Tunnel of Love
If it gets any hotter in here, people are goin’ to start droppin’ like flies. Flies are gonna start droppin’ like flies.” Link wiped his sweaty forehead with
his sweaty hand, which sprayed liquid Link on those of us lucky to be standing next to him.
“Thanks for that.” Liv wiped her face with one hand and pulled her damp shirt away from her body with the other. She looked miserable. The
Southern Crusty tent was packed, and the finalists were already standing on the makeshift wooden stage. I tried to see over the row of enormous
women in front of us, but it was like standing in the Jackson cafeteria line on cookie day.
“I can barely see the stage.” Liv stood on her toes. “Is something supposed to be happening? Did we miss it?”
“Hold on.” Link tried to edge between the smaller of the two enormous women in front of us. “Yeah, we can't get any closer. I give up.”
“There's Amma.” I pointed. “She's won first place almost every year.”
“Amma Treadeau,” Liv said.
“That's right. How did you know?”
“Professor Ashcroft must have mentioned her.”
Carlton Eaton's voice blared over the loudspeaker as he fussed with the portable mic. He always announced the winners because the only thing
he loved more than opening everyone's mail was the spotlight. “If y'all will bear with me, folks, we got some technical difficulties … hold on now …
can someone call Red? How am I supposed to know how to fix a darn microphone? Shoot, it's hotter than Hades in here.” He mopped his forehead
with his handkerchief. Carlton Eaton never managed to remember when the microphone was on.
Amma stood proudly to his right, in her best dress, with the tiny violets all over it, holding her prizewinning sweet potato pie. Mrs. Snow and Mrs.
Asher were next to her, holding their own creations. They were already dressed for the Mother-Daughter Peach Pageant that started right after
Pies. They were equally frightening in their respective aqua and pink pageant mother gowns, which made them look like aging prom dates from the
eighties. Thankfully, Mrs. Lincoln was not in the pageant, so she stood next to Mrs. Asher in one of her standard church dresses, holding her famous
chess pie. It was still hard to look at Link's mom without remembering the insanity of Lena's last birthday. You don't see your girlfriend's mother
stepping out of your best friend's mom's body too many nights of the year. When I saw Mrs. Lincoln now, that's what I thought of — the moment
Sarafine emerged like a snake shedding its skin. I shuddered.
Link elbowed me. “Dude, look at Savannah. She's got the crown on and everything. She sure knows how to milk it.”
Savannah, Emily, and Eden were sitting in the front row with the rest of the Peach Pageant contestants, sweating away in their tackiest pageant
evening wear. Savannah was in yards of glittery Gatlin peach, with her rhinestone Peach Princess crown balanced perfectly on her head, even
though the train of her dress kept snagging on the bottom of her cheap metal folding chair. Little Miss, the local dress shop, probably had to
special-order it for her all the way from Orlando.
Liv edged her way closer to me, eyeing the cultural phenomenon that was Savannah Snow. “Is she the queen of Southern Crusty, then?” Liv's
eyes twinkled, and I tried to imagine how strange this all must look to an outsider.
I almost smiled. “Just about.”
“I didn't realize baking was so important to Americans. Anthropologically speaking.”
“I don't know about other places, but in the South, women take their baking seriously. And this is the biggest pie-baking contest in Gatlin
County.”
“Ethan, over here!” Aunt Mercy was waving her handkerchief in one hand and carrying her infamous coconut pie in the other. Thelma was
walking behind her, shoving people aside with Aunt Mercy's wheelchair. Every year Aunt Mercy entered the contest, and every year she got an
honorable mention for her coconut pie, even though she'd forgotten how to make it about twenty years ago, and none of the judges were brave
enough to taste it.
Aunt Grace and Aunt Prue were arm in arm, dragging Aunt Prue's Yorkshire terrier, Harlon James, behind them.
“Well, fancy seein’ you here, Ethan. Did you come ta see Mercy win her ribbon?”
“Of course he did, Grace. What else would he be doin’ in a tent fulla old ladies?”
I wanted to introduce Liv, but the Sisters didn't give me a chance. They kept talking over one another. I should've known Aunt Prue would take
care of that for me. “Who's this, Ethan? Your new girlfriend?”
