Othermoon (10 page)

“Everybody’s wrong.” I said, vividly recalling the clash of thunder as lightning had
stabbed up between my mother’s feet. “There’s an old oak tree in my neighborhood whose
shadow form is a thunderstorm, and I’ve seen the lightning without any callers being
around. My stepfather Richard saw it too.”

Morfael’s gaze became very pointed.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you, but this is the first time I’ve seen you!” I said.
“But I’m not crazy, right? Light and things from Othersphere can appear in our world.”

Morfael’s eyes narrowed at Caleb, who startled a bit, as if pinched. “Well, your animal
forms are manifestations of power from Othersphere,” Caleb said. “And for a limited
time I can pull a swarm of bees or a forest out of there that feels and acts as real
as we do. So seeing lights and shapes through the veil—that could be possible.” He
turned to Morfael. “But wouldn’t they need someone drawing on the power to make them
visible?”

“It is the thinness of the veil that makes these things possible,” said Morfael. “In
normal space, a power source such as a caller or shifter is required to manifest the
shadow form. But in thin-space, where great power has already been released, shadows
may appear randomly, with no one calling them forth. Was there a power source when
you saw this lightning?”

“Not that I saw,” I said. “The old oak tree is there, of course, and at the time,
my mother and I were also there.” I saw again my normally tiny mother towering over
me, her once brown hair like flames licking her suddenly unfamiliar face. “My mother
spoke. But it wasn’t her voice.”

“Something came through your mother?” London asked. “But she’s a humdrum, right?”

“Yeah.” I might as well just spill it all. “And whatever it was had red hair like
mine, and was taller, and had claws.”

Silence fell except for the brisk afternoon breeze rustling through the needles of
the evergreens around us. Clouds blocked the sky, threatening snow. I shivered, and
Caleb slipped his warm hand into mine. I caught his eye, and when he nodded, felt
the courage to look up at Morfael. “Could it have been my biological mother?”

Morfael’s eyes looked unfocused for a moment, as if he wasn’t quite there; then he
blinked and nodded. “It is possible.”

I felt as if the breeze were blowing through me. Like my skin and flesh had dissolved
to leave my bones rattling in the forest. “But how? From where?”

Morfael did not answer. His hollow face showed no emotion. How could he not care?
He’d spent over a year searching for my biological parents after he’d found me in
the Siberian forest, and then searching for any other tiger-shifters who might be
willing to look after me. He’d found none. Or so he said. After all that effort, wasn’t
he curious about where I’d come from, where tiger-shifters might still live?

“Could it be a trick?” said Amaris. “Someone pretending to be your real mother, someone
trying to manipulate you somehow.”

“Oh, my God!” That hadn’t occurred to me. What I’d seen that night had felt so real,
so sincere.

“That, too, is possible,” said Morfael.

“You’re thinking it’s the Tribunal?” Caleb asked Amaris. “Trying to throw Dez off
her game or to use her for some purpose.”

“Could they
do
that?” November sounded like she couldn’t quite believe it. “I know objurers are
basically just like callers with a bad attitude, but still.”

“Caleb changed into something else the night we raided Ximon’s compound,” I said.
“Something from Othersphere. Maybe an objurer from the Tribunal somehow did that with
my mom, from a distance or something.”

“They’d have to be very powerful to do it from far away,” said Caleb. “Even up close,
it would be draining.”

“Yet another reason to find out what the hell the Tribunal wants with DNA from all
of us,” said Arnaldo.

Snow began to fall. For an hour after that, we walked through the thick, unhurried
flurries under Morfael’s instruction, focusing on our internal connection to Othersphere.
Any change in it could be a signal that the thickness of the veil nearby had changed.
This was very hard to do because always at the edge lay the temptation of slipping
into animal form. For me, the power of my tiger self felt closer and more irresistible
than ever.

A thud and Amaris saying “Oof!” brought us all together again. We found her getting
to her feet, brushing snow off the front of her jacket. But her right hand left red
streaks on the navy blue fabric. “I’m okay,” she said. “I didn’t see a log under the
snow and boom.”

