by Nina Berry
“You’re saying then that this message definitely came from Othersphere—not from somewhere else in this world? It wasn’t some Tribunal trick?”
He didn’t say anything, so I stomped around to look him in the eye. I was nearly as tall as he was, and I kept staring until he met my gaze. “Why is some . . . thing from Othersphere trying to tell me who I really am? I’m a tiger-shifter from Siberia, maybe the last one of my kind, right? Morfael?”
One side of his mouth was turning up, creasing his hollow cheek. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or simply smug.
Fear clutched at my throat then. I didn’t want to ask it, yet I had to. The words came of their own accord: “Who am I?”
The corner of his mouth deepened, and he shouldered past me, no longer pausing to tap his wooden staff, but taking long strides down the hall, toward the front door. I took a few running steps after him, then forced myself to stop as he stepped out into the moonlight. An anxious fury threatened to rise up from my heart and overtake me, and I forced myself to take deep breaths to quell it. The old caller of shadow was still hiding things from me. From past experience, I knew he thought this was for the best. And maybe he was right.
About nine p.m., when most of us were done with homework, we all ended up in the girls’ room. All except for Caleb and Amaris, who were having some kind of private lesson with Morfael. I kept glancing at the door, mostly because I couldn’t wait to see Caleb again. The meeting with the Council in the morning loomed, and nothing calmed me like being with him. But also wiggling in the corner of my brain was the idea that maybe we could slip away somehow, find a place alone, and see if we could find our way back to those heated moments in the back of the car last night.
Arnaldo hooked his iPod up to a set of portable speakers and blasted songs from a new rock band with classical influences he wanted us all to hear. November bounced on and off Siku’s lap in time to the beat until he shoved her away irritably. London sat at my feet and leaned against my legs as I French-braided her hair.
“So what did you do during our little break from school?” I asked her. “Anything fun?”
“Not unless you think chopping wood’s a party,” she said. “My mom lectured me nearly every day on how I’d endangered everyone in our tribe by helping rescue Siku from the Tribunal, so I went on a lot of very long walks just to get out of the house.”
“Meet any cute park rangers while you were rambling around?” I wiggled my knee near her shoulder teasingly. “Or maybe a lumberjack?”
“What?” London’s voice swooped up, sounding almost scared. “No! Of course not.”
“Why of course not?” I asked. “If your parents ever let anyone outside their little circle meet you, you’d get tons of attention.”
London looked down, disturbing my braid-making, tracing the grain of the wood floor with a finger. “You think I’m pretty?”
“More than pretty,” I said. “Try striking, gorgeous, beautiful. Please!”
“I don’t feel pretty.” Her voice was so low, I barely heard it. “Except maybe when you’re around.”
The door clicked open and Caleb walked in with Amaris. London stood up abruptly, mumbling something about how she’d changed her mind about the French braid, ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
“That was weird,” I said as Caleb walked up to me.
Nobody said anything for a second, and the quiet got a little odd. Amaris wouldn’t look at me while Caleb and November exchanged looks. “What?” I said. “What’s going on with London?”
“Ssh,” said Amaris. “She’ll hear you.”
I looked from her to the bathroom door. Did she mean London?
“Yeah, keep it down, Cat-girl,” November said in a low voice I could barely hear above the music. She swatted Siku, and then came closer. “You are such an idiot. London’s got a huge crush on you.”
“She . . .” I blinked. “She does?”
November shook her head at me, like I was the slowest marcher in the parade. “Only since, like, forever. I don’t think she’s got any real hopes you’ll switch teams, and she likes Caleb and everything, but—”
“She resents me,” Caleb finished for her.
“Holy mackeroly,” I said. I sat down heavily on the bed behind me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
“It’s not you,” said Amaris. She looked over at the bathroom door, her wide brown eyes flickering with something she wasn’t saying. “People can’t help how they feel.”
“Boy, that’s true,” said November. “The truth is so annoying.”
“Just don’t tell her we talked about this or embarrass her about it or anything,” said Arnaldo.
“Siku,” I said, turning to him. “Did you know about this?”
He nodded. “She’s got good taste.”
That made me smile, and I relaxed a little.
Caleb sat down next to me. “I thought you knew.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” I said, leaning against him a little.
“It’s really none of our business,” said Amaris, her voice harsh. Then, as if regretting how forcefully she’d spoken, she cleared her throat. “I mean. She’ll be okay.”
The bathroom door opened, and we all shut our mouths and avoided looking at London as she slid out, head down, her hair pulled out of the braids to fall in soft waves. She’d put her nose rings in again, two silver and one gold, glinting against her pale skin.
Amaris stood up, making small clucking noises. “You can’t just give up on the braid if it doesn’t work out the first time,” she said. “Come over here and let me do it.”
London shook her head, not meeting anyone’s eyes. I’d seen her that way when I first met her, like she wanted to disappear. I’d felt like that a lot when I had to wear the brace. Ugh. I made her feel that way.
“No, seriously, my mom taught me how to French-braid and it’ll look good on you. Come on.” Amaris walked over to London and pushed her shoulders down until she sat on a bed.
