The Dark Divine

by Бри Деспейн

  "So what do you see now?" he asked.

  I willed myself to look down. I gazed out across the neighborhood--a bird's-eye view of the world. Through the branches, I could see the tops of houses, smoke coming out of the Headrickses' chimney. Kids playing street hockey in the cul-de-sac where Jude, Daniel, and I used to run with our light sabers. Where Daniel, after much bossing on my part, taught me how to skateboard. I looked up. Tree branches swayed above me, dancing in the blue, cloud-spotted sky.

  "I see everything," I said. "I see--"

  "Don't tell me. Show me." He pulled my sketch pad out of his shirt. "Draw what you see." He tried to hand me my things.

  "From up here?" I was still hugging my tree branch. How did he expect me to be able to draw without falling? "I can't."

  "Stop worrying." He leaned against the trunk. "Come here."

  I slowly edged over to him. He helped me sit in front of him and then handed me my things. I leaned my back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around my waist.

  "Draw," he said. "I'll hold you until you're done."

  I put the charcoal pencil to the paper. I hesitated for a moment. What was it I wanted to draw? I looked out across the yard in the other direction. From here, most of my

  Craftsman-style house was obscured by branches, but it looked like it had when I sat up here as a kid. Not patched and old, but solid, inviting, and safe. My hand started moving, drawing what I saw. Glimpses of my childhood home from my perch in the walnut tree.

  "Good," Daniel said as he watched my progress. He stayed mostly silent except to point out something here and there. "See how the sun glints off the wind vane? Draw the dark, not the light itself."

  I drew, letting charcoal lines flow right out of me, until my hand felt cramped and tired. I stopped to stretch, and Daniel pulled the sketch pad off my lap. "It's good. Real good." He nuzzled his nose against the top of my head. "You should do this in oils."

  "Yeesh." I leaned forward.

  Daniel trailed his fingers down my spine. "Still not a fan?"

  "I haven't tried oils in years." Not since the day his mother took him away.

  "You'll never get into a place like Trenton if you don't get the hang of it."

  "I know. Barlow's been after me all year about that."

  "It wouldn't be same there without you."

  I scooted away from him and dangled my legs along the sides of the branch. Daniel thought about us together at college? It felt weird to think about the future--our future--when so many weird things were happening. What were we doing up here anyway? We'd held hands, brushed skin, talked into the late hours of the night. But what did any of this mean? What could it mean?

  "You never did show me that technique with linseed oil and varnish," I said. It was the "trick" he'd promised to teach me just before he'd left with his mom.

  Daniel cleared his throat and pulled himself to his feet. "You remember that?"

  "I tried to forget," I admitted. "I tried to forget everything about you."

  "You hated me that much?"

  "No." I grabbed a branch and pulled myself up, my back still to him. "I missed you that much."

  Daniel slid his fingers through my hair, sending little chills down my back. "God only knows the things I did to try to numb you out of my brain."

  "Me?"

  "Grace, I ... You have ..." Daniel rested his hand on my shoulder. He sighed, and I knew he was about to change the subject.

  I stepped away from his grasp, annoyed that I wouldn't know what he wanted to say.

  Daniel laughed uneasily. "I can still see right into your bedroom from here."

  "What?!"

  Sure enough, I could see right into my bedroom window. It was afternoon, so the window reflected the sunlight, but if it had been night and the light was on, I'd be able to see just about everything. "You perv!"

  "I'm just teasing," he said. "I mean, I used to sit up here and watch your family, but I didn't--"

  Just then, something--someone--moved behind my window. I leaned forward, balancing myself with a thin branch, to see who was in my room.

  "Careful," Daniel said.

  My foot slipped. The branch I held snapped. I shrieked.

  Daniel caught me along the waist. He whirled me around so I was now on the thicker portion of the branch, and he stood where I had been. He pulled me tight against his body.

  Am I the one shaking so much, or is that him?

  Daniel rested his chin on my head and we stood together, precariously perched at such great heights. The only thing holding me, keeping me from falling, was Daniel.

