A/N: This is my first Caster Chronicles fanfiction. Part of it is slightly out of canon, just so you all know. Reviews would be very welcome. :)
Sparrow
The rain hammered onto the muddy grass like bullets from an ever darkening sky, reflecting Lena's darkening mood. She stood under the canopy inside Macon's plot, with her Light Caster family: Gramma, Aunt Del, Macon's mother Arelia, Reece, Barclay and Ryan. Her hand was clutched tightly in Gramma's, painfully tight. Anyone else would have thought it just a gesture of support, but Lena knew it was also an anchor, preventing her from running into the rain and far away from this nightmare of a funeral.
In the rain, the other side of the family stood—the Dark side, the incubi and succubi, the half of the family that the Light Casters refused to talk about or to. Though the rain crashed onto the ground around them, it did not touch the incubi, who stood as still as death, their pale faces expressionless. They seemed shifty and unfriendly, but Lena felt pulled towards them, somehow, just as she felt a connection with her Light Caster family. It had been that way ever since her Sixteen Moon, when she had blocked out the moon and refused to claim herself. Now it felt as if she were being torn apart as the Dark and Light magic in her body pulled her towards one side or the other, trying to force her to make the choice that would eradicate one half of her family.
She stared into the faces of the incubi, trying to ignore the pull. The only kind face among the incubi was Leah Ravenwood, Macon's sister. Lena had never met her, but she recognised her by her long brown hair and features that were so like Macon's that it made her heart ache. Leah smiled discreetly at her, a sympathetic smile, showing her support, but Lena could not find the will to smile back. She simply nodded, and bowed her head to hide her tears. Today the uncle who had been like a father to her, the uncle who had died because of her, was being laid to rest in His Garden of Perpetual Peace. How could she smile? How could she be content, when she had killed her own uncle?
It seemed like a sick joke that Macon's death had happened like that. Three weeks ago, on the day of her Claiming, her own mother, Sarafine, had lured her into a trap and sought to make her bind herself to the Dark. She had killed Ethan, stabbed him in the stomach with a dagger, leaving him bleeding to death on top of Genevieve's crypt. Lena had used the Book of Moons, the dangerous Book that had already cursed her entire family, to bring Ethan back from the dead.
Her breath hitched as she remembered that night. She hadn't thought of the consequences of her actions; she hadn't thought of anything at all. She had seen Ethan's limp body, the blood pouring out of the mortal wound in his stomach and had simply reacted. She had used the Book of Moons, knowing that there was a price to pay for it. She had used it, and Macon had died in place of Ethan. Lena had killed the uncle she had loved like a father. She hadn't even Claimed herself, and she had still killed him. It made her heart sick to think of it. What had she done?
The worst thing was, she did not regret saving Ethan. If she had to choose again, she would still choose to use the Book of Moons. Even if it meant her own uncle's death, or her own. She just wished that the Book had chosen another life to take, instead of Macon's. Anyone else's, even her own. Just not Macon.
She barely felt Ethan hold her hand and squeeze it gently, as if to say, you are not alone. I know how you feel. And she knew that he did. Ethan had gone through the same ritual when his mother had died in a car accident a year ago; he had told her about it, how it felt, the grief, the anger, the longing to be someplace else.
But Ethan had not killed his own mother. He would not have felt the resounding guilt that she felt, deep in her heart, every moment she breathed. He would have not have felt the rage she felt towards herself, at the horrible thing she had done. How could he even stand to be near her?
For all she knew, she could kill him, just like she killed her uncle. It had already almost happened once. Luckily Ryan had been close by, and had used the healing powers she possessed as a Thaumaturge to heal Ethan. Next time it happened Ryan might not be there to save Ethan. Her heart clenched inside her just to think of it. All it could take was one slip, one kiss… Lena bit her lip to keep from gasping as an image of Ethan's face rushed into her mind, pallid, dead. Lifeless. All because of a round of lovemaking gone too far. She couldn't let Ethan's life end that way. She couldn't.
L? Ethan's inner voice echoed in her mind like a death knell. You okay?
I'm fine, she replied curtly, and closed her mind off from his. She could feel the hurt radiate from him in waves and she felt her heart twist, but her resolve did not falter. It's better this way.
It had to be.
OOO
It was after the funeral that she felt him approach, his footsteps padding silently upon the damp grass, his entire body dry despite having spent the last hour standing in the rain. She had first noticed him during the ceremony, standing among the other Incubi and Succubi and seeming, like her, out of place among them both. What had surprised her, though, were his eyes. In place of dark eyes, one of the trademarks of an Incubus, were green eyes. How can he have green eyes, when he's clearly an Incubus? She had pondered that question during the funeral, and could not come up with an answer.
Lena didn't say anything as he came to stand beside her. He looked at her, and she saw the sympathy and understanding in his eyes. Her heart swelled ridiculously. He knew. He knew what she was going through, really knew. Her family thought they understood, but they only knew half of it. This strange boy knew it all. She felt tears sting her eyes, and blinked them away.
'I'm John, John Breed,' the boy said.
'Lena,' she said briefly.
The boy—John—nodded. 'Nice to meet you, Lena. I'm sorry about your uncle. He was a good man—better than most Incubi I know.'
Though she tried not to, she found herself smiling. 'I know. I don't think any of the Incubi who were here were half-way decent except for Leah Ravenwood.'
'I know,' John smiled back. 'Listen, Lena,' he continued. 'I just wanted to give you this.' He took her hand and placed a hard wooden object in her palm, wrapping her fingers around it.
He stepped back. 'Give me a call when you need to escape this rat-ass boring town,' he said casually.
Lena nodded, but did not bother replying. She didn't even know him. Why did he think she would want to spend time with him? One part of her was itching to get away from him, but the other was desperate to follow him, desperate to indulge in her Dark side like she hadn't done before.
She barely heard the rip that accompanied John's departure. She was too lost in her own thoughts. Too many things were happening. First Macon's death, then her inner battle with Light and Dark. If it were true, and John could offer her an escape, then she could have what she had always dreamed of: to be herself and not have to make a choice that could kill half her family. It was amazing; amazing and tantalising.
She looked down at her palm, at the object wrapped in her fingers. Her eyes widened.
It was a sparrow. A quaint sparrow, simply carved from the wood. Freedom, she thought. She could feel the excitement rise in her like a tidal wave. Sparrows meant freedom. She had been taught that from her earliest days. John was giving her a chance to be free.
He could take her away from Gatlin, take her to somewhere she couldn't hurt anyone, especially Ethan. He could set her free.
As free as a sparrow.
It was everything she could hope for.