Starfall

by Michael Griffo

  Since I murdered her.

  “And you said she doesn’t blame you, Dom,” Arla adds. “She knows she’s dead because of Luba. She wouldn’t want you to be punished for something you didn’t do.”

  “And if you tell Louis the truth, you might as well subscribe to Prison Monthly to find out how to decorate your cell,” Archie quips. “A cell that you’re not going to be able to escape from, by the way.”

  They’re right. As much as I would like to think that Louis would understand the truth and protect me like my father did, there’s a chance that he’ll act like the really good cop he’s become and put me away for murder. It’s a chance I’m not yet ready to take.

  “Maybe I can’t trust everything Vera says,” I confess. “I mean she also told me that I should brush up on my Greek mythology, as if that would hold a key to unlocking this whole mystery.”

  “She said that?” Arla asks.

  “Yup,” I reply. “Right before she dropped the bombshell about telling your father the truth.”

  “Well, you know what they say about mythology,” Caleb says, now chomping on a cookie.

  “What?” I ask.

  “It’s all Greek to me.”

  And the intellectual portion of our impromptu powwow has officially ended.

  The following Sunday at church the mystery that is my life takes me on another unexpected journey.

  In most communities a church’s congregation expands during the Christmas season, and St. Edmund’s is no exception. It’s SRO what with everyone vowing to return to their religious roots or trying to atone for their sins or simply wanting to make a good impression with the rest of the town. There isn’t room for all of us to sit together, so Arla’s forced to sit with her dad in his reserved spot in the front row, Archie’s stuck in the back with his family, Barnaby and Gwen are sitting with her parents on the right, and I’m sitting in a pew on the left next to Caleb. I’m positioned near a beautiful stained-glass window depicting Jesus wearing a crown of thorns, dragging the cross through the desert under the blazing sun. He’s essentially on trial in the court of public opinion. Just like Nadine.

  Amid the murmur and chatter of the restless parishioners, I hear a whisper. It tugs on my ear like a thorn scraping against my forehead. It’s Nadine’s voice. I look over to the right and see that Nadine is sitting next to her mother. On the other side of Melinda is Luba, as if grandmother and granddaughter now need to be separated at all costs. Although all three of them share the same space, they ignore one another. It’s as if they’re sitting on three neighboring islands; they all exist in the same vicinity, but their bodies refuse to touch.

  Nadine’s voice is soft, and I’m sure without my wolf-hearing it would be undetectable, but lucky for me I can hear every word she’s saying to her unborn children.

  “Someday everyone will be celebrating your birthday just like they celebrate Jesus’s,” she sighs. “You’ll be known everywhere and by everyone as the special children you are, and everyone will look at me with envy because I’m your mother. But when they see how special and powerful and kind you are, their envy will turn to admiration, because they’ll understand you could only be who you are thanks to a mother’s love.”

  I feel like I’m listening in on a conversation between a Swedish mother and her children in her native tongue; I’m finding it difficult to comprehend what I’m hearing.

  “Your lives will be glorious,” Nadine continues. “Lives filled with wonder and astonishment and glory, and I will be by your side every step of the way. I will never let you drift on your own like my mother and my grandmother did.”

  Caleb yawns, and I know he can’t hear a word Nadine is saying, no one else can, only me and her kids. But is she speaking to them or to me? Does she know I’m listening? Is she deliberately trying to fool me into thinking a softer, more maternal side of her exists, one that isn’t consumed with revenge and destruction and total global domination?

  “Someday I’ll give you the life I never had,” Nadine says, her voice softer than ever. “The kind of life I never thought was possible until now.”

  Slowly Nadine’s finger begins to trace something on her bloated stomach. She’s blessing her children with an invisible tattoo, the stars of Orion. A tingling sensation starts to twist around my spine, because I know that the words she just spoke to them were prayer-like, but I get the sense that the intent behind them has nothing at all to do with mercy. Unless it’s the mercy of the rest of the world. Sitting with her family, but very much alone, Nadine looks simultaneously impervious and fragile; the world could either destroy her or be destroyed by her, depending upon which way the pendulum swings.

