Sunblind

by Michael Griffo

  Louis raises his arm, the one holding his gun, and we lock eyes.

  His face is clearly visible, washed in the firelight, and I can see every crevice and mark and wrinkle on his face. It’s a marred landscape, but it’s still the face of a good man. A man who has squandered most of his life, avoided responsibility, and done the least amount that he had to do in order to survive. He’s always allowed others to shape his life for him, his ex-wife, his ex-boss; he went along with whatever decisions they made, regardless of how those decisions affected him. Well, now he has to make his own decision: Kill the beast before him or let it survive to kill another day—that’s what must be going through his mind. It’s a simple decision, but for some reason he’s hesitating.

  Could he possibly recognize me? Does he know that beneath this costume of fur and fangs is the daughter of his best friend? Perhaps, but how could he? Whatever he’s thinking, whatever emotions are creating a conflicted mass of confusion within his heart, they’re making him waver, stopping him from pulling the trigger. Then again, maybe it isn’t that complicated; maybe he’s just waiting for me to make the first move.

  My paws scratch at the dirt, but which way should I move? Run into the brush to escape or leap forward? I could end this curse right now, free myself from these invisible chains. Maybe without me alive Nadine and Luba will move on, terrorize another girl, another community. But no! How can someone who has been so blessed allow such cursed souls free rein to hunt?

  It seems that Louis and I are at a stalemate. Neither of us willing to make the first move. Until our reinforcements arrive: Barnaby and Jess.

  “Where is it?!”

  My brother’s voice startles Louis, and the finger that’s pressed against the trigger reacts. It pulls back to release a bullet in my direction, a bullet I see speeding toward my unmoving body. A bullet absorbed by a wall of golden light. Jess’s simple yet effective way of saving my life. And Napoleon’s.

  “It got away,” Louis replies. I swear I hear relief in his voice mixed in with astonishment.

  “How?!” Barnaby cries. “You said it was right here!”

  “I said it got away!” Louis bellows.

  From deep within my hiding spot in the brush alongside the cabin, I see Louis thrust his torch into my brother’s hand, and in two quick strides run to Napoleon’s side. He doesn’t flinch when he sees Nap’s ghastly wound. The hesitation he was feeling just seconds ago has released its grip on him so he can act quickly and lift Nap’s body up in his arms. But before he runs off, Louis pauses, not because he’s questioning his actions, but because he’s questioning what he sees.

  Looking into the bushes where I’m hiding, he stops when he sees my eyes, the blue-gray standing out against a mane of red fur. His eyes widen with something, recognition or wonder or horror, I don’t know, but he remains silent; he doesn’t alert Barnaby or the other men and women gathering around him of my whereabouts. This confrontation will be our secret. Instead he convinces them that life and not death is the night’s priority.

  “Forget about the wolf,” he commands, rising and turning to face the group. “We have to get this kid to the hospital.”

  “Oh my God, it’s my son!”

  I fight the urge to leap out from my shelter and pounce on Melinda Jaffe’s body, rip a hole in her chest that would make the one in Napoleon’s look like a pinhole, but there’s still a flicker of golden light dancing in front of my eyes.

  “Don’t move.”

  I can’t see Jess, but I hear her voice. She’s still protecting me.

  “Napoleon!”

  Melinda’s shriek sounds incredibly real, and if I didn’t know better I’d actually think that she was grieving her son’s condition. But I do know the truth. She doesn’t care about him; she’s just like the other Jaffe women. She only cares about following Orion’s mission and reaping all the benefits his power can bring. If her son has to die, like his father before him, in order for that power to grow, then so be it.

  She’s a very good actress, however, and I can tell from the look in Louis’s eyes that despite her infidelity with Winston, despite her betrayal, he wishes he could wrap his arms around Melinda and calm her. But his arms are full. He’s holding her son, the son that she hopes will soon die. Not if Louis has anything to say about it.

  “Get me to the hospital!” he roars.

  I wait until I no longer hear any sounds other than the wind before I start to venture out from my hiding spot. But Jess has other ideas.

  “What part of ‘I’m trying to save your life’ do you not understand?” she asks. She’s sitting cross-legged and cross-armed, floating in front of me, an expression of disbelief on her face.

  “I have to get to Archie and the others!” I silently cry.

  “Prince Caleb has everything under control,” she sighs. “Why do you constantly underestimate him?”

  “I don’t underestimate him,” I protest.

  “Nanite koto!” she cries.

  “Why are you arguing with me?” I ask. “Napoleon is dying, and I have no idea what’s going on with Archie.”

  Jess repositions herself to stand in front of me like a golden barricade. She lifts up her arms, and her hands begin to stretch out to her sides to create a sphere of sunshine all around me. I’m not going anywhere no matter how badly I want to. Or how loudly I howl.

  “Oh will you shut up!” Jess cries. “There is nothing that you can do for Napoleon and Archie that you haven’t already done. And what do you think you’re going to do, enter the hospital as a wolf and just waltz on into the emergency room?”

  She has a point.

  “You have to start thinking logically, Dom,” she berates. “And not like some wild beast. If I didn’t stop Louis’s bullet . . . Without you this town would be at the mercy of Psycho Squaw and twinemy!” she declares. “You have to protect the town like I have to protect you.”

  Jess’s touch feels so wonderful, warm and loving and honest. Just like her words.

  “You didn’t mention Napoleon,” I say.

  Ignoring me, Jess continues to run her fingers through my fur.

  “Jess, is he going to die?”

  “Mr. Dice allowed me to, um, circumvent our limitations so I could intervene and save one soul,” Jess replies. “I had to make a choice.”

  “And you chose to save Archie?”

  I don’t know why I’m surprised by her actions, but I am. Yes, she loves Archie, but as a friend. She was in love with Napoleon. If she could only choose one, why would she choose her friend over the guy she was in love with?

  “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

&n
bsp; 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.