Sunblind

by Michael Griffo

  My gut was right; I was being given a clue. I was just focusing on the wrong pocket.

  “You like Hello Kitty?!” I shout in disbelief.

  This time he smiles with a hint of embarrassment instead of measured patience. Shuffling back to my desk, he grabs the Hello Kitty keychain I’m holding in my hand.

  “A gift from my daughter,” he replies over the catcalls and comments from the class.

  It’s also a gift from Jess to me, another reminder that no matter what the circumstances, deadly or dead boring, she’ll always be around.

  There are times, however, when I wish Jess were with me not to offer protection or guidance or wisdom, but just good old-fashioned girl-to-girl backup. Standing in the hallway that connects the gym to the school’s offices, I could use it.

  Mr. Lamatina had asked me to deliver a stack of flyers to the nurse’s office, printed announcements reminding all students that flu shots were still available. It’s so incredibly appropriate that the resident hypochondriac is spearheading the Two W wellness campaign and not the woman who gets paid to keep us healthy. Anyway, this meant I would be late for gym, so I agreed as long as he gave me a permission slip.

  After dropping the flyers off to a very perturbed Nurse Nelson, I started walking toward the gym. What should have been a quiet, uneventful trip turned into the exact opposite.

  “You made the wrong choice, Nap,” Nadine seethes.

  With or without backup and with or without Napoleon’s consent, I can’t keep silent. I’ve heard Nadine berate her brother before, and when I thought it was just commonplace sibling rivalry I kept my mouth shut; it wasn’t my place to butt in. Now that I know Nadine and even Napoleon are not at all common and are potentially dangerous, I should probably run right past them as if they don’t matter to me. But Nadine’s words do matter. Maybe because the hateful sentiment behind them is more common than I’d like to admit.

  “Being gay isn’t a choice, Nadine,” I snap. “Any wannabe nurse knows that.”

  When Nadine turns to look at me, I don’t see her face right away; it’s covered completely by the silver mist that usually lives deep within her soul. She looks like a medieval knight prepared to do battle, kill or be killed. When the fog lifts to reveal her face, I see that I was right. She’s glaring at me with such disgust and disregard that it’s clear that I’m her enemy, but such an inconsequential one that she can’t even be bothered to alter her expression.

  “I don’t care who my brother is attracted to,” she hisses.

  “Then why are you always yelling at him that he’s made the wrong choice?” I spit.

  I’m not sure why I feel the urgent need to defend Napoleon, but I do. Maybe it’s not really Nap I’m defending, but Archie and all the kids like him who are always being bullied. Or maybe I’m just stupid and have made a huge mistake.

  Standing behind his sister, Napoleon shakes his head from side to side. His eyes widening, he’s trying to make me understand that I’ve asked an inappropriate question. If I have, why isn’t Nadine shocked that I know about her brother’s homosexuality? Why isn’t she ranting about how he’s unnatural and a deviant and how he’s going to burn in hell for his life choice? She’s not doing any of that. She doesn’t care that her brother’s gay like Nap’s led us to believe. All she cares about is that I’ve insinuated myself into her conversation.

  “I would have expected you of all people to understand that there are more important things in life than having a boyfriend, Dom,” she sneers.

  “Exactly!” I shout. “One of those things is family support.”

  She sneers slowly as if it’s being carved on her face.

  “You see, Napoleon,” she says, her voice much softer, not normal, but definitely not as vile as it just was. “Even Dominy understands the importance of family.”

  When Nap speaks it’s with such vulnerable passion that I feel like an outsider. And yet even though he’s speaking directly to his sister, I feel that his words are meant for me.

  “I love my family, Nadine,” he states. “Without you, I’m nothing.”

  Nadine doesn’t return the sentiment; she doesn’t thank her brother for such a heartfelt revelation. She merely presents a warning.

  “Remember that and you’ll never have to live without us.”

  Harsh! “Geez, Nadine, give the guy a break!” I yell.

  “And there’s no reason for you to worm your way into our family business.”

