Before the Claiming Page 2

“It is what it is. We cannot change the Order of Things.” Macon kept his gaze fixed on the child as he spoke.

  Amma was staring, too. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen one a them in person up until now.”

  Emmaline shook her head. “Stop it. Both of you.”

  “I’m only stating the obvious,” Macon said.

  “You’re jumping to conclusions.” Emmaline couldn’t bring herself to admit that Macon was right. “It’s too early to know what kind of Caster the child is, and Lena’s powers couldn’t possibly be that strong yet,” she said. “And she certainly wouldn’t know how to control them.”

  “What if she didn’t need to?” Macon started to pace. “As I said before, self-preservation is an instinct. Perhaps Lena’s powers manifested as a fight or flight response. It’s practically Darwinian.”

  Amma eyed the Incubus. “Only the Good Lord himself and one kinda Caster can make it rain outta sheer will.” She looked at Emmaline. “Like it or not.”

  “I think after this evening’s events, we can all agree on one thing.” Macon stopped pacing. “Lena is a Natural.” He reached for a tiny curl. “And, I think it’s safe to say, a powerful one at that.”

  Emmaline stood in stricken silence.

  “Like mother, like daughter,” the Seer said, which seemed as close to agreeing with an Incubus as the older woman was willing to go.

  The color drained from Emmaline’s face. A Natural was the most powerful Caster in the supernatural world—an Elemental capable of controlling wind, earth, air, and fire. Like Sarafine, the daughter she couldn’t save.

  I didn’t try hard enough, Emmaline thought. I lost her.

  But I will not lose Lena.

  IV. The Dark One

  “No Mortal will ever figure out what caused the fire,” Amma said, staring at the child sleeping on a makeshift blanket bed in Macon’s private study, only hours after a fire almost killed her. “They’ll say it was an old house with bad wirin’.”

  Emmaline nodded. “Isn’t it always that way?” The fire was like so many unexplained events in the Mortal world that could be traced back to the Casters—if you knew they existed. Amma Treadeau was one of the few who did. But Emmaline would’ve expected nothing less from the powerful Seer.

  Amma kept her eyes on the child. “The way I see it, the ones who don’t know are lucky.”

  Emmaline, Macon, and Amma stood together, forming a circle of protection around the child without even trying.

  Amma took a step away from Macon, who seemed to make her uneasy. “This child can bring people together, whether they like it or not,” Amma said.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Emmaline said. “Sarafine will come for her. If she finds out that Lena survived, she will never stop hunting her.”

  Macon bent down and ran his hand over the sleeping child’s black hair. Lena reached out in her sleep, curling her chubby fingers around Macon’s slender one.

  “We won’t let that happen,” Macon said. “If Sarafine comes, we’ll protect Lena.”

  “We?” Emmaline’s tone was incredulous. “I’m grateful for your help tonight, Macon, but we both know you are a Dark creature. Your allegiance lies with the Dark Casters, and if the time comes to choose a side, that includes Sarafine.”

  “I will never choose her side,” Macon growled. “She tried to kill a child, for god’s sake.”

  “I’m sure your kind has killed plenty a them,” Amma said. “You’re nothin’ but a wolf in fancy sheep’s clothin’.”

  Emmaline couldn’t fault Amma for her reaction. To the Mortals who knew they existed, Blood Incubuses like the Ravenwoods were the real-life version of the fictional vampires in books and movies. They fed on blood, killing Mortals and Supernaturals alike.

  “I have never hurt a child,” Macon snapped at Amma. “I am not the monster you think I am.”

  “Once a devil, always a devil.” Amma stuck out her chin and crossed her arms.

  “I’ve had enough of your riddles, Seer,” Macon said through gritted teeth. “This isn’t Mortal business, so it’s none of your concern.”

  “Enough.” Emmaline held up her hand to end the conversation.

  Amma steamrolled ahead without a hint of fear. “That’s where you’re wrong, Demon. Your kind has been makin’ messes in my world since before my grandmamma was born, and from what the cards tell me, you’re not close to done yet.” She took a defiant step closer to Macon. “So you’d better get used to seein’ me, because I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

  Macon leveled his gaze on Amma. “Then we’re in this together, Miss Treadeau.”

