Starfall

The Archangel Academy Trilogy

 

UNNATURAL
UNWELCOME
UNAFRAID

 

The Darkborn Legacy

 

MOONGLOW
SUNBLIND
STARFALL

 

 

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

THE DARKBORN LEGACY

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

For my friends—

Allen, Jeff, and Dennis

Once again a big thank-you to Evan, John,
and the entire Kensington team

Star light,
Star bright
Three stars invade my night.

 

I wish so hard
with all my might,
But a wish alone
will not win this fight.

Something is coming.

I know it. I feel it. I feel it as strongly as I feel the transformation that is beginning to take over me. The knowledge is in my bones and in my thoughts and in my soul. It doesn't have a name, but I know that something is coming that will change all the rules yet again. Everything that I've learned, everything that I've grown to accept and understand and hate about myself is going to be erased, because the world around me is on the verge of an evolution. Whatever this thing is, when it comes I'm going to have to forget everything and learn how to be something new, learn how to be something else. But all that will have to wait because right now I have to give in to the full moon looming over my head, the full moon that is ripe and silver and commanding. The time has come for Dominy to disappear and for the wolf to take her place.

After all this time, after all these countless transformations, I'm still fascinated with the moon. In these last moments right before the change, I'm still compelled to look up, marvel at how something so ignored, so common, so insignificant in the sky can cause such frenzy down here on the ground. The moon is so far away and yet it's so close; it's buried underneath my skin, tethered to my soul, joined to me with a lock that has no key. I am the moon and the moon is me. And after all this time I'm still finding out new things about myself just by lifting up my head.

My breath catches in my throat instead of releasing itself into the warm night air because it doesn't want to leave me. It knows that despite everything I say and everything that I tell my friends, I'm still afraid of these transformations, and now when I look up at the moon, I'm more frightened than I've ever been before because I can see my true self.

Looking into the face of the moon, I see a face that is cold and empty and filled with darkness, and I feel as if I'm looking into a mirror. I shudder because I don't want to be like the moon and yet I know that's the truth; that is what I am. The only reason I can be seen now is because I reflect the light; I'm being shined on by other forces. The moon and I have no light of our own; we are both born of darkness.

Was my life before turning into a werewolf nothing more than an illusion? Was it something that was only mine to borrow, to be returned when the moonclock started ticking? Was my goodness before the curse kicked in just on loan? If that's the truth, then that's the cruelest trick of all, crueler than anything Luba could ever conjure up, because now that it's gone, now that the goodness and the light have been ripped from me, the only thing I'm left with is the memory of how precious they really are. And the realization that sin, like Luba, will never be that far from me.

All I have to do to find proof is look to the left. It's there floating in the sky next to the moon, Orion's three stars staring down at me like three angry eyes. Luba, Nadine, and her unborn child. The first two stars shine bright, their light overpowering, overwhelming, while the third star—the one that used to belong to Napoleon before Nadine killed him—is dim. For the moment this third star is as empty as I am, but it won't stay that way for long; soon it will be filled, brimming with evil, and together the three stars, and the three witches, will be more powerful than ever before.

Maybe that's what's coming. The arrival of Nadine's baby will change everything, make my life even more miserable than it's already become. Is that even possible? Could things actually get worse? My laughter decimates the sounds of the night until it's all that I can hear, and I know that the answer is yes; things can always get worse.

In response to my laughter that ripples through the darkness the third star twinkles; its already faint light trembles, then disappears quietly, the same way Napoleon died. I can't stop my laughter even though I know it's incredibly inappropriate, even though my body is burning and breaking and barely recognizable. I just hope that Napoleon understands I'm not laughing at him or at his death, I'm laughing because I'm aware that, no matter where I turn, death is a heartbeat away, and I don't have the strength to cry. I don't have any strength at all at the moment because the wolf is taking it from me. Along with my voice.

