by Bree Despain
“Whoa.” He winced.
I noticed the bandage across his throat, and I loosened my grip.
“They said you left. They said you got up and walked out in the middle of a shift change. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“But you came here?”
“I hoped … I hoped you’d come here, too.”
Daniel kissed my forehead. “I told you I’d stick around as long as you’d have me.” He smiled, all crooked and devious. “Or should I have taken you stabbing me through the heart as a sign you wanted to break up?”
“Shut up!” I punched him in the shoulder.
“Ow.”
“I’m sorry.” I took his hands in mine. “I didn’t do it to hurt you,” I said, referring to that night in the parish. “I did it because I promised to save you.”
“I know.” He squeezed my hand. “And you did.”
I looked at the bandage on his neck, the bruises down his jaw—the wounds he couldn’t heal on his own anymore. I kissed a scrape on his hand. The smell of his dried blood didn’t make me writhe like I thought it would.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Why didn’t the wolf take me over when I stabbed you?”
Daniel turned my face toward his. He stared down into my eyes. His were so rich and deep, filled with his own personal light, not just a mere reflection like the moon. “Is that what you thought? That you’d become a werewolf if you saved me?” His eyes glistened, but only from tears.
“Yes. I’d been bitten. The wolf was in me. I thought if I killed you—that would give it control. You said a predatory act would do it….”
“Grace.” Daniel cupped my face. “What you did wasn’t predatory. It was an act of love. It’s why I’m still alive.” He smiled. “I went to see Gabriel. That’s why I left the hospital. He came here to bring a moonstone for your brother, and I had to see him before he left. I needed to know why I lived. Gracie, Gabriel said that I am the first—the only—Urbat who has ever received the cure and lived. He said only the ultimate gift of love could have freed my soul … and granted me back my life.” He kissed my cheek. “I understand now. You gave me that ultimate gift. You thought you would become a werewolf if you saved me, and you still did it. You were willing to trade yourself for me. There is no greater gift….” He leaned in to kiss my lips. I pulled away.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“But the wolf is in me. My wounds healed so fast … and I feel stronger. I feel like all I want to do is run.” I bit my lip. “It will take me over someday. Doesn’t it eventually take everyone?”
“No, Grace. Not everyone.”
“But Gabriel, he wrote that people who were bitten turned faster. I mean, he was a monk, and he changed within a matter of days. How do I even stand a chance?”
“He was surrounded by the carnage of war. You’re not. You’re surrounded by people who love you. People who can keep you grounded.”
“But Jude had those things, too. He was one of the best people I’ve ever known, but he turned so fast. I’m not nearly as good as him.”
“Jude was good. But he let his fear and jealousy get to him.” Daniel shrugged. “‘Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to the dark side.’”
I raised an eyebrow and held back the urge to punch him in his injured arm.
“What?” Daniel held up his hands. “Like you weren’t there when we watched the Star Wars movies fifty-three times that one summer.”
“Fifty-four. Jude and I stayed up until two a.m. to finish Return of the Jedi after you fell asleep one night. I tried to make caramel popcorn and almost burned the house down. Jude took the blame for me….”
My voice cracked. It hurt so much to think about Jude the way he used to be. “I hope Jude knows that if he … when he returns … I’ll be here for him.”
“Then let that be your anchor,” Daniel said. “Stay strong so you’ll be Grace when he needs you.” He brushed his fingers down my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “And you don’t have to go through this alone. You have me.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out. “And you have this.” He opened his hand and held out a jagged black rock. It was his moonstone pendant, broken in half.
I took it from him. It was warmer than the last time I touched it, pulsing with a power I’d never noticed before. It was hope.
“I thought I’d never find it in the snow,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I had to search for something without my abilities.”
“Are you sure you want me to have this? It’s yours.”
“I don’t need it anymore,” he said, and tipped up my chin.
He kissed me softly on the lips, with warmth and love. Then his lips parted, and he kissed me in a way that was so complete—giving me everything he’d held back before. I melted into him, letting go, feeling as free and light as I did when we ran in the forest.
“So what do we do now?” I said as Daniel held me to his chest.
