At the bottom of the page, there was a list.

what i remember

mother

ethan

macon

hunting

the fire

the wind

the rain

the crypt

the me who is not me

the me who would kill

two bodies

the rain

the book

the ring

amma's charm

the moon

Lena grabbed the book out of my hand. There were a few more lines on the page, but I never got to read them. "Stop it!"

I looked at her. "What was that?"

"Nothing, it's private. You shouldn't have been able to see that."

"Then why could I?"

"I must have done the Verbum Celatum Cast wrong. The Hidden Word." She looked at me anxiously, her eyes softening. "It doesn't matter. I was trying to remember that night. The night Macon ... disappeared."

"Died, L. The night Macon died."

"I know he died. Of course he died. I just don't feel like talking about it."

"I know you're probably depressed. It's normal."

"What?"

"It's the next stage."

Lena's eyes flashed. "I know your mom died, and my uncle died. But I have my own stages of grief. This isn't my feelings journal. I'm not your dad, and I'm not you, Ethan. We aren't as much alike as you think."

We looked at each other in a way we hadn't in a long time, maybe ever. There was a nameless moment. I realized we'd been speaking out loud since I got there, without Kelting a word. For the first time, I didn't know what she was thinking, and it was pretty clear she didn't know how I felt either.

But then she did. She held out her arms and drew me into them because, for the first time, I was the one who was crying.

When I got home, al the lights were out, but I stil didn't go inside. I sat down on the porch and watched the fireflies blinking in the dark. I didn't want to see anyone. I wanted to think, and I had a feeling Lena wouldn't be listening. There's something about sitting alone in the dark that reminds you how big the world real y is, and how far apart we al are. The stars look like they're so close, you could reach out and touch them. But you can't. Sometimes things look a lot closer than they are.

I stared into the darkness for so long that I thought I saw something move by the old oak in our front yard. For a second, my pulse quickened. Most people in Gatlin didn't even lock their doors, but I knew there were plenty of things that could get past a deadbolt. I saw the air shift again, almost imperceptibly, like a heat wave. I realized it wasn't something trying to break into my house. It was something that had broken out from another one.

Lucil e, the Sisters' cat. I could see her blue eyes shining in the darkness as she stalked onto the porch.

"I told everyone you'd find your way back to the house sooner or later. You just found the wrong house." Lucil e cocked her head to the side. "You know the Sisters are never gonna let you off that clothesline again after this."

Lucil e stared back at me as if she understood perfectly. As if she had known the consequences when she took off but, for whatever reason, she left anyway. A firefly blinked in front of me, and Lucil e leaped off the step.

It flew higher, but that dumb cat kept reaching for it. She didn't seem to know how far away it real y was. Like the stars. Like a lot of things.

6.12

The Girl of My Dreams

Darkness.

I couldn't see a thing, but I could feel the air draining out of my lungs. I couldn't breathe. The air was fil ed with smoke, and I was coughing, choking.

Ethan!

I could hear her voice, but it was distant and faraway.

The air around me was hot. It smel ed like ash and death.

Ethan, no!

I saw the glint of a knife, over my head, and I heard the sinister laughter. Sarafine. Only I couldn't see her face.

As the knife plunged into my stomach, I knew where I was.

I was at Greenbrier, on top of the crypt, and I was about to die.

I tried to scream, but I couldn't make a sound. Sarafine threw back her head and laughed, her hands on the knife in my stomach. I was dying, and she was laughing. The blood was running al around me, rushing into my ears, my nostrils, my mouth. It had a distinct taste, like copper or salt.

My lungs felt like two heaving sacks of cement. When the rush of blood in my ears drowned out her voice, I was overwhelmed with the familiar feeling of loss. Green and gold. Lemons and rosemary. I could smel it through the blood, the smoke, and the ashes. Lena.

I always thought I couldn't live without her. Now I wasn't going to have to.

"Ethan Wate! Why don't I hear that shower runnin' yet?" I bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat. I ran my hand under my T-shirt, over my skin. There was no blood, but I could feel the raised impression where the knife had cut me in the dream. I pul ed up my shirt and stared at the jagged pink line. A scar cut across my lower abdomen, like a stab wound. It had appeared out of nowhere, an injury from a dream.

Only it was real, and it hurt. I hadn't had one of the dreams since Lena's birthday, and I didn't know why they were coming back now, like this. I was used to waking up with mud in my bed or smoke in my lungs, but this was the first time I had ever woken up in pain. I tried to shake it off, tel ing myself it didn't real y happen. But my stomach throbbed. I stared at my open window, wishing Macon was around to steal the end of this dream. I wished he was around for a lot of reasons.