Beautiful Chaos (40 page)

I opened my eyes, squinting into the brightness of my aunt’s room, and I realized the sun was coming in sideways, much lower than when I’d arrived. I checked my cell. Three hours had passed.

What was happening to me? Why was it easier to slip into Aunt Prue’s world than to have a simple conversation in my own? The first time I spoke to her, it didn’t seem like any time had passed at all, and I couldn’t have done it without a powerful Natural at my side.

I heard the door open behind me.

“You all right, kid?” Leah was standing in the doorway.

I looked down at my hand, uncurling my fingers around a tiny gold rose.
This is for your girl.
I wasn’t all right. I was pretty sure nothing was.

I nodded. “Fine. Just tired. I’ll see you around, Leah.” She waved me off, and I left the room with the weight of a backpack full of rocks on my shoulders.

When I got into the car and the radio started playing, I wasn’t surprised to hear the familiar melody. After seeing Aunt Prue, I was relieved. Because there it was, as right as the rain that hadn’t fallen in months. My Shadowing Song.

Eighteen Moons, eighteen nears,

The Wheel of Fate herself appears,

Then the One Who Is Two

Will bring the Order back anew….

The
One Who Is Two
, whatever that meant, was tied to fixing the Order.

And what did it have to do with the Wheel of Fate—the Wheel that was a
she
? Who could be powerful enough to control the Order of Things and take human form?

There were Light and Dark Casters, Succubuses and Sirens, Sybils and Diviners. I remembered the previous verse of the song—the one about the Demon Queen. Possibly one who could take human form, like stepping into a Mortal’s body. There was only one Demon Queen I knew who could do that. Sarafine.

Finally, a piece of information I could wrap my mind around. Even though Liv and Macon had spent every day of the last week with John—treating him like Frankenstein, visiting royalty, or a prisoner of war, depending on the day—he hadn’t told them anything that explained his role in all this.

I still hadn’t told anyone except Lena about my visits with
Aunt Prue. But I was beginning to feel like it all fit together, the same way everything in the bowl ends up in the biscuits, as Amma would say.

The Wheel of Fate. The One Who Is Two. Amma and the bokor. John Breed. The Eighteenth Moon. Aunt Prue. The Shadowing Song.

If only I could figure out how, before it was too late.

By the time I got to Ravenwood, Lena was sitting on the front porch. I could see her watching me as I drove through the crooked iron gate.

I remembered what Aunt Prue had said when she gave me the gold rose.
This is for your girl. Ta help me keep an eye on her.

I didn’t want to think about it.

I sat down next to Lena on the top step. She held out her hand and took the charm from me, slipping it onto her necklace without a word.

It’s for you. From Aunt Prue.

I know. She told me.

“I fell asleep on the couch, and suddenly she was there,” Lena said. “It was exactly the way you described it—a dream, but it didn’t feel like a dream.” I nodded, and she leaned her head against my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”

I looked out at the gardens, still green in spite of the heat and the lubbers and everything we had been through. “Did she tell you anything else?”

Lena nodded and reached up to touch my cheek with her
hand. When she turned toward me, I could tell she had been crying.

I don’t think she has much time.

Why?

She said she came to say good-bye.

I never made it home that night. Instead, I found myself sitting alone on Marian’s doorstep. Even though she was in there, and I was out, I still felt better at her place than mine.

For now. I didn’t know how much longer she’d be there, and I didn’t want to think about where I would be without her.

I fell asleep on her carefully swept front porch. And if I dreamed that night, I don’t remember.

11.01

Y
ou know, babies are born without kneecaps.” Aunt Grace wedged herself between the sofa cushions before her sister could get there.

“Grace Ann, how could you say such a thing? It’s downright disturbin’.”

“Mercy, it’s the God’s honest truth. I read it in
Reader’s Digestive.
Those readers are fulla information.”

“Why on God’s green earth are you talkin’ ’bout babies’ knees, anyhow?”

“Can’t say as I know. Just got me ta thinkin’ ’bout the way things change. If babies can just grow them some kneecaps, why can’t I learn ta fly? Why don’t they build stairs ta the moon? Why can’t Thelma get married ta that handsome Jim Clooney boy?”

“You can’t learn ta fly ’cause you got no wings. It wouldn’t make a lick a sense ta build stairs ta the moon ’cause they don’t
have any breathin’ air up there. And that boy’s name is George Clooney, and Thelma can’t marry him ’cause he lives all the way over there in Hollywood and he’s not even a Methodist.”

I listened to them talk in the next room while I ate my cereal. Sometimes I understood what the Sisters were saying, even when it sounded like crazy talk. They were worried about Aunt Prue. They were preparing for the possibility she was going to die. Babies grew kneecaps, I guess. Things changed. It wasn’t a good thing or a bad thing, any more than kneecaps were good or bad. At least, that’s what I told myself.

Something else had changed.

Amma wasn’t in the kitchen this morning. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left for school without seeing her. Even when she was mad and refused to cook breakfast, she would still be banging around in the kitchen, muttering to herself and giving me stinkeye.

The One-Eyed Menace was lying on the spoon rest, bone dry.

It didn’t feel right to leave without saying good-bye. I opened the drawer where Amma kept her extra-sharp #2 pencils. I grabbed one and tore a sheet of paper off the message pad. I was going to tell her I left for school. No big deal.

I leaned over the counter and started writing.

“Ethan Lawson Wate!” I hadn’t heard Amma come in, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Jeez, Amma. You almost gave me a heart attack.” When I turned around, she was the one who looked like she was going to have one. Her face was ashen, and she was shaking her head like a mad woman.

“Amma, what’s wrong?” I started to cross the room, but she put her hand out.

“Stop!” Her hand was shaking. “What were you doin’?”

“I was writing you a note.” I held up the sheet of paper.

She pointed her bony finger at my other hand, the one still holding her pencil. “You were writin’ with the wrong hand.”

I looked down at the pencil in my left hand and let it drop, watching it roll across the floor.

I had been writing with my left hand.

But I was right-handed.

Amma backed out of the kitchen, her eyes shining, and tore down the hall.

“Amma!” I called after her, but she slammed her door behind her. I banged on it. “Amma! You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

What’s wrong with me.

“What’s all that ruckus out there?” Aunt Grace called from the living room. “I’m tryin’ ta watch my stories.”

I slid down to the floor, my back against Amma’s door, and waited. But she didn’t come out. She wasn’t going to tell me what was happening. I was going to have to figure it out on my own.

Time to grow a pair of kneecaps.