Beautiful Creatures

I listened to the phone ring on the other end. “No answer. Amma’s probably still with my dad.”

 

 

11:30. There was only one other person who could help me, and it was a long shot. I dialed the Gatlin County Library. “Marian’s not there either. She’d know what to do. What the hell? She never leaves that library, even after hours.”

 

Link was pacing frantically. “Nothin’s open. It’s a freakin’ holiday. It’s the Battle of Honey Hill, remember? Maybe we should just go down to the Safe Zone and look for the paramedics.”

 

I stared at him as if a bolt of lightning had just come out of his mouth and hit me in the head. “It’s a holiday. Nothing’s open,” I repeated back to him.

 

“Yeah. I just said that. So what do we do?” He looked miserable.

 

“Link, you’re a genius. You’re a freaking genius.”

 

“I know, man, but what does that have to with anything?”

 

“You got the Beater?” He nodded.

 

“We gotta get outta here.”

 

Link started the engine. It spluttered, but caught, like it always did. The Holy Rollers blasted out of the speakers, and for the record, this time they sucked. Ridley, she must seriously rock the whole Siren gig.

 

Link ripped down the gravel drive, and then looked over at me sideways. “Where are we goin’ again?”

 

“The library.”

 

“Thought you said it was closed.”

 

“The other library.” Link nodded like he understood, which he didn’t. But he went along with it anyway, just like old times. The Beater shredded down the gravel drive like it was Monday morning and we were late to first period. Only it wasn’t.

 

It was 11:40.

 

When we skidded to a stop in front of the Historical Society, Link didn’t even try to understand. I was out of the car before he could even turn off the Holy Rollers. He caught up with me as I rounded the corner into the darkness behind the second-oldest building in Gatlin. “This isn’t the library.”

 

“Right.”

 

“It’s the DAR.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Which you hate.”

 

“Right.”

 

“My mom comes here like, every day.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Dude. What are we doin’ here?”

 

I stepped up to the grating and pushed my hand through. It sliced through the metal, at least what looked like metal, leaving my arm looking like it was amputated at the wrist.

 

Link grabbed me. “Man, Ridley must’ve put somethin’ into my Mountain Dew. Because I swear, your arm, I just saw your arm—forget it, I’m hallucinatin’.”

 

I pulled my arm back out and wiggled my fingers in front of his face. “Seriously, man. After all the things you’ve seen tonight, now you think you’re hallucinating? Now?”

 

I checked my cell. 11:45.

 

“I don’t have time to explain, but it’s only going to get weirder from here on out. We’re going down to the library, but it’s not, like, a library. And you are going to be freaking, most of the time. So if you want to go wait in the car, that’s cool.” Link was trying to absorb what I was saying as quickly as I was saying it, which was rough.

 

“Are you in, or not?”

 

Link looked at the grating. Without saying another word, he stuck his hand through. It disappeared.

 

He was in.

 

I ducked through the doorway and started down the old stone stairs. “Come on. We gotta book.”

 

Link laughed nervously as he stumbled after me. “Get it? Book? Library?”

 

The torches lit themselves as we scrambled down into the darkness. I grabbed one out of its metal crescent holder and tossed it to Link. I grabbed another and jumped the last stairs to the crypt room.

 

One by one, the wall torches ignited as we stepped into the center of the chamber. The columns emerged, along with their shadows, in the flickering light from the mounted torches. The words domus lunae libri reappeared in shadow on the entranceway, where I had last seen them.

 

“Aunt Marian! Are you here?” She tapped my shoulder from behind. I almost jumped out of my skin, bumping into Link.

 

Link screamed, dropping his torch. I stomped on the flames with my feet. “Jeez, Dr. Ashcroft. You about scared the pants offa me.”

 

“Sorry, Wesley—and Ethan, have you lost your mind? Do you have any recollection who this poor boy’s mother is?”

 

“Mrs. Lincoln’s unconscious. Lena’s in trouble. Macon’s been hurt. I need to get into Ravenwood, I can’t find Amma, and I can’t find a way inside. I need to go through the Tunnels.” I was a little boy again, and it all just came tumbling out. Talking to Marian was like talking to my mom, or at least like talking to someone who knew what it was like to talk to my mom.

 

“I can’t do anything. I can’t help you. One way or another, the Claiming comes at midnight. I can’t stop the clock. I can’t save Macon, or Wesley’s mother, or anyone. I can’t get involved.” She looked at Link.

 

“And I am sorry about your mother, Wesley. I mean no disrespect.”

 

“Ma’am.” Link looked defeated.

 

I shook my head and handed Marian the nearest torch from the wall. “You don’t understand. I don’t want you to do anything, other than what the Caster librarian does.”

 

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