by Бри Деспейн
But how could I have not done anything? Daniel would still be living a life of abuse and torture--he might not even be living at all. And how could I have not helped him when he came back?
He still meant so much to me, even now after I knew the truth.
But I couldn't believe I put my need for Daniel over my own brother. I saw the pain in Jude's face the first time I mentioned Daniel's name at dinner. I looked Jude right in the eyes and promised I would leave it alone, that I would keep out of his secrets, but instead I went and dragged the only person who ever hurt him back into our lives.
My feelings for Daniel caused the pain, the fear, and the anger that were slowly taking over my brother.
"I hate you," I said into the water, I pounded my wet fist on the shower wall. "I hate you, hate you, hate you," I said as if speaking to Daniel, But the problem was--I didn't. I didn't hate Daniel at all, and I knew I should.
I had betrayed my brother once again.
I stood in the shower until it turned cold. And then I stood longer, letting the icy water cut paths across my skin, just to feel something other than my guilt. I stumbled out of the shower, shivering and clutching my stomach. I made it to the toilet and heaved out what little liquid was left in my body. I felt withered, drained, and I crawled back into bed, still wrapped in my wet robe.
The house was quiet. Everyone else must have left for the day. The silence pressed in on me, making my head pound even more. I closed my burning eyes and let the silence envelop ray body. I slept off and on, trying to make up for too many sleepless nights. But each time my eyes drifted closed and then open, I felt more drained than before.
I stayed in bed for two days.
WEDNESDAY
My family left me alone. I was shocked--but grateful-- that Mom didn't try to make me go to school. Every once in a while she sent Charity up with food. Charity would leave it just inside my door, staring at me like I had the plague as she retrieved the untouched plates she'd left hours before. I wondered if my family really thought I was sick, but I feared that they knew what I had done--that they were just as ashamed of me as I was of myself. How could I face my brother again, knowing the pain I'd caused him? How could I show my face to anyone?
It was mid afternoon on Wednesday when I heard my father in his study below me. I wondered what he was doing home. Wednesday was one of his busiest days at the parish, and Jude would be there for his independent study. I thought about Dad surrounded by his books, how he'd seemed lost in them for weeks. What was he doing?
But then I knew. It suddenly clicked. I wasn't the only one to blame in all of this.
DOWN IN THE STUDY
"You knew," I said from the doorway. Dad looked up from his book.
I thundered into the room, right up to his desk. "You knew what he was, and you still brought him here!" I grabbed one of his books. Loup-Garou. "That's what these books are for. You're helping him."
My parents were such hypocrites! All this crap they taught us about not keeping secrets, and here my father was keeping the biggest one of all.
I threw the book on the desk. It skidded across the wood and knocked over the lamp. "You're the one who started all this. Not me."
Dad pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He closed his book and put it on top of one of the stacks. He looked completely unruffled by my behavior. It made me want to scream at him more.
"I wondered when you would come tome," he said. "I hoped that if we left you alone, you eventually would." He sounded like the perfect pastor dealing with a troubled parishioner. "Shut the door and take a seat."
I was itching not to listen to him, but I did what he asked anyway. Once I was sitting, I picked up another book. The words and letters were all unfamiliar, like Arabic.
"So you want to know why I'm helping Daniel," Dad said. "The answer is simple, Grace. He asked me to." "When?"
"Daniel contacted me about six weeks ago. I made the arrangements for his return."
"But why would he want to come back here?" "He hasn't told you?"
I flipped through the pages of the book until I came to an illustration. It was an etching of what looked like a man transforming into a wolf. A full moon hung in the background. "He said something once about art school. He needed Holy Trinity to get into Trenton. But that was just a cover, right? This doesn't have anything to do with art school, does it?"
Daniel just used that to make me feel empathy for him---feel connected in our goals.
"That was the cover story we invented," Dad said. "But that doesn't mean Daniel doesn't want to go to Trenton. He wants to reclaim the life he should have had." Dad leaned forward, his hands clasped together on top of his desk. "Grace, the reason Daniel came back is he's searching for a cure."
Something fluttered in my chest. "Is that even possible?"
Dad looked down at his hands. "While Daniel was gone he sought out the colony that his father came from. He asked them for a place in their pack. However, Urbat who have experienced the change--become werewolves--do not procreate often. It is typically against their nature. And in the pack dynamic, only the alpha is allowed to mate. Daniel's mere existence was an affront to their ways." Dad clasped and unclasped his fingers.
"I don't think those ancient wolves had any idea what to do with such a young Urbat--especially one who came from a volatile father who had been banished from their colony. Many of the elders were quite wary of letting Daniel live among them. The alpha granted him a probationary period while they deliberated his future. While there, Daniel met a man--" "Gabriel?"
Dad nodded. "Gabriel is the beta of their pack. Second in command. He took Daniel under his wing-- or paw, as the case may be--and taught him many things about the history of their people. And about the techniques they've developed over the centuries to help control the wolf. The necklace Daniel wears is quite rare. It helps him keep the wolf at bay, and it makes him more sentient--more able to control his actions--while in wolf form. The pendant is many centuries old. I've contacted Gabriel to see if he has another to spare..." Dad rubbed his hand down the side of his face. The dark patches under his eyes had gotten deeper and darker since I last saw him.
