Othermoon (14 page)

The bear and the lynx were nodding while the rat took her hair down and began to reassemble
her bun, a slight smirk on her face. “Imagine a world without the Tribunal trying
to wipe us out,” she said. “Or maybe my bird and wolf friends prefer to live in fear?”

The wolf growled a little to himself, but said nothing. My heart lifted. It seemed
as if the Council members were still three to two in my favor. Maybe it was possible
for the vote to go my way.

“Yes, I think the rat representative, the bear, and I see eye to eye on this,” the
lynx was saying. “Shall we cast our votes on whether Desdemona Grey should be allowed
to stay at Morfael’s school for the rest of the year?”

“I’d like to inform the Council of just one more point, if I may,” said the hawk,
lowering his hands and staring balefully into his camera. “Last night an eagle-shifter
named Rafael Perez was taken to a jail in Wickenburg, Arizona, on charges of child
abuse. His two sons, Luis and Cordero, were put in county foster care and will remain
there unless a close relative willing to take them can be found. You see, someone
anonymously called humdrum Child Protective Services yesterday morning and told them
Mr. Perez was beating his children. When they arrived, they found physical evidence
of abuse, and both sons eventually told authorities it was at the hands of their father.”

My heart was pounding so hard that I almost couldn’t hear his last few words. Morfael
turned his head toward me, fingers tightening on his staff. I felt Caleb’s fingers
cool against the hot skin on my arm. I was burning up from a thousand different emotions.
But I stared right into the camera, determined not to look away. I wasn’t going to
run from what I’d done.

“An anonymous caller reported him—to the
humdrums
?” said the bear, her eyes widening.

“I wonder who
that
could be?” said the wolf, bushy eyebrows thunderous over deep-set eyes now fixed
on me.

“The oldest Perez son, Arnaldo, was nowhere to be found,” the hawk-shifter continued.
“The youngest Perez boy claims Arnaldo was kidnapped by a group of teenagers, while
the middle son says Arnaldo went with them willingly.”

A small silence fell. I fought the urge to tell them I’d been that anonymous caller,
and that someone should have called for help a long time ago.

“So it’s possible that Arnaldo called the authorities himself,” said the lynx.

“Are Mr. Perez’s sons telling the truth?” asked the rat.

“Who cares if it’s true?” the wolf shouted. “Did you hear him? Two raptor boys are
in a humdrum foster home! I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I was in a humdrum Russian orphanage till I got adopted by a humdrum,” I said. “I’m
lucky to have found the mother I have.”

“Lucky? Look how you turned out!” the wolf said, snarling. “Disobedient, head full
of crazy ideas . . .”

“Make no mistake, this is an unacceptable situation,” said the hawk. “These boys are
no longer connected to their tribe, and the bird-shifters have lost three of their
kind in a single stroke.”

“They’re not dead!” The words burst out of me before I could think. “No one’s
lost
. Mr. Perez drinks too much and he beats his sons. It’s awful! Everyone here knows
that. Now he’ll have to stop hitting them. He might even get help to stop drinking.”

“I knew it was you who made the call,” said the hawk. “As soon as I heard the news,
I knew.”

“Your people should have made that call long ago!” The words spat out of me with a
savageness that surprised me. I was angry, furious that those kids had been left to
cope with abuse and alcoholism on their own. “If you gave a damn about those kids,
you’d have gone in and taken them out yourself.”

I shot a look at Morfael, expecting him to tell me to be quiet. But he said nothing.

“That call was not yours to make,” the bear said. She was looking very uncomfortable,
like she was sitting on something hot. “You should have contacted us first. The raptor
Council member would have taken the matter to his tribe. . . .”

“And done nothing!” I threw my hands up in the air. “The same way you’ve done nothing
about the Tribunal. You’re so afraid of anything different that you’re paralyzed.”

“Afraid?” The wolf leaned forward menacingly. “You dare call us cowards?”

“I don’t know,” I said, fuming. “All I’ve ever seen from you is fear—fear of the Tribunal
that sends you scurrying into your holes. Fear of the other tribes, which prevents
you from working together to get rid of the threats.”

“Tiger arrogance,” huffed the wolf. “You’re not the top of the food chain here, girl!”

All at once the anger whooshed out of me like air from a balloon. I felt very tired,
and sad. Caleb’s warm hand found the small of my back reassuringly. His eyes were
shining, bright with shared anger. His lips were pressed together tightly. He’d promised
Morfael he wouldn’t say anything, and he hadn’t, but it was wearing on him. Our shared
gaze gave me some strength.

“I’m speaking as a human being,” I said. “To other human beings. If we don’t come
together, the Tribunal has already won.”

Their faces were too much of a mix for me to read: anger, confusion, pity, compassion.
It didn’t matter. I was doomed. I’d exploded at them, and pushed myself into exile.

