Beautiful Redemption (36 page)

The Hands of the Dead

I
t’s about time.” Her arms crossed impatiently, Amma was staring at the opening in the old stone wall when we stepped through.

Uncle Macon was right; she didn’t like to be kept waiting.

Marian gently put her hand on Amma’s shoulder. “I’m sure it was difficult to round everyone up.”

Amma sniffed, ignoring the excuse. “There’s difficult, and then there’s difficult.”

John and Liv were sitting on the ground next to each other, Liv’s head resting casually on John’s shoulder. Uncle Barclay stepped through after me and helped Aunt Del navigate the broken pieces of the wall. She blinked hard, staring at a spot
not far from Genevieve’s grave. She swayed, and Uncle Barclay steadied her.

The layers of time were obviously peeling themselves back, the way they did only for Aunt Del.

I wondered what she saw. So much had happened at Greenbrier. Ethan Carter Wate’s death, the first time Genevieve used
The Book of Moons
to bring him back, the day Ethan and I found her locket and had the vision, and the night Aunt Del used her powers to show us those pieces of Genevieve’s past in this very spot.

But everything had changed since then. The day Ethan and I were trying to figure out how to repair the Order and I accidentally burned the grass beneath us.

When I watched my mother burn to death.

Can Aunt Del see all of it? Can she see that?

An unexpected feeling of shame washed over me, and I secretly hoped she couldn’t.

Amma nodded at Gramma. “Emmaline. You’re lookin’ well.”

Gramma smiled. “As are you, Amarie.”

Uncle Macon was the last one to enter the lost garden. He lingered near the wall, an uncharacteristic and almost imperceptible unease about him.

Amma locked eyes with him, as if they were having a conversation that only they could hear.

The tension was impossible to ignore. I hadn’t seen them together since the night we lost Ethan. And both of them claimed everything was
fine
.

But now that they were standing only feet apart, it was clear nothing was fine. Actually, Amma looked like she wanted to tear my uncle’s head off.

“Amarie,” he said slowly, bowing his head respectfully.

“I’m surprised you showed up. Aren’t you worried some a my wickedness might stain those fancy shoes a yours?” she said. “Wouldn’t want that. Not when your party shoes cost such a pretty penny.”

What is she talking about?

Amma was a saint—at least that’s how I’d always thought of her.

Gramma and Aunt Del exchanged glances, looking equally confused. Marian turned away. She knew something, but she wasn’t saying.

“Grief makes people desperate,” Uncle M responded. “If anyone understands that, I do.”

Amma turned her back on him, facing the whiskey and shot glass lying on the ground next to
The Book of Moons
. “I’m not sure you understand anything that doesn’t suit your purpose, Melchizedek. If I didn’t think we’d need your help, I would send you packin’ straight back to your house.”

“That’s hardly fair. I was trying to protect you—” Uncle Macon stopped when he noticed we were all staring. All of us except Marian and John, who were doing everything they could not to look at Amma or my uncle. That pretty much meant looking at the mud on the ground or
The Book of Moons
, neither of which was going to make anyone any less uncomfortable.

Amma spun back around to face Uncle Macon. “Next time, try protectin’ me a little less and my boy a little more. If there is a next time.”

Did she blame Uncle Macon for not doing a better job of protecting Ethan when he was alive? It didn’t make any sense….

“Why are you two fighting like this?” I demanded. “You’re acting like Reece and Ridley.”

“Hey,” said Reece. Rid just shrugged.

I shot Amma and my uncle a look. “I thought we were here to help Ethan.”

Amma sniffed, and my uncle looked unhappy, but neither of them said a word.

Marian finally spoke up. “I think we’re all worried. It would probably be best if we put everything else aside and focused on the issue at hand. Amma, what is it you need us to do?”

Amma didn’t take her eyes off my uncle. “Need the Casters to form a circle around me. Mortals can spread out between ’em. We need the power a this world to hand that evil thing off to the ones who can take it the rest a the way.”