"Although Gabriel has a lot of influence with his pack, after the time of probation, he was unable to convince the other elders to let Daniel stay with them permanently. I think the memory of the damage his father caused to the pack was still too fresh. They sent Daniel away."
I bowed my head. Just another set of names to add to the long list of people who had rejected Daniel--a list my name was now on after I couldn't look him in the eyes.
"However, before Daniel was removed from the colony, Gabriel told him that there may be a way for him to free his soul from the clutches of the wolf. That there may be a cure. Gabriel said he couldn't tell him the details but that the record of the ritual could be found if he looked hard enough. He told Daniel to enlist the help of a man of
God. He told him to return to where someone loved him--he told him to go home."
"And that's why he contacted you. You're the man of God."
"Yes. I've been poring through every text on the subject since. Searching for the cure." He gestured to the scattered books on his desk. "Then I realized that the answer must be something religious in nature-- something only a man of God could obtain. I remembered meeting an Orthodox priest many years ago. He told me about a relic they kept in his cathedral. A book that contained translations of letters written by a monk who traveled to Mesopotamia during the Crusades. Although I thought little of it at the time, the priest joked that he had documented proof that God had invented the werewolf."
Dad opened his desk drawer and pulled out a wood box. The lid was inlaid with a golden pattern of alternating suns and moons.
"I drove most of Thursday night to the cathedral. It took quite a bit of convincing, but the priest finally consented to loan the book to the parish. I couldn't rest until I found the answer."
"You found it?" My heart raced. "You can
cure Daniel?"
"No." Dad stared down at the box. "I can't help him anymore."
"No, you didn't find it? Or no, you can't cure him?"
Dad took off his glasses, folded in the arms, and placed them neatly on his desk. He leaned back in his chair and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Tell me something, Grace. Do you love Daniel?"
"How can I?" I studied a hangnail on my thumb. "Not after what he did to Jude. It wouldn't be right. ..."
"Do you love him?" Dad's voice told me not to consider those other things. "Do you?"
Tears welled behind my eyes. How did I have any more to cry?
"Yes," I whispered.
Dad sighed and picked up the box. "Then it's out of my hands." He placed the box in front of me, something rattled inside it as he did. "I feel you must discover the answer for yourself. I'll be here when you do ... but the choice is yours to make."
LATE AFTERNOON
I sat cross-legged on my bed with the box balanced between my knees. I couldn't believe all the answers-- the final pieces of the puzzle--could be found in such a narrow box. Could I really hope for such a possibility? Maybe all it held was more disappointment. Maybe there was no cure after all. It would explain how distraught and tired my father seemed. Maybe he thought I needed to discover that for myself ... become resigned just like him.
But he said I had a choice to make. And choices can't be made without knowledge--without answers. So why can't I open the box?
The truth was that I was afraid of answers. Ignorance may not be bliss, but it seemed preferable to all the pain that accompanied the answers I'd found already.
I stared at the box until my knees ached in their position. My fingers trembled as I reached for the blackened gold latch. I popped it open and pushed up the lid. Inside, I found a book that looked older and more brittle than any of the ones in Dad's office. The cover was a faded sapphire-blue, with the same gold sun-and-moon inlays as were on the box. I brushed the cover tentatively. I was afraid the book might fall to pieces as I picked it up.
Several slips of paper protruded from the top end of the book. Had Dad marked certain passages to make my reading easier? I turned the delicate tissuelike pages to the first marked entry. The page looked like a handwritten letter, or a copy of one, in faded brown ink. Dad said this was a translation, not the original. I found myself wishing I'd taken Mrs. Miller's calligraphy class, in addition to painting, as I tried to make out the pale, scripted words.
My Dearest Katharine, Tidings of the joyous Marriage to Simon Saint Moon could not have come at a letter time. My encampment has been besieged by despair and many of the foot soldiers and squires cower at the cries of wolves that surround our camp by night. They think god will let them devour us because of our sins.
My Squires, Alerius, claims that the wolves are not ordinary animals, but the Dogs of Death of local by god to be his soldiers but the devil turned them from their uest, and now they are cursed to roam them from their guest and now they are cursed to roam the earth as savage breasts.
Oh little sister, you would love dear Alerius. I do not regret taking him on as my squire after the fires many of the other local boys heae not fared as well. I pray we will give up on this campaign and move on to the holy land. I did not leaver our village behind to side in the killing of other Christians. Perhaps the devil is typing to sway us from our quest also.
Father Miguel assures us that our mission is true and that god will protect us in our light against the Greek Traitors
A knock sounded softly against my bedroom door. I covered the box and book with my blanket. "Come in," I said, expecting Charity with dinner.
"Hey." Jude leaned against the door frame. He held a dark green folder in his hands. "This is for you." He crossed the distance to my bed and handed it to me.
"What is it?" I pushed the book farther under the covers with my foot.