  “Don’t you say my name,” Amma snapped, her anger boiling over. “From where I’m standin’, you’ve caused nothin’ but trouble. I know all about you and my boy Mitchell’s wife. You’ve been lurkin’ around Gatlin ever since he started dating Lila Evers—who is now Lila Evers Wate.”

  Macon’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Mortal girl he had loved. “This is about the child.”

  Emmaline had no idea Lila had married someone close to Amma Treadeau.

  The Seer pointed at Macon, fearless. “It better be.”

  “You seem quite concerned about a situation that doesn’t concern you,” Macon said. “I’m surprised you haven’t left by now.”

  “I’d like to be gone just as much as you’d like to watch me go,” Amma said as if she wasn’t going anywhere until she was good and ready. “But there’s a question that needs answerin’ before I do. How do you two plan to keep Sarafine Duchannes from figurin’ out her daughter made it outta that house alive?” When no one responded, Amma added, “And if Sarafine finds out, how are you gonna keep that child from endin’ up in a body bag, like her daddy?”

  Emmaline turned to Macon. “Miss Treadeau is right, Macon. If we’re lucky, Sarafine will never know the child survived. Hiding Lena is the only option.”

  “And if Sarafine figures out the truth?” Amma asked.

  Emmaline took a deep breath. “Then I’ll have to protect her.”

  “You can’t do this alone, Emmaline,” Macon said. “I’ll help you.”

  “As much as I need your help, I can’t turn a blind eye while you feed on Mortals.”

  Macon flinched as if Emmaline had struck him. “I’ve never killed a Mortal, and I have no interest in blood. I found another way to sustain myself.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” Amma stared at Macon like she was trying to drill a hole through him.

  Macon turned toward Emmaline and slipped something out of his jacket.

  A tiny blue book.

  “My mother found this in St. Louis Cemetery #1, in New Orleans.”

  Amma craned her neck. “What is it?”

  “An old voodoo book—more of a manual, to be precise—about harnessing the power of dreams,” he said, keeping the book close. “It probably came over from the sugar islands generations ago.”

  “What does that have to do with helping me protect Lena?” Emmaline asked.

  “I don’t need to feed on blood anymore,” Macon said, his eyes darting to Amma. Whatever his secret was, he didn’t want Amma to hear it. He slid the blue book inside his coat. “You can’t keep Lena safe alone, Emmaline. None of us can. But my physical strength is an asset. You have to trust me. The Darkness within me is my burden to bear, but I can control it now. I give you my word.”

  “Even if he’s tellin’ the truth, it doesn’t change what he is,” Amma said. “Not any more than we can change what’s meant to be. The Wheel a Fate keeps turning, whether we like it or not.”

  Macon held out his hand to Emmaline. “Perhaps we can slow it down?”

  Emmaline closed hers around his and reached out her other hand to Amma. The Seer laced her fingers through Emmaline’s and shot Macon a look that said Don’t you even think about touching me.

  “Do you think it’s possible?” Emmaline asked Amma.

  Amma Treadeau stared up at the heavens and gave a slow nod. “It’s possible. If the
Good Lord’s willin’ and the creek don’t rise.”

  V. Caster Girls

  Thirteen years later, Lena Duchannes was every bit her Gramma’s girl. She had serious eyes, a kind heart, and a book in her hand. In fact, she loved school almost as much as her cousin Ridley Duchannes hated it.

  Lena was in eighth grade, and they were reading some of her favorite books: Freak the Mighty, Lord of the Flies, and Fahrenheit 451. Ridley was in ninth grade, and she had successfully avoided reading both her reading teacher assigned: Romeo and Juliet, an awful play about a ridiculous Mortal girl who drinks some crazy potion to fool everyone into thinking she’s dead, and then drinks real poison after her boyfriend thinks she’s dead and kills himself for real (at least that’s what Rid gathered from the mind-numbing class discussion); and The Scarlet Letter, an even more depressing book about a Mortal society where a woman has to wear a big red A on her chest after she hooks up with a guy.

