Starfall (19 page)

“Look at those prints,” Gallegos says.

“Well, I'll be,” Owenski replies.

“Human
and
wolf prints,” Gallegos states, his voice filled with both shock and excitement. “Maybe Lars was right.”

“What?”

“Maybe I was attacked by a werewolf.”

Gallegos swirls his flashlight all around, and I practically bury myself into the ground to hide, but there's no way I can leave; I have to hear what else they have to say. What are they going to do with this newfound information?

“Or maybe it's some joker who wants us to think it's a werewolf,” Owenski replies. When he speaks again, his voice is no longer calm. “Do you have Louis's gun?”

“No,” Gallegos replies. “He must have had it on him.”

“He didn't,” Owenski confirms. “I checked while you were trying not to freak out.”

“I wasn't
freaking out!
” Gallegos says defiantly. “I was saving . . .”

“We can debate it later!” Owenski interrupts. “We have to find that gun, or we just might have an
armed
werewolf on the loose!”

I may not be armed, but if they find me they'll still be satisfied. There's nothing more I can do here to ensure Louis's safety; his team has taken care of that. It's time for me to leave. The wolf has done everything he can; soon it will be the girl's chance to take over.

The next day at school, the last before our Christmas break, I try to convince myself that last night was a dream. I didn't find out Vera was a fallen star, I didn't commit to working with Luba, and I didn't overhear Louis's detectives continue to entertain the idea that not only do werewolves exist, but that one is roaming our woods. I do a pretty good job of it too until I literally bump into Vera on the way to my last class. Racing around the corner of the hallway to grab my French textbook out of my locker, I don't see Vera until we slam into each other.

“I told you Louis wouldn't be harmed,” she declares.

And she was right. Louis spent a total of twenty minutes in the hospital, most of the time unconscious, while the doctors performed a battery of tests on him, all of which came back negative. And when he came back to consciousness he arrived with no memory of what had taken place right before he blacked out.

He told us this morning that all he could remember was thinking that he saw a wolf, shooting at it, and passing out. He doesn't even recall being attacked.

Looking at Vera now, I search for a clue that she isn't human, that she really is a piece of Orion's constellation walking on earth, and I can't find one. Her disguise is foolproof. At least she can be taken at her word; she said she wouldn't harm Louis, and she didn't.

“Thank you,” I reply. “There's just one thing though. Louis can't find his gun.”

Vera smiles conspiratorially and reaches into her schoolbag to reveal Louis's missing gun. “That's because I took it.”

“What are you doing?!” I shout, immediately positioning myself in front of her so if anyone passes by they won't see what she's holding. “Do you know what'll happen if you get caught with a gun at school?”

“And do you know what'll happen if you let the hunter keep his gun that's filled with silver bullets?” Vera asks.

Silver bullets?

“Louis may not understand what he's dealing with,” Vera replies. “But he harbors enough instinct and superstition to take precautions.”

I always knew that Louis's Creole background had empowered him with a different type of knowledge than the typical Nebraskan cop, but I really didn't think he would go so far as to load his gun with silver bullets, the only kind that can kill me. Guess I was wrong. About that and a lot of other things.

Vera places the gun in my locker and then slams the door shut. I make a mental note to bury the stolen item after school in case I forget that it's there and Dumbleavy decides to do a school-wide locker search for drugs and other illegal items when we return after Christmas break. She looks directly into my eyes, and she looks like every other girl in this school, but I know that she's so different she's practically unexplainable. Just as unexplainable is the question of why she's going to such great lengths to protect me. Sure, she needs me to work with Luba to thwart Nadine's plans, but Vera's preternatural, for God's sake. Why does she need me to do her dirty work?

“You really should brush up on your Greek mythology, Dominy,” she says, reading my mind.

Random! Before I can ask what her odd comment is supposed to mean, she continues, “I thought that giving you one of the only weapons that can truly kill you might convince you that it's time for you to do the right thing.”

Frightened, but curious, I ask, “And what exactly would be the right thing to do?”

“Maybe it's time you told Louis the truth.”

