The Gathering Storm (8 page)

Darren waited to see if his mom would ask more questions, but she had started flipping through a chemistry journal. Darren would never understand why his mother got to read during meals, but he wasn't allowed to use his cell phone. Darren sneaked a few glances at her while he slipped his phone out of his pocket. She didn't even notice as he sent a text under the table.

R, you around to chat tonight?

Darren took another bite of food, still holding onto his phone under the table. When it buzzed, he jumped.

Absolutely, bro. 9?

“Darren,” Mom said, holding out her hand. “No phones at the table. You can have it back after dinner.”

For once, Darren didn't even complain about having to give up his phone. Just knowing that he would be able to talk to Ray in a few hours made everything seem more bearable.

At 8:54 p.m., Darren was already sitting in front of his mom's laptop, waiting for Ray to sign on.

“Little D!” Ray announced as he appeared on the screen. “Big seventh grader! What's happening, man?”

A huge grin spread across Darren's face. “Not much,” he said. “I'm getting slammed with homework already.”

Ray chuckled. “You don't even know the meaning of the word,” he replied. “I was at the library last night until four a.m.”

“Are you serious?” Darren asked.

“Like a heart attack,” Ray said. “But enough about me. I want to hear everything about seventh grade.”

Darren started telling Ray all about his new classes but was consciously aware that he was holding something back—a lot of things, actually. He quickly changed the subject to his football practice, but Ray held up his hand.

“Hang on right there,” Ray said. “I can tell you're keeping something from me. What's wrong?”

The last thing Darren wanted was for Ray to know he was keeping something back, but at the same time, it was such a relief that somebody was paying attention. And yet, as much as Darren wanted to tell Ray the truth—to show him his hands, which were at this very moment crackling with electricity under the desk—he didn't dare. The danger was too great.

But was there a way that Darren could talk to Ray without telling him everything?

“Things are kind of . . . weird this year,” Darren began, choosing his words carefully. “It's almost like I don't . . . really fit in, you know?”

“Of course I do,” Ray said in such a knowing way that for an instant, hope swirled through Darren's heart.
Is Ray a Changer too?
he wondered. Ms. Therian did say that it ran in families. . . .

“I was wondering when it might come up,” Ray continued. “Things started to change for me in middle school too—”

Darren was hanging on Ray's every word.

“I mean, it's really pretty obvious: there aren't a lot of African-Americans in Willow Cove. And even when everybody's being cool, it's normal to feel different sometimes.”

It wasn't exactly what he was hoping to hear, but Darren had looked up to Ray his whole life. Ray always had the answers before. Maybe he had the answer to Darren's real question, too, even if he didn't know it. “So . . . how did you handle it?” he asked.

“Just do you,” Ray advised him. “You've already got a ton of friends, more than I ever had. That's a good start. Work hard in school, stay out of trouble. Basically, just do your best, you know? That's all Mom and Dad want from us. And speaking of Mom and Dad . . .”

Ray didn't need to finish his sentence; Darren already knew what he was going to ask. “Pretty much the same,” he said. “Dad skipped dinner again tonight.”

Ray made a face. “He has to step up,” he replied. “He knows that drives Mom crazy. I saw Mom yesterday and tried to talk to her, but she said she was late to class and rushed off.”

“Well, neither one of them is telling me anything,” Darren said. “So if you find something out . . .”

“You'll be the first person I tell. You know that,” Ray said.

“Thanks, Ray,” Darren said. He really did feel better. With the relief came a surge of tiredness, too; it was exhausting to hold on to so much stress all the time. Darren said good-bye to his brother and then flopped down onto the bed with his social studies book. He still had to read a chapter before bed, and his mom was as
strict about lights-out as she was about cell phones at the table.

But Darren found himself nodding off after the first paragraph and falling instantly into a dream.

There should've been a full moon, but a heavy cover of clouds made the night sky darker than usual. The only visible light came from the gleaming streetlights; Darren had never seen them from above before. High, low, swooping, soaring—there was nothing he couldn't see, nothing he couldn't do. Darren got it now; he understood what Ms. Therian and Fiona had tried to tell him. With every beat of his wings, Darren understood. This was his power. This was his destiny. This was his real, true self, flying over Willow Cove and seeing the world in an entirely new way.

Darren flew as low as he dared over the dark, quiet homes of Willow Cove.
What would they think if they could see me?
he wondered.

Below him, something began to stir. Were people getting up already? It was still dark out.

Uh-oh,
Darren thought. He didn't want to be seen
by anyone, but he wasn't ready to stop flying, either. It wouldn't be a problem to fly over to the forest, though. Maybe he would head in that direction. . . .