  But he didn't try to balance himself in any way--he didn't need to.

  "You've got to stop doing that," he said about my near fall. "I don't remember you being such a klutz."

  Neither did I--at least not before he came back. "You're the one who is always making me climb on things." I smacked his chest. "Who knew hanging out with you could be so dangerous?"

  "You have no idea," he mumbled into my hair.

  I looked down at my hand on his hard chest. "You're worth it."

  "Gracie," Daniel whispered. He lifted my chin so I was looking up at him. He cupped my face with both hands. His eyes glinted with the sun. He touched his nose to my brow. He tilted his head.

  All my fears and worries about monsters, all my concerns about my older brother, all my questions about Daniel melted away as I stretched up on my toes to meet him.

  "Grace, Daniel," someone shouted. Daniel dropped his hands from my face and stepped away.

  Disappointment washed over me with the flood of my returning doubts. I sighed and looked out at the house. For the briefest of seconds, I thought I saw Jude watching us from my window. But that wasn't who called our names. It was my dad.

  He stood at the base of the tree, wearing the same clothes from yesterday. It looked like he had a wooden box tucked under his arm. The Corolla was parked in the driveway.

  Daniel moved as far away from me on the branch as he could.

  "Oh hey, Dad." I gave a slight wave.

  Dad crouched and picked up my sketch pad from the grass. It must have fallen when Daniel caught me. He looked at the drawing and then up at us.

  "We were just working on an assignment for class," I said.

  Dad shielded his eyes from the sun. "Gome down now," he said, sounding more tired than I'd ever heard him.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  He looked at Daniel. "We need to talk."

  Daniel nodded. He turned to me and said softly, "Meet me on the porch after dinner. We'll go to the store and get some linseed oil and varnish."

  "Can we go for a run afterward?"

  He brushed my cheek. "Anything you want."

  Chapter Fifteen

  The lost Sheep

  LATE AFTERNOON

  "Grace!" Charity bellowed from the front room.

  I came in from the kitchen. She was sprawled across the couch, watching TV.

  "What?"

  "Phone." She waggled the cordless over her head.

  I grabbed it from her. I was about to put it to my ear when I noticed two wolves on the TV screen. They were gnawing on bloody, fleshy bones.

  I covered the receiver. "Gross. What are you watching?"

  "It's for school." She lowered the volume a bit. "I'm doing my paper on wolves. Did you know there haven't been any in our county for over fifty years?"

  "Really?"

  One of the wolves howled. It sounded just like what I'd heard in the ravine.

  I watched as a third, smaller wolf approached the eating pair. It tried to snatch a bite from the bloody carcass. The two other wolves growled. One of them lunged at the third, snapping and snarling. The small wolf retreated a few feet and watched longingly as the two larger wolves devoured their food.

  "Why won't they let that one eat?" I asked. "There's plenty to share."

  "That one's the omega." Charity pointed at the smaller wolf. "He's the lowest member of the pack. They treat
him like a whipping boy."

  "That's so not fair."

  "At least the alpha of this pack isn't totally brutal. He'll let the omega eat eventually."

  The large wolf bared its teeth as the small one tried to approach again. It lunged at the omega's throat.

  I turned away. I'd hate to see an alpha more brutal than that.

  "Don't forget about your boyfriend." Charity pointed at the phone.

  "Oh." I knew that she was teasing, but I wondered if I'd ever be able to call Daniel that. I walked into the kitchen. "Hello?" I said into the phone.

  "Grace?" It wasn't Daniel.

  "Oh hey, Pete."

  "Hey, so my mom wants to know how James is doing." "He's line."

  "Good." Pete paused. "I hope you don't hate me for not saying good-bye yesterday. My mom wasn't feeling too great after everything that happened."

  "No worries," I said. To be honest, I hadn't even thought of Pete since I went into the woods with Daniel. "So what's up?"

  "I'm calling in my rain check."

  "Rain check?"

