Lena softened at the sound of his voice, a voice from the grave. I heard the thought, barely a whisper. She was afraid to even think it.
Uncle Macon?
Her face went white. I remembered how I felt when I saw my mother at the cemetery.
"An impressive little trick you and Sarafine managed to pull off, Grandfather. I'll give you that. Calling a Claiming Moon out of time? You've outdone yourself, really." Macon's voice echoed in the cavern. The air was so still, so quiet, you couldn't hear anything except the low churning of the tides. "Naturally, when I heard you were coming, I had to make an appearance." Macon waited, as if he was expecting an answer. But when he didn't get one, he snapped. "Abraham! I see your hand in this."
The cave began to shake. Rocks fell from the jagged crack in the ceiling, beating down onto the floor. It felt like the whole cavern was about to collapse. The sky above grew darker. The green-eyed Macon -- the Light Caster, if that's what he truly was -- seemed even more powerful than the Incubus he was before.
A rumbling laugh echoed off the rock walls. Down on the watery cave floor, where the moon no longer shone, Abraham stepped out of the shadows. With his white beard and matching white suit, he looked like a harmless old man instead of the Darkest of Blood Incubuses. Hunting stayed at his side.
Abraham stood over Sarafine, whose body was lying on the ground. She had turned completely white, covered in a thick layer of frost, an icy cocoon.
"You call on me, boy?" The old man laughed again, sharp and quick. "Ah, the hubris of youth. In a hundred years, you will learn your place, Grandson." I tried to mentally calculate the generations between them -- four, maybe even five.
"I am well aware of my place, Grandfather. Unfortunately, and this is exceptionally awkward, I believe I'll be the one to send you back to yours."
Abraham smoothed his beard deliberately. "Little Macon Ravenwood. You were always such a lost boy. This is your doing, not mine. Blood is Blood, just as Dark is Dark. You should have remembered where your allegiances lie." He paused, looking at Leah. "You would have done well to remember that, too, my dear. But then, you were raised by a Caster." He shuddered.
I could see the anger in Leah's face, but I could also see the fear. She was willing to try her luck with the Blood pack, but she didn't want to challenge Abraham.
Abraham looked at Hunting. "On the subject of lost boys, where is John?"
"Long gone. Coward."
Abraham whipped around to face Hunting. "John isn't capable of cowardice. It's not in his nature. And his life means more to me than yours. So I suggest you find him."
Hunting lowered his eyes and nodded. I couldn't help but wonder why John Breed was so important to Abraham, who didn't seem to care about anyone.
Macon watched Abraham carefully. "It's touching to see how concerned you are about your boy. I certainly hope you find him. I know how painful it is to lose a child."
The cavern started to shake again, and rocks fell around our feet. "What have you done with John?" In his rage, Abraham seemed less like a harmless old man and more like the Demon he truly was.
"What have I done with him? I think the question is what have you done to him?" Abraham's black eyes narrowed, but Macon only smiled. "An Incubus who can walk in the sunlight and retain his strength without feeding ... it would require a very specific coupling to produce those qualities in a child. Wouldn't you agree? Scientifically speaking, you would need Mortal qualities, yet this boy John possesses the gifts of a Caster. He can't have three parents, which means his mother was --"
Leah gasped. "An Evo." Every Caster in the room reacted to the word. The surprise spread like a ripple, a new kind of coldness in the air. Only Amma looked impassive. She folded her arms and fixed her eyes on Abraham Ravenwood as if he was just another chicken she was planning on plucking, skinning, and boiling in her banged-up pot.
I tried to remember what Lena told me about Evos. They were metamorphs, with the ability to mirror human form. They didn't just step inside a Mortal body, like Sarafine. Evos could actually become Mortals for short periods of time.
Macon smiled. "Precisely. A Caster that can take on human form long enough to conceive a child, with all the DNA of a Mortal and a Caster on one side and an Incubus on the other. You have been busy, haven't you, Grandfather? I didn't realize you were matchmaking in your spare time."
Abraham's eyes grew blacker. "You are the one who muddied the Order of Things. First, with your infatuation with a Mortal, and then by turning on your own kind to protect this girl." Abraham shook his head, as if Macon was nothing more than an impetuous boy. "And where has it left us? Now the Duchannes child has cleaved the moon. Do you know what this means? The threat she poses to all of us?"
"The fate of my niece is none of your concern. You seem to have your hands full enough with your own science experiment of a child. Although, I have to wonder what you're doing with him." Macon's green eyes glowed as he spoke.
"Be careful who you speak to that way." Hunting took a step forward, but Abraham put up his hand, and Hunting stopped. "Killed you once, I'll kill you twice."
Macon shook his head. "Nursery rhymes, Hunting? If you are planning a career as Grandfather's minion, you're going to have to work on your delivery." Macon sighed. "Now then, tuck your tail between your legs and follow your master home like a good dog." Hunting's expression hardened.
Macon turned to Abraham. "And Grandfather, as much as I would love to compare lab notes, I think it's time you leave."
The old man laughed. A cold wind began to circle around him, whistling between the rocks. "You think you can order me around like an errand boy? You will not call my name, Macon Ravenwood. You will cry my name. You will bleed my name." The wind grew around him, blowing his string tie awkwardly across his body. "And when you die, my name will still be feared, and yours will be forgotten."
Macon looked him in the eye, without the slightest hint of fear. "As my mathematically gifted brother clarified, I've already died once. You're going to have to come up with something new, old man. It's getting tiresome. Allow me to see you out."
Macon fluttered his fingers, and I heard a ripping sound as the night opened behind Abraham. The old man hesitated, then smiled. "My age must be catching up with me. I almost forgot to collect my things before I leave." He reached out his hand, and something emerged from behind one of the crevices in the rock. It vanished, reappearing in his hand. I held my breath for a second when I saw it.
The Book of Moons.
The Book we believed had burned to ash, in the fields of Greenbrier. The Book that was a curse all its own.
Macon's face darkened, and he held out his hand. "That doesn't belong to you, Grandfather." The Book twitched in Abraham's hand, but the darkness surrounding him deepened, and the old man shrugged with a smile. A second ripping sound echoed across the cavern as he disappeared, taking the Book and Hunting and Sarafine with him. By the time the echo died, the shallow tides washed away even the imprint of Sarafine's body in the sand.
At the sound of the rip, Lena started to run. By the time Abraham was gone, she was across the rocky cave floor and halfway to Macon. He leaned against the rough wall until Lena threw herself into his chest, and Macon swayed as if he was going to fall.
"You're dead." Lena spoke into his dirty, ripped shirt.
"No, sweetheart. I'm very much alive." He drew her face up to look at him. "Look at me. I'm still here."
"Your eyes. They're green." She touched his face, shocked.
"And yours are not." He touched her cheek, sadly. "But they are beautiful. Both the green and the gold."