"All of your homework." Jude half smiled. "Junior grades are critical for college admissions. I didn't want you to get behind. I got April to copy her notes from English. But
Mrs. Howell says you still owe her a parent-signed test."
Crap. I'd forgotten all about that.
"I told her you haven't been feeling like yourself lately, and I talked her into letting you retake the exam instead. She says you can do it after school when you're feeling better."
"Wow. Thank you. That was really ..." Just like Jude. I don't know why I was so surprised. This was just the thing my brother always did. It's what made him ... him. But I'd figured he'd never want to talk to me again. Not after what I'd done. "I really appreciate this.
Jude nodded. "When you're up to it, TT1 wait for you after school while you take your test. That way you won't have to walk home alone." He walked to the door, stopped, and looked back at me. "It's time to get out of bed, Gracie."
He knows. I know the truth about what happened to him ... and he knows.
"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you," I said softly.
Jude nodded slightly and shut the door behind him.
After I heard Jude walk down the hall, I pulled the box and book out from under the blanket. I closed the lid over Katharine and her brother and locked the box in my desk drawer. I couldn't read any further. I couldn't search for answers anymore. I needed to drop the whole issue. Jude was moving on, and so was I.
Chapter Nineteen
Choices
THURSDAY MORNING
I realized as Jude and I drove the few blocks to school in the numbing cold, that even though there was an understanding between us, we still weren't going to talk about it.
Some things never change.
Maybe it's better that way.
Jude walked me to my locker and then took off to find April before first period. I tried to act natural, like this was just any other day and I was any other girl. But it was hard to pretend that I was normal.
Normal people gossiped--mostly about the strange things that had happened over the weekend. I'd hoped that the rumor mill would have died down during my three-
day absence from school, but apparently it was still running full tilt. Word had spread about Jenny Wilson finding her mangled cat in the middle of her cul-de-sac. Other people talked about Daniel rescuing James in the woods. They whispered about Jude's accusations. And I got the distinct feeling people were also talking about me--more than the usual, that is.
Normal people passed the flyers plastered around the school of Jessica Day's class picture from Central High. They'd look at her long blonde hair and her big doelike eyes and shake their heads, saying, "What a shame." But normal people didn't know what danger she may really be in. They didn't know what horrors really existed in this world. They had no idea there was a werewolf in my AP art class.
How would everyone else react if they knew that truth?
Would they accuse Daniel of being the new Markham Street Monster? Would they blame him for all the bad things that had happened lately?
I stopped mid stride on my way to fourth-period art. Did I believe any of those things? I told myself that it couldn't be true. Daniel had that necklace, so even if he went into wolf mode he'd be able to stop the monster from hurting people. Wouldn't he? There had to be another explanation.
Or maybe that necklace didn't work as well as he and my dad thought. Or perhaps it did work--perhaps Daniel was fully conscious when he did those things...
I stood outside the art room until long after the bell rang. I knew that Daniel was in there. Enough people had been talking about him for me to know he'd shown up for school. I wished he hadn't. I took three deep breaths. Daniel wouldn't hurt those people if he was in his right mind. There was definitely another explanation--and it wasn't my job to figure it out. Someone else could play Velma from now on.
I pushed the door open and went straight for Barlow's desk. I put my tree sketch in front of him and didn't wait for any comment before I went to the back of the room for my supply bucket. Lynn and Jenny stopped talking as I approached. Lynn s
hot me a sidelong glance and then said something to Jenny behind her hand. I ignored them and pulled my watercolors out of my bucket. I could feel Daniel's presence only a few yards away; I could smell his earthy-almond scent even with all the oil solvents and chalk dust fingering in the air, hut I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I grabbed the rest of what I needed and joined April at our table.
"I called you, like, ten times," April said. She didn't look at me as she drew sharp, angled lines in her sketch pad. "You could have at least emailed me back or something."
"You're right." I opened my box of pastels and dumped out the chalk bits on the table. I'd forgotten that most of them were broken. "I'm sorry."
"So are you over it?" April nodded slightly toward Daniel.
"Yeah." I picked up a red pastel bit. It was too small to draw with effectively. "I think so."
"Good." April put her charcoal pencil down. "Jude says Daniel is a bad influence on you."
"What else does Jude say these days?" I asked.
She sighed. "He's upset that your dad keeps trying to get him to be friends with Daniel. Your dad says Jude should just forgive and forget, and be happy Daniel's back," April shook her head. "I don't get it. I mean, Jude's his real son. Why would he even want Daniel here?"
"I don't know," I mumbled. My mind flitted back to that book of letters in my bedroom. "Has Jude said anything else?" I asked, wondering how much April really knew about any of this.
April shrugged. "He invited me to the Monet exhibit at the university tomorrow night."
"That's sweet." I inspected another broken pastel. It was just as useless as the first.
"Yeah, but my mom won't let me go because it's in the city. It's like she suddenly cares about me after what happened to Jessica Day or something." April crinkled her nose. "I think we're just going to have a movie fest at my house. You can come, too, if you want."