Sunblind (36 page)

“For a preternatural being, you can be incredibly stupid, you know that?” Jess states. “Friendship is just another form of love, the kind that comes first in your life and the kind that lasts much longer than whatever feelings I had for Napoleon.”

I nuzzle my snout into Jess's knee so I can be covered in her warmth and her friendship. I know that she's talking about our bond, our undying connection, and it fills me with a happiness that is as rapturous as what Nadine felt when she was consumed by Orion's spirit. Right after she killed her brother.

“So this means that Napoleon is dead?” I ask meekly.

She shrugs her shoulders and sends little flares of sunlight into the dark sky. “I don't know,” she admits. “There is a chance he can be saved. I just can't do anything to tip the cards in his favor.”

“So we have to wait to see what the morning brings,” I say.

“You're starting to learn the ways of the world, Dominysan,” Jess replies. “First thing in the morning you can go to the hospital after you transform. For now you have to stay here, and I'll keep you company. I'll even turn my head so you can have your privacy while you feed on that raccoon over there.”

Jess knows me too well. I might have muffled my hunger, restrained it for a while, but it's still growing inside me, and it needs to be quenched.

Some rules can't be broken.

Chapter 29

Two of my friends. Two different hospital rooms. Hopefully, there won't be two different outcomes.

This morning when I transformed back, when the wolf spirit and I switched places, Jess shielded me with her light so I could make it from the woods to my home without anyone noticing the naked girl running through the streets. There was so much commotion at the hospital last night with both Archie and Napoleon rushed to the emergency room and hours later each admitted to separate rooms, that no one noticed I was missing. Arla told me that Louis and Barnaby asked for me, but she made up a few excuses for my absence: I was in the bathroom, the chapel, and once I had fainted and was being treated by a nurse. This almost started Louis on a quest for his wayward ward, but several hours ago Officer Gallegos burst into the hospital shouting something about a predawn bank robbery, and when you're the chief of police, crime fighting trumps stepdaughter searching, so my absence wasn't uncovered. Who says crime doesn't have its benefits?

Definitely not Luba.

Sitting in the waiting room, I see Luba walk in, and for the first time she isn't wearing her white hospital gown. She's not wearing anything fancy and definitely not anything fashionable, but her clothes don't have the official name of The Retreat stamped on them, so the black pants and shoes and red V-neck sweater look startling on her. As startling as the only piece of jewelry she's wearing, a silver necklace with three stars in a row that sits just below the apex of her neckline, so it looks like starlight lives on a bed of blood. Perfect.

Luba is moving slowly and dabbing a tissue at the corners of her dry eyes. The hospital staff must think she looks completely normal; in fact, they must think she looks downright amazing for a grief-stricken grandmother. Only those of us who know what she really is and the part she played in her grandson's so-called accident can see past the disguise. And I'm probably the only one who can see the faintest scar on her cheek where I tore off her flesh when she was temporarily in wolf's clothing last night.

Flanked on either side by Nadine and Melinda, Luba doesn't sit in one of the empty chairs; she doesn't suddenly burst into fake tears to garner even more sympathy from the crowd; she walks right up to Louis Bergeron, who's returned to check in on the situation, and slaps him across the face.

“I hold you responsible,” she announces.

I have to grab Arla by the wrist and use all my wolf-strength to keep her seated. We cannot do battle, not in here, not in such close quarters. Luckily, Louis is no stranger to the antics of crazy women, so he handles the situation deftly.

“And as chief of police, I take full responsibility,” he replies, resisting the urge to rub his reddened cheek. “For the lives of both boys.”

“You and this irresponsible witch hunt for the Full Moon Killer,” she seethes.

“I am doing whatever is necessary to protect this town,” he replies, his voice just as steady.

“By giving in to folklore and superstition?” Luba asks.

Louis might have dealt with crazy townsfolk, but most of the time I'm sure it's in the confines of his office or in the middle of the night without an audience; he isn't used to being stared at while defending his actions.

“We were following the facts of the case, ma'am,” he says.

“If you were following the facts of the case, you wouldn't have been running around with a bunch of
idiots
carrying torches in the middle of the night!” she scoffs. Then without even lowering her voice, she adds, “I told Melinda you were a fool.”

