismissively, as if we were talkin

g about something completely inconsequential. “Probation? How amusing. Probation would imply a source of authority.” He pushed us both into the hall in front of him. “An overweight high school principal who barely finished college, and a pack of angry housewives with pedigrees that couldn’t rival Boo Radley’s, hardly qualify.”

I stepped over the threshold and stopped dead in my tracks. The entry hall was soaring and grand, not the suburban model home I had stepped into just days ago. A monstrously huge oil painting, a portrait of a terrifyingly beautiful woman with glowing gold eyes, hung over the stairs, which weren’t contemporary anymore, but a classic flying staircase seemingly supported only by the air itself. Scarlett O’Hara could have swept down them in a hoop skirt and she wouldn’t have looked a bit out of place. Tiered crystal chandeliers were dripping from the ceiling. The hall was thick with clusters of antique Victorian furniture, small groupings of intricately embroidered chairs, marble tabletops, and graceful ferns. A candle glowed from every surface. Tall, shuttered doors were thrown open; the breeze carried the scent of gardenias, which were arranged in tall silver vases, artfully placed on the tabletops.

For a second, I almost thought I was back in one of the visions, except the locket was safely wrapped in the handkerchief in my pocket. I knew, because I checked. And that creepy dog was watching me from the stairs.

But it didn’t make sense. Ravenwood had transformed into something entirely different since the last time I was there. It looked impossible, like I had stepped back in history. Even if it wasn’t real, I wished my mom could have seen it. She would have loved this place. Only now it felt real, and I knew this was the way the great house looked, most of the time. It felt like Lena, like the walled garden, like Greenbrier.

Why didn’t it look like this before?

What are you talking about?

I think you know.

Macon walked in front of us. We turned a corner, into what was the cozy sitting room, last week. Now it was a grand ballroom, with a long claw-footed table set for three, as if he was expecting me.

The piano continued to play itself in the corner. I guessed it was one of those mechanical ones. The scene was eerie, as if the room should have been full of the tinkling of glasses, and laughter. Ravenwood was throwing the party of the year, but I was the only guest.

Macon was still talking. Everything he said echoed off of the giant frescoed walls and vaulted, carved ceilings. “I suppose I am a snob. I loathe towns. I loathe townspeople. They have small minds and giant backsides. Which is to say, what they lack in interiors they make up in posteriors. They’re junk food. Fatty, but ultimately, terribly unsatisfying.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“So why don’t you just move?” I felt a surge of annoyance that brought me back to reality, whatever reality I was currently in. It was one thing for me to make fun of Gatlin. It was different coming from Macon Ravenwood. It came from a different place.

“Don’t be absurd. Ravenwood is my home, not Gatlin.” He spat out the word like it was toxic. “When I pass on from the binds of this life, I will have to find someone to care for Ravenwood in my place, since I have no children. It’s always been my great and terrible purpose, to keep Ravenwood alive. I like to think of myself as the curator of a living museum.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Uncle M.”

“Don’t be so diplomatic, Lena. Why you want to interact with those unenlightened townsfolk, I’ll never understand.”