“
Are
you human?” the hawk asked pointedly.

My head jerked up. I stared at him.

“I hear you have a second animal form,” he said.

“What?” The lynx looked at me, shocked. “That can’t be true.”

“It is true,” said Morfael. “But it is not unprecedented.”

“If it’s true, then what is she?” The rat peered at me through her camera lens. “Is
she tiger or cat? Humdrum or otherkin?”

“Or something else entirely?” the bear said. “Is she some new threat?”

That was it. The hawk had done his job well, turning even my allies against me. I
looked over at Morfael, about to tell him to just end this already. I knew my fate.
But Morfael didn’t look ruffled or worried. In fact, his pale, alien face looked vaguely
pleased.

“Desdemona is only a threat to your old way of thinking,” Morfael said. “The truth
is that any one of you could also take an alternate animal form if you learned how.”

The wolf laughed outright. “Are you trying to use this to recruit more students, caller
of shadows? This is the death of your school, and you know it.”

“The death of one thing leads to the birth of another,” said Morfael coolly. “You
could shift into a fox if only your mind allowed it, just as the Lady Lynx could generate
a cougar form.”

The rat looked skeptical, but at least she didn’t look furious, like the rest of them.
“Are you saying I could be a mouse if I just believed it?”

Morfael nodded. “Or a squirrel or gopher. I advise you to try for other rodent forms
first.”

“First?” The bear’s voice shot up into the stratosphere. “Are you saying any of us
could be . . . anything?”

Morfael didn’t reply, but he was smiling.

I looked at Caleb, blinking. He shook his head at me, wonder on his face.

“I’ve had enough of this nonsense,” said the hawk. “I’m a hawk-shifter, nothing else,
and never want to be. I ask the Chief of the Council to bring a vote now on whether
Desdemona Grey should be allowed to remain at Morfael’s school.”

“Very well.” The lynx’s voice was dull, full of misgiving. My heart sank. “I must,
with regret, vote against.”

“And I,” said the bear-shifter, shaking her head. “Most unfortunate, but this girl
is clearly a bad influence.”

“I vote for her to stay, for whatever that’s worth,” said the rat. “I’m sorry, Desdemona.”

“You all know how I feel,” said the wolf. “Throw her out!”

“And my vote makes four against.” The hawk’s voice was smug. “Pack your bags, tiger-shifter.”

“The vote is four to one against Desdemona Grey,” the lynx said formally, and bowed
her head. “Good luck to you in the humdrum world. For you are no longer a member of
ours.”

CHAPTER 11

The next few minutes were a blur for me, but before the lynx hung up, she made it
clear to Morfael that I had to be gone within twenty-four hours, or they would ask
the members of their tribes to boycott his school. His current students would be withdrawn,
and he would personally be shunned by shifter communities everywhere.

“I understand,” was all he had said, and ended the call.

I leaned against the desk, suddenly exhausted, my shoulder touching the computer monitor
as Morfael shut it down. Caleb put his arm around me, and a spark flew upward from
the screen followed by a loud pop.

We jumped back as a thin thread of smoke wafted from the monitor.

I sighed. “Sorry.”

Morfael’s pale eyes traveled from me to the monitor and back again. “After you have
some breakfast, you and I will have a private lesson. You can learn to manipulate
this ability with technology.”

“Ability? More like a curse,” I said. Then what he said sank fully into my brain.
“What do you mean, lesson? They just kicked me out!”

He just lifted his eyebrows and nodded toward the door.
Typical.

I followed Caleb out, feeling sick. I stopped in the doorway and looked back at Morfael.
“Should I start packing tonight, or . . . ”

“He won’t kick you out, will you, Morfael?” asked Caleb. “Those bastards can’t tell
you what to do.”

“We will discuss this later,” Morfael said, and the firmness in his voice pushed us
out the door.

“This can’t be happening,” I said as Caleb and I treaded up the stairs. “If I don’t
leave in twenty-four hours, the Council says they’ll tell everyone’s parents to pull
their kids out—and that’s it! I just started feeling like I belong in this crazy world,
and now I have to go?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb said. “If I could get my hands on that damned hawk-shifter .
. .”

“What about Mom and Richard? If I go back and live with them, that brings the Tribunal
down on them as well. Maybe I should change my name, start a new life. .”

“Only if you take me with you,” he said.

I stopped on the stairs, turning to him, and he wrapped his arms around me. I buried
my face in his neck. “I can’t lose you,” I said. “At least here at the school, we’re
with each other. If I go back home . . .”

“Your mother wouldn’t want you anywhere else,” he said softly.

My mother.
He was right. She’d die of worry if I went out on my own. “Okay, so I have to go
back to Vegas.” I pulled away to look at his face, tugging on his coat. “You’ll take
me to Vegas when I go back, won’t you? It’s not a short drive. And maybe you could
stay with us somehow, for a little while.”