  “She’s an interesting creature, isn’t she?”

  I didn’t notice Vera squeeze into the seat next to me. I’m not sure if that’s because I’m preoccupied with Nadine’s monologue or because Vera appeared out of thin air. Her mere proximity has quieted Nadine; there’s nothing left to listen to, but there’s so much more to see.

  “Does she scare you?” Vera asks.

  When I realize that Caleb isn’t reacting to Vera’s presence, it dawns on me that she’s a hologram; she’s here in spirit, not in body. How fitting for a house of God. Not wanting to make my boyfriend think I’m talking to yet another unseen entity, I nod my head. Yes, Nadine does scare me.

  “Let me show you something that will really scare you,” Vera says.

  What a lovely invitation. Vera grabs my hand, and starlight seems to spill out of her pores. At first it moves slowly like silver blood, like a baby who has just learned how to crawl. When Father Charles approaches the altar, Vera’s body ignites and becomes an inferno of starlight. Just as my spirit escapes my flesh, leaving my body behind to remain seated next to Caleb, I notice Father Charles looking in my direction, and a flicker of acknowledgment sparkles in his eyes. Either he’s given me permission to leave, or he’s just prayed that my soul survives my travels.

  We rise up, and just as we’re about to crash through the church’s vaulted ceiling, I look down and see Nadine, Luba, and even Melinda scowling up at us, finally acting and responding as one. The family that hates together stays together.

  “It’s time to visit the past to get to know Nadine better,” Vera orders.

  I feel Vera’s star-grip around my body tighten as I try to wrench free. I know everything there is to know about Nadine, and even if that isn’t true, I don’t want to know anything else, especially if I have to journey into the past to find it out. Sorry, but these backwardventures through time never end up well for me.

  “The best way to defeat your enemy,” Vera informs me, “is to understand her.”

  Obviously stargirl is not going to take no for an answer. She is on a hunt, and Nadine is her prey.

  With no other choice I give in and feel myself careening through time and space. Perhaps it’s because I have a new tour guide, but the ride is smoother than before, so I’m lulled into a false sense of security. Until we suddenly stop moving and I find myself standing inside the Jaffe family cabin.

  At first I don’t notice Nadine, but that’s because no one else in the scene notices her either. Luba and Melinda are sitting on the floor with Napoleon in between them. He’s very young, barely a toddler, and he’s taking what appear to be his first steps. Melinda and Luba clap their hands and shriek with delight at Nap’s accomplishment, causing the boy’s face to transform with a beaming smile that literally makes me gasp because I have never seen Napoleon this happy before. Even when he was with Archie his happiness was tempered with the knowledge that it wouldn’t last. Here, when he is barely more than an infant, Napoleon’s smile is unburdened; he has no idea how quickly happiness can be destroyed. His sister, however, has all the knowledge her brother doesn’t possess.

  Standing in a corner, Nadine watches her mother and grandmother dote on her brother. Her body is rigid, as if she’s leaning against a wall or being propped up by unseen hands. She is, of course, the same age as Napoleon
, but where he is having trouble maintaining his balance and remaining upright, Nadine seems to have already mastered these motor skills. Regardless of her accomplishments, she already seems to know that nothing she does will receive the same applause and adoration from her family that her brother’s actions do. Lessons learned early are lessons never forgotten.

  Quietly, Nadine walks outside and is drenched in sunlight. She shuts her eyes from the onslaught, but when she opens them she sees an area that looks very much the way it does now. Slightly overgrown, completely natural, and able to hide things from a curious eye. Like her father.

  About a hundred yards from the cabin, Thorne is standing behind a group of trees. He isn’t working the land or cutting low-lying branches; he’s simply watching, waiting until someone calls for him, or more realistically until he finds the strength to join the family that doesn’t care if he lives or dies.

  If Nadine sees or senses that her father is nearby, she doesn’t react to him; she appears to be as lost as Thorne. Wandering to the side of the house, Nadine seems to be walking randomly, just following her own footsteps, moving without thought, but when she stops next to a lilac bush I see what she was chasing: a butterfly.

