The scar over Arla's eye has settled into her skin, made permanent residence on her face, but in the compromised light of the closet it's hardly noticeable. She's wearing her short black wig, the one cut in a severe bob, which makes her nontraditional features look even more exotic.
And Caleb looks just as handsome as ever. His blond hair is slicked back again with a little gel, so I guess this is the new clean-cut look he's going for. It makes his face appear stronger and more inviting than ever.
My boyfriend and my friends are all so beautiful inside and out. I feel ashamed to be contaminating their space. I start to cry when I think of all the ugliness that I've brought to their world, stains and scars and blemishes that can never be washed away or hidden with makeup because they cut too deep.
“Domgirl, c'mon, you have to stop this.”
I love how Caleb smells; I always have. A little bit of cologne, a little bit of sweat. He smells just like my father used to when he would hold me close to him, when he would whisper in my ear that I was his little girl and he would always keep me safe and nothing would ever harm me. My father was such a liar.
“I killed Rayna,” I say through my sobs.
The silence my comment provokes weighs down on us as if the ceiling has just caved in. When the ceiling lifts and they can breathe again, Archie is the first to speak.
“During the last full moon?” he asks.
I shake my head, my forehead rubbing against Caleb's chest.
“Okay . . . okay, Luba and Nadine . . .” Caleb starts.
“They must've done something to you again, controlled you in some way so you turned into a wolf,” Arla rationalizes. “You would never . . .”
“I wasn't a wolf,” I say quietly.
Caleb doesn't let go of me, but I can feel his body begin to tense up. His transformation is a bit more subtle than mine.
“But . . . but that doesn't make sense,” Archie says, sitting back on his haunches, the impact of my words making it difficult not to topple over.
“I wasn't a wolf,” I repeat. “I was human when I killed her.”
Grabbing me roughly by the shoulders, Caleb twists me around so we're facing one another. There's a flicker of light in his brown eyes, enough to light up the whole room. He believes in my goodness so much, he almost convinces me that I'm anything but terrible.
“Tell us exactly what happened,” he demands.
The anger and sorrow and guilt that I've been feeling these past few days bursts to the surface like a geyser, spilling into the room and drenching Caleb and my friends with my filth.
“It doesn't matter what happened!” I scream. “I killed Rayna! I have no excuse. I can't blame this one on the wolf or the curse! I did it! I killed her with my own hand!”
“Dominy, why?” Arla's voice hits me somewhere on my left.
“Why would you do such a thing?” Archie's voice slashes on my right.
“Because she's brave, and I'm a coward.”
A silhouette of light surrounds Napoleon's body as he stands in the doorway. For an instant I think Jess has brought him to me, but when he closes the door the light disappears. The only thing that's brought him here is his own conscience.
“Nap,” Archie says, standing up to grab his boyfriend's hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I listened to our connection.”
When Nap speaks again Archie's impish smile is quickly wiped away.
“My connection to Arla.”
“Me?” Arla asks.
“Nadine may be my biological twin,” Napoleon states, “but Arla's my psychic twin. Isn't that right, Arla?”
“Well, um, it looks like that could explain a few things,” she mumbles. “My headaches for one.”
“Your psychic twin?” Archie exclaims. “I thought that was a one-time thing.”
“It was actually a failed attempt to try and suck Arla's memory out of her mind,” Nap explains. “I guess when my sister and I work together we aren't always successful.”
“Well, Nap, your tag-team effort could've been a lot worse,” Arla adds, “than just, you know, opening up some sort of psychic tunnel with me on one end and you on the other.”
By Caleb and Archie's confused expressions, it looks like they could use a little more information, but now's not the time.
“I'll explain it all later,” Napoleon says. “Right now you need to know the truth about your friend. What Dominy did to Rayna was selfless and heroic, and if I weren't such a coward Rayna would still be alive.”