He cleared his throat. “There are a lot of bad things out there. Things the Hounds of Heaven were created to destroy.” He trailed his finger down the side of my face. “I can’t be the hero you want me to be—at least not in that way. But you can, Grace. You don’t have to become one of the dark ones. You can fight it. You can turn this curse into a blessing. You can become the hero. You can become truly divine.”
Acknowledgments
I owe my undying gratitude and appreciation to the many people who helped mold this book into what it is, and who also helped shape the writer and person I am today. These people include:
My fabulous agent, Ted Malawer, who couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about this book. Thanks for being my champion.
All the amazing people at Egmont USA who decided to take a chance on me. Special thanks to Regina Griffin, Elizabeth Law, Mary Albi, Nico Medina, and (of course) my brilliant and patient editor, Greg Ferguson.
My copyeditor, Nora Reichard, whose painstaking work makes it look like I actually know how to use a comma.
Joel Tippie, who designed the breathtaking cover. I couldn’t be happier with it.
My wonderful writing teachers over the years, including: Dean Hughes, Louise Plummer, Virginia Euwer Wolff, John H. Ritter, Martine Leavitt, Randall Wright, and A. E. Cannon.
My critique friends: Gaylene Wilson, Kim Woodruff, Julie Hughes, Elena Jube, and Jamie Wood, who forced me to finally rewrite the whole book—and then told me to make it even better. Thanks for all of your advice and suggestions.
My writing posse: Emily Wing Smith, Kimberly Webb Reid, Sara Bolton, Valynne Maetani Nagamatsu, and Brodi Ashton. Some people claim that writing is a solitary and lonely endeavor, but you guys make it a blast. Thank you for always being willing to read, brainstorm, help rewrite that @$&% scene (you know the one) over and over again, and for making me laugh all the time. Here’s to many more years of friendship and writing together!
My supportive, loving, and always-willing-to-bend-over-backwards-to-help-out parents: Nancy and Tai Biesinger. And for the record, the mother in this book is in no way my own mother (except for the ability to make divine turkey à la king), who is truly one of my best friends.
My enthusiastic and helpful friends, neighbors, in-laws, immediate and extended family, especially my siblings: Noreen, Tai, Brooke, and Quinn. Special thanks to Noreen for the many early-morning walking/brainstorming sessions and for many more hours of babysitting. Additional thanks to my niece Whitney for being my mother’s helper, my friend Rachel Headrick for letting my boys play at her house and for letting me talk her ear off (I miss you already, dang it!), Matt Kirby for his many words of wisdom, and James Dashner for showing this newbie the author ropes.
My amazingly adorable (most of the time) children, who put up with my many hours of being glued to the computer—and who aren’t afraid to whack me in the head with lightsabers when it’s time for me to stop working. Thanks for loving this crazy mom. I love you, too!!!
Last, but never ever least: my practically superhuman husband, Brick, who is my faithful reader, editor, motivator, sounding board, fan, web designer, marketing guru, pseudo-psychiatrist, best friend, and true love. Thank you for always believing in me, even in those moments when I don’t believe in myself. I will love you always.
BREE DESPAIN
rediscovered her childhood love for creating stories when she took a semester off college to write and direct plays for at-risk, inner-city teens from Philadelphia and New York. She currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, with her husband, two young sons, and her beloved TiVo. You can visit her online at www.breedespain.com.
EGMONT
We bring stories to life
First published by Egmont USA, 2010
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 806
New York, NY 10016
Copyright © Bree Despain, 2010
All rights reserved
www.egmontusa.com
www.breedespain.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Despain, Bree
The Dark Divine / Bree Despain
p. cm.
Summary: Grace Divine, almost seventeen, learns a dark secret when her childhood friend—practically a brother—returns, upsetting her pastor-father and the rest of her family, around the time strange things are happening in and near their small Minnesota town.
eISBN: 978-1-60684-117-4
[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Supernatural—Fiction. 3. Family life—Minnesota—Fiction. 4. Christian life—Fiction. 5. High schools—Fiction. 6. Schools—Fiction. 7. Minnesota—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D4518Dar 2010
[Fic]—dc22
2009018680
CPSIA tracking label information:
Random House Production • 1745 Broadway • New York, NY 10019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
v3.0