The Gathering Storm (12 page)

But she didn't dare.

For the rest of the day, Gabriella couldn't stop thinking about what a monster she'd been.
I'm as bad as Lizbeth,
she thought miserably.
Worse.
It was unsettling how easy it was to be mean. That's not the kind of person Gabriella wanted to be. She vowed to apologize to Fiona, Mack, and Darren as soon as she got to Changers class after lunch.

Everybody except Ms. Therian was in the gym when Gabriella arrived. She strode across the floor, eager to get the apologizing over with—and to find out what Fiona had wanted to tell her. The three were huddled together by the bench, whispering to one another.

“Hey,” she called loudly—a little too loudly, because the echo of her voice off the concrete walls seemed to startle everyone. As Darren spun around, a bolt of lightning shot from his hand and ricocheted off the tile at Gabriella's feet, singeing her shoes.

To Gabriella, the message was crystal clear: they wanted nothing to do with her.

“That was not cool, Darren,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not cool!”

Darren pulled himself up to his full height. “Sorry.
It was an accident, and I think you know that,” he said. “What's your excuse?”

“What?” Gabriella asked.

“When I hurt somebody, I apologize,” Darren said. “You were really hurtful to Fiona this morning—to all of us, actually—but I don't hear any apologies coming from you.”

Gabriella's temper flared. “Because you didn't even give me a chance!” she snapped. “I was coming over to talk when you shot a lightning bolt at me!”

“I didn't shoot it
at
you,” Darren argued.

Fiona held up her hand. “Forget it, Darren,” she said. “It's not worth it.”

“Would you
please
give me a chance to explain?” Gabriella begged.

“Explain what?” asked Mack. “It was pretty clear this morning that you care more about being popular than anything else. You know the stakes, you know what's at risk, but your stupid Pony Patrol is more important, I guess.”

“Oh, okay, then,” Gabriella said. “Maybe we should talk about what's most important to
you—
transforming
at all costs. You're way more worried about that than Auden Ironbound. Admit it!”

“Go ahead, rub it in,” Mack shot back. “I'm sorry I don't know how to transform. It's not easy for me. It's not like I can just pull on a cloak and
whoosh!
here I am in my Changer form—”

“Hey!” Fiona protested. “I went through a lot to find my cloak, which was
stolen
from me.”

“Please. You didn't even know it existed until this week,” Mack said.

“What is this, some kind of competition?” Darren demanded. “Maybe if
you
stopped feeling so sorry for yourself, you could figure out how to transform!”

“That's
enough
!”

Everyone had been yelling so loudly that no one had noticed Ms. Therian enter the gym. She shook her head in disgust. “This is what Auden Ironbound wants,” she said. “Discord. Allies turning on one another, becoming enemies. Look at you, standing here doing his dirty work for him.”

Gabriella knew Ms. Therian was right, but she was too ashamed to say anything. And from the look on
everybody else's faces, she wasn't alone.

“We have
work
to do,” Ms. Therian continued. “So, if you're all quite finished—”

“Ms. Therian, wait,” Fiona spoke up. “There's something we have to tell you. Something urgent.”

Ms. Therian fixed her steely gaze on Fiona. “Go ahead.”

“Yesterday, Darren and I were at New Brighton University, in the rare books room,” Fiona began.

But she never got a chance to finish speaking.

At that moment a loud, low noise filled the gym. The sound of a foghorn, almost, but more terrifying. It resonated through their very bones. Gabriella held herself still. The sound of the horn seemed to suck the air from her lungs. She couldn't breathe. . . .

Then . . . the sweet, empty relief of silence.

“What was—” Darren began to say, his voice shaking.

The sudden flash of light, the scent of smoke . . .

Only Gabriella was truly surprised when Ms. Therian transformed. The werewolf stared at them with unblinking eyes that now glowed an eerie red.
Her eyes,
Gabriella thought,
What happened to her eyes?

The werewolf flexed; growled a low, menacing sound that was almost worse than the horn. She started to charge for the doors, but Gabriella couldn't let her go. Not like this; not now. The transformation was already upon Gabriella. In her
nahual
form, everything was so much simpler.

With three great bounds Gabriella reached the gym doors before the werewolf.
Ms. Therian, stop!
she commanded.
Where are you going? We need you.

But Ms. Therian was gone. Gabriella could see that now. The terrifying creature snarled and snapped her sharp fangs at her.

“Move, Gabriella!” Fiona cried. “You have to let her go!”

I can't!
Gabriella screamed back in her mind.

The werewolf was so close that Gabriella could feel the heat of breath on her face. Still, she stood her ground, her golden cat eyes unblinking in the face of danger. How long would they have faced off like that, student and teacher, if Darren hadn't intervened?

Gabriella hadn't even seen Darren change, but suddenly, there he was, swooping down on them, creating gale force winds with every beat of his wings. Gabriella
fell back from the force, landing on the gym floor with a resounding thud.

When she looked up, the battered gym doors were dangling from their hinges.

Ms. Therian was gone.

Darren, back in his human form, hurried over to Gabriella and held out his hand to help her up. He didn't apologize for knocking her down, and she didn't thank him for saving her life. They both knew those words didn't need to be said.