Away from his sister and his grandmother, Napoleon looks so capable, nothing like the wilting little boy he becomes in their presence. They really are slowly killing him. The way Caleb jumps up and presses a finger into Nap's chest it looks like he may want to quicken the pace.
“You know something, Jaffe,” Caleb barks. “I've had it with you and your sicko family. I know Dominy is innocent, and I don't buy your mea culpa act, so spell it out so we can understand it. What the hell happened to Rayna?”
“My sister, my grandmother, and I sucked the life out of her and left her a hollow shell,” Napoleon replies calmly. “Rayna would've died a slow, agonizing death if Dominy hadn't honored her request to kill her.”
Caleb's knees buckle, and he stumbles a bit, his foot barely missing my fingers on the floor. He shakes his head from side to side, but keeps his eyes focused, staring right at Nap. “You . . . you destroyed Rayna, and because you're such a douchebag you forced Dominy to clean up your mess!”
Napoleon's gaze is as intense and unyielding as Caleb's. “Yes, that's exactly what I am and that's exactly what I did.”
Archie tries to intervene, but he isn't strong enough or fast enough to prevent Caleb from punching Nap. In his nose, in his ear, in his chest. He ignores Arla's and my cries to stop. Archie's the only one with the good sense to know that Caleb isn't going to respond to voices, only actionsâso there's a momentary pause in the pummeling when Archie grabs Caleb in one of those wrestler's holds, his arms scooping up under Caleb's armpits and then interlocking his fingers behind Caleb's neck.
“Let go of me, Arch!” Caleb pants.
“Not until you promise to stop,” Archie says, his voice equally winded.
“Not after what he made Dominy do!” Caleb screams. “He needs to pay!”
“He
is
paying for it!”
Arla's voice brings everyone to a halt. It's urgent and strong and commanding. When we turn to look at her, we see that her face looks as anguished as Napoleon feels. It's incredible; they really are connected.
“Arla,” I say, “do you know how Napoleon feels?”
She nods her head slightly, and from the look in her eyes I think she's experiencing the worst emotional pain she ever has since she realized her mother didn't only run from her father but abandoned her as well.
“I don't understand it,” she explains. “Ever since that night I've felt weird, moody, and I've heard snippets of voices and thoughts. Images keep popping up in my head that don't belong to me, but I thought it was the headaches and stressâyou know we've all been under a lot of stress lately.” She covers her face with her hands, laughing and crying at the same time. “But that isn't it. My brain isn't only mine anymore; it's yours too. Isn't it, Nap?”
“I think so,” he replies.
“Can you feel what I'm feeling?” she asks. “Or know what I'm thinking?”
“I've been able to block it out, but lately it's gotten stronger,” he adds. “It's almost the way I used to be with Nadine when we were very young, before we knew what was expected of us . . . or at least before I knew. I think Nadine understood my grandmother's plan before she could speak.”
“You've sensed a link to Arla ever since that night Luba revealed to me that you and Nadine were her grandchildren?” I ask.
“Yes,” Nap replies. “But since you didn't say anything, Arla, I thought it was best to keep it to myself.”
“Once again you were too scared to take action,” Caleb fumes.
Napoleon's mouth opens to speak, but except for a weak sigh, no sound comes out. He tries again, but fails the second time as well. He almost looks like he did when he and Nadine would chant together to cast a spell, but alone he looks like what he is, an ashamed young man trying to find the words to explain his actions and his emotions.
“I'm not like you, Caleb,” he admits. “I've never . . . I've never had any friends who I could count on. I've never known any way to live other than the way my family's taught me.”
I finally understand what Jess originally saw in him: Napoleon's a damaged spirit who needs guidance if not salvation.
“Well, you have friends now,” I say.
Looking at the floor, at his feet, at his tears falling on top of his sneakers, Napoleon can't speak; he's doing everything he can not to break down in front of us. But even if he did, we'd all reach out to help him stand up again. Even Caleb.
“I'm sorry,” Caleb declares.
