“It should be around here somewhere,” Ethan said. He pushed through the palmetto and swamp grass surrounding Wader’s Creek. Link followed close behind him. “I can’t believe how much the old path has grown over.”
Everyone else was still with Macon in the Caster Tunnels, preparing for tomorrow. Ethan had one thing he felt like he had to do before then, and Link had offered to come with him. Ethan hadn’t complained; having a quarter Incubus around never hurt anyone, not when it came to the muscle department.
Especially not when you’re facing Silas Ravenwood around every corner and within every shadow.
“The path?” Link tried to find it but he couldn’t either—not even with his radically improved Incubus senses. “I guess nobody uses it anymore.” He grinned. “Remember the fort we built out here?”
“The two hundred bug bites on each leg? The ones we had to smother with clear nail polish?” Ethan sighed. “How could I forget.”
“I burned mine off with a lighter.” Link shrugged.
“That explains so much about you.”
Link grinned, and the two of them kept going.
“There used to be a whole community out here, remember? It was practically a town.” Ethan shook his head.
Link looked around at the desolate swamp. “If it was, it isn’t now.”
“It’s nothing.”
There was no community without Amma. She was gone, and she’d taken it with her. She had been the heart and soul of everyone and everything she’d surrounded herself with. But she had vanished, because of Ethan—and the rest of Wader’s Creek just seemed to have picked up and vanished right along with her.
It isn’t fair.
Ethan frowned. “I think this one was hers.” They were standing in front of a ramshackle house.
“Amma’s place? You better be sure. We only got one cake.”
“I’m sure. I’ve been here hundreds of times. Maybe thousands.”
“Her house?”
“This was her porch. That one. The yellow one. I’m sure that’s the one.”
Link looked at the half-destroyed house skeptically. “But are you sure this will work?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Nope.”
There was nothing more to say.
Ethan knelt down. He opened his backpack and pulled out half a Tunnel of Fudge cake. They’d lifted it when they’d taken off from the rehearsal dinner, which Ethan knew would still be going on, even now.
It didn’t matter. Ethan had to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. It was as much for his father as anyone else.
He considered the cake. It had turned into a brown orb the size of a slightly squished football, but Ethan knew it didn’t matter. It wasn’t about the cake. It was about the things that he’d felt when he was making it. The things he’d remembered about her. The things he’d missed about her. Even though it wasn’t her favorite—it was his—he’d made it because he knew if she had been there for his father’s wedding, she would have made it for him. To say you’ll be okay, Ethan Wate. You’ll keep going right on through this Tunnel and find your way out the other side.
The only way out is through.
The right thing and the easy thing are never the same.
She’s not your mother but she doesn’t have to be.
She’s your family now, because she loves someone you love.
Link stood over him now like a giant tree. “You want me to like, do something? Is this like a three-way phone call or something?”
“I’m not exactly sure. Just stay back for a minute.” Ethan closed his eyes.
Help me.
I need help.
“Is it working?” Link sounded anxious.
Ethan opened one eye. “Could you shut up?”
He tried again.
Amma?
I need your guidance.
We can’t do this alone.
I know we’ve come to you before, and I know you probably have a whole lot of things you’d rather be thinking about right now than this.
Believe me, so do I.
Ethan waited. Then he tried again.
Mom?
I don’t know where else to go—
If any of you Greats are out there—
Uncle Abner? I don’t have any Wild Turkey on me. I know that’s your favorite but I bet you’d like this cake if you gave it a shot.
Aunt Prue? I know you’ve probably got your hands full keeping an eye on Mercy and Grace, but still…
He heard a rustling sound in the tall grasses around him, and when he opened his eyes, he almost jumped out of his skin.
It wasn’t Amma or his mother or even Uncle Abner or Aunt Prue who appeared before him.
It was the bride.
So that was weird.
Ethan stood up, looking as confused as he felt. “Excuse me. Mrs. English? Aren’t you supposed to be at the rehearsal dinner right now?”
Ethan.
One word.
That was all it took for Ethan to know exactly what was going on.
“What’s happening?” Link’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away but Lilian English’s was coming from someplace even farther. When Ethan looked around, he couldn’t see Link anymore, as if he was in the swamp but not in the swamp, dislocated from any one particular place or time.
“It’s you,” Ethan said.
He knew the voice—he’d never be able to forget it, even if he hadn’t heard it in a long time now.
The being in front of him wasn’t his old English teacher.
It only spoke through her.
She might as well have been a cell phone.
In fact, this wasn’t Lilian English at all; it was her infamous alter ego, the Lilum. A powerful ancient Demon, the one who had almost destroyed the world when Lena had Claimed herself for both Light and Dark, and ruptured the whole Order of Things.
“I wasn’t expecting you to hear me,” Ethan said.
The creature-who-was-not-Lilian-English stared at him blankly. When she spoke, her mouth never moved. It was like Kelting, only somehow not at all. Ethan still spoke out loud—he didn’t want to even try to get inside a Demon’s head.
I have watched you. Since we first met.
You were brave. I was surprised.
“Thank you, I guess?” Ethan didn’t know what to say, exactly.
You worry about your friend now.
“That’s right.”
You want to keep him from the pain you experienced.
“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” It certainly wasn’t an experience Ethan would have wished on anyone, especially not his best friend.
You will do what you always do.
You will fight.
“What if—what if something goes wrong?”
If your friend is to die, then your friend is to die. All men die.
You too will die again, someday. It is the Mortal way.
“That,” Ethan said, “is the world’s lousiest pep talk.”
The creature stepped forward and touched his hand, lifting it to his face. He could see the Binding Ring on his finger, right in front of him.
Build the circle, but when the time comes, give me the Ring.
“You mean, you? Or Mrs. English?”
Yes. The Mortal.
“So, Mrs. English.”
Yes. You must give her the Ring.
It is hers to take and yours to lose.
The Ring will do what it must.
You don’t need to be afraid.
She moved her hand to his shoulder. He could barely feel the pressure of her cool touch.
Every battle you have fought is with you still.
Every enemy you have defeated stands behind you.
You are Bound as you have always been Bound, to those who came before and those who will come after.
To those you loved and those you hated.
You are stronger than you think.
He hoped she was right.