  Ridley had to admit that one was pretty amusing, since they were living in Salem, Massachusetts (for now). Ridley never got tired of hearing about Mortals’ ridiculous ideas where witchcraft was concerned. Magic spells were reduced to nature rituals, praying to pagan gods, or hocus-pocus nonsense that made it seem as if any idiot could perform a Cast—or a spell, as Mortals called it. Of course, this usually required a magic word—another stupid concept. As if you could just wave a twig around and make wishes come true or create an illusion.

  Lena rarely admitted it, but she liked Mortals. While Ridley saw them as either trouble or a toy, she could tell it was different for Lena.

  Ridley couldn’t understand why. Sure, Mortals were interesting to watch, like exotic birds or a bunch of hyperactive puppies—sort of clueless and adorable. And most of them meant well.

  Except for Katherine Palmer, Lizzie Porter, and Abigail Price.

  They were the most popular girls in eighth grade, and the meanest. On the first day of school, they settled on Ridley’s cousin as their favorite target. Right now, they were sitting two rows in front of Lena, during history class.

  They were also the reason Rid was crouching in the backpack closet. She’d skipped English—well, that part wasn’t really because of her cousin—so she could hide in Lena’s classroom and see for herself exactly how bad the situation had gotten.

  Ridley wedged her face into the crack of the closet door.

  “All right, tonight’s homework is on the board. You will complete a new entry in your Witch Trials journal,” their teacher said. “And no skipping lines.”

  A chorus of groans passed through the room.

  Ridley rolled her eyes. Witch Trials.

  “You may be excused,” the teacher said.

  Sitting perfectly straight at her desk, Lena closed the spiral notebook she carried everywhere. It was full of poems that she never showed anyone, not even Ridley. That hadn’t stopped Rid from sneaking a look once or twice, but it didn’t make a difference. She couldn’t really make sense of the strings of words and thoughts. They were only words, and to Ridley, actions were what mattered.

  Abigail Price closed her purple Trapper Keeper and glared at Lena. “These homework assignments must be really easy for you, Lena. All you have to do is ask your grandmother what it’s like to be a witch.”

  Lizzie and Katherine laughed.

  Lena cringed and held her books against her chest like a shield.

  Ridley cursed under her breath. Stupid Mortals.

  She wasn’t sure who had started the rumors about Gramma, but they had caught on like wildfire.

  Mortals love gossip, Gramma had told them. Life is quite boring when your powers are picking out your clothes and your breakfast cereal.

  The gossip didn’t bother Gramma at all, but it gave the girls at school a reason to bother Lena. Which gave Ridley a reason to bother them.

  Rid considered her options as she waited for her cousin.

  Lena didn’t move until they were gone, and then headed straight to her locker. Ridley followed her. Lena stared straight ahead, without looking at or speaking to anyone.

  Ridley had almost caught up with her cousin when Lena got to her locker—just as Katherine, Lizzie, and Abigail turned the corner.

  “What’s in your locker, Lena?” Abigail asked, already giggling.

  “I bet she has a voodoo doll or a magic wand,” Lizzie said.

  Rid shook her head. Comments like Lizzie’s proved that Mortals had fewer brain cells than Casters did.

  “I don’t have anything in here except books and a sweatshirt, see?” Lena said, holding the door open wide.

  Katherine’s eyes narrowed, and she moved closer to Lena. “Do you think we believe anything you say? You can probably make your voodoo dolls invisible if you want.”

  Lena tried to take a step back, but the lockers were behind her now, and there was nowhere to go.

  “Witches don’t use voodoo dolls, Kelly,” Ridley said, letting her voice carry through the hall. It was time to make her presence known.

  “It’s Katherine, not Kelly,” Katherine said, raising her chin. She was almost as tall as Ridley. Rumor had it that Katherine had failed kindergarten, and she was really supposed to be in ninth grade.

  Ridley flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and blew a big pink bubble with her gum. “As if I care. The only thing I know about you three losers is your last names all start with P. So I think I’ll call you Petty”—she pointed at the first girl and continued down the line—“Pointless, and Pathetic. Now run along to the cafeteria and leave my cousin alone, or you’ll be sorry.”

  “Come on,” Abigail said. “Before she puts a spell on us.”