He shook his head. “Don’t go there yet. We don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“And just when we’re on the verge of maybe finding something out about Ximon!” I pounded
my fist on the railing. Anger was creeping in under my despair. “Maybe I should have
told the Council about the particle accelerator. Do you think that would help? I could
go back and tell them there’s this huge new threat, and they’d see I’m just trying
to help. . . .”

“Tell them there’s a huge Tribunal compound an easy drive from the school?” He frowned
at me. “That would just make them want to bulldoze this place.”

I sighed. “You’re right. What am I thinking?” And I turned to continue up the stairs.

“You’re upset,” he said. “So am I. But there’s got to be a way to figure this out.”

At the breakfast table, London wouldn’t look at me or Caleb and hadn’t touched the
lone fried egg on her plate. November was oddly subdued, casting sideways glances
at Siku. Amaris dropped silverware with a nerve-shattering clatter at unexpected intervals,
and Arnaldo was silent and glum. Only Siku was dribbling honey all over everything
and eating with his usual gusto.

I picked at my food as the uncomfortable silence spread out and settled in for the
long haul. Finally, it was too much. I had to tell Arnaldo about his family before
he heard it from someone else. He might never forgive me otherwise.

“The Council gave us some news on your dad,” I said. Next to me, Caleb moved restlessly,
realizing what I was about to do.

Arnaldo looked up from his plate, eyebrows shooting up. “Why didn’t you say anything?
What happened?”

“I . . .” Nothing to do but just say it. “I called Child Protective Services yesterday,
and they went to your house, found evidence, and arrested your father for child abuse.”

“What?” Arnaldo’s brown eyes were like dagger points over his pointed nose. “You got
my father arrested?”

“Hitting his sons is what got him arrested,” Caleb said swiftly.

Arnaldo didn’t seem to hear him. “What about my brothers? What’s happened to them?”

I made myself say it. “They’re in foster care, until a relative can be found to take
them in.”

“Foster care?” Arnaldo’s sharp voice rose in alarm. “In some home?”

November exchanged a glance with London and mouthed the words “Holy shit.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. But maybe that’s better than—”

“Living in their own home?” Arnaldo stood up, throwing his napkin down. “They’re living
with humdrums now. People who don’t understand them.”

“I live with humdrums,” I said. “It’s a lot better than being beaten up. And maybe
once your father gets some help, he’ll be a better—”

“Shut up! What do you know about my father? What do you know about anything?” Arnaldo
shoved himself away from the table and strode from the room.

November watched him go. “Nice job, Stripes.”

“You did the right thing,” Siku said unexpectedly through a mouthful.

“I’ve been worried about those kids too,” London said. “Do you really think they’ll
be better off?”

“I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t speak up,” I said, staring after Arnaldo.
“And you guys might not have to put up with me much longer. The Council told Morfael
he has to kick me out by tomorrow morning.”

“What?” London’s forehead creased with distress. “Can they do that?”

November threw down a sausage. “Great. Just when we got the school up and running
again. They’ll tell our parents, Wolfie. How long do you think your mom and dad will
keep paying tuition if the Council tells them to pull you out?”

Amaris leaned over the table toward Caleb. “They don’t have any sway over us, do they?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think you and I have to worry. Not right away at least.”

Siku bit into a strawberry, thinking hard. Still chewing, he said, “Did any of you
tell your parents where the school is?”

November pulled her chin in, startled. “No, but what’s that got to do with it?”

London gave a quick laugh. “So they can tell us to leave all they want . . .”

Siku shrugged. “It’s up to us to decide if we listen to them.”

“Arnaldo won’t want to stay now,” I said. “He hates me.”

“He’s just scared,” said Amaris. “For his brothers.”

At that moment, Morfael glided into the room and crooked a long finger at me.

The others looked at me. “Private lessons in not killing computers,” I said, standing
up. “For all the good that does me.”

As I left the table, the others resumed arguing about just how much control their
parents had over them. It all depended on Morfael, really. If he kicked me out, they
could stay in school without conflict. Maybe that was best for everyone. Everyone
except me and Caleb.

Caleb grabbed my hand as I moved away and walked a few steps with me. “I know it was
hard, but I’m glad you told Arnaldo. He had to know.”

“I hope he forgives me before I have to leave,” I said.

“I hope he forgives you after you stay.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek.

I wearily followed Morfael to the library, where he had two watches, an electric hand
drill, a battered toaster, and a lamp laid out on the table. He also had a huge fern,
which had hung by a window, set on the table next to the mechanical objects.

After getting me to concentrate on my breath for a few minutes, he told me to touch
one of the watches and stop it. At first, nothing happened, then like the sting of
a bee, my hand itched, and the second hand stopped moving.

