Starfall (27 page)

“The Archie I know is not a killer, but he is a fighter,” I declare. “He wouldn't let schoolyard bullies pick on him; he wouldn't let society convince him that he was born unworthy of love or respect; he fought back, and that's what you have to do now.”

“But how can I, Dom?” he asks. “I took a life.”

He says this to me as if it's something I know nothing about.

“And so did I, Archie. You know that!” I shout. “All this time you've been standing beside me, telling me that I was not responsible, that I'm a good person and I only acted barbarically because someone had taken possession of my body. I think it's time you started listening to your own words.”

“She's right, Arch,” Arla adds. “Take your own advice.”

Archie covers his face with the palms of his hands to hide from us, but he can't hide from the horror that's still so pure and ripe. His hands turn into fists and then into weapons, and his face becomes prey. Bam, bam, bam, he slams his fists into his face until Arla and I each grab one hand to prevent him from doing any permanent damage.

“Stop it!” I cry.

“Let go of me!”

“Archie, c'mon, you have to stop,” Arla pleads.

“God forgive me, I liked it!!”

He liked hitting himself in the face? He needs forgiveness for that. No, oh no, it's much worse.

“You don't understand! I liked killing Lundgarden,” he confesses. “I
enjoyed
it!”

His startling admission produces no rebuttal, no response, no remonstration. How can we answer or argue against something we can't fathom?

“You don't know what you're saying, Arch. You . . . you can't mean that.”

Poor Arla. She has absolutely no idea how wrong she is. It takes me a moment, but finally I understand Archie's comment.

“I think I did too,” I say. “I think I must have enjoyed killing Jess.”

The thought of it makes me gasp even louder than Arla. It's the first time I've ever thought about how I must have felt as a wolf during her death. I've been so preoccupied with blaming myself for her murder and then forgiving myself, or trying the best that I could to forgive myself. I even thought about what must have been going through Jess's mind when I was killing her, the terror, the panic, the sheer un-understanding of the entire situation. I mean she was the first person ever to watch me transform. I know that she was horrified, but then to be killed by this thing that she thought was her friend—it's unfathomable. But I never, not for one second, thought about how I must have felt while I was taking her body and her life and her soul from her. I must have been joyful.

“It makes sense that I would have, right?” I say, not bothering to wipe the tears from my cheeks. “A wolf likes to kill, it's in its nature, so why wouldn't I have enjoyed killing Jess?”

I feel like I've just taken two giant steps backward in my Wolfaholic Anonymous treatment, but I pray that my admission is helpful to Archie.

“So you . . . you understand?” he asks. “You get how I enjoyed it?”

I nod my head a few times first, because the sobs are preventing me from speaking. “Yes, Archie, I do.”

We hug each other tightly, and when my mouth is pressed against his ear I whisper, “But you have to fight against it, Archie. You have got to fight with every ounce of strength you have. You cannot let Nadine win.”

When we pull away from each other, I see that she may be winning already. His eyes are brimming with tears, but they're also brimming with blackness.

A few days later at Winston's funeral mass, St. Edmund's Church is packed to the rafters. Who knew The Cell Keeper would have so many mourners? Of course Lars Svenson is in attendance; he's got to be the first one to get the scoop on all the local gossip. And Elkie is here wearing a gorgeous black satin pantsuit with a red rose in her lapel for a splash of color and defiance. Since she has arrived in the dual capacity of employee and almost-a-relative, thanks to Essie's once-romantic relationship with the deceased, Elkie has VIP seating. I see Officer Gallegos just in the nick of time before he walks past me. He's out of his uniform, wearing civilian clothes, so I almost didn't recognize him, but luckily I had enough time to turn away before he looked into my eyes and recognized me. But the most surprising pew member of all is Melinda Jaffe.

