Chapter 29

Two of my friends. Two different hospital rooms. Hopefully, there won’t be two different outcomes.

This morning when I transformed back, when the wolf spirit and I switched places, Jess shielded me with her light so I could make it from the woods to my home without anyone noticing the naked girl running through the streets. There was so much commotion at the hospital last night with both Archie and Napoleon rushed to the emergency room and hours later each admitted to separate rooms, that no one noticed I was missing. Arla told me that Louis and Barnaby asked for me, but she made up a few excuses for my absence: I was in the bathroom, the chapel, and once I had fainted and was being treated by a nurse. This almost started Louis on a quest for his wayward ward, but several hours ago Officer Gallegos burst into the hospital shouting something about a predawn bank robbery, and when you’re the chief of police, crime fighting trumps stepdaughter searching, so my absence wasn’t uncovered. Who says crime doesn’t have its benefits?

Definitely not Luba.

Sitting in the waiting room, I see Luba walk in, and for the first time she isn’t wearing her white hospital gown. She’s not wearing anything fancy and definitely not anything fashionable, but her clothes don’t have the official name of The Retreat stamped on them, so the black pants and shoes and red V-neck sweater look startling on her. As startling as the only piece of jewelry she’s wearing, a silver necklace with three stars in a row that sits just below the apex of her neckline, so it looks like starlight lives on a bed of blood. Perfect.

Luba is moving slowly and dabbing a tissue at the corners of her dry eyes. The hospital staff must think she looks completely normal; in fact, they must think she looks downright amazing for a grief-stricken grandmother. Only those of us who know what she really is and the part she played in her grandson’s so-called accident can see past the disguise. And I’m probably the only one who can see the faintest scar on her cheek where I tore off her flesh when she was temporarily in wolf’s clothing last night.

Flanked on either side by Nadine and Melinda, Luba doesn’t sit in one of the empty chairs; she doesn’t suddenly burst into fake tears to garner even more sympathy from the crowd; she walks right up to Louis Bergeron, who’s returned to check in on the situation, and slaps him across the face.

“I hold you responsible,” she announces.

I have to grab Arla by the wrist and use all my wolf-strength to keep her seated. We cannot do battle, not in here, not in such close quarters. Luckily, Louis is no stranger to the antics of crazy women, so he handles the situation deftly.

“And as chief of police, I take full responsibility,” he replies, resisting the urge to rub his reddened cheek. “For the lives of both boys.”

“You and this irresponsible witch hunt for the Full Moon Killer,” she seethes.

“I am doing whatever is necessary to protect this town,” he replies, his voice just as steady.

“By giving in to folklore and superstition?” Luba asks.

Louis might have dealt with crazy townsfolk, but most of the time I’m sure it’s in the confines of his office or in the middle of the night without an audience; he isn’t used to being stared at while defending his actions.

“We were following the facts of the case, ma’am,” he says.

“If you were following the facts of the case, you wouldn’t have been running around with a bunch of idiots carrying torches in the middle of the night!” she scoffs. Then without even lowering her voice, she adds, “I told Melinda you were a fool.”

Now she’s made it personal. I’m tempted to let go of Arla and see what damage she can do to the old lady. But I know that even if Arla gets in a good punch or two, maybe even one of those Bruce Lee-style roundhouse kicks, Luba will rebound with something far more destructive, regardless of how many people are watching. No, keep still; let someone else rescue Louis and put Luba in her place. I would never have guessed that person would be my brother.

“Luba,” he says. “Why don’t you sit over here?”

Barnaby’s voice is quiet, but stern. He’s clearly incensed by Luba’s callous treatment of Louis, but he’s also surprised. This is not the woman he’s come to know. Let me introduce you to the real Luba, Barnaby, and if you think this is bad, I pray for your sake that she never reveals her true self to you.

My brother takes Luba by the elbow and leads her to an empty seat in a corner of the room. She doesn’t resist; there’s no need for her to. She’s accomplished what she set out to do: She’s painted a picture of herself as an angry, yet rational woman, not a psychopath who prays at a celestial altar.

Not only that, but she’s also made Louis look like, well, an idiot. And, unfortunately, I’m partially responsible. I’m the one who made Caleb convince him to lift the town curfew and reinstate the vigilante coalition. Sure, Louis succumbed to peer pressure and his own desire to catch the town’s elusive serial killer, but he had let go of such foolishness. If I hadn’t pushed Caleb, he wouldn’t have pushed Louis. In the heat of the night, a mob mentality seems like the logical course of action, but in the harsh light of day it looks like exactly what it is: stupid.