“Now place that hand in the soil,” he said, pointing at the fern in its ceramic pot.

“Um, okay.” Having no idea what he was up to, I slid my hand between the fronds and
laid my hand onto the dirt by the base of the fern. It felt cool, soothing. I focused
on my breath again.

“Now with your other hand, take hold of the drill and turn it on,” said Morfael.

It sounded like the beginnings of a dirty joke, but I said nothing, taking hold of
the base of the hand drill. I flipped the “on” switch. It hummed and vibrated slightly,
ready to work.

“Now turn it off, using only your energy,” he said. “Remember the feel of the soil
in your right hand, and direct any excess energy there.”

“So you think my green thumb’s connected to this whole anti-tech thing?” I asked.

“Did I say to ask questions?” he asked mildly.

Trying to remember how it felt when I’d touched the watch and stopped it, I leaned
my mind into the drill slightly. Nothing happened.

“Is it that you think you know better than everyone else?” Morfael said casually,
startling me out of my concentration. “Is that why you called Child Protective Services
without telling anyone?”

“What? No!” I stared at him, one hand in dirt, the other gripping a rusty tool. “I
just couldn’t stand thinking about Arnaldo’s brothers. . . .”

“That doesn’t explain the secrecy,” he said. “Are you afraid your friends will reject
you if you reveal your arrogance to them?”

“My . . . no!” My grip tightened on the drill, my other hand clutching at the dirt
in the fern’s pot. “I mean, I’m kind of worried they’ll think I’m full of myself.
But I have to do the right thing.”

“And how do you know what the right thing is?” Morfael took two steps toward me, staff
in hand, pale eyes aglow. “Do you plan to turn your leadership role in this group
into a dictatorship?”

“Of course not!” I yelled. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

The drill in my hand stop-started, like it was shorting out. Morfael leaned in even
closer, looming over me. “Quick, direct your emotions into the soil. Now!”

“But, I . . .”

“Now!!

Confused and angry, I shoved my focus to the dirt between my fingers, digging my nails
down, feeling them sink deep into the damp gritty earth. The drill wound down its
power slowly, then stopped dead. But it didn’t turn black or catch on fire. That was
progress. The fern’s fronds seemed to stretch out another half an inch, glowing a
slightly brighter green.

“Good,” said Morfael, his eyes crinkling in his version of a smile. “Now let it start
up again.”

The anger and confusion I’d been feeling floated away as I realized he had deliberately
provoked me. I released the soil in my right hand and relaxed. The drill flicked on
again. The fern still looked bigger and healthier than it had before.

“You already have more control than you think,” Morfael said.

We spent the next two hours going through similar exercises, until I didn’t even need
to touch the soil or the fern anymore. I could direct excess energy down through my
feet to the floor, or imagine it spiraling away from an outstretched hand.

“It’s a total contradiction,” I said, after about an hour of this. “I have to tap
into my feelings but control them at the same time.”

“It is the same when a caller manipulates shadow,” he said. “Now, go fetch the Shadow
Blade.”

I did as I was told, and the effect of holding the Blade was like being buried up
to my neck in the earth. I felt so calm, so centered, and my emotions were so accessible
that I shorted the lamp out with a touch and turned the exterior of the toaster completely
black, even as it finished toasting a slice of bread. When it popped up, smelling
all warm and toasty, I grabbed it and took a bite. I was ravenous. Ravenous and tired.

“Silver will probably still make your skin itch,” Morfael said. “But with continued
practice, you should be able to carry a phone for indefinite periods of time, and
own a laptop without worrying you’ll destroy it in a day or two. Now go do your midday
shift with the others, eat, and take a nap. You’re excused from other classes until
two p.m. We will do this again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” My heart jumped in my chest. “Will I still be here tomorrow?”

“You still have much to learn,” Morfael said dryly. “And so does the Council.”

“But, what if the other kids leave because you let me stay?”

He studied me. “Do you think they’ll do that?”

I stared back at him, remembering how quickly they had abandoned me when I’d shifted
into my second animal form. But so much had happened since then. We had bonded. We
were family. “No?” I said, making it a question.

He didn’t reply.

“But what if the Council tries to punish you, or their parents retaliate somehow?”

He nodded. “Actions have consequences. We can’t foresee all ends, but we can trust
ourselves to deal with what is to come. Now go. You are tired.”

For once I slept deeply, dreaming about giant toasters and ferns like green octopi
with eyes and fronds that grabbed me like tentacles.

At dinner, Arnaldo sat in his usual place, but didn’t look at me. I told Caleb quietly
about my lesson with Morfael, and everyone else ate without speaking. Then I said,
more loudly, “Morfael’s going to give me another lesson. Tomorrow.”