Aunt Mercy adjusted her spectacles. “What happened ta the other one? The Duchannes girl, with the dark hair?”
Aunt Prue looked at her suspiciously. “Well, Mercy, that's jus’ none a our concern. You shouldn't be askin’ anything about it. She mighta up and
left him.”
“Why would she do that? Ethan, you didn't ask that girl ta get nekkid, did ya?”
Aunt Prue gasped. “Mercy Lynne! If the Good Lord doesn't strike us all down on account a that talk …”
Liv looked dizzy. She obviously wasn't used to following the banter of three hundred-year-old women with thick Upcountry accents and fractured
grammar.
“Nobody tried — nobody left anyone. Everything is fine between Lena and me,” I lied. Even though they'd find out the truth the next time they
went to church, if their hearing aids were turned up high enough to hear the gossip. “This is Liv, Marian's summer research assistant. We work
together at the library. Liv, this is Aunt Grace, Aunt Mercy, and Aunt Prudence, my great-great-aunts.”
“Don't you be addin’ any extra greats in there.” Aunt Prue pulled herself up a little straighter.
“That's her name. Lena! It was on the tip a my tongue.” Aunt Mercy smiled at Liv.
Liv smiled back. “Of course. It's a pleasure to meet you all.”
Carlton Eaton tapped on the mic just in time. “All right, y'all, I think we can get started.”
“Girls, we need ta get up ta the front. They'll be callin’ my name in no time.” Aunt Mercy was already working her way through the aisles, rolling
forward like an army tank. “We'll see you in two shakes of a rabbit's tail, Sweet Meat.”
People filed into the tent from all three entrances, and Lacy Beecham and Elsie Wilks, the winners of Casseroles and Barbeque, took their
places next to the stage, holding their blue ribbons. Barbeque was a big category, even bigger than Chili, so Mrs. Wilks was about as puffed up as
I'd ever seen her.
I watched Amma's face, so proud, not glancing at one of those women even once. Then I watched it darken, and she looked off toward one side
of the tent.
Link ribbed me again. “Hey, lookit. I mean, you know, the Look.” We followed Amma's stinkeye to the far corner of the tent. When I saw who she
was looking at, I tensed.
Lena was slouching against one of the tent poles, eyes on the stage. I knew she couldn't have cared less about a pie-baking contest, unless
she was here to root for Amma. And from the looks of it, Amma didn't think that's why Lena was here.
Amma shook her head at Lena, ever so slightly.
Lena looked away.
Maybe she was looking for me, though I was probably the last person she wanted to see right now. So what was she doing here?
Link grabbed my arm. “It's — she's —”
Lena glanced across to the pole opposite her. Ridley leaned against the pole in a pink miniskirt, unwrapping a lollipop. Her eyes were fixed on
the stage, like she actually cared about who was going to win. I knew she didn't, because the only thing she cared about was causing trouble. Since
there were about two hundred people too many in the tent, this seemed about as good a place for trouble as any.
Carlton Eaton's voice echoed over the crowd. “Testin’, testin’. Can y'all hear me? All right, then, on to Cream Pies. We have ourselves a close
one this year, folks. Had myself the pleasure a tastin’ a few a these pies, and I'm here to tell you every single one a ’em's a winner in my O-pinion.
But I reckon we can only have one first-place winner here tonight, so let's see who it's gonna be.” Carlton fumbled with the first envelope, ripping the
paper loudly. “Here it is, folks, our third-place winner is … Tricia Asher's Creamsicle Pie.” Mrs. Asher scowled for a millisecond, then flashed her
phony smile.
I kept my eyes locked on Ridley. She had to be up to something. Ridley didn't give a crap about pie, or anything that happened in Gatlin. Ridley
turned and nodded toward the back of the tent. I looked behind me.
Caster Boy was watching with a smile. He was standing by the rear entrance, his eyes on the finalists. Ridley turned her attention back to the
stage and slowly, deliberately, began sucking on her lollipop. Never a good sign.
Lena!
Lena didn't even blink. Her hair began to twist in the stagnant air, blowing in what I knew was the Casting Breeze. I don't know if it was the heat
or the close quarters or the grim look on Amma's face, but I was starting to worry. What were Ridley and John up to, and why was Lena Casting
here? Whatever they were trying to do, Lena must be trying to counteract it.