Luckily, the murmuring of the crowd is hushed when the doctor walks into the waiting room. The good people of Weeping Water can bad-mouth Louis later; right now we need to find out if Lars Svenson is going to put another citizen’s face on the front page of the Three W.

“How is my son, doctor?”

I want to grab Melinda Jaffe by her blond hair and bash her face into the wall. I want to break her nose so she’ll need to have it fixed and her physical resemblance to my mother will cease. If I break something else besides her nose, then so be it. The woman deserves it.

“Napoleon is very strong,” the doctor announces. “And so far he’s also very lucky.”

Not exactly the news the ladies Jaffe were hoping for, but they put on a good show of making everyone believe this is exactly what they wanted to hear from the good doctor.

“He isn’t out of the woods yet. The next twenty-four hours are crucial,” the doctor warns. “But it looks like he’s going to pull through.”

“Thank you, doctor. That’s good news,” Napoleon’s lying mother says. “May I see him now?”

“Yes, but don’t be long,” the doctor replies. “He needs his rest.”

“Of course, I just want to see . . .”

“Doctor,” I say, interrupting Melinda. “What about Archie?”

Both the doctor and Mrs. Jaffe turn to face me. The doctor smiles; Melinda doesn’t.

“Mr. Angevene is doing just fine,” he says. “Looks like he merely passed out from exhaustion. His parents are filling out some paperwork, but he’s going to be released shortly.”

“What about . . .”

“Yes?” the doctor asks.

“What about his eyes?” I finish.

The doctor looks at me with a puzzled expression, and I can’t breathe. “The most extraordinary shade of violet,” he says. “Common among albinos.”

So his eyes are back to normal. It may not be a permanent condition, but that’s more good news.

“Can we see him?” Caleb asks.

“Absolutely,” the doctor replies. “I’m sure he’d love the company.”

After the doctor leaves, Louis finds himself face-to-face with his ex-girlfriend. Ever the gentleman, Louis offers his condolences.

“I’m glad Napoleon is going to be okay,” he says.

“Thank you,” Melinda replies. And then she moves an inch closer to Louis and drops her voice to a tone that I’m sure she thinks is seductive. “Unlike my mother-in-law, I don’t hold you responsible, Louis,” she says, flicking away a piece of imaginary dust from his shirt collar. “In fact, I know that he’s only alive because of you.”

Ain’t that the truth!

Louis swallows hard and stares at the floor for a few seconds before replying. “Only doing my job, Melin . . . ma’am.”

“When this all blows over, I’m going to have to find a way to repay you for your kindness,” she whispers.

Oh my God! Her son almost died, she’s surrounded by her daughter and Louis’s kids, and she’s flirting? Seriously, the woman has no self-control. Thankfully, Louis has self-respect.

“You already did that,” Louis says. “When you chose to be with Winston Lundgarden.”

Touché! Arla and I can only silence our giggles until Louis leaves the room; once he’s gone, they’re unleashed. Right in Melinda’s ear. Her look of utter disdain only makes us laugh harder until Caleb grabs the two of us by the backs of our necks and pushes us into the hallway and directly into Archie’s room.

“Seriously?” Caleb asks. “You had to antagonize the woman who just happens to be the mother and daughter-in-law of a pair of witches?”

Still laughing, I throw my arm around Caleb’s waist. “Sorry, Cay, but seeing her reaction was worth the risk.”

Wrapping her arm around Caleb from the opposite side, Arla agrees. “Plus, I think my father really took the wind out of her sails. I don’t think we’ll be hearing too much from her anytime soon.”

“Good,” Caleb declares. “Because I for one could use a rest from all this mayhem.”

“Me too,” I reply.

“Me three,” Arla adds.

“Me four,” Archie chimes in. “What am I agreeing to?”

“A breather from all the magic and craziness going on lately,” Caleb announces.

If only that were possible.

“Winter, you look amazing!”

“Thanks, Bells, but I’m still not going to go out with you.”

“Boys,” Arla starts. “One of these days I’m going to force the two of you to make out to see if this bromance has legs.”

“Sorry, I’m taken,” Archie says.

When Caleb doesn’t reply, I slap him on his butt. “And so are you!”

