Beautiful Darkness (Caster Chronicles 2)
In one fluid motion, Abraham lunged forward and plunged his teeth into his brother’s shoulder. Then he did the unthinkable.
He drank.
The bargain was made. He would no longer be sustained by the memories and dreams of Mortals. From this day forward, he would crave blood.
When he had his fill, Abraham dropped his brother’s limp body and licked the ash from his hand, the taste of flesh still lingering in the black residue. “You should have been more concerned about protecting yourself.”
Abraham turned away from his brother’s body. “Ethan.”
“Ethan!”
I opened my eyes. I was lying on the floor of the archive. Marian was hovering over me in an un-Marian state of panic. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” I sat up, rubbing my head, wincing. There was a knot growing underneath my hair. “I must have hit the table on my way down.”
Macon’s book was lying on the floor, open next to me. Marian looked at me with her uncanny ESP—or not so uncanny, if you stopped to consider that she had followed me into visions herself only months ago. Within seconds, she had a cold pack in her hand and was holding it against my throbbing head. “You’re having visions again, aren’t you?”
I nodded. My mind was swimming with images, but I couldn’t focus on any one of them. “It’s the second time. I had one the other night when I was holding Macon’s journal.”
“What did you see?”
“It was the night of the fires, like in the locket visions. Ethan Carter Wate was already dead. Ivy had The Book of Moons, and she gave it to Abraham Ravenwood. He was in both of the visions.” His name sounded thick and fuzzy on my tongue. Abraham Ravenwood was the original boogeyman of Gatlin County.
I gripped the edge of the table, steadying myself. Who wanted me to see the visions? More important, why?
Marian paused, still holding the book. “Oh?” She looked at me carefully.
“And someone else. His name began with a J. Judas? Joseph? Jonah. That was it. I think they were brothers. They were Incubuses.”
“Not just Incubuses.” Marian snapped the book shut. “Abraham Ravenwood was a powerful Blood Incubus, the father of the Ravenwood Blood Incubus line.”
“What do you mean?” So, the story folks had been telling for years was true? I had cleared another layer of fog from the supernatural map of Gatlin.
“Although all Incubuses are Dark by nature, not all of them choose to feed on blood. But once one does, the instinct appears to be inherited.”
I leaned against the table as the vision sharpened in my mind. “Abraham—he’s the reason Ravenwood Manor never burned, right? He didn’t make a deal with the Devil. He made it with The Book of Moons.”
“Abraham was dangerous, maybe more dangerous than any Caster. I can’t imagine why you’re seeing him now. Fortunately, he died young, before Macon was born.”
I tried to do the math. “That’s young? How long do Incubuses usually live?”
“A hundred and fifty to two hundred years.” She replaced the book on her worktable. “I don’t know what any of this has to do with you or Macon’s journal, but I never should have given it to you. I interfered. We should leave this book locked up here.”
“Aunt Marian—”
“Ethan! Don’t pursue this, and don’t tell anyone else about it, not even Amma. I can’t imagine how she would react if you said the name Abraham Ravenwood in her presence.” She put her arm around me and gave me a halfhearted squeeze. “Now, let’s go finish up in the stacks before Olivia calls the police.” She turned to the door and stuck her key in the lock.
There was one more thing. I had to say it. “He could see me, Aunt Marian. Abraham looked right at me and said my name. That’s never happened in the visions before.”
Marian stopped, staring at the door as if she could see right through it. It was more than a few seconds before she turned the key in the lock and swung the door open. “Olivia? Do you think Melvil Dewey could spare you for a cup of tea?”
Our conversation was over. Marian was a Keeper and the Head Librarian of the Caster Library, the Lunae Libri. She could only tell me so much without violating her obligations. She couldn’t take sides or change the course of events once they were set in motion. She couldn’t be Macon for me, and she wasn’t my mom. I was on my own.
6.14
Beneath the Paper
All of those?” There were three stacks of brown paper packages on the checkout desk. Marian marked the last one with the familiar GATLIN COUNTY LIBRARY stamp, always twice and always tied with the same white string.