Then I figured it out. Amma wasn't the only one dealing out the Look like a bad spread of cards. Ridley and John were staring down Amma, too.
Was Ridley stupid enough to mess with Amma? Was anyone?
Ridley held up the lollipop as if to answer.
“Uh-oh.” Link stared. “We should probably get outta here.”
“Why don't you take Liv to the Ferris Wheel?” I said, trying to catch Link's eye. “I think things are going to be pretty boring for a while.”
“Now we've reached the most excitin’ part a the judgin’,” said Carlton Eaton, as if on cue. “All right, y'all, this is it. Let's see which one a these
here ladies is gonna be takin’ home a second-place ribbon and five hundred dollars’ worth a brand new bakeware, or a first-place ribbon and
seven hundred fifty dollars, compliments a Southern Crusty. ’Cause if it ain't Southern Crusty, it ain't the South, and it ain't Crusty —” Carlton
Eaton never finished, because before he could say the words, something else came out —
Of the pies.
The pie tins began to move, and it took people a few seconds to realize what was happening, before they started screaming. Grubs and
maggots and palmetto bugs, Carolina cockroaches, started crawling out of the pies. It was as if all the hate and lies and hypocrisy of the whole town
— of Mrs. Lincoln and Mrs. Asher and Mrs. Snow, the principal of Jackson High, and the DAR and the PTA and every church auxiliary, all rolled into
one — had been baked into those pies, and now it was coming to life. Bugs were pouring out of every pie onstage, more bugs than the pie tins
could possibly hold.
Every pie except Amma's. She shook her head, her eyes narrowing into slits like some kind of challenge. Hordes of cream-covered grubs and
roaches hit the floor around the contestants’ feet. But the trail of scurrying insects diverged in a neatly forking path around Amma.
Mrs. Snow reacted first. She hurled her pie, sticky fruit-covered bugs rocketing into the air and landing all over the front row. Mrs. Lincoln and
Mrs. Asher followed suit, maggots raining down on the Peach Pageant contestants’ satin dresses. Savannah started screaming, not fake
screaming but real, bloodcurdling screams. Everywhere you looked, there were pie-covered worms and people trying not to puke at the sight of
them. Some were more successful than others. I saw Principal Harper doubled over a trash can by the exit, getting rid of a whole day's worth of
funnel cake. If Ridley was looking to stir up trouble, she had succeeded.
Liv looked ill. Link tried to push forward into the crowd, most likely to rescue his mom. He had been doing that a lot lately, and considering how
unrescuable his mother was, I had to give him credit.
Liv grabbed my arm as the crowd surged forward toward the exits.
“Liv, get out of here. Go out that way. Everyone's heading for the sides.” I pointed to the back exit of the tent. John Breed was still standing
there, smiling at his handiwork, his green eyes fixed on the stage. Green eyes or not, he wasn't one of the good guys.
Link was on the stage brushing worms and bugs off his mother, who was completely hysterical. I worked my way closer to the front.
“Somebody help me!” Mrs. Snow looked like someone in a horror movie, terrified and screaming, her dress alive with squirming bugs. Even I
didn't hate her enough to wish this on her.
I caught a glimpse of Ridley, sucking away on her lollipop, bringing bugs to life with every lick. I didn't know she could pull off something this big
by herself, but then again she had Caster Boy to help her.
Lena, what's happening?
Amma was still standing on the stage, looking like she could bring down the whole tent with a single look. Bugs and worms were crawling over
each other at her feet, but not one was brave enough to touch Amma. Even the bugs knew better. She was staring down at Lena, her eyes narrow
and her jaw tight, as she had been from the moment the first grub crawled its way out of Mrs. Lincoln's chess pie. “You fixin’ to make me do this
now?”
Lena stood at the edge of the tent, her hair still twisting in the Casting Breeze, the corners of her mouth upturned into the smallest shadow of a
smile. I recognized it for what it was. Satisfaction.
Now everyone knows what's really in their pies.
Lena hadn't been trying to stop them. She was part of it.
Lena! Stop!
