Sunblind (18 page)

“And who advised you that you were wasting your time trying to protect the citizens you get paid to protect?” Arla asks.

“Louis's new lady friend,” Barnaby replies.

So that's it! Essie doesn't want a vigilante for a boyfriend. She's probably afraid he'll get himself killed before she gets a marriage proposal.

“Mrs. Jaffe was afraid Louis would get hurt.”

My brother's words take a moment to settle into my mind. Melinda Jaffe is Louis's girlfriend? Not Essie!! I grab Arla's hand just as she grabs mine, and we hold each other tight, trying hard not to freak out any further. But why isn't Louis freaking out? Barnaby just spilled the beans about his romantic conquest, and he hasn't flinched. His expression remains calm and focused on the stupid game that he's playing. Why is he acting so nonchalant? Like he's taken a tranquilizer, or he's under a spell.

Without speaking another word we both race up the stairs to Arla's bedroom, shut the door behind us, and jump onto the bed. Kneeling, we face each other, our hands clasping so we're completely connected physically and emotionally. We have never, ever been closer.

“Your father is dating Melinda Jaffe?!”

“I could wind up related to the bee and the butterfly!”

“This is getting way too complicated.”

Arla squeezes my hands even tighter. “Oh my God, do you know what this means?”

Sadly I already do. “Your father is sleeping with the enemy.”

That breaks our hold. We jump off the bed, shaking our hands and arms wildly as if this will de-cling the image of Louis and Melinda getting all romantical and R-rated.

“I need air!” Arla shouts, opening up the window and gulping in the cold air.

While Arla clutches the window frame and presses her forehead into the screen, I pace the room as we continue chatting about how wrong it is that Louis and Melinda are dating, examining the relationship from every angle.

Does Louis really like Melinda, or does he suspect, as we do, that she may also play a role in the serial killings? Does Melinda like Louis, or is she attracted to the power that the chief of police wields, or is she manipulating him to have the police on her side? Have Nadine and Napoleon known about our inter-parental relationship and kept quiet about it, or has Melinda adopted Louis's “don't ask, don't tell” policy?

We're chattering so quickly and so fervently that neither of us sees that the sky outside has changed; it now contains a full moon.

Dropping to my knees in agony, I must look to Arla as if I'm mock-praying, asking God to intervene and make her father find another woman or turn gay so he splits up with Mrs. Jaffe. She's half-right. I'm asking God to intervene, but only to protect Arla.

The transformation feels different this time. No, not different, more like the way it used to when it began. It's filled with excruciating pain and fear; it feels as if everything is starting over. My breathing has turned into quick, violent panting and the plastic bag over my head has returned; underneath my skin my blood heats up until it feels like it's boiling just below the surface. I lurch forward onto all fours just in time to bury my mouth into the carpeted floor to muffle my screams when my limbs snap in the opposite direction. Even though this feels exactly right, exactly the way it used to, I know that something is wrong. The wolf is taking over completely. It doesn't want to share my body: it wants to own it. Which means in a few seconds I won't recognize Arla standing right in front of me.

I hear the words in my head:
Get out of here!
But I have no idea if I spoke them out loud or if I changed into a wolf before I got to warn Arla.

Despite the soft breeze trickling in from outside, the moonglow feels warm on my fur. The master always makes its slave feel comfortable. Tonight the master isn't alone. Three bright stars shine alongside it in one commanding line. Orion is keeping the moon company.

Pangs of hunger push against my stomach. I need to feast on flesh and blood and bone. Looking at the girl in front of me, her skin the color of mud, I swallow a thick mouthful of saliva in anticipation of the meal to come. I raise my lips to bare my fangs, show her there is no escape.

Lifting one paw and then another I walk toward the creature. She looks like they all do, too frightened to make a sound, too aware that soon life will be taken from them. In mid-stride I decide to show mercy on this thing. I'll steal her life slowly so she can remain alive longer than she should.

