Sunblind (28 page)

“Why did you make me see this, Jess? Why?!”

“Because you wanted to know how to break the curse!” she replies. Her yellow light slips into the makeshift tent, but she doesn't fully appear; neither does Mr. Dice. They're both gone, and I'm alone. Alone inside my own mind with my hateful parents and still no answers.

“And how can I do that?!” I shout. “Tell me.”

“One of the curses can be broken by taking your mother's advice,” she replies.

Her voice swarms around me like the insects outside. I feel fear growing in the pit of my stomach, and it makes it almost impossible for me to speak.

“I should abandon Barnaby?” I finally ask.

“No,” Jess answers. “You should kill him.”

Chapter 24

Kill Barnaby? That's insane. I want out; I want to be out of my brain and out of here. Now!

In a flash we're back at school. My parents are gone, and I'm alone with Jess and Mr. Dice. As far as I can see a bit of their sunshine has faded. They're not as bright, they're not as magical, not when they tell me that I have to kill my brother. Then I remember the last person who told me that I had to kill a family member: Luba told me to kill my father.

“Jess, is that really you?” I ask.

“Of course it's me,” she replies. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Because you just told me to kill Barnaby, that's why!” I scream. “After you told me that I had to protect him. What's going on?”

“Be careful, Jess,” Mr. Dice instructs.

“No, be honest,” I interrupt.

Jess bows her head, and the motion causes a few drops of gold to fall to the ground. When she looks up so I can see her face, I see that she's crying. “Things have changed, Dominy,” she admits. “Barnaby isn't who you think he is.”

I can feel my head begin to swirl. Slowly and then quickly the room starts to spin around me; it's like I'm trapped within the eye of a tornado. I know that Barnaby's different. The change was set into motion the night I killed Jess, the night he suspected that I had something to do with her murder. It got worse when my father died, and ever since we moved in with Louis and Arla he's only become more distant and erratic and hostile. Palling around with Luba and Nadine definitely has not helped. But can Barnaby really be under their spell and lost to me? Forever? If that happened I truly don't think I could follow Jess's instructions and kill him; I'm not that strong. But I'm also not strong enough to survive watching Luba and her family destroy my brother's life. I'd rather die trying to free him from their clutches.

“Dominy, are you all right?”

The voice sounds like it's right inside my ear, and yet it's so far away. I don't know if I should hold on to it or cover my ears with my hands to block it out. My brother is changing; my brother has to be protected; my brother is standing right in front of me.

“Barnaby?”

“None other,” he replies. “What the ef's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Well, the Japanese version of a ghost. Two actually. One of whom told me I have to kill you. So should I do it now in the school hallway? I could grab the side of your head and bash it into the metal lockers, three times should do it, and watch a trickle of blood form on your temple and drip into your eye, slide down your cheek and your chin until it drops onto the floor at my feet. Or I could strangle you like I tried to do once before, press my fingers against your neck and watch your skin turn blue. Your neck is thicker now, but I'm stronger, so you're still no match for me. I will always be your big sister, and I will always be able to kill you.

What the hell am I thinking? And why in the world did Jess plant these thoughts in my head? Or, more accurately, why did she split my head open so I could see the thoughts that were already there? I can't believe that she would do such a thing; she's never been cruel or violent. Even when I was those things to her, she never responded in kind; she always saw the good, the light, the hope. But maybe there's no more hope for Barnaby? Maybe Luba's gotten to him and infected him and turned him into her slave.

Looking at my brother I wonder how long he's known Luba and been in her company. She could have been brainwashing his mind and possessing his soul for much longer than I suspect. The only reason I found out about their connection is because I stumbled upon her at The Retreat. Barnaby never mentioned her before; their relationship could've been going on for years. If that's the case, maybe I have no other recourse but to kill him. This could even be like with my father—if I don't kill him, someone else will.

“Freak girl, you haven't listened to a word I said, have you?”