But there was no stopping now. This was payback for the Guardian Angels and the Disciplinary Committee meeting, for every token casserole
left at the gates of Ravenwood and every pitying look, for every insincere sentiment offered by the folks of Gatlin. Lena was handing it right back as
if she'd saved every bit, storing it all up until it exploded in their faces. I guess this was her way of saying good-bye.
Amma spoke to Lena as if they were the only people in the tent. “Enough, child. You can't get what you want from these folks. Sorry from a sorry
town is nothin’ but a whole lot more a the same. A pie tin fulla nothin’.”
Aunt Prue's voice pierced the din. “Good Lord, help! Grace is havin’ a heart attack!” Aunt Grace was lying on the ground, unconscious. Grayson
Petty was kneeling over her, taking her pulse while Aunt Prue and Aunt Mercy batted palmetto bugs away from their sister.
“I said enough!” Amma roared from the stage, and as I ran for Aunt Grace, I could've sworn the tent was going to come down on top of us.
As I bent down to help, I saw Amma pull something out of her pocketbook and hold it high above her head. The One-Eyed Menace, our old
wooden spoon, in its full glory. Amma brought it down on the table in front of her with a crack.
“Oww!” Across the room, Ridley winced and the lollipop dropped right out of her hand, rolling across the dirt as if Amma had smashed it with
the Menace itself.
In that second, everything stopped.
I looked over to Lena, but she was gone. The spell, or whatever it was, was broken. The palmetto bugs scampered out of the tent, leaving only
the grubs and worms behind.
And me, leaning over Aunt Grace to make sure she was breathing.
Lena, what have you done?
Link followed me out of the tent, confused as usual. “I don't get it. Why would Lena help Ridley and Caster Boy pull a stunt like that? Someone
coulda really gotten hurt.”
I scanned the rides closest to us to see if there was any sign of Lena or Ridley. But I didn't see them, just the 4-H volunteers fanning old women
and handing out plastic cups of water to the victims of the pie-baking contest from hell.
“You mean, like my Aunt Grace?”
Link yanked on his shorts to make sure they were grub-free. “I thought she was a goner. Lucky she just fainted. Probably the heat.”
“Yeah. Lucky.” But I didn't feel lucky. I was too angry. I had to find Lena, even if she didn't want to be found. She was going to have to tell me why
she would terrorize everyone in that tent to get even with — who? A few aging beauty queens? Link's mom, who was just aging? It was something
Ridley would do, not Lena.
It was getting dark, and Link scanned the crowd through the flashing lights and hysterical church ladies. “Where'd Liv go? Wasn't she with you?”
“I don't know. I told her to go out the back when the bugfest started.”
Link cringed at the word bug. “Should we look for her?”
There was a group of people in line at the Fun House, so I headed that way. “I get the impression Liv knows how to take care of herself. I think
this is something we have to do on our own.”
“Right on.”
We turned the corner a few yards from the entrance to the Tunnel of Love. Ridley, Lena, and John were standing in front of the dingy plastic cars
painted to look like gondolas. Lena was standing in the middle, a leather jacket slung over her shoulders. Only she didn't have a leather jacket. John
did.
I called her name, without even thinking. “Lena!”
Leave me alone, Ethan.
No. What were you thinking?
I wasn't thinking. I was finally doing something.
Yeah. Something stupid.
Don't tell me you're on their side now.
I was walking fast. Link struggled to keep up with me. “You're gonna start a fight, aren't you? Man, I hope Caster Boy doesn't set us on fire or
turn us into statues or somethin’.” Link was usually up for a fight. Even though he was skinny, he was almost as tall as me, and twice as crazy. But
the prospect of fighting a Supernatural didn't have the same appeal. We'd been burned on that one before.
I wanted to let him off the hook. “I've got this. Go find Liv.”
“No way, dude. I've got your back.”
When we got to the gondolas, John stepped forward protectively, in front of the girls, as if we were the ones they needed to be protected from.
Ethan, get out of here.
I could hear the fear in her voice, but this time I was the one who didn't answer.
“Hey, Boyfriend, how's it goin’?” Ridley smiled and unwrapped a blue lollipop.
“Screw you, Ridley.”
She noticed Link behind me, and her smile changed. “Hiya, Hot Rod. You wanna take a ride through the Tunnel of Love?” Ridley tried to sound
playful, but she sounded nervous instead.
