The Star-Fire Prophecy

by Jane Toombs

  Were the meteors still flashing across the sky? Lucky, as Amy would have it? Or had their luck run out? Why did Amy attach such importance to the arrow amulet?

  The night grew chillier and though Amy’s body against her provided some warmth, Danica began to shiver. Is it midnight yet? she wondered. Am I a year older?

  “November born in falling flame

  The firebird shall give you name

  Leaves turn

  Arrows burn…”

  Danica had never forgotten the prophecy, but the words had seemed so much gibberish except for the first line—that was her birth. But the firebird, the phoenix, regenerating itself, burning to ashes and then being reborn—what had that to do with her? Leaves turn—time passes. Arrows burn—the amulet? The fused meteorite that was her arrow amulet, seared by its passage through earth’s atmosphere. All right. Then:

  “Beware the two-edged gift of fire

  The ashes of the funeral pyre

  Birds fly

  Years die…”

  Fire had been no gift to her. But ashes of the funeral pyre? What could it mean? Maybe referring back to the phoenix? Beware of burning and not being reborn. But that was nonsense. Birds fly, years die—November. In November the birds flew south and the year was close to its end.

  “Your charm the molten archer’s sign

  Your fate the numbers nine on nine

  Find death’s black flower in disguise

  Burn, phoenix, and arise.”

  The amulet, yes, her Sagittarian arrow, and Galt the numbers nine on nine—the Cancer symbol. Her fate—the word was ominous. What was death’s black flower? Hidden, because in disguise. Then again the firebird rising from the flame. What did it mean all put together? Would she ever know?

  Fire, Amy had said. Another fire. If Amy’s foreseeing came true, was there any escaping the predestined flames?

  “Danica,” the old man in the desert had said, seeming to savor the syllables on his tongue. “A good name.”

  “It means the morning star,” she had told him. “My mother says names should mean something.”

  “They do. All names have meaning. Danica is a good name for you,” he had repeated.

  Sitting against the rock in the cold November night twelve years later, Danica could see the old man’s face as clearly as if he were before her now. He’d called himself Path Marker, though he’d said his name was Francisco. Francis—that meant free, didn’t it? And he’d said something about the Watchers. He was the last, now that her twice great-aunt was dead. A thrill ran through Danica that was not from the cold. It was almost as though Francisco was here with her, unseen but present.

  Dark flower, dark flower, he seemed to say.

  But flowers were bright, flowers meant sun and cheerfulness. Except for the stiff white lilies on her mother’s coffin. They were death flowers. Shouldn’t there be a black flower for death instead of white ones? A black lily. Dark like Melantha. What did her name mean? In medicine mel was a prefix meaning black. Was Melantha death’s black flower?

  Amy stirred in her arms. “No,” she muttered, “no, no.”

  Danica bent over her and found the child was still asleep. But hair rose on Danica’s nape and her muscles tensed. Something was wrong. She searched the darkness within her niche with widened eyes. What?

  “Amy,” she whispered into the child’s ear. “Amy.” She shook her gently. There was no response. Danica’s fear grew until remaining quiet was impossible. She shifted the sleeping Amy so she could ease out from under the overhang. Why was she so afraid?

  Amy. Amy was broadcasting her own fear and overwhelming Danica. But that meant…

  Even as the realization came to her, she heard Melantha’s voice.

  “We’re practically on top of them, Evan. They’re somewhere in these bushes.”

  Then she saw the light probing, finally catching her within its circle, passing on, then coming back and staying.

  “I see them,” Evan said.

  Hopelessly she crawled out of the hiding place, carrying Amy’s limp form. “I—I can’t wake her up,” Danica said.

  “Of course not, I’m controlling her.” Melantha’s voice was scornfully triumphant. “This was a ridiculous maneuver on your part. You know I can locate Amy, anywhere. She’s mine. How dare you try to interfere?”

  For a moment Danica thought the dark woman would strike her and she stepped closer to Evan, still holding Amy.