Fiona approached them then, pale and wide-eyed.

“That loud blast . . . That was the horn of power,” she said. “It's happening.”

Mack's limbs were heavy—stiff, as if his feet had been glued to the floor. It was hard to believe everything he'd seen, but if Mack needed proof, all he had to do was look at the pummeled gym doors.

Jiichan,
he thought urgently.
I have to get to Jiichan.

Mack ran across the room to his friends, but before he could speak, the loudspeaker crackled.

“Attention, teachers and students,” Principal Harvey's voice boomed through the gym. “School is dismissed effective immediately due to the hurricane, which has arrived sooner than expected. Students are to report to their buses at once.”

In the silence that followed the announcement, no one seemed to know what to do. Then Fiona turned to Mack. “Your grandfather,” she began.

Mack swallowed hard. “I never warned him,” he said miserably. “He has no idea.”

Fiona looked like she wanted to reach for Mack's hand but thought better of it. “He might be okay,” she said firmly.

Mack nodded. It was possible. Unlikely, but possible. And that was enough to give Mack hope.

“Go home and find him,” Darren said. “Then we'll all meet up at the beach.”

“Can somebody
please
tell me what's going on?” Gabriella finally asked. “Ms. Therian . . . What just happened back there? I thought the First Four were immune to the horn.”

“I have to go,” Mack said abruptly. Let the others fill her in; at this point, all Mack cared about was getting to his grandfather.

The bus ride, normally such an insignificant part of his day, dragged on for what felt like hours. When the bus finally arrived at Mack's house, he bolted off so
quickly that he forgot to say good-bye to Joel.

At first everything about home looked normal: Jiichan's car was in the driveway, the front door was locked, and the lights were on. There was even a fresh cup of tea sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Jiichan!” Mack called. “Where are you?”

Silence.

Mack ran from room to room, calling Jiichan's name, but there was no sign of his grandfather. Soon, there was just one place left to look: Jiichan's bedroom. Mack approached it cautiously, with a growing sense of dread.
He's lying down,
Mack told himself.
He didn't expect me home yet. He doesn't even know about the storm.

As Mack stood in front of the closed door, his hand hovered over the doorknob, hesitating for half a second. Then, mustering his courage, Mack opened the door. He was immediately greeted by a blast of cold, wet air. Jiichan's room was as tidy and orderly as usual . . . except for the shattered plate-glass window overlooking his rock garden. The shredded curtains and deep, fresh scratches on the windowsill told Mack everything he needed to know.

“No!” Mack howled. He backed away, stumbling. It was too much—the shards of glass on the floor, the rain soaking Jiichan's favorite woodblock prints.

It's my fault,
Mack thought in despair as he ran to his room.
I should've warned him. I should've said something last night, but I was stubborn and selfish, too worried about myself . . . and not enough about him.

And now? What could Mack do now? He couldn't even transform.

Mack kicked open his bedroom door and started pacing back and forth as he tried to figure out what to do next. He'd go to the beach, anyway, even though he wouldn't be much help as a human. However he looked at it, Mack was a failure.
I never should've been in Changers class to begin with,
he thought.

Just then, something on the bed caught Mack's eye: a shiny, lacquered box with an intricate carving on the lid, no bigger than a deck of cards. Mack was certain he'd never seen it before. Inside he found a carefully folded piece of parchment. In his grandfather's perfect handwriting, the note read:

Mack,

I miss the sound of your voice. My life has never been so silent since I came to live with you seven years ago. Silence, though, can be a gift, for it allows us to hear our thoughts more clearly. My thoughts center on how proud I am of you and how proud your parents would be if they were here.

Like most quarrels, ours is a foolish one that will soon blow over like an unexpected storm. Until then, you should have this. It is your birthright.

Love,

Jiichan

The parchment slipped from Mack's hand as he blinked hard, trying to rid his eyes of tears. He peeked into the box, where a sharp object—porcelain? Bone?—was attached to a leather cord.
What is that?
Mack wondered. He lifted it out of the box and held it high. With a sudden rush, Mack knew exactly what it was.

A fox tooth.

It was too much: the wind whistling through the shattered window in Jiichan's room, the knowledge that everyone who mattered to Mack was in mortal danger while he was hiding in his bedroom, the glint of the razor-sharp fox tooth. Mack's hands were shaking as he put on the fox tooth necklace, but not from fear or shame.

Rage?

Yes, that was it. Rage . . . frustration . . . and most of all, determination.

Something strange happened to Mack's eyes then, a weird shifting feeling, as though they were stretching. His hands burst into flames, though they didn't burn, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. No, wait— That wasn't hair at all.

It was fur.

The rest happened all at once, so suddenly that Mack was barely aware of it; an electric charge that ripped through every nerve in his body. His last thought in human form—
Is this?—
was lost to him as the transformation swept his thoughts away.

When it was over, Mack bounded into his
jiichan
's room and caught his reflection in the shattered glass
shards on the floor. He was unrecognizable to himself, his reflection strange and surprising: a red fox, sleek and alert, with piercing eyes. The strangest part was how at home Mack felt in this strange skin. All doubts about his destiny as a Changer were gone, now and forever. At last Mack knew exactly what to do—and how to do it.