Terrified by my encroaching presence, the girl stumbles backward and falls onto the floor. Both of us are now on all fours, her face inches from my snout. Bravely, she lifts her head up, and I see her face is scarred. A wound, once deep, now almost healed, surrounds her left eye. This child is a fighter. And she's fought me.

Arla?

I try to fight through the fog the wolf spirit has cast over me to see Arla, to try and let her know that I won't hurt her. I don't know why this is happening. I thought that we had come to an understanding—the wolf and I—that we would share this body, that we would become a team, no leader, no follower, but two equals. Why the betrayal? Why the change? I look out the window at the moon, its blinding light shining on me and through me, and I know that the reason lies outside.

Before I lose control and do something that I will not be able to forgive myself for, I leap over the bed and through the window screen. I wish I could remain in midair for the rest of my life, not a threat to those I love, not in danger from those I fear, just hanging and floating and flying, a part of the world, but separated from it. Within and without at the same time. But that isn't my fate.

My paws hit the ground with more force than I expect, and I feel a sharp twinge in my front right leg. The pain shoots up into my shoulder and travels across my back until getting lost somewhere near my haunches. It doesn't disappear; it merely buries itself into my bones, taking up residence, refusing to let go. Just like the moon.

The combination of moonglow and starlight pulls me forward, and I fight to remain conscious. I know that it would be safer to give in, let the wolf take over, but I have got to remain in control because I'm not only being pulled toward danger, I'm being pulled toward my destiny.

I walk past The Weeping Lady, and I can hear the tree bark creak as she turns her head to watch me. An overwhelming sense of sadness ripples through her branches and reaches out to me. She knows my life is about to change, and she knows there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. When I see the black mist swirling in front of me, turning the peaceful night sky into a menacing sight, my body stiffens. The time has come for secrets to be revealed.

Following the mist farther into the woods, I can't see my surroundings. No trees, no moon, no Orion, just black. Like emptiness, like death, like Luba.

As the mist begins to part, I see Luba hovering above the ground in front of me. She looks more fragile and more powerful than ever before. Disgusting and soiled and ancient.

“It is time, Dominy.”

Her stench rushes past me, pausing to frolic on my fur in an attempt to infest me with her evil. She's already stolen my body; now she wants my soul. She can't have it! I refuse! But the breeze begins to stir, and I realize there is power in the air, power within Luba and everything she touches.

“Look up, child,” she commands. “Witness the origin of my strength.”

Raising my head, I wince at the sight. The moon is gone. I don't know if it's hiding somewhere deep within the confines of the sky to rest or to seek protection. In its place is the constellation, Orion, three magnificent stars, their light blinding everything around them.

I bow my head to escape the constellation's glow, but I can't escape Luba!

“Orion, the original hunter, the original power, the origin to those of us worthy of embodying his spirit,” she cries. “The hunter lives within us, and so the hunt for prey will never end!”

She's talking about me. I'm the prey.

A pathetic yelp escapes my lips, and I retreat several steps until my body will not move any farther. I know I'm not the one commanding my body to remain in place, and so I claw at the earth to try to break the spell.

Luba's thin fingers are pressed against her chapped lips, and she cackles maniacally. And then there's silence as she spreads her arms to present her cohorts. The blackness around her lifts to reveal that floating in the air on either side of her are Nadine and Napoleon. The demon has been joined by the bee and the butterfly. But why? How?! Why would these two join forces with someone so destructive, so evil? Why aren't they fighting to break free from her hold? Why do they look like they belong at her side?!

Luba answers my silent questions, and I feel the horror of her words, because now everything makes sense.

“I believe, Dominy,” Luba hisses, “that you've already met my grandchildren.”

Part 2

There are three above, there are three below
Starlight overshadows the moon's weak glow

 

Now my world will change, my fate will shift
Because of the power contained
within this trio's gift.