  “Give her to me,” Melantha commanded.

  “Evan,” Danica begged, “don’t let her take Amy. She…”

  Evan took the child from Danica’s arms.

  “Please, Evan, listen to me. Melantha’s dangerous, she’s harming Amy, she…”

  Melantha laughed. “What do you have to offer, you pale spark? You know nothing of the powers of the mind. Do you think that green eyes and red hair are enough for a man? Evan, give me Amy.”

  He handed the sleeping girl to Melantha, and she wrapped Amy in her dark cloak.

  Not a bird’s wings, Danica thought in horror, but the petals of a black flower closing, trapping the prey inside. Trapping Amy…

  “No one can stand against me now,” Melantha said. Her voice rose. “I foresaw tonight, the two of you crouched among the boulders next to the stream.” She swept the flashlight in a semicircle. “Even to the details: the sycamores, the meteors, the dog howling…” Melantha laughed, a paean of victory.

  “Amy has shown me the way. I need her yet, I haven’t tapped all her power. Though now that I’ve broken through the time barrier, nothing is impossible.”

  She’s mad, Danica thought. But what if she isn’t? What if she really can foresee the future?

  “I’ll control Star-Fire first,” Melantha said. “Galt will arrange for me to adopt Amy. I’ll use legal means for a while until my power is great enough to control anyone. I’ll see ahead, follow my foreknowledge.” She stepped in front of Danica, who put her head up to face Melantha.

  “You! Do you hear me, firebrand?” Melantha’s voice held contempt. “The future is mine. All futures. And yours will never be.”

  “Evan…” Danica pleaded.

  “Bring her along,” Melantha ordered. “Bring her back to Star-Fire.”

  Evan’s grip on her arm was firm and Danica stumbled along next to him. What was the use of fighting? Not here, she thought. But when I get to Star-Fire I’ll go to Galt…

  Galt, who is in love with Melantha, too, like Evan?

  “Evan,” Danica whispered. “Let me go.”

  He said nothing, but his grasp tightened.

  Evan and Melantha. Had all Evan’s pretended affection, his seeming interest, been a sham? To what purpose? When she’d first come to Porterville he hadn’t wanted to bring her to Star-Fire, hadn’t sounded like the Evan she’d met in L.A. But then he’d given a lame excuse…

  “You didn’t want me to come to Star-Fire,” Danica said to him. “Why? Because of Melantha?”

  “I warned you about Geminis,” he said. “I told you how it was.”

  “But she—she’s evil.”

  “That’s your value judgment,” he said. “Not mine.”

  “But Evan…”

  “There’s no use in talking,” he said. “I can’t help you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” she asked.

  His fingers pinched her arm painfully. “Shut up,” he said. “Just shut up.”

  I haven’t failed, she told herself. Not yet. When they let me go, I’ll see that Star-Fire is investigated. If Galt won’t listen, if he’s been blinded like Evan, I’ll contact the police somehow. Maybe through Lydia or Fred or Dave. Someone.

  “What are you going to do with me?” she asked Evan.

  “She’ll take care of that,” he muttered.

  A cold chill ran through Danica, but she took a deep breath. Melantha can do nothing to harm me, she told herself firmly. I’m not Amy. Once we get to Star-Fire, they’ll have to let me go.

  “Why couldn’t you mind
your own business?” Evan said to her, his voice low.

  She didn’t answer. After what seemed hours of walking, the fence of the corral loomed ahead. As they started the climb toward the houses, a particularly brilliant meteor flamed down the sky in front of them. Danica drew in her breath. A sign, she thought. But that was the last coherent thought she had.

  A fog came into her mind, blurring and distorting the images she tried to form. Evan is here, she remembered, but she didn’t know why. And someone else—who? But the knowledge lay hidden behind a barrier, misted over, and she couldn’t find her way to it.

