Beautiful Darkness
Page 92

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am." Link almost tripped as he ran to hook his arm through hers. I caught the other.
The shock of seeing her was starting to wear off a little. "Aunt Prue, how did you get down here?"
"Same way as you, I expect. Came down through one a them doors. There's one right behind Missionary Baptist. I used it ta sneak outta Bible school when I was younger than you."
"But how did you know about the Tunnels?" I couldn't figure it. Had she followed us?
"I've been down in these Tunnels more times than a sinner's swore offa the bottle. You think you're the only one who knows 'bout what goes on in this town?" She knew. She was one of them, like my mom and Marian and Carlton Eaton -- Mortals who had somehow become part of the Caster world.
"Do Aunt Grace and Aunt Mercy know?"
" 'Course not. Those two can't keep a secret ta save their lives. That's why my daddy only told me. And I never told a soul, 'cept Thelma."
Thelma squeezed Aunt Prue's arm affectionately. "She only told me because she couldn't climb down the stairs on her own anymore."
Aunt Prue swatted at Thelma with her handkerchief. "Now, Thelma, you know that's not true. Don't tell stories."
"Did Professor Ashcroft send you after us?" Liv looked up nervously from her notebook.
Aunt Prue sniffed. "No one sends me anywhere, not hardly. I'm too old ta be sent. Came on my own." She pointed at me. "But you best hope Amma isn't down here lookin' for you. She's been boilin' bones since you left."
If she only knew.
"Then what are you doing down here, Aunt Prue?" Even if she was in the know, the Tunnels didn't seem like the safest place for an old lady.
"Came ta bring you these." Aunt Prue opened her pocketbook and held it out so we could see inside. Under the sewing scissors and coupons and King James pocket Bible was a thick stack of yellowed papers, folded neatly into a bundle. "Go on, now. Take 'em." She might as well have told me to stab myself with the sewing scissors. There was no way I was going to reach into my aunt's purse. It was the ultimate violation of Southern etiquette.
Liv seemed to understand the problem. "May I?" Maybe British men didn't go through women's purses either.
"That's what I brought 'em for."
Liv lifted the papers gently out of Aunt Prue's purse. "These are really old." She opened them carefully on the soft grass. "They can't be what I think they are."
I bent down and studied them. The papers looked like schematics or architectural plans. They were marked in all different colors and written by many different hands. They were painstakingly drawn across a grid, each line perfectly measured and straight. Liv smoothed the paper flat, and I could see the long rows of lines intersecting one another.
"Depends on what ya think they are, I reckon."
Liv's hands were shaking. "They're maps of the Tunnels." She looked up at Aunt Prue. "Do you mind if I ask where you got these, ma'am? I've never seen anything like them, not even in the Lunae Libri."
Aunt Prue unwrapped a red and white striped peppermint from her purse. "My daddy gave 'em ta me, like my granddaddy gave 'em ta him. They're older than dirt."
I was speechless. No matter how normal Lena thought my life would be without her, she was wrong. Curse or no curse, my family tree was all tangled up with Casters.
And their maps, fortunately for us.
"They're not close ta done. I was a real draftswoman in my day, but my bursitis got the best a me."
"I tried to help, but I don't have the knack for it, like your aunt." Thelma looked apologetic. Aunt Prue waved her handkerchief.
"You drew these?"
"I drew my share." She pushed on her cane, straightening with pride.
Liv stared at the maps in awe. "How? The Tunnels are absolutely endless."
"An itty bit at a time. Those maps don't show all a the Tunnels. The Carolinas mostly, and some a Georgia. That's 'bout as far as we got." It was unbelievable. How could my scattered aunt have drafted maps of the Caster Tunnels?
"How did you do this without Aunt Grace and Aunt Mercy finding out?" I couldn't remember a time when the three of them weren't so close, they were bumping into each other.
"We didn't always live together, Ethan." She lowered her voice, as if Aunt Mercy and Aunt Grace might be listening. "And I don't really play bridge on Thursdays." I tried to imagine Aunt Prue charting the Caster Tunnels while the other elderly members of the DAR played cards at the church social hall.
"Take 'em. I reckon you'll need 'em if you're fixin' ta stay down here. Gets real confusin' after a while. Some days I'd get myself so turned around, I could barely get myself back ta South Carolina."
"Thanks, Aunt Prue. But --" I stopped. I didn't know how to explain it all -- the Arclight and the visions, Lena and John Breed and the Great Barrier, the moon out of time and the missing star, not to mention the crazy dials spinning on Liv's wrist. Least of all, Sarafine and Abraham. It wasn't a story for one of the oldest citizens in Gatlin.
Aunt Prue cut me off with a wave of her handkerchief in my face. "Y'all are as lost as a hog at a pig pick. Unless you wanna be slapped on a bun with Carolina Gold, you best pay attention."
"Yes, ma'am." I thought I knew right where this particular lecture was headed. But I was as wrong as Savannah Snow wearing a sleeveless dress and chewing gum at youth choir.