  She’s right. I don’t know why I’m defending Nap when I know that he’s connected to my curse. Even if it’s a small connection, even if he never asked to join the party, he’s still a guest. I mean, really, what am I doing? I just forced Archie to admit that Napoleon is the enemy, and now I’m defending him like he’s my friend! But maybe standing up for Nap is really an attempt to stand up for myself? Is the wolf that’s buried deep inside of me trying to tell me something? If he is, he better work faster, because Nadine does not look happy.

  “I thought you knew the world was filled with magical surprises,” she says. “But I guess your brother’s right; you’re not as smart as you want the world to believe.”

  My brother?! I’m so shocked by her comment that I can’t even respond. I can’t stop her from leaving and disappearing around the corner. Now it’s just Nap and me. I don’t care if he’s the enemy, my savior, or something in between; right now I need him to be my informant.

  “Why is Nadine talking to my brother about me?”

  “I have no idea why Nadine does any of the things she does,” he replies.

  I listen to his words, but more than that I listen to how they make me feel. I’m concerned. Not about me, but for Nap. He’s telling the truth.

  “In fact,” he continues, “I have no idea why my family does any of the things they do.”

  I’m curious and frightened by his remark, but I need to know more.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “What kinds of things?”

  Now Napoleon’s frightened; I can see it in his eyes. He’s said too much, and even though I can sense that he wants to say more, that he wants to purge his mind and his heart and his soul of things that shouldn’t belong there, he hesitates. Not sure if it’s out of loyalty or fear. When he finally speaks, he sounds calmer, as if he’s articulating a thought that’s lain dormant for years.

  “I’m an outsider, Dominy,” he states. “And I can’t wait to get the hell out of this town.”

  An image pops into my head of a young boy throwing clothes into a bag, methodically moving around his bedroom grabbing the items he’s going to need for a trip. But the boy isn’t Napoleon; it’s Archie.

  “Nap,” I say. “You’re not thinking of running away, are you?”

  He’s not surprised that I’ve drawn this conclusion; he’s not really even relieved. He’s too lost in his own thoughts. But not too lost to have a game plan.

  “It might just be the best thing for everybody in this town if I did leave and never came back.”

  Could I have misjudged Napoleon? Could I seriously have let this whole Orion thing and Jess’s message cloud my mind? I honestly don’t know what to think, and I spend all of gym class and the rest of my day trying to figure it out. The only thing that makes me turn off the Nap light that’s burning a hole in my mind is seeing Louis and Barnaby plopped on the couch playing video games when I come downstairs after dinner.

  Racing back upstairs I barge into the bathroom just in time to see Arla wipe her mouth with a towel. I know that look; she’s wearing after-vomit face. Since the door was unlocked, I’m guessing this isn’t something she typically does and rule out bulimia. She just threw up because of me. I rip off some toilet paper from the dispenser and wipe away a piece of extra-clingy vomit that refuses to let go of Arla’s bottom lip. Immediately I’m reminded of when Nadine did the same thing for me, when she was pretending to be my friend. I have got to find out what’s going on with her, which means I have got to get out of this house and see Luba.

>   “Why is your father still home?”

  “Because he and Barnaby want a boys against the girls video game tournament,” Arla replies. She keeps her voice quiet, but it’s as frantic as I’m beginning to feel. Correction, as I already feel.

  “Tonight?!” I shout. “They want to have family game night . . . tonight?!”

  “Yes!”

  “Don’t they know that there’s going to be a full moon out tonight?”

  My question was rhetorical, but Arla responds as if I were trying to goad her into action.

  “Daddy!” she screams, bounding down the steps into the living room with me hot on her trail. “Why aren’t you out looking for the killer like you’ve done every other night that there’s been a full moon?”

  I know that question sounds absurd, but I accept it. I can’t accept Louis’s reply.

  “We thought it was a good idea,” he says, his voice oddly unemotional, “but we were advised that it was a wild goose chase.”

