Leah Ravenwood materialized next to him in her black coat, holding her staff. Bade, her mountain lion, growled, pacing in front of Leah. “My brother speaks the truth. Our family supports him, and the Keeper. You should know that before you continue down this road. She doesn’t stand alone.”
Marian looked at Macon and Leah gratefully.
Someone stepped through the doorway behind Leah. “And if there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.” Liv walked past Leah and Macon. “Aren’t I the one you’ve come to punish? I’m here. Have at it.”
Marian grabbed Liv’s hand, refusing to let her go any farther.
The Council regarded her solemnly. “The Incubus and the Succubus are of no concern to us.”
“They’re standing in for my family,” Liv said. “I have no one else except Professor Ashcroft.”
“You are brave, child.”
Liv didn’t move or let go of Marian’s hand. “Thank you.”
“And foolish.”
“So I’ve been told. Quite often, actually.” Liv looked at them as if she wasn’t the least bit afraid, which I knew was impossible. But her voice didn’t waver. Like she was relieved this moment was finally happening, and she could stop dreading it.
The Council wasn’t finished with her. “You held a sacred trust and chose to break it.”
“I chose to help a friend. I chose to save a life. I’d do it again,” Liv answered.
“Those were not your decisions to make.”
“I accept the consequences of my actions. Like I said, I’d do it all again if I had to. That’s what you do for the people you love.”
“Love is not our concern,” the voices answered as one.
“ ‘All you need is love.’ ” Liv was quoting the Beatles to the Council of the Far Keep. If she was going down, she was going down in style.
“You understand what it is you say?”
Liv nodded. “Yes.”
The Council members looked around the room, their eyes moving from Liv and Marian to Macon and Leah.
Lightning cracked, and the room filled with heat and energy. The Caster Chronicles radiated light.
The tall man spoke to the other two, his voice deeper without theirs blending into it. “We will take what has been spoken to the Far Keep. There is a price to be paid. It shall be paid.”
Macon bowed. “Have a safe journey. Be sure to visit us if you’re ever passing through our fair town again. I do hope you can stay longer next time and try some of our famous buttermilk pie.”
The woman with the milky white eyes removed her glasses and stared in Macon’s direction. But it was impossible to tell what she was really looking at, because her eyes didn’t move at all.
The lightning cracked again, and they were gone.
Thunder rumbled while the book lingered on the table for another second. Then it disappeared, following the dark figures into the light.
“Bloody hell!” Liv collapsed into Marian’s arms.
I stood frozen in place.
Hell didn’t begin to cover it.
Once Macon was satisfied that the Keepers were gone, he moved toward the door. “Marian, I hate to leave you, but there are a few things I want to look into. Or rather, look up.”
Liv recognized her cue and started to follow him.
But Macon wasn’t looking at Liv. “Lena, I’d like you to come with me if you don’t mind.”
“What?” Lena looked confused.
But not as confused as Liv, who was already gathering her notebook. “I can help. I know where all the books are—”
“That’s quite all right, Olivia. The sort of information I’m looking for is not in the books you’ve read. The Far Keep doesn’t provide other Keepers with access to information regarding the origins of the Council. Those records are kept by Casters.” He nodded at Lena, who was already shoving her things into her bag.
“Of course. Yes.” Liv looked hurt. “I can only imagine.”
Macon paused at the door. “Leah, would you mind leaving Bade? I believe Marian could use her company tonight.” Which really meant he didn’t want to leave Marian alone, without a two-hundred-pound bodyguard on the premises.
Leah scratched the big cat’s head. “Not at all. I have to get back to County Care anyway, and they aren’t partial to animals.”
Bade circled the table where we were sitting, finally settling on a spot beside Marian.
Lena looked at me, and I could tell she didn’t want to leave me alone with Liv and Marian, but she didn’t want to let Macon down either. Especially not when he was asking for her help, instead of Liv’s.
Go on, L. It’s fine. I don’t mind.
Her answer was a very public kiss and a meaningful look at Liv. Then they were gone.
After they left, I sat in the archive with Liv and Marian, drawing out the moment as long as we could. I couldn’t remember the last time the three of us were alone together, and I missed it. Liv and Marian tossing around quotes, and me always coming up with the wrong answer.
Liv finally stood up. “I have to go. I don’t want you to get in any more trouble.”
Marian stared into the bottom of her teacup. “Olivia, don’t you think I could have stopped you if I’d wanted to?”
Liv looked like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “You weren’t even there when I helped Ethan release Macon from the Arclight.”
“I was there when you took off into the Tunnels with Ethan and Link. I could’ve stopped you then.” Marian took a shaky breath. “But I had a friend once, too. And if I could turn back the clock—if there was anything I could’ve done to save her—I would have done it. Now she’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do to get her back.”
