“Now you know what it’s like to be me,” Dominy says.
Cowering in Dominy’s presence, Nadine backs up, one shaky paw after another trying to lead the way to escape, but there is none. Not in Luba’s presence.
“Now fight!”
“No!!”
All heads turn to see Arla, her eyes rolled back in her head so only the whites remain, her mouth opening, Napoleon’s voice speaking.
“Enough fighting!” Nap cries. “This is our chance for peace.”
“Napoleon?”
Archie’s voice is ignored. Napoleon only wants to speak to his sister.
“Nadine,” he continues. “This is your chance! Let your daughter be free. Raise your son to love and not to hate.”
His message may be for his sister, but his grandmother has heard every word, and she is not pleased. Flying through the air, she grabs Arla by the throat and squeezes her thin, ivory fingers around the girl’s dark skin.
“This isn’t about love or hate, you stupid, stupid idiot!!” Luba screams. “It is about power!”
A wave of blackness flies out of Luba’s mouth and into Arla’s, and just as Dominy was pulled from deep within the bowels of the wolf, Napoleon is severed from Arla’s body.
“Napoleon!!”
This time Archie races toward his boyfriend’s resurrected body and tries to grab hold of him, but before he can reach him, before he can make contact with the person he desperately wants to touch, Luba flings her grandson into the air.
“BEGONE!”
“Nooo!!” Archie cries.
Napoleon’s body disintegrates before our eyes, splintering like cracked glass, but leaving behind no remnants, no physical reminder that he was once here, that he was once a very important part of our lives. There is nothing left behind, nothing except for Archie’s rage.
“Damn you!” Archie cries, racing toward Luba.
“No,” Luba spits. “You, white one, are the one who is damned!”
Luba’s scream turns into a dark cloud that passes through Archie and rips his pure white flesh from his body to reveal a maze of bone underneath, the color of untouched coal, brilliantly black.
“No one can hide from who he truly is!” Luba cries. “And you, child, are nothing but pure evil!”
Archie’s skin returns, covering his ebony bones like a horde of savage white worms. Horrified by the vision of his soul, Archie turns to Dominy, tears pouring from his violet eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m not as strong as you.”
“No, Archie!” Dominy cries, flying toward him and grabbing his hands. “Don’t give in. Remember what Napoleon said: You have to fight.”
“It’s no use,” Archie replies. “Look at what you’ve just done. I know I’m capable of much worse.”
Confused, Dominy turns to see the black wolf crouched low to the ground, not ready to attack, but hoping to disappear.
“Oh my God,” Dominy gasps. “What have I done?”
“Helped show me exactly who I am,” Archie replies.
Pushing Dominy away, Archie starts to run out of the room and is about to burst open the door when Caleb grabs his arm.
“Winter, stop!” he begs. “This isn’t you!”
“No, Caleb,” he says. “This is exactly who I’ve become.” Slowly the darkness creeps back into his eyes, and the beautiful shade of violet is gone, irreversibly replaced by two black orbs. The darkened roots staining his hair begin to spread out like hundreds of tiny black spiders, until his white hair drowns in a sea of oil. Just as Dominy has had to do, Archie has had to make a choice. He’s given in.
“Archie, no!” Caleb cries.
I don’t know if it’s involuntary or deliberate, but Caleb lets go of Archie’s arm, and it’s with that one gesture from his dearest friend that the last reason for Archie to stay is taken away from him.
Archie flings open the door so furiously that it almost rips free of its hinges, and we watch him run into the woods, having no idea if he’s running toward something or away from what he’s become.
A gust of cold air invades the room, but it’s no match for the chill residing inside. The game is over, and Luba has won.
Luba spreads her arms out to the sides, and the red cloud is hurtled back into my mouth—Dominy and I are one again. Once we are reconnected, the black wolf disappears, and Nadine is standing in its place, white-faced, sweat-soaked, and shaken.