Barnaby's staring at me, his head slanted downward slightly because now he's almost two inches taller than I am. He's growing up and growing away from me unless I do something about it, unless I reach out and try to make him understand that he needs to be careful, that he needs to listen to me, that he needs to know there are dangers out in the world that he cannot fight against alone.

I almost laugh out loud when I realize if I said any of those things to my brother he would laugh his head off and think that I was crazy. He's fifteen. He doesn't want to be told what to do. He doesn't want to be reminded that he isn't invincible, especially not by his sister who he considers an enemy more often than he considers a friend. No, I need to lighten things up, act as normal as I can. If I even know what normal is anymore.

“I heard some of your blabbering,” I reply sarcastically. “Bottom line it for me.”

“Nadine's having a party.”

Should I check my e-mail for an invite? “That, um, sounds like fun,” I lie.

“Not for those of us who didn't get an invitation,” he barks.

Consider yourself lucky! So I was right; I wasn't just imagining a connection between my brother and the witch. Hopefully, it's just a harmless crush like the one he had on Arla when they first became track teammates. But, unfortunately, harmless is not an adjective that I can pin on Nadine.

“Maybe it's just for juniors,” I surmise. “Or it could be for the business club she's in, Future Losers of America? The one that's made up of all the kids who are too homely to make a living based on their looks alone, so they're going to have to apply themselves and choose a boring career to collect a paycheck.”

Barnaby doesn't find my humor humorous. Should I tell him the truth? That Nadine only sent invites to the members of her grandmother's demonic cult? That's the most likely scenario, and knowing that Barnaby was kept off the guest list fills me with more joy than I can describe. It's actually hard to maintain my snarky face when I'm so happy.

“I don't know who else got invited, but I didn't,” he whines. “I mean Luba said . . .”

Happiness is officially destroyed.

“Luba said what?” I ask, desperately trying to sound bored and not intrigued.

Barnaby's eyes are like two blue spotlights. They're bright and shiny, and they're trying to see through me; they're trying to see if my question is covering my real motive. Well, try as hard as you like, Barn, but I've become a master at hiding.

Shaking his head nervously, he replies, “Nothing.”

“Dude, the old lady said something,” I reply. “What was it?”

Sometimes you have to be careful what you ask for, because you might actually be given the truth.

“She said . . . she said that Nadine and I would make a nice couple.”

I press down so hard on the top of my locker door I can feel the metal edge cut into my fingers.
Concentrate on the pain and, in fact, squeeze harder so there's more pain to focus on.
Anything has got to be better than what I was just told. Nadine and Barnaby! A couple! That's sick, and no, I cannot let that happen. I'll tell Barnaby the entire truth about me and my father and being a werewolf and the curse right here and now in the middle of the hallway before I ever let him go on a date with the girl who murdered our father. That's not going to happen, not on my watch.

“At first I didn't like Nadine, but now, you know, she's really cool,” he says. “Not that it matters 'cause she isn't interested.”

My brother is hurt and deflated, and I couldn't be happier. Time to spread some big sister cheer.

“Barn, nothing I can say will make you feel better,” I begin. “But isn't it better to know now that she isn't into you than to waste time trying to turn her into your girlfriend? I'm sure there are tons of girls who would love the chance to snag a track star as their boyfriend.”

The way Barnaby looks at me almost makes me want to cry, and I have to resist the urge to hug him. It's like someone has unscrewed the mask that's been welded to his face, and he looks sweet and hopeful and innocent, everything a little brother should be and everything that Barnaby once was. Please God, let this be a turning point; don't tease me with just a fleeting moment; let Barnaby be free. Let him be the person he is right now. I promise that I'll do whatever you want me to do to make sure that happens. One member of this wretched family deserves the chance to be happy.

“Thanks, Dom,” he mumbles.

I watch him walk away, his shoulders hunched over a bit. He's still not standing as tall as he should be, but he didn't run from me; he didn't tell me to go to hell or that every bad thing that has happened to him and the entire world was my fault, so this is definitely a start. I don't know what Jess and Mr. Dice were talking about. There is no need for me to kill my brother.