A familiar howl escapes from my still-human lips that is part groan, part shriek, a sound that I've grown accustomed to because, as unnatural as it is, it's mine. The echo rams into my ears even as I begin to shrink inward, even as I'm being pulled from the world so the wolf can emerge victorious, and the echoing howl stays with me long after the girl has ceased to exist. Underneath the thick mane of fur, inside the belly of this ferocious animal whose claws and fangs crave destruction and domination, I can still hear my voice, because no matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I want to, I cannot fully disappear. I'm still here.

The wolf and I are no longer separate entities; we're fusing together to become something new like when water and dirt combine to form mud. It didn't happen immediately; for a long time one controlled while the other waited, a stagnant pool of water resting within a mound of dirt. But slowly both sides began to shift, to weaken; water flowed into dirt and dirt burrowed into water to create something new, something that could only be born from the two original elements.

When the transformations first started to take place, the wolf took over completely because the girl was frightened and the beast was stronger. Then as the girl understood what was happening and realized she couldn't stop it, she bartered for her salvation; she agreed to swap places with the wolf, allow him to come alive to feed and hunt, and the wolf agreed to retreat once his primitive hunger was satisfied. But now the wolf and the girl are entering a new phase where boundaries are blurred, and they're being molded together to create a new being, a creature who shares qualities of them both. It's not what I want; I want there to be a clear separation, but I don't have a choice. Like I have no choice now but to feed.

The thing that we've become spies the raccoon, just a few hundred yards away, sleeping or resting or waiting to be devoured. The urge to feed can't be resisted because if I do I'll bring this unstoppable hunger with me to my human self when the full moon fades away. But strangely I have no desire to resist, to stomp out this all-consuming hunger; I only want to give in to it. The new me wants to pierce the raccoon's flesh with my fangs that are wet with saliva; the new me wants to taste this inferior animal's raw flesh. The new me wants to feed. And so the new me does.

Leaping into the silent air, this new thing that I've become invades the tranquility of the night and lands inches from the petrified prey. Before it can move or cry out, my front paws have grabbed it by its neck and back and my fangs have snuggled deep into its stomach. The raccoon writhes valiantly, but since my paw has crushed its throat it isn't making a sound; to an unsuspecting eye it could appear that the raccoon is being tickled instead of eaten. The world is so easily fooled. The world maybe, but not a mother.

I look up, a thick string of blood connecting me to my feast, and see the raccoon's mother staring at me. Her eyes are vacant; they aren't judging me; they aren't pleading with me; they have been ripped of all feeling because she knows no emotion will change the fact that her child is lost to her forever. Her quiet acceptance makes me think of my own parents.

Crouched on all fours, my snout stained with the remnants of my kill, I pause as human memories fill my mind. I think of my father, who knew from a very young age that he would ultimately lose his firstborn to the clutches of this preordained curse. I think of my mother, who knows that she has lost her children forever, but is still dreaming of a reunion that will never take place. Deep in their hearts burns the agonizing acceptance of their fate. I've placed the same fate on the head of this raccoon staring at me. Despite everything that I know, I'm letting the cycle continue.

Resigned, the dead raccoon's mother bows her head—perhaps in prayer? Do animals pray?—and slinks into the night, swallowed up by the shadows, and I want to follow her. I want to peel back that curtain of darkness and let it envelop me so I can remain there until the sun returns. But this new me won't allow it. The wolf can't take over or let me borrow its strength. The girl can't retreat into nothingness until the dawn breaks no matter how desperately she wants to, no matter how desperately afraid she is. And there is so much to be afraid of; there is so much to fear. Especially now that the something I've been waiting for is getting closer.

Instinctively, I crouch lower, my belly pressing into the earth, and growl. The wolf may have abandoned me, but its skills are now mine; I know how to act when I may have to strike back and defend myself. I know how to kill.

My neck swings heavily to the left, then the right, looking for an intruder, a visitor, a new arrival, but I don't see anything. I hear a noise, and for a second I think that I'll see Louis and Barnaby leading the rest of the town vigilantes coming to hunt me down. But could that be? I thought they had both given up their quest and realized their zealousness was nothing more than panic and they were behaving like members of a foolish mob. How could the killer be linked to the full moon? It's insanity. At least that's what Luba and Melinda want the two of them to think. But perhaps Louis is coming out of the fog that he was under just as Barnaby has and they have come to the only logical conclusion, regardless of how absurd it sounds: The Full Moon Killer is real and worthy of its name.