But something inside him prickled at the thought of pulling away.

Darren flew lower still to see if he could find what had caught his attention, but with his incredible vision, he didn't really need to. The movement on the street sped up, but he realized suddenly that it wasn't people moving. Shadows were unfurling throughout the streets, choking the sleepy houses, seeping under doors and through windows. What was that stuff going to do to all the people asleep in their homes? They had no idea about the threat approaching them.

Only Darren knew.

And that meant only Darren could stop it.

He flew lower. It seemed like the right thing to do, but it was the worst mistake he could have made. The shadows reared back, surrounding him, grasping at his feathers, yanking at them—It hurt—

It
really
hurt.

There was a bright, brief spiral of pain, and then
Darren found himself on his hands and knees—
hands and knees
—in a wheat field outside town. It was hard to catch his breath in his human form.
Just a dream?
Darren thought.
All that crazy stuff from school has messed up my head.

Even as he tried to convince himself, Darren longed for his strong wings. He felt utterly alone—incomplete, even—without them. Had he really flown? There was a strange ache in his shoulder blades as he pulled himself up. He would have to find his way back to town—but it would take hours to walk the distance. He must have flown—how on earth could he have sleepwalked this far, and out his second-story bedroom window no less?

Darren jumped, realizing he wasn't alone. There, at the edge of the clearing, stood the most magnificent creature Darren had ever seen. A huge, pure-white fox with fiery paws, sitting at attention with nine long tails splayed out on the ground behind it.
A kitsune,
Darren thought suddenly as he remembered Mack's projection from the Changing Stone.

The fox stepped forward, and a deep voice echoed in Darren's head.
Hello, Darren.
It was not Mack's voice.

“Who are you?” Darren asked. “How do you know my name?”

You can call me Mr. Kimura,
the fox replied.
I know you have questions. Come with me, and I will answer as many as I can.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Darren suddenly exclaimed, “Kimura! Are you Mack's grandfather?”

The fox nodded.
Smart boy. Dorina said as much.

“How . . . ,” Darren began, but he couldn't finish the sentence. There were too many things he wanted to say all at once.

You changed in your sleep and flew here on your own,
Mr. Kimura explained.
What do you remember?

“I was really tired,” Darren said. “But I don't remember falling asleep. The next thing I knew, I was flying over Willow Cove. Then . . .”

The fox's ears pricked up as Darren's voice trailed off.
Go on.

“It was a shadow, kind of,” Darren said. “It was . . . bad. I wanted to stop it from sneaking into everybody's houses, but it started to attack me instead.”

When Mr. Kimura didn't respond, Darren pressed on. “That part was a dream, though. . . . Right?” he asked.

The fox glanced behind them, as if worried that they were being followed.
A dream for now. We will discuss it indoors,
he said as they approached a small cottage. There was a light on in the front window. As Darren and Mr. Kimura approached, the front door swung open.

“Jiichan?” a voice called. “Is that you?”

Mack was standing in the doorway, a worried look on his face. He blinked in surprise as Darren stepped forward.

“Darren?” Mack asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Mack,” Darren replied. It was all he could think of to say.

Mr. Kimura brushed past Darren as he approached Mack.
Hurry in,
the
kitsune
said in a low voice. Darren could only obey, watching as the expression on Mack's face morphed from surprise to astonishment.

“Jiichan?” Mack asked hesitantly, backing up until he was pressed against the wall.

The door closed behind them with a loud click, though Darren was certain he hadn't touched it. The
next moment a shimmering light washed over them. When it passed, the majestic fox was gone.

In his place stood an old man whose eyes seemed to contain all the worries in the world: Mr. Kimura, in human form.

“Jiichan?” Mack gasped. He would've thought he was still asleep, stuck in the strangest dream ever, if not for the solid wall against his back. “You . . . You're a . . .”

“Yes,” Jiichan replied as he strode past his grandson.

Mack stared at Jiichan, then glanced over at Darren. “You want to tell me what's going on?” he demanded.

Darren shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Uh . . .”

“Forget it,” Mack mumbled as he spun around and hurried after Jiichan. He found him in the living room, the TV remote clutched in his wrinkled hand. This time, though, Jiichan wasn't watching one of his
favorite nature shows. Instead he flipped to the twenty-four-hour weather network.

“We're tracking a massive category-five hurricane approaching the coast,” the weather forecaster reported breathlessly. “This is not a drill, folks. We have no indication that this storm is going to shift course or slow down. I repeat, it's not weakening at all. Now is the time to start making preparations, because once this hurricane hits, it's going to be too late.”