  "For bowling. You still owe me a date." I could tell from the sound of his voice he was using his "triple threat" smile. "For tonight?"

  "Yeah. We're doubling with Jude and April," he said, like the date was already set in stone. "Dinner, bowling, and then a party at Justin Wright's."

  "Oh."

  I wondered if I should go. Not for Pete's sake, but for Jude's. I hadn't talked to him since he'd freaked out the night before. The fact that he even wanted to go out and have fun with his friends was a good, but surprising, sign. How would he feel if he knew I was passing on spending time with him and April so I could hang out with the person he hated most? But as much as I felt I should go, nothing could make me blow off a chance to run with Daniel.

  "I'm sorry, but I already have plans for tonight."

  "Then change them," Pete said.

  "I can't." I tried to sound apologetic. "I've got to go. I'll see you at church, okay?"

  "Yeah, okay." His voice sounded hard. No smile at all.

  DINNER THAT NIGHT

  Every year, the day after Thanksgiving, my mother makes her famous turkey a la king. It's this creamy sauce with chunks of leftover turkey and fresh veggies she serves in little flaky pastry cups. And since we have it only once a year, no one in my family ever misses this meal.

  Except that Charity, Don, and James were the only ones sitting with me at the table when Mom brought the steaming pot from the stove. Don and Charity banged their forks and knives on the table in happy anticipation.

  "Save some for the others," Mom said as Don ladled a second scoop of creamy sauce into his already overflowing pastry cups.

  "No way!" Charity grabbed the ladle from Don.

  "Their loss," I said, and passed the salad to my mom.

  "Where'd Jude take off to anyway?" Mom asked with a hint of annoyance. "It's not like him to miss this meal."

  "He has a date with April." Mom frowned.

  "Where's Pastor D-vine?" Don asked.

  "He's not back yet," Mom said. "He'll be here soon ... I hope."

  James smacked his hand into his a la king, sending a spray of peas and cream sauce across the table. He laughed and shouted his new favorite four-letter word.

  "James!" Mom went a little red in the face. "Where would he possibly learn that?"

  Charity chuckled.

  "Haven't a clue," I said, trying to keep a straight face. Daniel would have laughed his head off had he been here. Really, it was a shame that he wasn't. This was one of his favorite meals, too. I checked the contents of the pot, and then ladled up a smaller portion for myself than normal.

  After everyone was finished and gone, I dished up a Tupperware of leftovers for Daniel. He deserved it--especially if the others weren't going to show up to enjoy it.

  He'd put on weight since I'd first seen him last week--like a stray dog thriving under the care of a new owner. He was still thin, but his face was less hollow. My food donations must have done him good, but Meredith Divine's turkey a la king would truly be appreciated.

  I stuck the container behind the milk, deciding to save it as a surprise for after our run, and then I went to meet Daniel.

  EVENING

  I could see the walnut tree creaking and swaying in the wind, so I decided to wait for Daniel in the front room. I settled into the sofa with my history book--Daniel was always late, after all--and used the opportunity to do some homework. But once I'd finished the assigned reading for the whole next week, I couldn't shake the creeping feeling that Daniel wasn't going to show--like something was wrong.

  The house was quiet. Mom and James had gone to bed hours ago, Dad had finally come home and gone straight to his study, and Charity had left for a sleep-over with her friend, Mimi Dutton, next door. But I couldn't concentrate anymore, not with the noise in my head telling me that even Daniel would know that ten p.m. was way too late to be considered "after dinner." I would have just called it a night and gone to bed if it hadn't been for the eerie feeling that accompanied that thought.

  I was standing in front of the window when I noticed something moving in the grass near the walnut tree. The movement happened again, and I wondered if the Duttons' cat had gotten out. I hated the idea of something happening to Mimi's cat--like what had happened to Daisy--so I decided to take action. I draped an afghan around my shoulders and went outside.

  I slinked toward the side yard, so as not to scare the cat away. But as I approached, I realized that the huddled mass under the tree was much too large to be anything but human.