  Someone—was it Evan?—had her arm and was leading her. She followed, though she had no idea where they were going. No, not Evan, she seemed instead to be with a woman; she knew who it was, of course she did. For a moment fright flared, but the fog covered it over, softened the fear so nothing mattered, and she followed Melantha. That’s who the woman was, Melantha. She knew Melantha. Then she was thrust into a room by herself, a room she didn’t recognize, and the door was closed. She heard the click of a lock, and then the lights went out and darkness pressed close.

  Her thoughts circled. A locked room. Dark. Where? Why was she here? Afraid, she was afraid to be in this dark room alone, locked in, and the fright sharpened her mind until she began to remember, and then she was terrified indeed.

  The last she really remembered clearly was being by the corral, with Evan bringing her back to Star-Fire by force. Melantha had Amy; Danica had failed to get Amy away. Evan was in league with Melantha, had always been, and wouldn’t help. “Don’t rely on Gemini,” he’d told her once, and she’d thought he was joking.

  Where was this room she was in? How had she gotten here? The dark was complete, no lighter square to indicate a window. A storeroom in one of the Star-Fire houses? Danica moved slowly ahead, arms outstretched. If she could find a wall, she could feel her way around the room and know something about it. There, a wall. She pressed her palm against the surface and began to walk to her right, sliding her hand along the wall. Soon I’ll come to a corner, she thought, but she went on and on and still there was no joining of two walls, no place where they met.

  She made a whimpering sound that shocked her when she heard it. “No,” she said aloud. “Don’t panic.” But she didn’t like the sound of her voice in the dark, either. The room is round, she told herself. A round room in a round house. But none of the houses she’d seen had a room that was entirely round. Semicircles, yes. Where was she?

  Is the room entirely empty, she asked herself? Though reluctant to leave the comparative security of the wall, she put her arms out in front of her and took a step away from the wall. Was that a noise she heard? Yes, an odd whirring. A rattle. She pressed her hands to her face and shrank back against the wall. A rattlesnake.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Darkness rose in Danica’s mind to blot out the sound of the rattle, a darkness from inside as deep as the one that surrounded her. For a time there was nothing, then streaks of light shot across her vision. A voice spoke.

  “The arrow. You must use the arrow.”

  But when Danica opened her eyes, she realized the lights and the voice had been in her head. She was still in the dark.

  The arrow. How could she use her amulet? She didn’t even know where Amy had hidden it. And use it how?

  Had she fainted? Danica stiffened, remembering the snake, but now she heard nothing. Something crawled across her hand and she screamed, snatching her hand away. A scorpion? She got to her feet. There must be a door, she reasoned. I’ll find the door and pound on it, call for help. Someone will hear me.

  She began to circle the room again with one hand against the wall, until at last she felt the crack where the door sat flush with the wall. Pounding against it with her fists, she yelled, “Let me out, let me out. Help!”

  But no one came, though she kept on until her hands were bruised and her throat ached. She put her ear against the door, but there was no sound from the other side, unless that was music she heard very faintly. Why couldn’t anyone hear her? Where was she?

  Not Lydia’s house, not Galt’s, nor Evan’s. Melantha’s? Suddenly she remembered her first day at Star-Fire, when Melantha had taken her into the room with the star maps. There’d been a door painted black and Melantha had said, “My meditation room. Soundproof. Once inside I’m insulated from all external stimuli.”

  I’m in Melantha’s house, Danica thought. Melantha might hear me, but she won’t let me out. What does she mean to do? She can’t keep me here forever.

  Screaming will do no good, she realized. The meditation room had no outside walls, and Melantha would be sure not to let anyone enter her house. Except Evan. How could he let Melantha do this? He held me, Danica thought, kissed me, and I thought he was attracted to me, liked me. Was he—could he have been acting on orders from Melantha? “Keep Danica distracted—make love to her”?

  Danica grimaced in the dark, repulsed by the idea.

  And Galt? She shook her head. How could she believe anyone at Star-Fire was what he seemed to be?