Arnaldo cued up another song while I tried not to stare too hard at London. I wanted her to be okay, for her to know that I cared about her, but how the hell could I do that without giving her the wrong idea? I leaned in to Caleb and whispered in his ear, “Why is life so complicated?”
He shook his head. “It’ll pass. Just be normal.”
Amaris started combing London’s hair back, preparing to braid. London was looking anywhere but at me and Caleb. “So your mom used to braid your hair?” she asked Amaris. “Where is she now?”
Amaris looked at Caleb over the top of London’s head, then looked down. “She died when I was ten. Breast cancer.”
For a moment no one knew what to say. Then: “That sucks,” said Siku.
Amaris flashed him a small smile. “Yeah. I could heal small cuts and bruises then, but cancer . . .” She bit her lip, but kept going, as if grinding out the facts. “Later on, I found out that my father refused to let her go to a humdrum hospital for treatment. We’ve got our own doctors in the Tribunal, but they don’t have the latest chemotherapy treatments and stuff. All our scientific research and money goes toward ‘the Cause’ instead.”
“The cause of getting rid of the otherkin,” said London.
“Exactly.” Amaris began expertly threading locks of London’s hair into a smooth braid. “And my mother wasn’t important enough. She was just a woman, just a mother. My father wouldn’t break the rules against consulting outsiders to help her. It might not have saved her anyway. I don’t know.”
“But he should’ve tried!” November hovered near Siku, her skinny eyebrows frowning thunderously.
“Why? She’d popped out a couple of kids just like he wanted, and God was now taking her to heaven.” Amaris’s eyes were bright as she shook her head. “I think that’s when I really started to hate him.”
“I hate my parents sometimes,” said London.
“Yeah. My dad hates anyone who’s not a bird-shifter,” said Arnaldo. “That’s ju
st as messed up.”
“My mom told me that I better marry a nice alpha wolf-shifter soon and start having pups like a good little girl, or she and my dad might throw me out,” said London. “She doesn’t believe me when I tell her I’d rather kill myself.”
“That’s what I was going to do, after my father forced me to marry Enoch,” Amaris said, her voice soft. “If you guys hadn’t come along . . .”
London didn’t turn her head as Amaris kept on weaving the braid through her hair, but her eyes moved back and forth; she was obviously thinking. “Do sworn enemies always have this much in common?” she asked.
Amaris gave a small laugh, and London’s lips curved up in a half-smile.
November was giving the two of them a considering look, her lips pursed. She saw me notice and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Raynard stuck his grizzled head in around eleven o’clock and ordered the boys out. I hung onto Caleb till the last second, unsure of how I was going to sleep through the night before the Council meeting without him. He gave me a sweet kiss and pulled away reluctantly.
So I let go of my fantasies of picking up where we’d left off last night and fell onto my bed, punching my pillow into shape. Things were good between us. But we weren’t back to where we’d been before Lazar had interrupted us last night. Maybe it was unrealistic to expect to hop right back there in less than a day, but the memory of Caleb’s bare skin rubbing up against mine kept intruding on every thought. I wanted nothing more than to feel him that close to me again.
As Siku clomped down the hall without saying anything to November, she slammed the door, frowning.
“Okay, I admit it. I need some advice,” she said. “And not about silly life-threatening crap. About something more important. Boys.”
“Maybe one boy in particular?” London turned from admiring her braid in the mirror with a grin.
“You think?” November stomped over to her bed and flopped down. “Could I be any more obvious with Siku? I’m practically stripping his clothes off in public, and he just smiles and pats me on the head.”
“So you’re not together?” Amaris got up and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. “I wasn’t sure.”
“Only if by together you mean I use him like a jungle gym and he laughs and tells me to get down.” November expelled her breath in a growling sigh.
“I’ve been wondering what was going on,” I said. “Have you told him you’re interested?”
“No!” November flipped over on her back to stare angrily at the ceiling. “He treats me like it’s all a big joke. What do you guys think? Should I maybe flash him a boob or something?”
Amaris choked on her water, laughing and coughing as she turned red.
London pounded her twice on the back. “Don’t worry. She has that effect on everyone at first.”
“I don’t think he needs more boob,” I said.
November nodded. “I do ooze sex appeal.”
“With everyone,” I said.
“So?” November shrugged.
“And that’s all you do,” London countered.
November rolled over to stare at London. “What else is there?”
“There’s, you know, you,” said Amaris.
“Me?” November looked genuinely puzzled.
“The crap underneath the boobs, dummy,” said London. “Hopes, dreams. And I don’t mean your dream that heaven is made of lollipops.”
“Before Caleb, I would push boys away because of the back brace,” I said, thinking it through. “But then I ended up in a cage next to Caleb wearing a hospital gown, and I got all angry and mauled Lazar. It was super embarrassing. I mean, I never wanted anyone to see me like that, but Caleb was really cool about it. And later, Caleb nearly collapsed in front of me after he called something out of shadow. Then it was like we’d both taken our masks off, you know? It was a good thing.”
“This is not a mask!” said November. “This is me!”
“But you’re a big flirt with everyone,” said London. “How’s he supposed to know that you actually mean it with him unless you show him something you don’t show to others?”