  Ridley zeroed in on the scatterbrained redhead. “What did you just say to me?”

  Abigail gulped.

  “You heard her,” Lizzie said. She was the stupidest of the three and clearly lacked basic survival instincts.

  The three girls moved closer to one another, forming a not-so-intimidating-looking wall.

  Let’s go to lunch, Rid. I don’t want to get in trouble, Lena Kelted silently. Ridley and Lena had been able to Kelt—hear each other’s thoughts—since they were young. At times like this, the ability came in handy. Please. I don’t want to move again.

  Rid knew Lena’s ridiculous desire to stay in one place was the root of the problem. To make matters worse, Lena seemed more than willing to be tormented in order to sit at a desk all day. Rid cringed at the thought.

  I’m not letting them treat us like crap, Rid Kelted back.

  “Apologize,” Ridley snapped at Katherine. “To me and my cousin.”

  Katherine stared back at Rid. “You wish.”

  A mischievous look flashed in Ridley’s eyes. “You know, during the Salem Witch Trials, people believed witches had marks so you could identify them.”

  “Why don’t you show us yours?” Katherine asked smugly.

  “You first.” Ridley whispered two words, and Lena recognized the Cast immediately. Their uncle had used it to amuse them all the time when they were little.

  The Notati Cast.

  To Mark the Unmarked.

  It hit Katherine first—a black stain that began at her fingertips. “Oh my god!”

  The color crept up her fingers and spread to her hands, inching its way up her arms like ink on a piece of paper.

  Lizzie was next, followed by Abigail.

  Rid, stop! Please!

  “You really are a witch,” Abigail whispered, her wide eyes terrified.

  “Not just a witch.” A wicked smile spread across Ridley’s glossy pink lips. “I’m a monster.”

  The three girls screamed at the tops of their lungs, and the teachers ran out of their classrooms to help. Ridley looked at Lena, who buried her face in her hands.

  Rid knew they wouldn’t be coming back to school tomorrow.

  * * *

  After Ridley explained that the black stain was just food dye, one of the teachers sent her and Lena to the office. But they never made it. On the w
ay, they ducked through the double doors that led to the playground and ran all the way home.

  Ridley laughed most of the way, and Lena’s eyes welled with tears of frustration.

  When they reached the white Tudor house, Lena stopped at the door. “Why did you have to ruin everything, Rid? Now we’ll have to move again.”

  “Good,” Ridley said, unwrapping a cherry lollipop—her favorite. “I didn’t like it here anyway. Too much fresh air.”

  “Don’t you get sick of being stuck in the house? At least if we’re in school, we get to do something.”

  “Something boring.” Ridley stared at her cousin. She loved Lena, but at times like this it was hard to believe they were related. “You’ll thank me later.”

  Inside, Gramma was on the old black rotary telephone in the library, most likely talking to the principal.

  “Are you positive?” she asked the person on the other end of the line. “That’s all I need to know.” Gramma hung up the phone and pressed her fingers against her temples. When she finally noticed Lena and Ridley in the hallway, she seemed surprised.

  “I’m glad you’re home, girls. Go upstairs and pack your things,” she said, swishing by them in one of her long, old-fashioned skirts. “We’re leaving.”

  Lena’s heart sank. “When?”

  Gramma was already gathering papers from inside the console table. She gave Lena a strange look, as if the answer should’ve been obvious.

  “Tonight.”

  VI. Secrets by the Sea

  The beach rolled out endlessly below the cliffs that concealed Gramma’s house. But even the perfect white-sand beaches of Barbados were no match for two bored teenage Caster girls.

  After they packed, Gramma had ushered Lena and Ridley through the Tunnels until they reached her house in Barbados. The island was a source of power for the Duchannes family, and it was always the place Gramma took them when she was feeling particularly paranoid—not that Gramma ever shared her concern with them.

  They had been in Barbados for ten days now, and Lena and Ridley were already itching to leave.

  “Do you think Gramma will let us go back to school in September?” Lena asked, her fourteen-year-old legs dangling over the edge of the balcony. Tiny clumps of sand fell from her bare feet, dusting the cliffs below them.