Chapter 16

Yes, I am. And I'm looking at the proof. Not one enemy, not two, but three! How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so blind for so long? The clues were all there—the three stars, Orion, the tattoos, Jess's warning—all there for me to see, all there for me to ignore. Until now. Because evil has just tripled.

My howl is so loud and so ferocious, not because I'm filled with anger, not because I'm filled with a desire for vengeance, but because I'm filled with self-loathing. Cursed or not, I am a fool. I've been used by Luba, and now I've been used by her grandchildren. Her
grandchildren?!

The concept is sickening. To think that these two people, one of whom I called my friend, whom I trusted, confided in, shared my secrets with, are nothing but sadistic liars. Blood-linked to Psycho Squaw! It makes no sense, and yet it makes perfect sense. Luba's son Thorne must be their father. The unborn child Luba was carrying when my father killed her husband grew up to marry Melinda Jaffe and had these twins.

The bee and the butterfly did not come to Weeping Water by accident; they came here because they were summoned by the devil herself to help carry out her demented plot to destroy my family's life. I knew they had powers. I knew they were closer to wrong than they were to right, but I allowed myself to think that there was a chance they were like me: victims. Now, looking at the twins flanking their decaying grandmother, I know they are hardly innocent, definitely not unwilling; they are as sick and destructive and malevolent as their matriarch. And I swear on my father's life right here and now that I'll make each one of them pay for the role they've played in his death and my fate.

I may be outnumbered, but these three have met their match.

In response to my silent ranting, Luba raises her hand, her thumb and pinky touching so her three middle fingers are pointing at me, and three streams of black smoke materialize from her fingertips. Three ribbons of deadly black fire are racing in my direction. But I don't care what deadly power is contained within that smoke; I don't care what horrors the ribbons can inflict if they touch me; I refuse to move.

I have powers too. I can feel it in my guts.

Just as three rays of smoke are about to pierce my body, I let the wolf spirit take complete control, and I feel rage cyclone through my body. Opening my mouth I give the feeling the freedom it craves. The crash is silent, yet visible, and I can actually see the red cloudburst, the manifestation of my fury, shoot from my mouth and collide with Luba's black energy.

Black and red twist and conjoin and weave in the sky like a demonic fireworks display, good and evil combining to form something that neither wants to claim.

As quickly as the mists appeared, they evaporate, rising to become part of the sky, part of something much larger. I have no idea if I'll be able to create such magic again; it may be a part of the spirit I can't control. But Luba doesn't have that problem. She may look tired and weak, but she has backup.

Luba glances toward Nadine and the black smoke slides out of her hair to encircle her granddaughter. Slithering around and around and around her until it's created a cocoon from Nadine's head to her feet, the mist starts to pulse as if connected to her heart. I can see Nadine's face through the black, woven smoke, and it's repulsive. She looks deliriously happy, ecstatic to be engulfed by her grandmother's filth.

Next, Luba turns to Napoleon and releases her darkness to take her other grandchild prisoner. It moves toward Napoleon, but its approach is more tentative, not as confident as when it swarmed over Nadine's body. About an inch or two from Napoleon's skin, the mist stops, unable to get any closer. It surrounds him, outlining his body, but never getting any closer to his frame. The blackness is trying to penetrate, trying to connect, but it's either too weak or Napoleon is too strong. That's not it; that's not it at all. Peering at him with my spirit eyes, I can see that his are flooded with tears. Luba's essence can't touch him because he's still good.

He
is
being used . . . just like I am.

Moving closer toward the trio, I tilt my head so my fangs catch the starlight and growl ferociously. Let them see what they're dealing with. I'm not Napoleon; I'm not a confused boy, trapped with nowhere to go. I'm a wolf. I may be their creation, but I'm not their puppet.

In response to my approach, Luba raises her hands to suck back her foul smoke. No longer embraced by their grandmother's black energy, Nadine and Napoleon descend to the ground and begin to walk toward me with Luba trailing behind, still a few feet in the air.