I feel like I'm in limbo. In that space that isn't before or after, that space that's filled with worry and anticipation and excitement, not truly free, not truly a prisoner, and thankfully not alone.

Sitting in our basement I'm surrounded by the Wolf Pack, wasting time during that universal limbo period, the time between Christmas and New Year's Day when the trivialities and regular pulse of life go on hiatus and leave us hanging until their return after the first of the new year. It's usually a time when most of the world slows down to breathe easier and more fully, to indulge in forgotten pleasures, to reconnect with family and friends. Unfortunately, my inner circle is about to expand.

“So now that you and Luba are some sort of supercouple like Gwenaby, I think we should refer to you as Domuba,” Arla suggests. “No, wait!! Lubominy!”

I hate it, and yet I love it at the same time.

“I think I'm finally getting the hang of this newmencla-ture,” Arla squeals. “Oh my God I did it again!”

Leave it to Arla to make me laugh. Gigglaughing may be inappropriate, but despite its implications, Lubominy really is a terrific word.

“So it's kind of like Orion gave you the perfect Christmas gift,” Arla states.

And gigglaughs are officially silenced to allow reality to regain control.

“Sure, instead of a thank-you card, I have to join forces with Luba,” I snap.

Chugging a glassful of chocolate egg nog, Caleb chimes in, “Sounds like me and the starman have something in common.” He's either too enraptured by the thick sweetness of his drink or he's just ignoring my sarcasm. He can't ignore Archie's.

“And what exactly would that be?” Archie asks. “The gift of giving really bad gifts?”

Still swallowing, Caleb swats Archie on the back of his head. “Winter! You're supposed to be on my side,” he cries. “I told Domgirl that she should team up with Luba the instant she told me Nadine was having twins.”

“Which I'm sure was something Dominy was thrilled to hear,” Archie says.

It wasn't. But sometimes the most important things you need to hear are the things you don't ever want or ever expect to be told.

“I wasn't thrilled by Caleb's suggestion,” I admit. “But when Vera told me the same thing and why, from Orion's point of view, it was vitally important, it really started to seem like the only logical course of action.”

Archie remains silent, but I can tell it's only because he can't find the words to disagree with me. He's come to the same conclusion I have; there's no argument against my joining Team Luba. He isn't happy with it, but like me, he can't fight it any longer. Once again Arla's unruffled approach to all things supernatural lightens the tense atmosphere that is threatening to make our basement inhospitable to life, human or otherwise.

“What does it say about me that I thought it was weirder when Vera was a Connecticutian than now that she's celestial?” she asks. “I mean, I'm actually having an easier time accepting the fact that the new girl in town is a fallen star than thinking of her as a former resident of Nadine's hometown.”

“It's because you've been hanging around me for too long,” I say.

“And none of us would have it any other way,” Caleb replies, giving me a quick kiss. His lips taste deliciously chocolaty, and for a split second I forget that we're pondering life-altering decisions, until Archie bends over to scratch his ankle and I see a stagnant pool of blackness in the center of his sea of white hair.

If Jess is right and if the world is truly one giant balancing act, that means there's good and evil everywhere and in everyone. We're all half-breeds, which I know is an offensive term, but it's fitting in this instance, because all of us except for Caleb can be found in the two-for-one aisle of the Price Chopper. Me, Arla, Archie, Jess, Vera, Orion, and if I'm being fair, maybe even Luba. Is it possible that shrouded under all that darkness and deception and duplicity lies some goodness? Is there an uncontaminated piece of her that I can trust? There has to be; I mean if not, then our truce is nothing but a sham. And if she is infused with Orion's star energy just like Vera is and I trust Vera, then according to the laws of mathematics I should be able to trust Luba too. But can I truly trust Vera?

“Vera told me something else,” I say.

Archie lifts his head, and all I can see is his smooth white skin and violet eyes. “She always does this.”

“I know,” Arla agrees.

Heads practically touching they still look like carbon copies of each other, even though the crew cuts are gone since Archie's let his hair grow out and Arla's wearing her long black wig that makes her look like Cher from the early days of her career, which thanks to cosmetic surgical enhancements looks exactly like Cher four decades later. Physically, Archie's and Arla's appearances may be different, but emotionally, their attitudes are in sync.