Link grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward him, almost like he really was her boyfriend. “What did you think you were doin’ back there?
You coulda gotten someone killed. Ethan's four-hundred-year-old aunt almost had a heart attack.”
Ridley snatched her arm back. “It was only a few bugs. Don't be so melodramatic. I think I liked you better when you were a little more
compliant.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
Lena stepped out from behind John. “What happened? Is your aunt okay?” She seemed like my Lena again, kind and concerned, but I didn't
trust her anymore. A few minutes ago, she was taking down the women she hated and everyone else in the tent with them, and now she was the girl
I kissed behind the ticket booth. It didn't add up.
“What were you doing back there? How could you help them?” I didn't realize how mad I was until I heard myself yelling. But John did.
He slammed his palm against my chest, and I stumbled back.
“Ethan!” Lena was scared, I could tell that much.
Stop! You don't know what you're doing.
Like you said. At least I'm finally doing something.
Do something else. Get out of here!
“You can't talk to her like that. Why don't you leave before you get hurt.” What had I missed? Lena had walked away from me barely an hour ago,
and now John Breed was defending her like she was already his girlfriend?
“Yeah? You should be careful who you push around, Caster Boy.”
“Caster Boy?” He took a step closer to me, curling his hands into fists. Big fists. “Don't call me that.”
“What should I call you? Dirtbag?” I wanted him to hit me.
He lunged at me, but I threw the first punch. I'm stupid that way. I released all the frustration and anger I'd been holding inside the second my soft
human fist made contact with his steel supernatural jaw. It was like hitting cement.
John blinked, his green eyes turning as black as coal. He hadn't felt a thing. “I'm not a Caster.”
I had been in my share of fights, but none of them could have prepared me for what it felt like to be hit by John Breed. I remembered watching
Macon and his brother Hunting fighting, their incredible strength and speed. John barely moved, and my back hit the ground. I thought I was going to
pass out.
“Ethan! John, stop!” Lena was screaming, black makeup running down her face.
I heard John slam Link into the dirt. To his credit, Link got up faster than I did. Only he was back down again faster, too. I picked myself up off
the ground. I wasn't that banged up, but I was going to have a hard time hiding the bruises from Amma.
“That's enough, John.” Ridley tried to sound cool, but her voice had an edge and she looked scared — as scared as Ridley could look. She
grabbed John's arm. “Let's go. We've got somewhere to be.”
Link looked her right in the eye, which took some effort, considering he was lying in the dirt. “Don't do me any favors, Rid. I can take care of
myself.”
“I can see that. You're a real Golden Glove.” Link winced at the dig, or maybe it was the pain.
Either way, he wasn't used to being the one on the ground in a fight. He pushed himself to his feet and held up his fists, ready to go again.
“They're the fists a fury, Baby, and they're just gettin’ started.”
Ridley stepped between John and Link. “No. They're finished.”
Link dropped his hands, kicking the dust. “Yeah, well, I could take him if he wasn't a — what the hell are you, man?”
I didn't give John a chance to answer, because I was pretty sure I already knew. “He's some kind of Incubus.” I looked at Lena. She was still
crying, her arms hugging her waist, but I didn't try to talk to her. I wasn't even sure who she was anymore.
“You think I'm an Incubus? A Demon Soldier?” John laughed.
Ridley rolled her eyes. “Don't be such a show-off. No one calls Incubuses Demon Soldiers anymore.”
John cracked his knuckles. “I'm old school.”
Link looked confused. “I thought all you vampire dudes had to stay inside durin’ the day.”
“And I thought all you hillbillies drove Trans Ams with Confederate flags painted on the hoods.” John laughed, but it wasn't funny. Ridley stayed
between them.
“What does it matter to you, Shrinky Dink? John's not really a rules kinda guy. He's sort of … unique. I like to think of him as the best of both
worlds.” I had no idea what Ridley was talking about. But whatever John Breed was, she wasn't saying.
“Yeah? I like to think about him as crawlin’ back to his own world and stayin’ outta ours.” Link talked tough, but when John looked at him, all the
color drained out of Link's face.
Ridley turned to John. “Let's go.” They turned back to the Tunnel of Love, the cars still making the loop under the old wooden arch painted to
look like some bridge in Venice. Lena hesitated.
“Lena, don't go with them.”