His words are almost as destructive as his punches. Nap waves his hands in front of him as if unable to accept Caleb's kindness, and his tears flow even more freely down his face.
“No . . . don't . . .” Nap says. “I . . . I don't deserve that.”
“Oh yes you do, and don't you ever forget that.”
Archie is grabbing Napoleon by the shoulders forcefully in the exact same way that Caleb grabbed me just a little while ago. They may not have known each other as long as Caleb and I have, but their bond is just as strong. Their invisible thread just as unbreakable.
“You're under a spell, like Dominy,” Archie explains. “And like we're helping her, we're going to help you.”
Nap doesn't try to break free from Archie's hold with his body, only his words. “You don't understand,” he says. “My family will never let me go.”
“That's because you've never had any other place to go to,” Archie beams. “And now you do. You have me.”
Nap swoons a bit, and Archie has to press tighter into his shoulders to keep him standing; his emotion is so overflowing that it threatens to consume Arla, and she collapses into my arms. Because Napoleon and Arla are so close to each other physically, their mental connection is stronger than it's ever been before, and she's feeling things with the same intensity that Nap is. I feel Caleb wrap his arms around both Arla and me, and he buries his face in my neck, my hair obstructing his vision. Napoleon's raw response is almost too painful to watch, and I'm about to look away, until I see Archie, emboldened instead of frightened, take Napoleon's face gently in his hands and look him directly in his eyes.
“I know I'm not old, but sometimes I feel like I've lived several lifetimes, and I've waited my whole life for someone to share it with,” he declares, his voice shameless. He doesn't care if we overhear his innermost thoughts, as long as Napoleon understands what he's telling him. He does.
“I feel the same way about you,” Nap replies. His voice isn't as confident as Archie's, but the shame that overwhelmed him moments ago is definitely starting to fade. “Without you I literally don't have anything else to live for.”
Archie kisses Nap. It's gentle and strong at the same time. When Archie pulls away, his grip on Napoleon is still powerful, and when he speaks his words are passionate. “Then live with me, or we'll run away together,” he says. “Together we can break this hold your family has on you.”
But will passionate words and heartfelt intentions wilt in the presence of evil?
“She's coming.”
Arla announces what Napoleon can feel in his soul.
“It's Nadine,” Nap confirms. “Oh my God, she must be able to tap into my mind.”
Thanks to my super hearing the sound of her applause arrives before she does. “Bravo, people!” she cheers. “This is a terrific hiding spot. If my brother weren't so weak, I would never have found it.”
And if the closet were any smaller, she wouldn't fit in here. Have I not noticed how fat she's gotten, or is this a recent transformation?
“Seriously, Nadine, don't you witches have a spell to lose weight?” I ask.
Smirking, Nadine seems amused by my comment, rather than aggravated. “Not all of us are preoccupied with our looks, Dominy,” she replies. “Some of us are more concerned about inner beauty.”
“Honey, you're as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside,” Archie snipes.
“Says the albino,” she snipes back. “As much as I'd love to keep chatting with all of you, I merely came to amend a piece of advice I once shared with my brother.”
Holding Archie's hand, Napoleon seems to have some extra strength to stand up to his sister. “Really? I thought you never changed your mind about anything, sis.”
“Oh I don't,” she replies. “I once told you that you had to make a choice, but since you're so incredibly indecisive, I wanted to let you know that the choice has been made for you.”
“What choice?” I ask.
Even though the floor is carpeted, I can still hear Nadine's footsteps when she walks toward me. “That, Dominy, is a family matter,” she replies. “And you of all people should understand the importance of keeping family secrets.”
Just before she leaves she turns to add, “But don't worry. You'll all find out about this one soon enough.”
The second she leaves, the air in the closet becomes fresher and easier to breathe. Her comment, however, is not as easy to decipher. The only thing we can all agree on is that whatever she was talking about, it cannot possibly be good.