Unlike at Napoleon's funeral where I could tell that she was acting the role of grieving mother, she now wears her sadness as if it's her own and not borrowed off some rack that specializes in mournwear. Perhaps it's because she's alone this time—Nadine is home resting after her traumatic childbirth with Luba as protective guardian and watchdog—but Melinda looks as if she's truly affected by Winston's death. I'm still convinced that her heart is made of stone, but there might be the smallest crack on the surface.

I'm not the only one who's noticed.

Arla reaches over and grabs my arm when Louis walks up to Melinda, and, after exchanging a few words, sits in the pew next to her.

“Wolf up, Dominy,” Arla commands. “I want to know what he's saying to her.”

Reluctantly, I switch over to wolf-hearing to eavesdrop from the other side of the church, certain that I'll hear something incredibly private that will destroy whatever lingering innocence I still might own, but I'm wrong. I don't know if hearing her son's voice rebuff her from beyond the grave or witnessing her ex-lover's death has changed her, but the inappropriate response she displayed after Winston died might have just been bravado. I can't detect a false note in her voice.

“Thank you, Louis,” she says. “That's very sweet of you to say after . . . well, after everything that I've done to you.”

Melinda may not be able to look at Louis, but he can't take his eyes off of her.

“That's in the past,” he says. “What's done is done.”

As she turns to face Louis, I can't see Melinda's expression, but the way that she's touching his face, I imagine it must be tender. She's tracing his cheek with her finger, and I recall the time she did the same thing to Winston and ended up digging her fingernails into him and ripping off some flesh. Now she simply holds Louis's chin in her hand.

“You are the sweetest man I've ever known, Louis Bergeron,” she states.

What?! I'm thrilled to hear that Melinda is retreating, scaling back her bitchery, but deep down she couldn't possibly have changed that much in just a few short days, could she? Arla grabs my arm tighter, and I know that she's thinking what I'm thinking: We have to interrupt this scene before it escalates and Melinda and Louis reunite in the shadow of Winston's casket. Once again while we deliberate, my brother jumps to action.

“Louis,” Barnaby says, standing behind him. “Could I see you for a moment?”

“Uh . . . uh, sure,” Louis stammers. “Is, um, everything okay?”

Playing his role as interloper with conviction, Barnaby nods reassuringly. “Everything's fine. You just need to speak with Lars Svenson before he prints more lies in the
Three W
about Mr. Lundgarden's death. I know none of us would want any falsehoods printed.”

Turning back to Melinda, Louis still looks empathetic, but the allure of a possible re-romance has been broken. “I have to take care of something,” he says.

“Of course,” Melinda replies, a bit crestfallen.

Standing up, Louis turns to follow Barnaby, but turns back at the last moment to say one more thing to Melinda.

“But I meant what I said,” Louis adds. “If you ever need me, just call.”

Again, I can't see Melinda's face, but I know her expression has to be happier than the one Barnaby's wearing. And definitely more joyful than the scowl that appears on Arla's face once I present her with a verbal transcript of their conversation.

During the rest of the mass I try to zero in on Archie, make sure that he doesn't freak out and throw himself on the coffin while giving some eleventh-hour confession, or worse, that he doesn't break down if he begins to relive the tragic event that ended Winston's life. He remains quiet throughout the mass though, sitting with his family, who must have known Lundgarden in some capacity. Archie's expression is sometimes dour, but always respectful and appropriate for the setting.

I'm a different story. By the end of the funeral my gigglaughs threaten to destroy the serenity of the proceedings, because it dawns on me just as they lower Winston's casket into the cold ground that this is the first unexplained death in this town that I really had nothing to do with. I look over at Melinda and even Archie, and I know it isn't right, but I feel a little relief. I hated the man, but I didn't want him dead, and I did try to prevent his death from happening.

Right or wrong, I whisper out loud three words that I never thought I'd hear myself say. “Thanks, Cell Keeper.”

Thin Nadine doesn't look right.