She stood there for a second, like she was thinking about running back into my arms. But something was stopping her. John whispered to her,
and she climbed into the plastic gondola. I looked at the only girl I'd ever loved. Black hair and golden eyes, instead of green.
I couldn't pretend the gold didn't mean anything, not anymore.
I watched the car disappear, leaving Link and me behind. As banged up and bruised as the day we had taken on Emory and his brother on the
playground in fifth grade.
“Come on. Let's get outta here.” Link was already walking away. It was dark now, and the lights from the Ferris Wheel flashed as it turned.
“Why'd you think he was an Incubus?” Link was taking comfort in the fact he had gotten his ass kicked by a Demon, not some regular guy.
“His eyes went black, and it felt like I was hit by a two-by-four.”
“Yeah, but he was walkin’ around durin’ the day. And he's got those green eyes, like Lena's …” He stopped, but I knew what he was about to
say.
“Used to be? I know. It doesn't make sense.” Nothing about tonight did. I couldn't shake the way Lena had looked at me. For a second, I was
sure she wasn't going to follow them. I was thinking about Lena, but Link was still talking about John.
“And what was all that crap about the best a both worlds? What worlds? Creep and creepier?”
“I don't know. I was sure he was an Incubus.”
Link rotated his shoulder, assessing the damage. “Whatever he is, that dude's got some serious superpowers. I wonder what else he can do.”
We turned the corner, near the exit of the Tunnel of Love. I stopped walking. The best of both worlds. What if John could do a lot more than rip
like an Incubus and beat the two of us to a pulp? He had green eyes. What if he was some kind of Caster, with his own version of Ridley's Power of
Persuasion? I didn't think Ridley could influence Lena by herself, but what if John was helping her?
It would explain why Lena was acting so crazy — why she'd looked like she wanted to come with me, until John whispered in her ear. How long
had he been whispering to her?
Link hit my arm with the back of his hand. “Hey. You know what's weird?”
“What?”
“They haven't come out.”
“What do you mean?”
He pointed to the exit of the Tunnel of Love. “They didn't get off the ride.” Link was right. There was no way they could have come out before we
turned the corner. We watched as the gondolas kept coming out empty.
“Then where are they?”
Link shook his head, all tapped out of insight for now. “I don't know. Maybe the three of them are doin’ somethin’ kinky in there.” We both
winced. “Let's check it out. There's no one around.” Link was already halfway to the exit.
He was right. The cars kept coming out empty. Link hopped over the gate around the ride and ducked into the tunnel. Inside, there was a little
space on either side of the track, but it was tricky to walk by the moving cars without getting hit.
One of the cars caught Link in the shin. “There's no one in here. Where could they have gone?”
“They couldn't have disappeared.” I remembered the way John Breed ripped out of Macon's funeral. Maybe he could, but Ridley and Lena
couldn't Travel.
Link ran his hands along the walls. “You think there's some kinda secret Caster door in here, or somethin’?”
The only Caster doors I knew about led to the Tunnels, the underground labyrinth of passageways that slept quietly under Gatlin and the rest of
the Mortal world. It was a world within a world, so different from ours that it altered both time and distance. But, as far as I knew, all the entrances to
the Tunnels were inside buildings — Ravenwood, the Lunae Libri, the crypt at Greenbrier. A few sheets of painted plywood didn't qualify as a
building, and there was nothing under the Tunnel of Love except dirt. “A door leading where? This thing is sitting in the middle of the fair. They just
set it up a couple of days ago.”
Link inched his way back out of the tunnel. “Where else could they have gone?”
If John and Ridley were using their powers to control Lena, I had to find out. It wouldn't explain away the last few months or her golden eyes, but
maybe it would explain what she was doing with John. “I've gotta get down there.”
Link had already pulled the keys out of his back pocket. “How'd I know you were gonna say that?”
He followed me to the Beater, the gravel crunching under his sneakers as he jogged to keep up. He yanked the rusty door open and slid behind
the wheel. “Where are we goin’? Or am I better off —” He was still talking when I heard it, the tiny words tugging at the bottom of my heart.
Good-bye, Ethan.
They were gone, the voice and the girl. Like a soap bubble, or cotton candy, or the last silvery sliver of a dream.
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