And then I learn an important lesson: Never underestimate your opponent. Luba looks frail; Nadine looks ordinary; Napoleon looks reluctant. Despite all that, together they're lethal.

Three arms rise up toward Orion's constellation, one arm for each star, and like a lit fuse, light begins to travel from the stars toward earth. I know I should run; I know I should escape, but my body is frozen, and I truly don't know if I'm immobile because of my own fascination or because I'm under their spell.

As their hands capture more and more light, their bodies melt into the glare. I can't see them any longer; the unnatural light is blinding. First Nadine is obliterated by the starlight, then Luba, and just before Napoleon's face disappears from my view I see him mouth the words, “I'm sorry.” It's the last thing I see before I slam into a tree several hundred yards behind me.

Before I open my eyes, I feel the pain fusing into my back and spreading out like a cobweb on my skull. I roll slightly to one side and stretch my legs. I can move, so I must be alive. There's a burning sensation throughout my whole body so intense that I sniff deeply, convinced that I'll smell that my skin and fur and bones have turned to steaming charcoal, but I only smell the scents of the night. And then an odor pouring down on me like rancid rain.

When I open my eyes, I see the three of them standing over me, two snickering crones and their silent companion.

“Did you enjoy that, Dominy?” Nadine asks.

“We do hope you did,” Luba chimes in. “That was a small taste of our power.”

“Just a way for us to quench our appetite,” Nadine adds.

Defiantly I growl and let the sound continue even though it feels like stones are being rubbed along the inner lining of my throat. I'm so dry; I feel brittle inside and out. The shock of the starlight feels like I've been electrocuted. I try to stir, lift my head, but my body gives out, and I fall back onto the ground. A screech rips through the air that reminds me of the call of some damned creature. When I see Luba laughing, I know that I was right.

And when I hear Arla's screams, I know that the night has gotten much, much worse.

“Children!” Luba wails. “Remove the intruder!”

Without hesitation Nadine sprints toward Arla, who's standing in a clearing about a hundred yards away. Frightened into submission and illuminated by the combination of moon and starlight, Arla's a waiting target, unable to move, unable to defend herself. The only chance she has is if she starts running. Now!

“Aarrrrgghhh!!!”

My indecipherable sound penetrates the fear gripping Arla's body, and finally she turns to run. Struggling against my own pain, I take longer than usual to stand, but when I do I see that Luba and Napoleon haven't left my side. One has remained because she considers herself too lofty to get her hands dirty, the other because he doesn't want to get his stained any further.

“Napoleon!” Luba cries. “Help your sister!”

Napoleon looks deep within my eyes for just a split second, but it's long enough for his thoughts to penetrate into mine. I know everything there is to know about him. He's frightened—for me, for Arla, and for himself. He isn't as powerful as his grandmother or his sister, but he has his own strengths. And despite his fear he isn't afraid to use them.

Watching Napoleon sprint after Nadine, I'm amazed at how fast he can move. Is his ability natural or spell-driven? I don't know, and I don't care as long as he gets to Arla before Nadine does.

I leap into the air, but the glare of the starlight makes me miss a clean landing, and my paw is punctured by a sharp twig jutting out from the base of a fallen tree trunk. The pain sears up my leg, and I have to pull back several times before I can wrench myself free. Limping and bleeding I continue on just in time to see Nadine fly into the air and land on Arla's back.

“Get off of me!” Arla screams as they both fall to the ground.

Rolling Arla onto her back, Nadine straddles her, her knees pinning Arla's arms down. “Not until I'm looking at your corpse.”

“Help!”

Arla's cry is impulsive, but futile.

“Give her to me!” Napoleon orders. “Let me prove myself! Let me get rid of this one.”