I guess I got so used to seeing her fat and swollen and pregnant that now with a flatter stomach she looks somehow wrong. Her transformation isn't as impressive as mine, or even Gwen's when she went from hog to hog-wild, but there's something physically different about her. I look at her from the waist up and find the culprit: The change isn't in her waistline, it's in her face. During her pregnancy she was all smiles; now she's wearing a permascowl. Is it possible for witches to suffer from postpartum depression?

The one thing that remains the same is her signature sound. I'd know that squeak anywhere. Even if I didn't know she was returning to school today, nobody makes that noise walking down the hallway except Nadine. Today, however, her tempo's a bit more rushed than usual.

“Hey, Speed Demon, accent on the demon, catching up on lost time?” I ask.

“Where's my daughter?” Nadine asks back.

Okay, number one: That was a funny joke that deserved some kind of reaction. And number two: It's taken her almost a month to figure out that she only has one kid around the house when she was supposed to deliver twins? I know the first few weeks of motherhood can be a difficult time, a whirlwind of epic proportions, but she couldn't find a spare moment in between nursing and changing diapers to pose this question to her mother or Luba?

“Why don't you ask your grandmother?” I reply.

As I start to walk toward my locker to retrieve my physics book, which is too big to carry around unless I'm heading directly to class, Nadine grabs my arm. And by grab I mean latches onto me as if her hand is hermetically sealed to my body.

Wolf-sneer to witch-scowl, I bark, “Get your hand off of me!”

“Not until you tell me where my daughter is,” she demands. “I know you had something to do with her disappearance.”

Glancing around the near-empty hallway, I don't see anyone staring at me, so I use my full strength to pry Nadine off of me with my free hand and shove her across the hall. She squeaks to a halt just before crashing into a row of lockers.

“And I told you if you want to know anything about your daughter you should ask that psycho you call grandma!” I shout.

When I turn around to face my locker, I face Nadine instead. She's witchraveled in public to move from one side of the hallway to the other in the blink of an eye. Really fun way to move from point A to point B, but not a smart idea if you want to appear completely human to your fellow classmates. Nadine's always been a risk taker, but now she doesn't care if she gets caught, which means she's upped the risquo-tient to certifiably insane.

“I'm asking
you!
” she screams.

If her flash drive didn't attract attention, her screech has, and now several of the kids in the hallway have stopped moving and rummaging through their lockers and are staring at us. They're not even pretending not to listen; they've gone from apathetic students to interested audience, and now they're waiting for my next move. So is Nadine.

“Are you going to answer me?” she screamasks. “You know how I get when I'm ignored.”

Unfortunately, I do. And one false move and several unlucky members of Two W are going to find out as well. Where is Vera Bailey-Clarke when you need her?! Whenever Nadine would see Vera walking toward her, she would run the other way; if only Vera would show up now, maybe the twinemy would flee the spotlight. But ever since stargirl left with Nadine's daughter, Vera gave up the charade of playing high schooler, which means she isn't around to scare off the teenaged motherwitch.

Taking a deep breath more for a chance to collect my thoughts than out of necessity, I stare at Nadine, and surprisingly I don't see her black light trickle out of her body like usual. But in the silence while everyone waits for me to speak, I do hear her squeaking again. How can that be? She's not even walking. Wait a second! I have no idea if a witch can suffer from postpartum depression, but she clearly can suffer from an old-fashioned case of the nerves. Nadine's light isn't making an entrance because she's nervous and therefore not completely in control of herself. Motherhood really does change some people.

Using my newfound knowledge to my advantage, I decide to toy with Nadine's fragile emotional state.

“Are you talking about the baby girl with the thick mop of brown hair?” I ask.

“Tell me!”

“I'm so sorry if you misplaced your daughter, Nadine, but are you sure you were having twins?” I ask. “I mean, maybe you just gained a ton of weight during your pregnancy and were carrying really, really big, so it looked like you were expecting twins.”