My gigglaugh mingles with the clang of my locker when I slam it shut. My brain would be such a fertile playground for a psychiatrist. Seriously, they would have a field day if they could ever get inside and analyze my innermost thoughts. And when they're finished with me, they can examine Napoleon.

“Nadine's invited Rayna to our cabin tonight.”

“I know. Barnaby just told me about your sister's soirée,” I say. “But no worries, Nap, I really didn't expect an invite.”

I turn to leave, but in a flash Nap is on my other side blocking my exit. His body is shaking like he had to run outside and forgot his parka. Or like he's sick. I think he's come down with Nadinitis.

“You didn't get an invite because she isn't having a party,” he explains.

“Then why does she want Rayna to go to your cabin?” I ask.

“She won't tell me,” he replies. “And whenever my sister won't tell me something, it means she's up to trouble.”

“Does your sister want you to join her?”

Napoleon's embarrassed, but at least he doesn't evade my question. “Yes.”

Nadine might not have told Napoleon about her motive, but she needs him as much as she needs Luba. The three of them have to work together if they're going to create any mischief. Which means only one thing.

“Rayna is in serious trouble,” I say.

A few beads of sweat appear on Nap's forehead, and he presses his hand against a locker for support, knuckles against metal. When he opens his mouth to speak, no words come out. He tries again, but nothing. He swallows hard, and finally he can speak.

“Will you . . . please . . . help me?”

This is the second time Napoleon's asked me to help him. I don't know what he's really asking me to do, but instinctively I know that I have to agree. I also know that he could be luring me into a trap, so I have to wave my own bait in front of his nose to see if he grabs it.

“I'll meet you at the cabin tonight,” I confirm. “And I'll bring Archie with me.”

“No!”

The sound of his hand clanging against the locker echoes down the hallway. A few people take notice, but everyone's so caught up in their own drama that they're immediately bored; we're just two kids having a mini-fight. They have no idea that I've just had a major revelation. Napoleon cares for Archie enough to protect him. He may not be able to protect or defend himself from his family, but at least he loves Archie enough to try to keep him safe.

“You cannot tell Archie,” Napoleon insists. “You'll only be putting him in danger. He's already doing everything he can to protect me and . . . and, well, just don't tell him anything.”

“I won't,” I reply.

“Thank you,” Nap says. “Come to the cabin at seven tonight. That's when she told Rayna to show up.”

“I'll be there.”

I grab Napoleon's arm before he runs off. “Truce.”

“What?”

“I want you to agree to a truce with me right here and now,” I demand. “I don't know what you really are, and I don't really like you, not a hundred percent anyway, but you love Archie and so do I, so I want us to be on the same team, you know, formally and everything.”

There's strength behind Napoleon's eyes, way, way behind the fear. The grip of his handshake is a bit flimsy, a bit weak at first, but once he gets used to feeling my flesh press against his, it gets stronger.

“Archie is the only thing I have in my life worth living for right now,” he declares.

Now his grip is solid. As solid as his voice. “Truce.”

 

The cabin looks so much different now that I know what's taken place inside of it. It's no longer a safe haven or a rustic retreat; it's a death house. I can almost see the wooden exterior buckle and bulge as it gasps for breath in anticipation of the next life it's going to take. I look up into the sky and see that the moon is only three quarters and not full. I won't be doing any killing tonight. Now that I know I can trust Napoleon, I doubt very much that he's going to help Luba and Nadine manipulate nature to force another full moon. The first time the trick was impressive. If they try it again, it'll only be redundant. I've learned that, when it comes to Luba, she always has some new stunt to unveil.

When I see her sitting on the couch in between her grandchildren, she looks so old and so frail; the only new thing she's going to unveil is her casket. She literally looks like she's standing on death's door. The only thing stopping her from dying is the fact that Death probably is hesitating and not sure if it wants her company.

“Welcome back,” Luba says.

Her voice is hardly audible, a rough whisper, like the sound the hooves of a deer might make as it scratches the earth just before it drops dead from a gunshot to the stomach.