“Dom tosses us only a teeny bit of information like we're lab rats who can only chew on a tiny piece of cheese at one time or else we'll explode,” Archie states.

“Have we not proven, Dom, that we're not going to explode if you tell us everything you know all at once?” Arla asks.

“She's right, Domgirl,” Caleb adds, pouring himself his third glass of choconog. Clearly, college has increased his appetite.

Well, I'm about to increase my friends' cheese intake. I draw my knees into my chest in preparation for the explosion.

“Vera said it's time for me to tell Louis the truth.”

On cue Arla, Archie, and Caleb explode, and I'm showered with thought-shrapnel; their ammunition doesn't pierce my flesh, but it's still as powerful. Not that they're saying anything I haven't already told myself since Vera dropped the bombshell that Louis should be allowed membership to the Wolf Pack. Why should I make Louis more involved than he already is? He's managed to free himself from both Luba's spell and Melinda's mind games. Why tell him the truth about both of them now? And if we tell him about them, we have to tell him about me too. And not just the selected truth, the whole truth. That the serial killer he's searching for is living under his roof.

“I can't imagine Jess would want you to confess,” Caleb says. He runs a finger slowly over his bracelet, and I can feel his fingers gliding across my flesh. As always his words, like his presence, are a comfort, even if they stir up the little pellets of fear that live in the center of my soul. “Not after everything she's done to protect you since . . .”

Since I murdered her.

“And you said she doesn't blame you, Dom,” Arla adds. “She knows she's dead because of Luba. She wouldn't want you to be punished for something you didn't do.”

“And if you tell Louis the truth, you might as well subscribe to
Prison Monthly
to find out how to decorate your cell,” Archie quips. “A cell that you're not going to be able to escape from, by the way.”

They're right. As much as I would like to think that Louis would understand the truth and protect me like my father did, there's a chance that he'll act like the really good cop he's become and put me away for murder. It's a chance I'm not yet ready to take.

“Maybe I can't trust everything Vera says,” I confess. “I mean she also told me that I should brush up on my Greek mythology, as if that would hold a key to unlocking this whole mystery.”

“She said that?” Arla asks.

“Yup,” I reply. “Right before she dropped the bombshell about telling your father the truth.”

“Well, you know what they say about mythology,” Caleb says, now chomping on a cookie.

“What?” I ask.

“It's all Greek to me.”

And the intellectual portion of our impromptu powwow has officially ended.

 

The following Sunday at church the mystery that is my life takes me on another unexpected journey.

In most communities a church's congregation expands during the Christmas season, and St. Edmund's is no exception. It's SRO what with everyone vowing to return to their religious roots or trying to atone for their sins or simply wanting to make a good impression with the rest of the town. There isn't room for all of us to sit together, so Arla's forced to sit with her dad in his reserved spot in the front row, Archie's stuck in the back with his family, Barnaby and Gwen are sitting with her parents on the right, and I'm sitting in a pew on the left next to Caleb. I'm positioned near a beautiful stained-glass window depicting Jesus wearing a crown of thorns, dragging the cross through the desert under the blazing sun. He's essentially on trial in the court of public opinion. Just like Nadine.

Amid the murmur and chatter of the restless parishioners, I hear a whisper. It tugs on my ear like a thorn scraping against my forehead. It's Nadine's voice. I look over to the right and see that Nadine is sitting next to her mother. On the other side of Melinda is Luba, as if grandmother and granddaughter now need to be separated at all costs. Although all three of them share the same space, they ignore one another. It's as if they're sitting on three neighboring islands; they all exist in the same vicinity, but their bodies refuse to touch.

Nadine's voice is soft, and I'm sure without my wolf-hearing it would be undetectable, but lucky for me I can hear every word she's saying to her unborn children.

“Someday everyone will be celebrating your birthday just like they celebrate Jesus's,” she sighs. “You'll be known everywhere and by everyone as the special children you are, and everyone will look at me with envy because I'm your mother. But when they see how special and powerful and kind you are, their envy will turn to admiration, because they'll understand you could only be who you are thanks to a mother's love.”