Now she's made it personal. I'm tempted to let go of Arla and see what damage she can do to the old lady. But I know that even if Arla gets in a good punch or two, maybe even one of those Bruce Lee-style roundhouse kicks, Luba will rebound with something far more destructive, regardless of how many people are watching.
No, keep still; let someone else rescue Louis and put Luba in her place.
I would never have guessed that person would be my brother.

“Luba,” he says. “Why don't you sit over here?”

Barnaby's voice is quiet, but stern. He's clearly incensed by Luba's callous treatment of Louis, but he's also surprised. This is not the woman he's come to know. Let me introduce you to the real Luba, Barnaby, and if you think this is bad, I pray for your sake that she never reveals her true self to you.

My brother takes Luba by the elbow and leads her to an empty seat in a corner of the room. She doesn't resist; there's no need for her to. She's accomplished what she set out to do: She's painted a picture of herself as an angry, yet rational woman, not a psychopath who prays at a celestial altar.

Not only that, but she's also made Louis look like, well, an idiot. And, unfortunately, I'm partially responsible. I'm the one who made Caleb convince him to lift the town curfew and reinstate the vigilante coalition. Sure, Louis succumbed to peer pressure and his own desire to catch the town's elusive serial killer, but he had let go of such foolishness. If I hadn't pushed Caleb, he wouldn't have pushed Louis. In the heat of the night, a mob mentality seems like the logical course of action, but in the harsh light of day it looks like exactly what it is: stupid.

Luckily, the murmuring of the crowd is hushed when the doctor walks into the waiting room. The good people of Weeping Water can bad-mouth Louis later; right now we need to find out if Lars Svenson is going to put another citizen's face on the front page of the
Three
W
.

“How is my son, doctor?”

I want to grab Melinda Jaffe by her blond hair and bash her face into the wall. I want to break her nose so she'll need to have it fixed and her physical resemblance to my mother will cease. If I break something else besides her nose, then so be it. The woman deserves it.

“Napoleon is very strong,” the doctor announces. “And so far he's also very lucky.”

Not exactly the news the ladies Jaffe were hoping for, but they put on a good show of making everyone believe this is exactly what they wanted to hear from the good doctor.

“He isn't out of the woods yet. The next twenty-four hours are crucial,” the doctor warns. “But it looks like he's going to pull through.”

“Thank you, doctor. That's good news,” Napoleon's lying mother says. “May I see him now?”

“Yes, but don't be long,” the doctor replies. “He needs his rest.”

“Of course, I just want to see . . .”

“Doctor,” I say, interrupting Melinda. “What about Archie?”

Both the doctor and Mrs. Jaffe turn to face me. The doctor smiles; Melinda doesn't.

“Mr. Angevene is doing just fine,” he says. “Looks like he merely passed out from exhaustion. His parents are filling out some paperwork, but he's going to be released shortly.”

“What about . . .”

“Yes?” the doctor asks.

“What about his eyes?” I finish.

The doctor looks at me with a puzzled expression, and I can't breathe. “The most extraordinary shade of violet,” he says. “Common among albinos.”

So his eyes are back to normal. It may not be a permanent condition, but that's more good news.

“Can we see him?” Caleb asks.

“Absolutely,” the doctor replies. “I'm sure he'd love the company.”

After the doctor leaves, Louis finds himself face-to-face with his ex-girlfriend. Ever the gentleman, Louis offers his condolences.

“I'm glad Napoleon is going to be okay,” he says.

“Thank you,” Melinda replies. And then she moves an inch closer to Louis and drops her voice to a tone that I'm sure she thinks is seductive. “Unlike my mother-in-law, I don't hold you responsible, Louis,” she says, flicking away a piece of imaginary dust from his shirt collar. “In fact, I know that he's only alive because of you.”

Ain't that the truth!

Louis swallows hard and stares at the floor for a few seconds before replying. “Only doing my job, Melin . . . ma'am.”

“When this all blows over, I'm going to have to find a way to repay you for your kindness,” she whispers.

Oh my God! Her son almost died, she's surrounded by her daughter and Louis's kids, and she's flirting? Seriously, the woman has no self-control. Thankfully, Louis has self-respect.

“You already did that,” Louis says. “When you chose to be with Winston Lundgarden.”

Touché! Arla and I can only silence our giggles until Louis leaves the room; once he's gone, they're unleashed. Right in Melinda's ear. Her look of utter disdain only makes us laugh harder until Caleb grabs the two of us by the backs of our necks and pushes us into the hallway and directly into Archie's room.