Between the shrieks of laughter from the kids and the shrill ringing of the class bell, I can't hear Nadine's reply even with wolf ears. Still, I'm pretty sure her comments wouldn't get anything lower than an R rating, and that's if the ratings people were in a super-magnanimous mood.

By the time the bell stops ringing, it's only Nadine and me left in the hallway; the rest of the kids have run off to class. So much for my perfect attendance record. And so much for trying to avoid a confrontation on public turf.

“You may think you're funny, Dominy,” Nadine remarks. “But you have no idea how powerful I've become now that I'm a mother.”

Hmm, maybe I have competition for worst math student of the century.

“Really? I thought the triumvirate needed three participants,” I reply. “If you can't find your daughter, that just leaves you plus your son, which equals two.”

“Where is she?!” she screams, ignoring my mathematical formula.

“And with only two of you, you really have no ammunition to make Luba step down from her throne,” I state. “Which means you don't have as much power as you would like me to think. In fact, with Luba still in charge, you don't have any power at all.”

Enraged by the truth, Nadine raises her hand, and I instinctively brace myself for some sort of attack. But instead of seeing beams of energy shooting out of the palm of her hand, I watch in fascination as her entire arm becomes wrapped in golden sunshine. I turn to my left, expecting to see Jess floating in the middle of the hallway having come to my rescue once again, but it looks like a supernatural upgrade has taken place.

“Mr. Dice?” I ask.

Actually, he's dropped his professor shtick and is floating in the center of the hallway in full Okami garb. Physically, he looks basically the same as he always does, except that his hair is longer and pulled back in a ponytail, but he's wearing the most gorgeous kimono that's about twenty-five different shades of yellow. I haven't seen him wear this before, so maybe this is some special occasion, but regardless, the robe hangs to the floor and then sweeps back in a train that continues for as far as my wolf eyes can see. It's stunning, and I'm sure Jess has done her best to coax Dice to let her try it on, though I'm not sure if clothes swapping is allowed in their dimension. Speaking of what's allowed, I didn't think Okamis could interfere with mere witch 'n' were fights. Has someone thrown out the supernatural rulebook?

“You've caused enough death and damage within these walls, Nadine,” Dice declares. “I will not let you bring any more pain into this school.”

His voice is so deep and baritoney that it slams into the lockers and echoes down the hall. If I didn't know he was on my side, I'd be as nervous as Nadine looks.

Her shoes squeak loudly as she shifts her body, trying to break free from Dice's Okamihold, but he's too strong for her. It's intriguing to see Nadine look frustrated. She's not exactly afraid like she was around Vera; she almost looks like a little girl who can't understand why her mother won't let her have a third slice of cake. If only Nadine had had a mother who didn't indulge Nadine in her every whim or let her do whatever she wished or encourage her to treat people despicably, maybe she would've turned out differently. But I witnessed a flicker of change in Melinda, so perhaps there's hope for her daughter.

“By the power of Orion, I compel you to let go of me!” she screams. “Or I'll have the Hunter unleash a thousand horrors in your realm!”

And then again maybe not.

Dice laughs so uncontrollably at Nadine's feeble threat that his body starts to shake, the train of his robe rippling like a golden dragon behind him. Nadine is so infuriated that she isn't being taken seriously that she can't enjoy the sheer beauty of the image; then again, I have a feeling this visual display wouldn't be considered beautiful in the eye of this bee-holder. She's more about making things die than having things come alive.

“You have so much to learn, Nadine,” Dice replies, still laughing. “Orion is powerful, but even His regime has boundaries.”

“His power knows no limits!” Nadine retaliates. “It's as vast as the universe.”

And sometimes you have to choose your words carefully because your opponent can use them against you.

“And in the universe, my friend,” Dice says, in full patronizing teacher-voice, “a cluster of stars is no match for the power of the sun.”

To prove his point, Mr. Dice rips off the sash holding his robe together, an action that frees Nadine's arm, but before she can retaliate in any way, he opens his robe to unleash the full force of his Okami sun god power into the small space of the hallway. Once again, Nadine and I view this revelation in completely different ways.