I watch Napoleon's actions in disbelief; I can't believe what I'm seeing. In two incredibly quick moves he's knocked Nadine to the ground and pulled Arla up off of the earth. He's holding her close to him, her back to his chest, and his forearm is wrapped around her throat. His arm is smooth and pink and strong; veins are visible underneath his skin, making it look like there are long, thin tubes running through his body. He appears stronger than I remember, and again I don't know if this is how he normally looks or if tonight's ceremony has increased his virility. And he's cunning. He isn't out to kill Arla or me; he's trying to protect us.

“Don't fight me, Arla,” he whispers. “I want to help you.”

Unsure, Arla claws at his arm and kicks at him.

“Trust me,” Napoleon adds.

“No, brother,” Nadine says. “Trust
me!
”

Either I'm not the only one with super hearing, or the twins truly are psychically connected despite the fact Nadine told me earlier that they weren't. The only thing that matters is that Nadine is now royally pissed off.

“This voyeuristic bitch is mine!”

With one hand Nadine shoots a streak of silver light at her brother, causing him to duck out of the line of fire. In doing so, he loses his grip on Arla, and instinct overtakes her and she starts to run. I count three strides before Nadine catches her, whips her around so they're facing each other, clutches her by the throat with one hand, and lifts her off the ground.

“Nadine, stop!” Arla cries, her voice desperate and distorted, her fingers frantically clawing at Nadine's arm to try and break free from her hold. “You don't want to do this.”

Nadine lowers Arla so their faces are less than an inch apart. They can each see the creases in the other's skin, the freckles on the other girl's face, the scars. Nothing can be concealed, so Nadine decides to tell Arla the truth.

“No, Arla, I really don't,” she admits. “But you've left me no choice.”

“That's right, my child,” Luba hisses. “Make your grandmother proud.”

At the sight of his grandmother hanging in the sky like a limp, beat-up rag doll, Napoleon's bravado and courage flow out of his body, slowly, but certainly, like water twirling down a drain. The flow can't be stopped; it can only be watched and mourned.

Napoleon falters, but catches himself before he falls into the ground. He leans over, hunched, defeated, and grabs his head between his hands. His sobs are so loud they can be heard over Arla's screams and my growls. I look at Nadine, hoping that her brother's breakdown will distract her, but it's only made her more focused. She is definitely a girl who likes to be in control.

“Kill . . . her . . . now!” Luba bellows.

Smiling innocently, Nadine lifts Arla higher off the ground and squeezes her neck even tighter. Arla tries to dig her fingers in between Nadine's, separate Nadine's hand from her throat, but it's no use. I have to move now; I have to do something even if I don't have all my strength back.

Lunging forward as high as I possibly can, I aim for Nadine's body. If I can just rip some flesh from her body, it should be enough to make her drop Arla, give us some time to fight back. But Napoleon has other ideas.

“No!”

Two streaks of silver lightning blast through the air, one hitting me in the side, the other hitting Nadine in the back. We both tumble to the ground with Arla falling on top of us. Shaking my head, I swallow hard to try to moisten my throat, which is still parched. I nudge Arla and look her in the eye, wolf to girl, just so she knows she isn't alone. I hope my eyes say everything that's in my heart: I will die trying to protect her from this insanity.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Nadine screams.

Hands and knees pushed into the dirt, Nadine looks just like me right now, an animal on all fours, filled with primal instinct and no inhibitions.

“If we kill her it will draw attention to us,” Napoleon asserts. “All we have to do is make her forget.”

From the look on Nadine's face this proposition seems worse to her than actually strangling Arla to death with her bare hands.

“Are you willing to take that risk?” Luba asks.

Pausing to look at Arla, a glimmer of concern breaking through his steely gaze, Napoleon takes a moment to respond. When he does his voice and his intention are clear; he's made the decision for them. “Yes.”

“Then so be it,” Luba says. “I will allow you—this
once
—to override my command.”

Crawling backwards, Arla has no plan to run; she's just obeying her body's refusal to be still. “What . . . what
risks?!
”