  “We?” Arla asks, hands on her hips in full daughter-as-wife mode.

  “Me and Barnaby,” Louis replies.

  Now that’s strange. Not only is Louis trying to make it appear as if he’s more interested in battling the spaceships on the TV screen, but now he’s making it sound as if Barnaby is his deputy, instead of his ward. What’s really going on with him, and what’s happened to make him change his mind about finding The Weeping Water Killer?

  “And who advised you that you were wasting your time trying to protect the citizens you get paid to protect?” Arla asks.

  “Louis’s new lady friend,” Barnaby replies.

  So that’s it! Essie doesn’t want a vigilante for a boyfriend. She’s probably afraid he’ll get himself killed before she gets a marriage proposal.

  “Mrs. Jaffe was afraid Louis would get hurt.”

  My brother’s words take a moment to settle into my mind. Melinda Jaffe is Louis’s girlfriend? Not Essie!! I grab Arla’s hand just as she grabs mine, and we hold each other tight, trying hard not to freak out any further. But why isn’t Louis freaking out? Barnaby just spilled the beans about his romantic conquest, and he hasn’t flinched. His expression remains calm and focused on the stupid game that he’s playing. Why is he acting so nonchalant? Like he’s taken a tranquilizer, or he’s under a spell.

  Without speaking another word we both race up the stairs to Arla’s bedroom, shut the door behind us, and jump onto the bed. Kneeling, we face each other, our hands clasping so we’re completely connected physically and emotionally. We have never, ever been closer.

  “Your father is dating Melinda Jaffe?!”

  “I could wind up related to the bee and the butterfly!”

  “This is getting way too complicated.”

  Arla squeezes my hands even tighter. “Oh my God, do you know what this means?”

  Sadly I already do. “Your father is sleeping with the enemy.”

  That breaks our hold. We jump off the bed, shaking our hands and arms wildly as if this will de-cling the image of Louis and Melinda getting all romantical and R-rated.

  “I need air!” Arla shouts, opening up the window and gulping in the cold air.

  While Arla clutches the window frame and presses her forehead into the screen, I pace the room as we continue chatting about how wrong it is that Louis and Melinda are dating, examining the relationship from every angle.

  Does Louis really like Melinda, or does he suspect, as we do, that she may also play a role in the serial killings? Does Melinda like Louis, or is she attracted to the power that the chief of police wields, or is she manipulating him to have the police on her side? Have Nadine and Napoleon known about our inter-parental relationship and kept quiet about it, or has Melinda adopted Louis’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy?

  We’re chattering so quickly and so fervently that neither of us sees that the sky outside has changed; it now contains a full moon.

  Dropping to my knees in agony, I must look to Arla as if I’m mock-praying, asking God to intervene and make her father find another woman or turn gay so he splits up with Mrs. Jaffe. She’s half-right. I’m asking God to intervene, but only to protect Arla.

  The transformation feels different this time. No, not different, more like the way it used to when it began. It’s filled with excruciating pain and fear; it feels as if everything is starting over. My breathing has turned into quick, violent panting and the plastic bag over my head has returned; underneath my skin my blood heats up until it feels like it’s boiling just below the surface. I lurch forward onto all fours just in time to bury my mouth into the carpeted floor to muffle my screams when my limbs snap in the opposite direction. Even though this feels exactly right, exactly the way it used to, I know that something is wrong. The wolf is taking over completely. It doesn’t want to share my body: it wants to own it. Which means in a few seconds I won’t recognize Arla standing right in front of me.

  I hear the words in my head: Get out of here! But I have no idea if I spoke them out loud or if I changed into a wolf before I got to warn Arla.

  Despite the soft breeze trickling in from outside, the moonglow feels warm on my fur. The master always makes its slave feel comfortable. Tonight the master isn’t alone. Three bright stars shine alongside it in one commanding line. Orion is keeping the moon company.