And then I see it. So small, so inconsequential that I almost miss it. A spark of light, nothing more, demands my attention, and instantly I realize that the danger isn't coming from the earth, but from the sky. Orion's constellation has shifted, and where there were three stars, there are now only two. But the third star hasn't disappeared; it hasn't imploded or faded into the black landscape of the night; it's falling.

I don't know if Orion has released its grip on the star or if the star has turned its back on its creator; I only know that it's about to plummet to the earth. And even this new me, this fusion of wolf and girl, knows that can't possibly be a good thing.

Backing up, my paws dig into the ground and gouge the earth, restlessness turning quickly to anger. This cannot be it! This cannot be how I'm going to die! Not after everything that I've overcome, not after everything that my friends and I have confronted and defeated and survived. I refuse to believe that I'll be destroyed by a falling star! When I hear the buzzing, I know that I'm right. It was a trick; a star hasn't fallen to the earth; a swarm of bees has come alive.

I hear the bees before I can see them. The buzz, buzz, buzzing sound is soft, comforting, like a mother's lullaby, but quickly it turns violent. The gentle mother is gone and replaced with something vicious, something that wants to destroy, something wolf-like.

“Jess!”

Her name slams against the buzzing, part-growl, part-yell, and splinters in every direction. Jess will come; she will save me like she always does; I know she will.

Then where is she?!

“Jess!!!”

The noise sounds nothing like her name, but I know Jess will recognize it anyway because it's coming from me. But why is the night not interrupted by a golden light? Why isn't the hot August breeze laced with the smell of cherry blossoms? Why isn't she coming?!

“JESS!!!”

All I see is the black funnel flying toward me, its sound now deafening and filled with murderous determination. I can't wait for Jess any longer, I can't wait to be saved, I have to save myself so instinctively my body whips around and I run blindly into the darkness. I picked this place to transform because it was hidden, tucked away in the bowels of the forest and populated with a large cluster of thick trees, perfect for camouflage, but difficult for escape.

This isn't like the last time I was chased by a swarm of bees. That was a dream; this is real. Then, salvation came when I woke up; now, with my eyes wide open, salvation is nowhere to be found. Running wildly I can feel my body scrape against the trunks of the trees, causing pieces of their bark to be ripped off and fly into the air. I run for a few feet in one direction, but then have to veer off into the other to avoid crashing into a massive rock, and then back to my original direction to avoid getting tangled within the gnarled roots that have grown so immense that the ground can no longer cover them completely. No matter which way I run, there are obstacles preventing me from sprinting to safety, but is there such a place? What place can possibly offer a wolf-girl protection that a bee can't penetrate?

The buzzing is getting louder and it sounds like someone is pulling the cord on a chainsaw directly behind me. My thick red fur billows from a combination of wind and fear, and I honestly don't know which is stronger. Why
hadn't
a star fallen to earth? At least then I wouldn't be the only one in danger; I'd have company. When I run through a puddle, the water so cool against the burning, calloused flesh of my paw, I know that although I am alone, salvation has finally arrived.

Inhaling deeply I can smell the scent of fresh water on the breeze, and I turn sharply to the right. I hope I'm going in the right direction, but I don't have time to contemplate; body trumps mind, and I must keep moving.

The trees finally give way to a clearing, and I can see Weeping Water River less than a mile away beyond a stretch of flat, open land. I fight the urge to turn around and see how close my enemy is, but before temptation grows too strong I see out of the corner of my eye that several bees are flying ahead of the swarm. They may be leaders who have moved forward, waiting for the precise moment to give the order to strike, or they may be rogue bees so anxious to taste wolf flesh that they've broken free from the swarm, but whatever they are my response has to be the same; I need to run faster. Need to reach the river now!