I feel like I'm listening in on a conversation between a Swedish mother and her children in her native tongue; I'm finding it difficult to comprehend what I'm hearing.

“Your lives will be glorious,” Nadine continues. “Lives filled with wonder and astonishment and glory, and I will be by your side every step of the way. I will never let you drift on your own like my mother and my grandmother did.”

Caleb yawns, and I know he can't hear a word Nadine is saying, no one else can, only me and her kids. But is she speaking to them or to me? Does she know I'm listening? Is she deliberately trying to fool me into thinking a softer, more maternal side of her exists, one that isn't consumed with revenge and destruction and total global domination?

“Someday I'll give you the life I never had,” Nadine says, her voice softer than ever. “The kind of life I never thought was possible until now.”

Slowly Nadine's finger begins to trace something on her bloated stomach. She's blessing her children with an invisible tattoo, the stars of Orion. A tingling sensation starts to twist around my spine, because I know that the words she just spoke to them were prayer-like, but I get the sense that the intent behind them has nothing at all to do with mercy. Unless it's the mercy of the rest of the world. Sitting with her family, but very much alone, Nadine looks simultaneously impervious and fragile; the world could either destroy her or be destroyed by her, depending upon which way the pendulum swings.

“She's an interesting creature, isn't she?”

I didn't notice Vera squeeze into the seat next to me. I'm not sure if that's because I'm preoccupied with Nadine's monologue or because Vera appeared out of thin air. Her mere proximity has quieted Nadine; there's nothing left to listen to, but there's so much more to see.

“Does she scare you?” Vera asks.

When I realize that Caleb isn't reacting to Vera's presence, it dawns on me that she's a hologram; she's here in spirit, not in body. How fitting for a house of God. Not wanting to make my boyfriend think I'm talking to yet another unseen entity, I nod my head. Yes, Nadine does scare me.

“Let me show you something that will really scare you,” Vera says.

What a lovely invitation. Vera grabs my hand, and starlight seems to spill out of her pores. At first it moves slowly like silver blood, like a baby who has just learned how to crawl. When Father Charles approaches the altar, Vera's body ignites and becomes an inferno of starlight. Just as my spirit escapes my flesh, leaving my body behind to remain seated next to Caleb, I notice Father Charles looking in my direction, and a flicker of acknowledgment sparkles in his eyes. Either he's given me permission to leave, or he's just prayed that my soul survives my travels.

We rise up, and just as we're about to crash through the church's vaulted ceiling, I look down and see Nadine, Luba, and even Melinda scowling up at us, finally acting and responding as one. The family that hates together stays together.

“It's time to visit the past to get to know Nadine better,” Vera orders.

I feel Vera's star-grip around my body tighten as I try to wrench free. I know everything there is to know about Nadine, and even if that isn't true, I don't want to know anything else, especially if I have to journey into the past to find it out. Sorry, but these backwardventures through time never end up well for me.

“The best way to defeat your enemy,” Vera informs me, “is to understand her.”

Obviously stargirl is not going to take no for an answer. She is on a hunt, and Nadine is her prey.

With no other choice I give in and feel myself careening through time and space. Perhaps it's because I have a new tour guide, but the ride is smoother than before, so I'm lulled into a false sense of security. Until we suddenly stop moving and I find myself standing inside the Jaffe family cabin.

At first I don't notice Nadine, but that's because no one else in the scene notices her either. Luba and Melinda are sitting on the floor with Napoleon in between them. He's very young, barely a toddler, and he's taking what appear to be his first steps. Melinda and Luba clap their hands and shriek with delight at Nap's accomplishment, causing the boy's face to transform with a beaming smile that literally makes me gasp because I have never seen Napoleon this happy before. Even when he was with Archie his happiness was tempered with the knowledge that it wouldn't last. Here, when he is barely more than an infant, Napoleon's smile is unburdened; he has no idea how quickly happiness can be destroyed. His sister, however, has all the knowledge her brother doesn't possess.