“Your hand!” London darted forward and took her right hand, holding the palm up. It
oozed blood from abrasions. “Nothing deep or dangerous. Already it’s clotting, so
you won’t need stitches. Maybe use some snow to numb it up until we go back inside.”

“No.” Morfael moved through the group of us, up to Amaris. “Heal yourself.”

Amaris’s eyes popped wide, her jaw dropping slightly open. “
I . . . I
don’t think I can.”

“You have done it before,” he said.

“Yeah, but not for a long time. I’m kind of . . .” She bit her lip. “I’m broken.”

Morfael’s face did not change. “Heal yourself.”

“Okay.” She blinked hard. “I’ll try.”

London released her hand. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Amaris gave her a weak smile.

“Don’t forget, Amar,” November said, pronouncing it like “ammer,” “the veil is thin
here.”

Amaris nodded, held up her hands, palms facing her, and closed her eyes.

Caleb leaned into me, his voice low. “I’ve only seen her do it twice. It’s pretty
amazing. She doesn’t have to hum or anything.”

Indeed, the look on Amaris’s face had become very placid, almost like she’d fallen
asleep standing up. Only a tiny worried line hovered between her brows, and her shoulders
were bunched with tension.
Relax,
I thought at her.
You can do this.

But after about thirty seconds, her eyes flew open and she shook her head. Her hand
was still bloody and scratched. “I can’t.” Her eyes were bright with tears. “I told
you.”

“It is not
I
whom you told,” said Morfael. Then he turned to address us all, back in classroom
mode. “Now, you will all continue trying to find spots where the veil is thin. Call
out when you have found a perceptible change in space.”

We fanned out again, hands out, as if maybe we could feel a change tangibly. London
scooped up some snow and put it on the scrape on Amaris’s hand. “Just put some antibiotic
ointment on it when we get back. No big deal.”

“Thanks.” Amaris gave her a watery smile.

Morfael took me aside, his normally impassive face showing just the slightest twitch.
I was immediately on high alert.

“The regional Council of Shifters wishes to speak to you first thing tomorrow morning,”
Morfael said. “It is time for them to review whether or not they approve your presence
here.”

I slumped. When I first came to Morfael’s school, I’d barely managed to get the Council’s
approval. The vote had been three to two in favor of me staying, thanks to a last-minute
switch by the bear-shifter representative. But I’d stirred up a lot of trouble since
then, and the Council was as cautious as a feral cat when it came to the Tribunal.
Some of them had wanted to have me killed back then. How much worse must they feel
about me now?

“What if they don’t approve?” I asked. “Will you kick me out? How much authority do
they have?”

“They can’t force me to get rid of you,” he said, his eyes sparkling with too many
prisms of color to count. “But let’s not anticipate the worst.”

“Easy for you to say,” I said.

He regarded me with what might have been amusement. It was hard to tell with him.
“You can use the dread you feel right now to tap into your connection to Othersphere,”
he said. “That will help you find the places where the veil is thin.”

It took me a second to realize he was referring to the exercise again, trying to determine
the thickness of the veil between worlds.
To hell with that.
I opened my mouth to ask him more about the Council, but he had already walked away
to speak to Arnaldo.

So I did focus on the dread. Dark thoughts often fueled the black core of power inside
me. After about ten minutes of walking around the forest, I realized that it would
sometimes pulse and grow, not larger, but
darker
, more chaotic at times. It was like a crazy whirlpool threatening to suck me in.
The next time it did that, I stopped and found a very large bristlecone pine tree
in front of me.

I stopped walking. London bumped into me, with a quiet exclamation, and then drew
back. I hadn’t realized she was following so close.

“There’s something here,” I said. “The veil is thinner. I think.”
If only I could escape through it, so the Council could never find me.

“Is it the tree?” She looked at the collection of white-dusted cones nestled in the
evergreen branches. “How can you tell?”

The others got closer, as I looked at the tree while at the same time focusing on
the roiling power near my heart. “I don’t think it’s the tree. It’s coming from something
smaller.”