  "Daniel?"

  He was wearing the same outfit from earlier--dark indigo jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt I'd given him. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He stared, unblinking, at the front of his old home.

  "Daniel, what are you doing? I've been waiting for you."

  "I'm just looking," he said. "I like this house better in blue. Yellow always made me feel like it was rotting inside."

  "Where's your coat?" I shivered, wishing I had mine. It was definitely almost December.

  Daniel didn't answer. His gaze never left the house that used to be his. I sat next to him in the crusty grass and draped part of my blanket over his legs.

  Daniel sniffed. "I can't do this."

  "Do what?"

  "This. Any of this." He took in a deep breath and rested his chin on his knees. His silhouette was white and soft in the moonlight. "I don't know how to be anything other than what I am." He clutched his necklace, almost like he wanted to rip it off. "I don't want to be this anymore."

  "Why?" I resisted the urge to touch his face. "You're amazing. The things you can do are out of this world. You're a hero."

  "There's nothing heroic about me, Grace. You should know that. Your brother does. It's why he hates me." His hands shook like they had when he was child and he knew he was in trouble. "What I am ... It's why no one can ever love me."

  My heart sank deep. I hated seeing him this way. I turned my gaze to his house. It did look better now. The new owners had added a porch, put up shutters, and painted it a nice robin's-egg blue. "That's not true. Your mother loves--"

  "I don't have a mother."

  "What?" I looked at him.

  "That woman isn't my mother," he said through clenched teeth. His jaw tightened; the veins in his neck bulged. "Even she didn't want me. She chose him over me."

  "Who?"

  "My father."

  "I thought he skipped town when the sheriff took you away."

  Daniel snorted. "He didn't stay away for long. He started coming around as soon as I moved to Oak Park with my mom. He kept begging her to take him back. At first she told him to get lost because he wasn't allowed to come near me. But he said he loved her, and she believed him. He said I made him crazy. I made him do the things he did." Daniel rubbed his hand over his head, as if he could still feel the pain of his fractured skull.

  "One night I
overheard her on the phone with my social worker. Mom told him to come get me because she wanted to leave with my dad. She said she didn't want me anymore. She said I was too much for her to handle anyway." Daniel rocked forward and back, smacking his shoulders against the trunk of the tree.

  "Daniel, I didn't know." I wanted to sooth his shaking. I put my hand on his chest and smoothed my fingers up his neck. "What did you do?"

  "I ran away. I didn't want to go back into foster care.

  "But you could have come back to us."

  "No, I couldn't," he said. "That beast--my father-- was as horrid as they come, and my own mother chose him over me. You wouldn't have wanted me, either. Nobody would have." He cringed, shaking more than ever. "Nobody ever will."

  "But / want you, Daniel." I brushed my fingers into his hair. "I've always wanted you."

  I had to show him that I needed him. I had to do something. I tilted his head toward mine and put my lips on his. He was like stone--stiff and cold--and I wanted to warm him. I moved my Hps, and tried to kiss him, but his mouth stayed rigid and he didn't kiss back. I pressed harder.

  His lips parted, melting, soft. He wrapped his arm around my waist under the blanket, and pulled me onto his lap. His hands slid up my back, over my shoulder blades.

  The afghan fell to the ground. Then one of Daniel's hands was in my hair, cradling my head. His mouth became warm and fierce. He pulled me hard against his chest, as if he couldn't get me close enough.

  I'd pictured this moment with Daniel when I was younger. I'd shared a couple of awkward doorstep kisses since then with other guys. But the passion in Daniel's kiss--

  his mouth searching mine, as if seeking an answer that could save his life--was more than anything I could have ever imagined. The shadows and the winter chill melted away around us. I'd never felt so encircled by warmth. I slid my hands across his shoulders, then up his neck. My fingers tangled with the leather strap of his necklace. I leaned my head back as he trailed his lips down my throat. My heart pounded with the truth I'd been trying to deny--the words I couldn't hold in any longer.