“Believe me, others have seen everything,” November said.
“Did they ever see you scared?” Amaris asked. “Or, you know, vulnerable?”
I saw what Amaris was getting at now. “You have a million brothers, right?”
November snorted. “Damn straight. The whole house smells like a locker room.”
“I bet you had to be just as tough and smart-ass as they were, right?”
November considered this, eyebrows drawn, and gave a “maybe” nod.
“Siku’s not a smart-ass,” said London. “He’s more serious.”
“You think he doesn’t like me because I’m such a tease?” November’s voice got suddenly plaintive. “Maybe he only likes stupid gloomy girls.”
London and Amaris were shaking their heads, and I agreed with them. I said, “Maybe he thinks you’re just playing around. You might actually have to . . . you know, show him what’s under the sex appeal.”
“Oh, crap!” November buried her face in the quilt on her bed, muffling her voice for a second. “How the hell do I do that?” She lifted her head, lips turned down mournfully. “With my last boyfriend I just wiggled my hips and he came running, you know?”
“Siku’s worth a little effort,” London said.
“And I think we found what scares you,” I said. “Being real with boys.”
In answer, she grabbed her pillow, buried her face in it, and kicked the mattress.
I stared at the ceiling, trying not to feel envy. She might be on the verge of something very exciting. As I had been last night, with Caleb. More than anything I wanted to be with him now, discovering more and more about each other, without anyone else around. My whole body got hot just thinking about it. Would we ever get the chance? It was going to be another very long night.
CHAPTER 10
“What time is it?” I blinked up at Raynard, who was standing in the doorway of our room, rumpled, unshaven, and stern-faced. He’d switched on the lights for some reason. I heard the other girls stirring in their beds, groaning.
“Four a.m.,” he said. “Morfael wants you, London, and November assembled outside the front door in five minutes. Amaris can stay in bed.”
Then he was gone, thumping the door shut behind him.
“What the hell?” London pulled the covers over her head.
“For once, I agree with you,” November said.
Amaris sat up. “I’d go if he wanted me to. You know he always has a reason for the crazy things he makes us do.”
“Torture is a reason,” said November. “Torture and old-man pain in the ass-itude.”
Somehow we stumbled out into the still, snowy night. The deep early morning chill and something else, something darker and crazier, thrummed under my skin.
I looked around for Caleb, who hung back as the other boys emerged, stuffing their hands deep into their pockets and stamping their feet. I padded up to him. “So you and Amaris don’t have to participate in this . . . whatever?”
“Looks like shifters only,” he said, and kissed me on the nose. “But I had to come up anyway to see you and say good luck with whatever.”
I gave him a quick kiss back. “Thanks.”
Morfael emerged from behind a tree, tapping his staff into the small drifts of snow, clad as always in dusty black, so I trotted to stand with the others. Out beyond the woods something waited. I could feel it like a steady pressure against my body.
“Raynard has set up a course for you to follow using some twine,” he said, putting his hand onto a rough bit of string wound around the tree trunk next to him. It stretched from that bristlecone pine about a dozen feet to wind around another tree, then went off into the dark. “One of you will be the leader, while the others will wear these.” In his other hand he pulled out strips of black cloth.
A collective moan rose from
the group. We’d done blindfolded exercises last term at school with Morfael. They never turned out the way we expected.
“The leader will help the others negotiate the entire length of the course, no matter what obstacles lie in the way,” Morfael continued. “I expect you to complete it and be back here in less than an hour.”
“Is there some reason this couldn’t happen in daylight?” November mumbled under her breath.
“November will be your leader,” said Morfael, fixing her with his multifaceted eyes.
November froze. “I didn’t mean . . .”
“It will be up to you decide whether or not shifting will help you complete your task,” Morfael continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “The moon is nearly full and rising. Already the veil between the worlds here is thin, so be warned. I will see you back here within the hour.”
Raynard made darned sure our blindfolds were on tight, with no way for the moonlight to creep in. The darkness fell over me like a weight. A faint breeze rustled the trees above us, and I caught a faint scent of pine that was familiar, yet not. I waved in the direction I thought Caleb was standing and heard him laugh.
November tentatively guided us to line up, Siku in front, then London, Arnaldo, and me. “What the hell is he thinking, putting me in charge?” she muttered to us as she placed our hands on each other’s shoulders. “I mean, don’t blame me if I mess it up horribly. I didn’t ask for this.” Her voice moved up to the head of our little line. “Here, Siks, put your left hand on my left shoulder like this, right hand on the twine. Everyone else all set to do the same? Okay. Forward, march.”
We shuffled forward slowly. I trod on the Arnaldo’s heel, tripping slightly. “Sorry,” I whispered.
“ ’S okay,” he said.
“Ow!” Siku grunted in pain. “There’s a rock here!”
“Yeah, oh, sorry,” November said. “I just stepped over it and didn’t tell you about it, didn’t I? See? I’m so not right for this. Okay, everyone go slowly past where Siku is. There’s a rock sticking up about three inches. Yeah, London, lift your foot a little higher. Now step. Okay, good.”