“The Greats, right?” I hoped so.

She nodded. “If they answer.”

If they answered? Was there a chance they wouldn’t?

Amma pointed to the ground at my feet. “Lena, I need you to bring me the Book.”

I lifted the dusty leather volume and felt the power pulsing through it like a heartbeat.

“The Book’s not gonna want to go,” Amma explained. “It wants to stay here, where it can cause trouble. Like your cousin there.” Ridley rolled her eyes, but Amma only looked at me. “I’ll call the Greats, but you need to keep a hand on it till they take it.”

What was it going to do? Fly away?

“Everyone else, make that circle. Hold hands nice and tight.”

After Ridley and Link bickered about holding hands, and Reece refused to hold hands with Ridley or John, they finally completed the circle.

Amma glanced over at me. “The Greats haven’t been exactly happy with me. They may not come. And if they do, I can’t promise they’ll take the Book.”

I couldn’t imagine the Greats being upset with Amma. They were her family, and they had come to our rescue more than once.

We just needed them to do it one more time.

“I need the Casters to concentrate everything you got inside the circle.” Amma bent down and filled the shot glass with Wild Turkey. She drank the shot and then refilled it for Uncle Abner. “I don’t care what happens—you send the power my way.”

“What if you get hurt?” Liv asked, concerned.

Amma stared back at Liv, her expression twisted and broken. “Can’t get any more hurt than I am already. You just hold on.”

Uncle Macon stepped forward, dropping Aunt Del’s hand. “Would it help if I assisted you?” he asked Amma.

She pointed a shaky finger at him. “You get outta my circle. You can do your part from there.”

I felt a surge of heat from the Book, as if its anger flared to meet Amma’s.

Uncle Macon stepped back and joined hands with everyone else. “One day you will forgive me, Amarie.”

Her dark eyes narrowed to meet his green ones. “Not today.”

Amma closed her eyes, and my hair began to curl involuntarily as she spoke the words only she could.

“Blood a my blood,

and roots a my soul,

I’m in need a your intercession.”

The wind began to whip around me within the circle, and lightning cracked overhead. I felt the heat of the Book joining with the heat of my hands, the heat I could command—to burn and destroy.

Amma didn’t stop, as if she was talking to the sky.

“I call you to carry what I cannot.

To see what I cannot.

To do what I cannot.”

A green glow surged from Uncle Macon’s hands and spread around the circle from one hand to the next. Gramma closed
her eyes, as if she was trying to channel Macon’s power. John noticed and closed his eyes, too, and the light intensified.

Lightning tore across the sky, but the universe didn’t open up, and the Greats didn’t appear.

Where are you?
I pleaded silently.

Amma tried again.

“This is the crossroads I can’t cross.

Only you can take this book to my boy.

Deliver it to your world from ours.”

I concentrated harder, ignoring the heat of the Book in my hands. I heard a branch break, then another. I opened my eyes, and a burst of flames sprang up outside the circle. It caught like someone had lit the wick on a stick of dynamite, tearing through the grass and creating another circle outside the first.

The Wake of Fire—the uncontrollable flames that ignited sometimes against my will. The garden was burning again because of me. How many times could this earth char before the damage was irreparable?

Amma squeezed her eyes tighter. This time she spoke the words plainly. They weren’t a chant but a plea. “I know you don’t wanna come for me. So come for Ethan. He’s waitin’ on you, and you’re as much his family as you are mine. Do the right thing. One last time. Uncle Abner. Aunt Delilah. Aunt Ivy. Grandmamma Sulla. Twyla. Please.”

The sky opened up, and rain poured down from the heavens. But the fire still raged, and the Caster light still glowed.

I saw something small and black circling above us.

The crow.

Ethan’s crow.

Amma opened her eyes and saw it, too. “That’s right, Uncle Abner. Don’t punish Ethan for my mistakes. I know you been lookin’ after him over there, the same way you’ve always looked after us down here. He needs this book. Maybe you know why, even if I don’t.”