“Seriously?” Caleb asks. “You had to antagonize the woman who just happens to be the mother and daughter-in-law of a pair of witches?”

Still laughing, I throw my arm around Caleb's waist. “Sorry, Cay, but seeing her reaction was worth the risk.”

Wrapping her arm around Caleb from the opposite side, Arla agrees. “Plus, I think my father really took the wind out of her sails. I don't think we'll be hearing too much from her anytime soon.”

“Good,” Caleb declares. “Because I for one could use a rest from all this mayhem.”

“Me too,” I reply.

“Me three,” Arla adds.

“Me four,” Archie chimes in. “What am I agreeing to?”

“A breather from all the magic and craziness going on lately,” Caleb announces.

If only that were possible.

“Winter, you look amazing!”

“Thanks, Bells, but I'm still not going to go out with you.”

“Boys,” Arla starts. “One of these days I'm going to force the two of you to make out to see if this bromance has legs.”

“Sorry, I'm taken,” Archie says.

When Caleb doesn't reply, I slap him on his butt. “And so are you!”

Caleb's high-pitched laughter fills the room. “Just making sure you're paying attention,” he says.

He squeezes me closer to him, and he smells so clean I close my eyes and breathe it in. I'm not exactly sure what's happening to me, if it's wolf-lust or girl-love, but whatever it is, I've never found Caleb more attractive than I do right now. Very soon, I'm going to have to show him how much he means to me. Right after I make sure Archie knows.

“So, have you had any side effects?” I ask, sitting on the foot of his bed.

Shaking his head slowly, Archie replies, “Nope, just antsy to get out of here and see how Napoleon's doing.”

“Do you, um, remember anything about last night?” I ask slowly.

Picking at a thread on his blanket, Archie seems to be stalling, though he could simply be trying to remember the details that brought him here. “I know there was a fight,” he says. “And I took a bit of a beating.”

I look over at Arla, and she's thinking what I'm thinking, that Archie doesn't remember what happened to him. He doesn't remember seeing Jess, nor does he understand that he isn't completely human any longer. He was saved, but he's been turned into something new, something that at the moment doesn't have a name. For the time being, I think it's best to keep this information from him. Let him concentrate on his recovery and his boyfriend.

“The doc said Nap's going to pull through,” Caleb shares. “But it'll be a while before you two can get, um, you know, all physical and stuff.”

“You're such an a-hole!” Archie jokes. “The ‘and stuff' part can wait. Nap and I don't have to put the
lay
in re
lay-
tionship.”

“Ooh good one, Winter!” Caleb shouts.

Watching my boyfriend and Archie high-five each other, I smile. But it isn't genuine. I'm thrilled that Archie has fully recovered from the attack on his life and that he and Napoleon seem to have a sweet relationship, but the facts remain—Napoleon is still part of Them. Just because he survived his sister's assault, doesn't mean she won't try to kill him again. Why, I have no idea, since there need to be three of them to realize Orion's power. Could be that she now has enough power without him or that she just wants to get rid of Napoleon before he finds a way to get rid of her. Whatever the reason, their family feud is far from over. But Archie and Napoleon's love affair might be.

“Something's wrong.”

Arla is pressing her fingers into her forehead. I know she isn't referring to herself, but to her psychonjoined twin.

“Napoleon?” I ask.

She nods her head furiously. The pain seems to be escalating; it's a struggle for her to form words. “I love you.”

What? What is Arla talking about?

“I love you . . . Archie.”

She wasn't making sense because she wasn't the one talking; Napoleon was. Why does Nap's sentiment sound dangerously close to a good-bye?

“Nap!” Archie cries out. “Arla, where is he?”

We follow Arla as she runs out of the room and down the corridor in the opposite direction of the waiting room. She turns left at the end of the hallway, then she stops at Room 48, the same number as Luba's room at The Retreat. This cannot be a good omen.

Inside the room, Napoleon is hooked up to a bunch of important-looking machines, but he's sleeping. I can hear his breathing, much stronger than it was last night when he was near death. Nadine is sitting next to the bed holding Nap's hand, while Luba is standing on the other side of the bed next to one of the machines, and Melinda is sitting on a chair next to the door. They look exactly like a worried family—their silence, their expressions, their posture—it's totally perfect. And totally unbelievable.