I shake my snout and howl angrily. I can’t stay here any longer; I have to chase after Archie, prevent him from doing anything foolish. But the door is blocked. Vera has returned and is standing there, holding Nadine’s sleeping babies, one in each arm.
“You have made Orion very unhappy,” she says.
Chapter 27
And how happy do you think Orion has made me?!
Vera smiles in my direction, but I can’t let her disarm me; I can’t be fooled by her relaxed demeanor. Moving to my right I stand in front of Caleb and Arla, a low growl coming out of my mouth. I don’t want to attack, but I will protect.
Her smile grows wider, but I’m not sure if it’s out of respect or if it’s patronizing. Like always Vera confuses me. I should know better than anyone—human, animal, or spirit—not to be fooled by a disguise, but I thought Vera was different. Yes, I know that she is simply a fragment of Orion’s constellation in human form, a fallen star, but I thought we had an understanding. How dare she burst in here and tell me that I’ve made Orion unhappy! Despite everything that he has allowed to happen to me, I’ve done everything in my power to help him. If it weren’t for me, Luba might be dead and Nadine might be cradling her kids in some new town as the head of an even more malicious coven. He should be thanking me instead of chastising me.
And perhaps I should listen better.
“Sorry, Artemis, I wasn’t talking to you,” Vera clarifies. “I was talking to them.”
“Artemis?” Luba asks. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“Private joke, Luba,” Vera says, smiling rascally. “Nothing to worry your newly pretty head about.”
One thing’s for sure: Vera has a sense of humor. That’s more than can be said about Luba and Nadine. I twist my neck to look behind me, and, swathed in the glow of the full moon, those two are staring at Vera as if she’s some foul, repugnant thing instead of a messenger of their god. Such hypocrites! They love Orion, but they disrespect him; they worship at his altar of starlight and accept the gift of being infused with his glory, yet all the while what they really crave is unbridled power. They want to live their lives according to their own rules, ignoring that their strengths come from a source independent of them. They are nothing without Orion, and yet they refuse to bow to him.
But now it appears as if Vera is going to force them to genuflect, at least symbolically.
“Luba and Nadine, the Original Hunter is not amused by your behavior,” Vera asserts. “While He does find a certain amount of . . . moxie . . . admirable and a hint of the spirited rogue to be whimsical, the two of you have crossed the line into insolence and sacrilege, and therefore must be punished.”
When Nadine speaks it’s evident she hasn’t listened to a word Vera has said.
“Give me my children!” she wails.
“You haven’t proven you are worthy of children!”
The sound that comes out of Vera’s mouth is so earsplitting I’m more amazed that the babies haven’t stirred in her arms than I am at the intensity of her outburst.
“First, Nadine, you must prove you are still worthy to be a child of Orion,” Vera continues, her voice now much, much calmer.
“I have spent a lifetime proving my worth!” Nadine states, her voice anything but calm.
“And it only took nine short months to destroy the foundation you had created,” Vera claims.
Angrily waving her hand in the air, Luba interrupts their debate. “Enough talk of these children! Get on with this unjust trial!”
Delighted by watching Nadine
and Luba squirm, Vera pauses to bounce the children in her arms. She lifts the boy to her face and, smiling at him as if he were her own child, she inhales deeply, breathing in his fresh, newborn scent.
“Very well,” Vera says. “Luba and Nadine, how do you plead?”
I’m not sure if a silent reply constitutes a formal response, but Vera accepts their silence as an admission of guilt.
“Guilty as charged,” she affirms.
Regardless of who Vera is or what she represents, Luba cannot stand to be insulted by anyone.
“This is an outrage!” Luba shouts. “A mockery of the life I have given to Orion! Of the sacrifices I have made and the magic that I have created in His name!”
While defending herself, Luba walks toward Vera, seemingly unafraid, urged on by her own passionate desire to preserve her dignity and stature as Orion’s most beloved offspring.
“You have absolutely no idea who I am, do you?!” Luba rails.