  Perched on a pink petal, the butterfly flutters its wings in greeting. Its yellow and black wings are winking hello to Nadine, staring at her as if it’s the first time it’s seen a little girl. I don’t know if that’s true, but it will definitely be the butterfly’s last.

  Nadine extends her hand and offers her finger to the butterfly, which willingly accepts. The two are connected as the butterfly steps onto Nadine’s tiny finger, a small stage for the young girl to witness nature’s beauty. And destroy it.

  With her free hand Nadine grabs hold of one of the butterfly’s wings tightly. Sensing a game change, the butterfly’s other wing flutters more urgently, but is prohibited from making any further movement when Nadine grabs that one too. Holding the butterfly up by both wings like a fresh, cleaned shirt from the laundry, Nadine smiles at her prey. It’s the last vision the butterfly sees before its wings are plucked from its body.

  Without looking down Nadine steps on the butterfly’s remains with her patent leather shoe and rubs the wings across her cheeks, smiling approvingly at the softness, lolling her head to the side, triumphant in her glory. Her victory is short-lived when she turns around to see Luba standing behind her.

  “Next time do not hesitate,” Luba says. “Don’t be a weak fool like your father and give your prey the chance to escape.”

  Luba returns to the cabin, leaving father and daughter alone to contemplate her words. Neither of them responds verbally, but when Nadine puts the wings into the pocket of her dress like a well-deserved treasure, Thorne understands that once again his mother has emerged exultant from battle.

  I feel the starlight wrap around my body, and I know before I’m airlifted that our trip will continue. Since this isn’t my inaugural jaunt as a time-traveling passenger, I know that our next stop will be several years into the future, so I’m not at all surprised when we land to see that Nadine and Napoleon have aged. Now they’re teenagers, thirteen or fourteen, and I assume we’re in Cos Cob, a few years before they returned to Luba’s birthplace. The hazy blue of night reigns, but the sky is still lit up, not by sunlight, but by the first sparks of a fire.

  In front of a burning building, Luba stands in between her grandchildren. They’re untouched by the flames, but they’re standing close enough to the fire that their faces are glowing red. Luba’s eyes are closed, an ecstatic smile latched onto her lips. On either side of her, Nadine and Napoleon look unsure as to how to respond. Once they do, their reactions seal their fate.

  “We can’t just stand here,” Napoleon says. “People are still inside.”

  Annoyed by the intrusion, Luba slowly opens her eyes, and without moving her head looks over at her grandson. “Countless hours I’ve spent praying to Orion that a boy would take my inferior son’s place,” Luba seethes. “Hours spent in vain.”

  “Grandmother,” Napoleon protests. “These people are innocent, they haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

  Luba raises her hand. A stream of black energy shoots out of her palm and into Napoleon’s chest, and he is tossed up and through the air until he lands on the rocky ground a few hundred yards away, writhing in agony. Luba then turns to Nadine. “Perhaps the girl child shall lead us.”

  Shaking with excitement and fear, it’s as if this is the moment Nadine has waited for her entire life. The same moment she has dreaded and hoped for. Deliberately avoiding looking at her brother’s still-twitching body, Nadine gazes at the building, her face sheened with sweat. She raises her hands and closes her eyes so she doesn’t see the building suddenly erupt into an inferno. Six-foot-tall flames dance and twirl and engulf the quiet air, transforming the night sky into a blend of colors, red, yellow, orange, mingling with one another, devouring the building and the people within it until there’s nothing left but burned flesh, ash, and memory.

  The twins look at the destruction, and both their mouths drop, Napoleon’s in horror and Nadine’s in astonishment; neither can believe what she’s accomplished.

  Luba’s demonic laugh, unchanged after all these years, severs the night with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel directly into the hearts of her grandchildren. She lifts her left hand, and with thumb and pinky finger touching, she points three fingers toward the dark heavens.

  “Orion has chosen!” she proclaims.

  Frantically I try to shake away this vision as well as Vera’s stranglehold on me.

  “This is what Orion chooses?” I cry. “Pure evil?!”

