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Abraham Ravenwood or Hunting and his Blood Pack. Not Lena’s mother Sarafine or the Devil himself. Nobody else could get past the fierce hospitality of the ushers handing out programs. And even if they did, the preacher would keep on preaching and the choir would keep on singing, because nothing short of the apocalypse could keep folks in Gatlin out of church or each other’s business.
    But outside these wal s, this summer had changed everything, in both the Caster and Mortal worlds, even if the folks in Gatlin didn’t know it. Lena had Claimed herself both Light and Dark and split the Seventeenth Moon. A battle between Demons and Casters had ended in death on both sides and opened a crack in the Order of Things the size of the Grand Canyon. What Lena had done was the Caster equivalent of smashing the Ten Commandments. I wondered what the folks in Gatlin would think about that, if they’d ever know. I hoped they wouldn’t.
    This town used to make me feel claustrophobic, and I hated it. Now it felt more like something expected, something I would miss someday. And that day was coming. No one knew that better than I did.
    Sugar and salt and kicks and kisses. The girl I loved had come back to me and broken the world.
    That’s what actual y happened this summer.
    We’d seen the last of hamburger soup and peach pie and tire swings. But we’d seen the start of something, too.
    The beginning of the End of Days.

    9.7

    Linkubus
    I was standing on the top of the white water tower, with my back to the sun. My headless shadow fel across the warm painted metal, disappearing off the edge and into the sky. I could see Summervil e stretching out before me, al the way to the lake, from Route 9 to Gatlin. This had been our happy place, mine and Lena’s. One of them, at least. But I wasn’t feeling happy. I felt like I was going to throw up.
    My eyes were watering, but I didn’t know why.
    Maybe it was the light.
    Come on, already. It’s time.
    I clenched and unclenched my fists—staring out at the tiny houses, the tiny cars, and the tiny people—
    waiting for it to happen. The dread churned in my stomach, heavy and wrong. Then the familiar arms slammed into my waist, knocking the air out of me and dragging me down to the metal ladder. My jaw hit the side of the railing, and I stumbled. I lurched forward, trying to throw him off.
    Who are you?
    But the harder I swung, the harder he hit me. The next punch landed in my stomach, and I doubled over. That’s when I saw them.
    His black Chucks. They were so old and beat-up, they could have been mine.
    What do you want?
    I didn’t wait for an answer. I lunged for his throat, and he went for mine. That’s when I caught a look at his face, and I saw the truth.
    He was me.
    As we stared into each other’s eyes and clawed at each other’s throats, we rol ed over the edge of the water tower and fel .
    The whole way down, I could only think one thing.
    Finally.
    My head hit the floor with a crack, and my body fol owed a second later, the sheets tangled around me. I tried to open my eyes, but they were stil blurred with sleep. I waited for the panic to subside.
    In my old dreams, I had tried to keep Lena from fal ing. Now I was the one fal ing. What did that mean? Why did I wake up feeling like I’d already fal en?
    “Ethan Lawson Wate! What in our Sweet Redeemer’s name are you doin’ up there?” Amma had a particular way of shouting that could haul you right back up out of Hades, as my dad would say.
    I opened my eyes, but al I could see was a lonely sock, a spider working its way aimlessly through the dust, and a few beat-up, spine-busted books. Catch-22. Ender’s Game. The Outsiders. A few others.
    The thril ing view under my bed.
    “Nothing. Just shutting the window.” I stared at my window, but I didn’t close it. I always slept with it open. I’d started leaving it open when Macon died—
    at least, when we thought he’d died—and now it was a reassuring habit. Most