Once again Vera proves that while Luba may be strong and close to invincible, Vera is of an altogether higher order. She softly blows in Luba’s face and sends the woman flying through the air until her back crashes into the wall on the other side of the cabin. When Luba doesn’t give in to gravity and slide down to the floor, I think for a moment that she’s been impaled by a hook or a stray nail, but it’s clear that Vera is just putting on a show for everyone, and she’s the one keeping Luba suspended a few feet off the ground.
“I know exactly who you are, Luba,” Vera replies, her voice as cheery as Luba’s was threatening. “You are an ignorant child in the body of an old woman. A creature who has acquired corpses instead of knowledge, a being who has studied improperly and still has so much more to learn.”
Vera pauses to glance over at me. “I thought by now Dominy would have taught you some important lessons,” she adds.
“Dominy?!” Luba blurts, her body still looking as if it’s nailed to the wall and her face looking as if she has just devoured sour flesh.
“Yes, the one you cursed,” Vera replies. “She is also the one who shall lead.”
The mere mention of being my supplicant enrages Luba so utterly that she finally frees herself from Vera’s hold. Stumbling to the floor, her hands and knees hitting the wooden planks with a thud, she lifts her head and then her body and then her voice.
“I will NEVER follow that . . . THING!” she declares.
Just as Luba raises her hand to point it in my direction, Vera’s eyes disappear, and two rays of light zoom out from the sockets to burn a hole through Luba’s palm. Clutching her wrist and violently screaming in agony, Luba falls to her knees, half-horrified and half-amazed that she can see right through her flesh.
After only a slight hesitation, Nadine rushes to Luba’s side and clasps her grandmother’s wounded hand in hers. A swirl of black energy surrounds their interlocked hands, and when Nadine releases her hold on her grandmother, the laceration begins to heal. New flesh forms along the circumference of the open hole in Luba’s hand, weaving a black lattice of skin and muscle and veins until the wound is healed and only a gnarled black scar remains that will serve as a reminder to Luba of her true place in this world.
How interesting that it has taken a common enemy for Nadine and Luba to once again work alongside each other. Vera shares my opinion.
“What a beautiful sight to behold,” Vera cheers. “Different generations working together to solve a problem. Teamwork does make Orion happy.”
“If you want to make me happy, Vera,” Nadine says, “give me my children.”
Vera’s hearty laughter smothers the cabin.
“I have no desire or need to make you happy, Nadine,” she replies. “You are an abomination, a blight.”
Before Nadine can protest, Vera continues.
“However, you are also a descendant of the Hunter,” she states. “So He has decided to show mercy . . . if you comply.”
“Does He consider it merciful to allow you to steal my daughter?” Nadine asks.
Every trace of laughter evacuates from the cabin and from Vera’s expression. It looks as if the girl doesn’t even comprehend the meaning of the word.
“You may want to rephrase that,” Vera corrects. “Both He and Dominy have shown mercy by allowing your daughter to live. If it were not for them both, you know Luba would have killed her; she would never have allowed you to raise two children, knowing that you would be plotting her death along with their future.”
Vera hugs Nadine’s children closer to her body. “Orion believes in the holiness of His lineage, and so He had to do everything in His power to prevent your babies’ deaths.”
“Give them to me, and I will protect them,” Nadine pleads. “I’ll protect them both, I swear!”
“Are you ignorant, or do you take me for a fool?” Vera asks. “If both your babies remain here on earth, Luba will not rest until one of them is dead, so unless you’re finally ready to kill your dear, sweet grandmother right here and right now, you can only have one child. There can only be three of you because of... Oh what word does Jess always use?”
“Lim . . . limitations?” Caleb answers.
Vera looks at Caleb as if she’s noticing him for the first time. She’s pleased by what she sees. “Ah, yes,” she confirms. “Limitations.”
Nadine shifts her weight from one foot to the other, squeaking loudly. “This isn’t fair!” she squeals. “She’s my child.”