The crow circled closer and closer, and the faces began to appear in the dark sky, one by one—their features carving themselves out of the universe above us.

Uncle Abner appeared first, his lined face creased by time.

The crow landed on his shoulder like a tiny mouse at the feet of a giant.

Sulla the Prophet was next, regal braids cascading over her shoulder. Strands of tangled beads rested against her chest as if they weighed nothing. Or were worth the weight.

The Book of Moons
bucked in my hands, as if trying to pull free. But I knew it wasn’t the Greats reaching for it.

The Book was resisting.

I tightened my grip as Aunt Delilah and Aunt Ivy appeared simultaneously, holding hands and looking down like they were evaluating the scene. Our intentions or our abilities—it was impossible to know.

But they were judging us nonetheless. I could feel it, and
the Book could, too. It tried to pull free again, singeing the skin on my palms.

“Don’t let go!” Amma warned.

“I won’t,” I called over the wind. “Aunt Twyla, where are you?”

Aunt Twyla’s dark eyes appeared before her gentle face and arms laden with bracelets. Before her braided hair knotted with charms, or the rows of earrings that marched down her ears.

“Ethan needs this!” I shouted over the wind and the rain and the fire.

The Greats stared down at us, but they didn’t react.

The Book of Moons
did.

I felt the pulse beating within it, the power and rage spreading through my body like poison.

Don’t let go.

Images flashed in front of my eyes.

Genevieve holding the Book, speaking the words that would bring Ethan Carter Wate back for a split second—and curse our family for generations.

Amma and me speaking the same words, standing over Ethan Lawson Wate—our Ethan.

His eyes opening and Uncle Macon’s closing.

Abraham standing over the Book as the fire threatened Ravenwood in the distance, his brother’s voice begging him to stop, right before he killed Jonah.

I could see it all.

All the people this book had touched and hurt.

The people I knew and the ones I didn’t recognize.

I could feel it pulling away from me again, and I screamed louder this time.

Amma grabbed the Book, her hands over mine. Where parts of her skin were touching the leather, I could feel her skin burning.

Tears formed in her eyes, but she didn’t let go.

“Help us,” I screamed into the sky.

It wasn’t the sky that answered.

Genevieve Duchannes materialized in the darkness, her hazy form close enough to touch.

Give it to me.

Amma could see her; it was obvious from her haunted expression. But I was the only one who could hear her Kelting.

Her long red hair blew in the wind, in a way that seemed both impossible and right at the same time.

I’ll take it. It doesn’t belong in this world. It never did.

I wanted to hand her the Book—to send it to Ethan and to stop Amma’s hands from burning.

But Genevieve was a Dark Caster. I only had to look at her yellow eyes to remember.

Amma was trembling.

Genevieve reached out her hand. What if I made the wrong choice? Ethan would never get the Book, and I would never see him again….

How do I know I can trust you?

Genevieve’s heartbroken eyes stared back at me.

You’ll only know if you do.

The Greats looked down at us, and there was no way to know if they were going to help. Amma’s Mortal hands were burning alongside my Caster ones, and
The Book of Moons
was no closer to Ethan than when it was in Abraham Ravenwood’s hands, not long ago.

Sometimes there’s only one choice.

Sometimes you just have to jump.

Or let go…

Take it, Genevieve.

I pulled my hands away, and Amma’s moved with mine. The Book jerked free as if it sensed its only chance at escape. It lurched toward the outer circle, where John and Link were holding hands.

The glowing green light was still in place, and John concentrated his gaze on the Book. “I don’t think so.”

It hit the light and ricocheted back into the center of the circle and Genevieve’s waiting hands. She closed her hazy palms around it, and the Book seemed to shudder.

Not this time.

I held my breath, listening to Amma cry.

Genevieve pressed the Book against her chest and dematerialized.