Wave after wave of glorious sunlight passes over me. I should be blinded by it, I should be burnt to a crisp, but instead it feels like I'm being transported inside a new world, a place I never had the mental capacity to imagine. I think I'm getting another small taste of where Jess lives.

Nadine, however, is reacting as if she's suddenly been thrust into the fiery pits of hell. Screaming and shielding her eyes, she cowers on the floor and is literally trying to crawl away from the sun slaughter. Every time she crawls a foot away, she's dragged back by golden ropes wrapped around her legs, only to attempt escape again with the same results.

Like any good teacher, Mr. Dice recognizes when a student is unwilling to learn or just incapable of comprehending previously unknown concepts and ideas, so he closes his robe to extinguish the extreme sun display from the hallway. But like the good teacher he is, he never gives up on a student.

“Learn from this, Nadine,” he says kindly. “Power comes in many forms, so be careful what you wish for.”

Ooh, an ominous Okami! With that final word, Dice disappears, taking the sunshine with him. I wish I could go with him, even if it means spending an hour in calculus. It would be better than being stuck here with Nadine.

Awkwardly standing over her still crouched body, I know I should help her up, but I'm relishing this vision of her. It's sort of the flipside of when she watches me as a wolf.

“If you don't want to answer my questions here,” she hisses, “then we'll do it at my cabin.”

She always wants to play on home turf.

“Fine,” I reply. “If that's what you want. But I'm telling you right now, I have nothing to say to you.”

As she finally stands up, I have to hold back a loud string of gigglaughs, Nadine tries to strike a menacing pose, but she's barely able to gather her dignity.

“We'll see about that,” she announces. “I want to know what role you played in my daughter's kidnapping.”

Like Mr. Dice said, be careful what you wish for, Nadine.

“I'll see you there tonight,” I say.

“No,” Nadine replies. “Tomorrow night will be much better for my schedule.”

Before I can disagree, Nadine disappears in a flash as quickly, but not nearly as flamboyantly, as Mr. Dice did.

“But tomorrow night is a full moon!” I shout.

“Do you have something against full moons?”

Twisting around, I see someone who fills me with more happy sunshine than Mr. Dice and all his Okami magic could ever produce.

“Caleb!” I squeal. “What are you doing here?”

“I have two words for you, Domgirl: ‘spring break,' ” he replies. “Where else would I be but next to my girl?”

All thoughts of Nadine and Mr. Dice are yanked out of my brain and in their place are images of Caleb and me naked, kissing and holding each other and whispering the most heartfelt words we can think of in each other's ears. I run toward him and throw my arms around him in a full girlie-girl, big-screen, end-of-a-rom-com moment and give him the kind of welcoming he deserves.

I can feel his body come alive in our embrace, and when we finally stop kissing I look up into his face as if I'm seeing him for the first time. Brown eyes, blond curls, smooth complexion with just the smallest amounts of stubble on his chin and upper lip—once again Prince Caleb has come to the rescue.

“I've missed you so much,” I confess.

“We just chatted last night on the phone,” he says with a laugh.

“In my world that feels like years ago!” I reply. “You have no idea how much can happen in a day around here.”

“I haven't been gone for that long,” he says. “And I caught a little bit of the tail end of your confro with the bee. She wants to meet tomorrow night?”

“Yes, in order for me to tell her all the details surrounding the birth of the twins,” I convey. “And what happened to her daughter.”

“Then you have no choice,” Caleb says. “You'll have to meet her.”

“But it's a full moon tomorrow night,” I remind him. “Don't you think that's a bad omen?”

“It would be if you were going alone,” he replies. “But you'll have your Wolf Pack as backup. Me, Arla, and, of course, Winter.”

And here's the part of the reunion where I get to break my boyfriend's heart.

“There's something I have to tell you about Archie.”