I squeezed Marian’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” Liv said. “And I’m sorry I got you into so much trouble. I wish I could persuade them to leave you alone.”
“You can’t. No one can. Sometimes everyone does the right thing and there’s still a mess left to clean up. Someone has to take responsibility for it.”
Liv stared at a water-stained box on the floor. “It should be me.”
“I disagree. This is my chance to help another friend, one I love very much.” Marian smiled and reached for Liv’s hand. “And there has to be at least one librarian in this town—Keeper or not.”
Liv threw her arms around Marian and hugged her like she was never going to let go. Marian gave Liv one last squeeze and looked over at me. “EW, I’d appreciate it if you would see Liv back to Ravenwood. If I gave her my car, I’m afraid it would end up on the wrong side of the road.”
I hugged Marian, whispering to her as I did. “Be careful.”
“I always am.”
We had to make a lot of detours to get anywhere in Gatlin now. So five minutes later, I was driving past my own house, with Liv in the passenger seat—like we were on our way to deliver library books or stop at the Dar-ee Keen. Like it was last summer.
But the overwhelming brown of everything and the buzzing of ten thousand lubbers reminded me it wasn’t.
“I can almost smell the pie from here,” Liv said, looking toward my house longingly.
I glanced at the open window. “Amma hasn’t made a pie in a while, but you can probably smell her pecan fried chicken.”
Liv groaned. “You’ve no idea what it’s like living in the Tunnels, especially when Kitchen is out of sorts. I’ve been living on my stash of HobNobs for weeks now. If I don’t get another package soon, I’m doomed.”
“You know, there is a little thing called the Stop & Steal around here,” I said.
“I know. There’s also a little thing called Amma’s homemade fried chicken.”
I knew where this conversation was heading all along and was halfway to the curb by the time she said it. “Come on. I bet you ten bucks she made biscuits, too.”
“You had me at ‘fried.’ ”
Amma gave Liv all the thighs, so I knew she was still feeling sorry for Liv after last summer. Luckily, the Sisters were asleep. I didn’t feel like answering questions about why there was a girl at my house who wasn’t Lena.
Liv stuffed her face faster than Link in his prime. By the time I was on my third piece, she was on her second plateful.
“This is the second-best piece of fried chicken I’ve ever tasted in my life.” Liv was actually licking her fingers.
“Second best?” I was the one who said it, but I saw Amma’s face when I did. Because by Gatlin standards, those two words alone were blasphemy. “What’s better?”
“The piece I’m about to have. And possibly the piece after that.” She slid her empty plate across the table.
I could see Amma smiling to herself as she added more Wesson oil to her five-gallon pot. “Wait till you taste a batch right outta the fryer. Can’t say you’ve tried that, have you, Olivia?”
“No, ma’am. But I also haven’t had any homemade food since the Seventeenth Moon.” There it was again. The familiar cloud settled back over the kitchen, and I pushed my plate away. The extra-crispy crust was choking me.
Amma dried the One-Eyed Menace with a dishrag. “Ethan Lawson Wate. You go get our friend some a my best preserves. Back a the panty. Top shelf.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Amma called after me before I made it to the hall. “And none a that pickled watermelon rind. I’m savin’ that for Wesley’s mamma. It turned out sour this year.”
The basement door was across from Amma’s room. The wooden stairs were scarred with black marks, like a burnt marshmallow, from the time me and Link put a hot pot on the stairs when we were trying to make Rice Krispies Treats on our own. We almost burned a hole in one step, and Amma gave me stinkeye for days. I made sure to step on the mark every time I went down those stairs.
Going down into a basement in Gatlin wasn’t all that different from going through a Caster Doorwell. Our basement wasn’t the Tunnels, but I’d always thought of it as some kind of mysterious underworld. Under beds and in basements—that’s where all the best secrets were kept in our town. The treasure might be stacks of old magazines in the furnace room, or a week’s worth of icebox cookies from Amma’s industrial freezer. Either way, you were going back up with an armload or a stomach full of something.
At the bottom of the stairs was a doorway framed in two-by-fours. No door, just a string hanging on the other side of the doorframe. I yanked the string as I had a thousand times before, and there was Amma’s prized collection. Every house around here had a pantry, and this was one of the finest pantries in three counties. Amma’s mason jars held everything from pickled watermelon rinds and the skinniest green beans to the roundest onions and the most perfectly green tomatoes. Not to mention the pie fillings and preserves—peach, plum, rhubarb, apple, cherry. The rows stretched back so far your teeth started to ache just from looking at them.
I ran my hand along the top shelf, where Amma kept all her prizewinners, the secret recipes and jars she saved for company. Everything in here was rationed, as if we were in the army and these jars were filled with penicillin or ammunition—or maybe land mines, because that’s how carefully you had to hold them.