“Not anymore,” Vera replies, firmly. “You forfeited your right to claim ownership when you sought to overturn the balance of your triangle—Luba, Nadine, and Napoleon. That was the way Orion wanted it to be.”
“The boy was unworthy!” Luba exclaims.
“According to whom, Luba?” Vera asks. “You?”
“He was a disgrace!” Luba screams. “He was just like his father!”
“And yet in Orion’s eyes he played an important role,” Vera states. “A role that Nadine extinguished prematurely. Such behavior shall not be rewarded.”
“But they are my children!”
“SILENCE!!” Vera exclaims.
Once again her shriek is so volatile it’s amazing that the babies in her arms don’t cry in utter fear, but they remain silent, sleeping comfortably in her arms. Orion must be protecting them from the commotion, or Vera’s words are only meant for us to hear.
“It is done, and it will be obeyed,” Vera instructs. “The boy shall be raised by you, Nadine, and I shall find a home for the girl in some part of the universe. Do not waste your time trying to locate her, because every attempt will end in failure.”
Vera drops her arm, and miraculously the baby boy rests in the air. She blows him a gentle kiss, and the child floats from one side of the room to the other, landing in Nadine’s waiting arms. Despite her past actions, despite the malice that clings to her like flesh, she holds her son tenderly and astoundingly appears to be grateful for their reunion. Luba, however, still hasn’t wiped the contempt off of her face. Vera may have to do it for her.
“And you, Luba!” Vera screams. “Remember to honor your truce with Dominy.”
Luba lowers her head, and her lips form into a sneer. “I have no intention of going against my word,” she says.
“Swear to it,” Vera commands.
Reluctantly Luba raises her hand in the sign of Orion, and Vera matches her gesture. “I swear,” Luba replies.
“Good,” Vera says. “And because we don’t trust you, we will be watching to make sure you keep your promise. You have created and caused enough damage. It’s time to let both the wolf and the girl live in peace.”
Thank you.
“Remember, Luba, you are powerful,” Vera adds. “But not nearly as powerful as you think.”
It’s clear from her clenched fists that Luba is infuriated by Vera’s comments, but she stands motionless, reluctantly wearing a mask of cordiality. The only other sign giving away that she is enraged is the quick rise and fall of her chest. The two slivers of flesh that
constitute her lips remain clamped so she doesn’t say anything to unleash Vera’s full fury. Perhaps Vera’s wrong; perhaps Luba does know herself and her own limitations as well.
Heaven only knows what lies within Luba’s heart and mind and soul, but I know what lies within mine. Even hidden by fur, I know exactly what I am: a girl who has made a choice to protect my family and my friends and not allow this curse that has been placed upon my head to destroy me. I’m better than that.
“Yes, you are, Dominy,” Vera replies to my silent musing.
The rest of what Vera tells me is in silence—star to wolf—so it can’t be overheard.
“You have served Orion and your friends well,” she states. “You have overcome insurmountable odds and understood the need for balance and how to maintain it. But most of all you have served yourself well.”
A few short years ago I wouldn’t have believed any of those words. Now I do.
“Thank you.”
“There will be more battles for you to face,” Vera cautions. “But remember, Dominy, you are strong, you are courageous, and above all else, you are blessed.”
“This sounds like a farewell,” I reply.
“Oh no,” she corrects. “You’ll definitely be seeing me again, sooner than you think. We aren’t done with you yet.”
Abruptly, a glorious display of starlight fills the room, and I watch with gratitude and hope as Vera along with Nadine’s daughter disappear. Please God let that child have a good life. Looking across the cabin I pray the same thing for Nadine’s other child. He may, but it won’t be in Weeping Water.
“I’m taking my family away from here,” Luba announces.
“That sounds like it’s for the best,” Caleb replies. His comment is much more diplomatic than the thoughts bouncing around my head.
“But don’t shed too many tears,” Nadine adds, her sarcasm having resurfaced since Vera’s departure. “Rest assured we will return.”
“And we’ll be waiting for you,” Arla interjects.
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