  Her fingers felt along the door; no knob, instead, a recessed latch. But pry as she might, it didn’t move. A wave of fatigue swept over her. I’ll lie here by the door, she decided, but then she thought of what had crawled over her hand, and the rattle she’d heard earlier. Panic began to build, despite her efforts to remain rational. It was so dark…

  She pounded on the door again, screaming and soon sobbing until, exhausted, she slumped against it, then slipped to the floor and finally slept.

  She dreamed she was in a long tunnel and it was terribly important that she find the right way out. There were many ways, some brilliantly lit, some dim, and as she considered each in turn, she was confused and doubtful of her ability to make the right choice.

  “I’ve marked your way,” the old man said, “for I am Path Marker. Since birth you have been destined to come to this time and this place and now that you have arrived you will know what must be done.”

  “But I can’t be sure. There are so many possibilities.”

  “Not for you,” he said. “You are the archer, the arrow, and the arrow flies straight.”

  She studied the different branches of the tunnel and noticed that the one directly ahead of her was dark. She saw it was the only unlighted way. To either side lighted tunnels beckoned, some festooned with dazzling gems like the magic caverns of The Arabian Nights.

  “I won’t be able to see my way,” she complained.

  “The path is marked,” said the old man.

  Reluctantly she took a step into the blackness, then another and another, until she could no longer see light behind her. There were noises in the dark as of unseen creatures scrabbling on the rocks, and she hugged her arms to herself and walked as quickly as she could, always afraid she would run into an obstacle. All at once the tunnel became lighter, a yellow light flared ahead and soon she came to a solid sheet of flame.

  “I can’t go on.”

  “There’s no way back,” said the old man. “You must complete your destiny.”

  “But the fire—the flame…”

  “You must go on.”

  Against her will her right foot moved ahead, then her left. She struggled against the compulsion to walk into the fire. “No, no…”

  “No, no,” Danica moaned, opening her eyes to darkness. For a few moments she was disoriented, still half in her dream, then she knew where she was. She sat up, stiff from sleeping on the floor, and her hands throbbed painfully.

  How much time has passed? she wondered, as she took a deep sobbing breath. The door opened.

  Danica blinked in the sudden stream of light, then saw Evan outlined above her. She got to her feet. “Please let me out,” she begged.

  He took her arm and led her into the next room and she saw she’d been right. There were the star charts and the zodiac symbols of Melantha’s astrology room.

  “I brought you some food,” he said.

&nbs
p; “Let me leave,” she pleaded.

  “I can’t,” he said. “It’s too late for that.” He thrust a sandwich and an opened soft drink bottle at her, but she pushed past him and lunged for the closed door. It was locked.

  “You can’t get out,” he said.

  She saw the white door and hurried toward it, but it only led into a bathroom. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror over the sink and looked away, not caring to see the frightened, staring eyes in the pale face. But she went into the small room and locked the door behind her. I won’t come out, she decided.

  After a few moments, Evan’s voice came through the closed door. “If you’ll notice, that lock is the kind that can easily be opened from this side with any pointed object. And I’m sure you’ve seen it’s an inside bathroom.”

  Danica unlocked the door and came back into the astrology room. Evan offered her the food again and she took it listlessly.

  “Why won’t you let me go?”

  “Oh, you’re smarter than that, I don’t have to explain. It’s you or us now.”

  “What—what are you going to do?”

  With a single motion, before she was aware of his purpose, Evan shoved her back through the black door into the meditation room, and she heard the lock click behind her.

  “No,” she screamed. “Let me out!” She banged the bottle against the door, and cold fluid splashed out and ran down her arm.

  Slowly she turned and slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor again. The room seemed blacker than before, after her brief exposure to daylight. Daylight. The night had passed, she’d been asleep for hours.

  She became aware of the sandwich and the drink in her hands. Despite everything, she was hungry. Should I eat this? she wondered. Is it safe? Are they trying to poison me? She placed the food on the floor beside her.