  Pangs of hunger push against my stomach. I need to feast on flesh and blood and bone. Looking at the girl in front of me, her skin the color of mud, I swallow a thick mouthful of saliva in anticipation of the meal to come. I raise my lips to bare my fangs, show her there is no escape.

  Lifting one paw and then another I walk toward the creature. She looks like they all do, too frightened to make a sound, too aware that soon life will be taken from them. In mid-stride I decide to show mercy on this thing. I’ll steal her life slowly so she can remain alive longer than she should.

  Terrified by my encroaching presence, the girl stumbles backward and falls onto the floor. Both of us are now on all fours, her face inches from my snout. Bravely, she lifts her head up, and I see her face is scarred. A wound, once deep, now almost healed, surrounds her left eye. This child is a fighter. And she’s fought me.

  Arla?

  I try to fight through the fog the wolf spirit has cast over me to see Arla, to try and let her know that I won’t hurt her. I don’t know why this is happening. I thought that we had come to an understanding—the wolf and I—that we would share this body, that we would become a team, no leader, no follower, but two equals. Why the betrayal? Why the change? I look out the window at the moon, its blinding light shining on me and through me, and I know that the reason lies outside.

  Before I lose control and do something that I will not be able to forgive myself for, I leap over the bed and through the window screen. I wish I could remain in midair for the rest of my life, not a threat to those I love, not in danger from those I fear, just hanging and floating and flying, a part of the world, but separated from it. Within and without at the same time. But that isn’t my fate.

  My paws hit the ground with more force than I expect, and I feel a sharp twinge in my front right leg. The pain shoots up into my shoulder and travels across my back until getting lost somewhere near my haunches. It doesn’t disappear; it merely buries itself into my bones, taking up residence, refusing to let go. Just like the moon.

  The combination of moonglow and starlight pulls me forward, and I fight to remain conscious. I know that it would be safer to give in, let the wolf take over, but I have got to remain in control because I’m not only being pulled toward danger, I’m being pulled toward my destiny.

  I walk past The Weeping Lady, and I can hear the tree bark creak as she turns her head to watch me. An overwhelming sense of sadness ripples through her branches and reaches out to me. She knows my life is about to change, and she knows there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. When I see the black mist swirling in front of me, turning the peaceful night sky into a menacing sight, my body stiffens. The
time has come for secrets to be revealed.

  Following the mist farther into the woods, I can’t see my surroundings. No trees, no moon, no Orion, just black. Like emptiness, like death, like Luba.

  As the mist begins to part, I see Luba hovering above the ground in front of me. She looks more fragile and more powerful than ever before. Disgusting and soiled and ancient.

  “It is time, Dominy.”

  Her stench rushes past me, pausing to frolic on my fur in an attempt to infest me with her evil. She’s already stolen my body; now she wants my soul. She can’t have it! I refuse! But the breeze begins to stir, and I realize there is power in the air, power within Luba and everything she touches.

  “Look up, child,” she commands. “Witness the origin of my strength.”

  Raising my head, I wince at the sight. The moon is gone. I don’t know if it’s hiding somewhere deep within the confines of the sky to rest or to seek protection. In its place is the constellation, Orion, three magnificent stars, their light blinding everything around them.

  I bow my head to escape the constellation’s glow, but I can’t escape Luba!

  “Orion, the original hunter, the original power, the origin to those of us worthy of embodying his spirit,” she cries. “The hunter lives within us, and so the hunt for prey will never end!”

  She’s talking about me. I’m the prey.

  A pathetic yelp escapes my lips, and I retreat several steps until my body will not move any farther. I know I’m not the one commanding my body to remain in place, and so I claw at the earth to try to break the spell.

  Luba’s thin fingers are pressed against her chapped lips, and she cackles maniacally. And then there’s silence as she spreads her arms to present her cohorts. The blackness around her lifts to reveal that floating in the air on either side of her are Nadine and Napoleon. The demon has been joined by the bee and the butterfly. But why? How?! Why would these two join forces with someone so destructive, so evil? Why aren’t they fighting to break free from her hold? Why do they look like they belong at her side?!