“Wait,” said November. “I know what you mean. It smells like lemon-lime jelly beans
around here somewhere.” As London rolled her eyes, she glared. “What?”

A small brown form flicked up the trunk of the tree, and I felt the shift in power
inside me. “There!” I pointed at a tiny bird with a fluffy gray body and a striking
black-and-white striped head perched on a branch. It cocked its black-capped head
and fixed a tiny dark eye on me.

“A mountain chickadee,” said Morfael, moving soundlessly up to gaze at it. “A female.
One of the most common creatures in the western United States, and yet, you are right,
Desdemona.” He reached out one skeletal finger, not that different from the bird’s
claws, and stroked its feathers once. The bird cheeped musically, but did not fly
away. “She lies very close to the veil. All of you, focus on your connection to Othersphere
as you look at her, and notice how she behaves. Caleb”—he motioned Caleb to move forward—“tell
me what you see.”

Caleb came to stand next to me, and under his breath, he hummed something very quietly.
We all gasped as the vibration from it, perhaps magnified by the proximity of Othersphere,
thrummed through us.

The bird inclined its head, the black stripe over its eye aimed at Caleb. He pursed
his lips, still humming. Then with a sharp exhale, he broke off and stepped back,
eyes wide.

“Oh, wow. She’s a lot bigger in Othersphere. Like, dragon big. With shiny scales,
and eyes like copper pots. Claws as long as my arm.” He shook his head and laughed
at himself a little. “In Othersphere, this place is inside her cave, and when I looked
at her . . . she looked right back at me. She knows we’re here. I just hope she isn’t
hungry.”

November looked at Caleb uneasily. “Could something come through the veil here and
. . . eat us?”

“Probably not,” Morfael said.

“Probably?” said London. She stood very close to me, as if using me as a shield between
her and the chickadee.

“There is a lake in Scotland that lies close to Othersphere,” said Morfael. “People
claim to have seen a large creature swimming in its waters that could only have come
through the veil. But she has not eaten anyone.” He paused to think. “That we know
of.”

We all exchanged looks. Thanks to the Tribunal’s prejudices and the shifter community’s
fear of exposure, Amaris and the shifter kids had all led relatively sheltered lives,
often not allowed access to TV or the Internet by their parents. Shifter parents like
Arnaldo’s dad who didn’t want them “tainted” by humdrum culture were common. Of all
of them, only November had a phone with Internet access, and even she had a minimal
data plan. Still, all of them had heard of the Loch Ness Monster.

“So much for no one traveling between worlds. They say it’s impossible, but it sounds
like it’s happening all the time,” said Arnaldo.

“They also say that shifters only have one animal form,” said London. “But we’ve seen
Dez shift into two.”

“Could we do that?” Siku turned to Morfael.

Morfael did not reply, only faintly raised his nearly invisible eyebrows and smiled
his creaky smile.

“The problem isn’t just traveling across worlds. With a power source, that’s possible.
It’s got to be much tougher
staying
on the other side of the veil for more than a few minutes, especially without a power
source to keep you there,” Caleb said, returning to the topic. I moved closer to him,
and he smiled down at me.

“There are legendary people or things known as shadow walkers,” I said, not looking
at Morfael. It was in researching the rune on the top of his staff that I’d come upon
this information. “I read about them. They walk between worlds at will.”

“My mom used to tell me stories about the shadow walkers,” said Siku. “She said they
move between all the many worlds, not just ours and Othersphere. They belong nowhere
and go everywhere. She said they’d come across the veil and take me away if I was
bad. But that’s just a story to frighten kids.”

“So are werewolves,” said Amaris. She threw a smile at London. “Right, London?”

I held my breath. London hated it when people called wolf-shifters werewolves. Those
feral blood-crazed stereotypes made her stomp off to sulk.

But the look Amaris sent her was so merry, so knowing, that a smile broke out suddenly
from under London’s habitual gloom, and she laughed.

“A-wooo!” She threw back her head and howled. The cry was eerie, a genuine wolf call,
raising goose bumps on my arms. Then London grabbed my hand and twirled me around,
singing the song she supposedly hated most: “Werewolves of London.”