  Whipping me around, Vera makes me see the vision in its entirety, not just the part I want to focus on, and I see Napoleon kneeling on the ground, tears falling from his eyes, his hands clasped in prayer. I hear his words, much quieter than Luba’s rally roar, but equally as intense. He’s praying to God to embrace the souls of the people who died in the fire. He’s begging God and the angels to take the dead souls into their arms and show them the love and compassion that Luba and Nadine tried to burn out of them. He isn’t thinking of himself; not once does he ask for forgiveness or revenge; his only thoughts are with the lives that have just been lost. He knows that his own life is lost as well, but he doesn’t feel that he deserves to be spared from whatever fate awaits him. It’s just like Jess said; balance can be found everywhere. Goodness and evil are alive and well only a few feet apart.

  “Are you trying to tell me that Nadine never stood a chance?” I ask. “That the only way for her to survive and be noticed in her family was to turn to wickedness?”

  “I don’t mean to tell you anything, Dominy,” Vera replies. “Just show you the truth. How you wish to interpret it is your choice.”

  What’s there to interpret?! Nadine was born into a disgusting, sin-drenched family. She could’ve chosen a different route like her brother and her father, but she chose darkness and power and hasn’t looked back ever since.

  “And if you let her continue, if you don’t stop her, who knows what else she’ll do, who knows what else she is capable of doing,” Vera states.

  Sitting back in the pew listening to Father Charles wrap up his sermon, I glance over to Nadine, and I’m more confused than ever. I’ve always considered Nadine to be a lost cause, but I’ve just been given proof that she wasn’t born evil. The repercussions of that revelation are astounding.

  Because not only does that mean that Nadine’s children can be saved, but maybe it means that Nadine can be saved as well. Maybe she doesn’t need to be destroyed like Luba wants; maybe her wickedness can be reverted, maybe she can be reformed, salvaged in some way.

  When I catch Luba staring at me, her eyes practically penetrating my thoughts, I realize Luba is not at all happy with my change of heart.

  And I have to wonder if I’ve joined forces with the wrong witch after all.

  Chapter 19

  Last night was my first t
ransformation of the New Year and as far as a GTWT—girl-to-wolf transformation—goes, it was completely uneventful. Snuck out of my room, feasted on an unexpected pair of wild turkeys, explored yet a new part of Robin’s Park, lounged around for a bit waiting for someone to show up, but wound up spending the night alone. No Vera, Nadine, Luba, Louis, no one. Before I got to school this morning I took it as a positive omen. Now, I see that I was mistaken.

  “Ladies! When I say run, I do not mean jog: I mean run!”

  It appears by the way Miss Rolenski is acting that she did not have a relaxing and/or enjoyable holiday break. She’s normally on the motivated side of type A, but today she sounds like she’s crossed over and is in a zone that cannot be alphabetized, or controlled.

  “Deeanne Ulrich!”

  Miss Ro’s voice is never girlie-girl feminine, but her scream sounds like gravel against sandpaper.

  “That might pass for running on the cheerleading squad, but in my gym it’s called walking!” she bellows. “Now I said run!”

  Startled into action, Deeanne runs faster than I’ve ever seen her run before. I’m not exactly sure what’s gotten into Miss Ro today, but I’m not going to risk her wrath. Today is one of those days that I’m thankful to be blessed with wolf-speed.

  My third time around the track I realize that I’ve passed all the girls in my class, some of them twice, so I slow down and act as if I’m having some trouble breathing so it looks like I’m experiencing normal gym girl fatigue. As a side benefit, I can now overhear Gwen talking to Nadine on the bleachers.

  Naturally, Nadine is excused from taking gym because she’s pregnant, but because Dumbleavy and the brains behind Two W don’t want the other students to claim they’re favoring Nadine and giving her any undue advantages by allowing her to take another class or have a study period, she has to sit in the bleachers each day and watch her classmates sweat it out on the gym floor. In some warped adult way I’m sure they think they’re showing Nadine everything that she’s missing. Luckily, my superhearing doesn’t allow me to miss one word of Nadine and Gwen’s conversation.