Caleb’s high-pitched laughter fills the room. “Just making sure you’re paying attention,” he says.

He squeezes me closer to him, and he smells so clean I close my eyes and breathe it in. I’m not exactly sure what’s happening to me, if it’s wolf-lust or girl-love, but whatever it is, I’ve never found Caleb more attractive than I do right now. Very soon, I’m going to have to show him how much he means to me. Right after I make sure Archie knows.

“So, have you had any side effects?” I ask, sitting on the foot of his bed.

Shaking his head slowly, Archie replies, “Nope, just antsy to get out of here and see how Napoleon’s doing.”

“Do you, um, remember anything about last night?” I ask slowly.

Picking at a thread on his blanket, Archie seems to be stalling, though he could simply be trying to remember the details that brought him here. “I know there was a fight,” he says. “And I took a bit of a beating.”

I look over at Arla, and she’s thinking what I’m thinking, that Archie doesn’t remember what happened to him. He doesn’t remember seeing Jess, nor does he understand that he isn’t completely human any longer. He was saved, but he’s been turned into something new, something that at the moment doesn’t have a name. For the time being, I think it’s best to keep this information from him. Let him concentrate on his recovery and his boyfriend.

“The doc said Nap’s going to pull through,” Caleb shares. “But it’ll be a while before you two can get, um, you know, all physical and stuff.”

“You’re such an a-hole!” Archie jokes. “The ‘and stuff’ part can wait. Nap and I don’t have to put the lay in relay-tionship.”

“Ooh good one, Winter!” Caleb shouts.

Watching my boyfriend and Archie high-five each other, I smile. But it isn’t genuine. I’m thrilled that Archie has fully recovered from the attack on his life and that he and Napoleon seem to have a sweet relationship, but the facts remain—Napoleon is still part of Them. Just because he survived his sister’s assault, doesn’t mean she won’t try to kill him again. Why, I have no idea, since there need to be three of them to realize Orion’s power. Could be that she now has enough power without him or that she just wants to get rid of Napoleon before he finds a way to get rid of her. Whatever the reason, their family feud is far from over. But Archie and Napoleon’s love affair might be.

“Something’s wrong.”

Arla is pressing her fingers into her forehead. I know she isn’t referring to herself, but to her psychonjoined twin.

“Napoleon?” I ask.

She nods her head furiously. The pain seems to be escalating; it’s a struggle for her to form words. “I love you.”

What? What is Arla talking about?

“I love you . . . Archie.”

She wasn’t making sense because she wasn’t the one talking; Napoleon was. Why does Nap’s sentiment sound dangerously close to a good-bye?

“Nap!” Archie cries out. “Arla, where is he?”

We follow Arla as she runs out of the room and down the corridor in the opposite direction of the waiting room. She turns left at the end of the hallway, then she stops at Room 48, the same number as Luba’s room at The Retreat. This cannot be a good omen.

Inside the room, Napoleon is hooked up to a bunch of important-looking machines, but he’s sleeping. I can hear his breathing, much stronger than it was last night when he was near death. Nadine is sitting next to the bed holding Nap’s hand, while Luba is standing on the other side of the bed next to one of the machines, and Melinda is sitting on a chair next to the door. They look exactly like a worried family—their silence, their expressions, their posture—it’s totally perfect. And totally unbelievable.

“Archie, no matter what happens you have to remember one thing.”

Arla’s voice is a combination of her own and Napoleon’s, as if it’s being stretched between two dimensions.

“You made my life worth living.”

“Nap!” Archie cries out, first looking at the boy lying in the hospital bed and when he doesn’t respond, at Arla. “What’s going on? What are you talking about?!”

“He’s trying to tell you good-bye.”

Before Archie can respond to Nadine’s comment, she holds up her hand, and the door slams shut. She’s lured us here, I’m not sure why, but whatever she has planned, she wants witnesses. Smirking, she waves her hand in a semicircle and stops time. Everyone in the room freezes; everyone in the room resembles a storefront mannequin; everyone except me. She wanted an audience all right, but an audience of one.

“How did you do it, Dominy?” Nadine asks.

I have no idea what she’s talking about. And I don’t want to waste time trying to figure it out. I want to get out of this room. The problem is, I may not be stuck in time, but once again I’m stuck to the floor. I can’t move.

“How did I do what?” I reluctantly ask.

“Kill Rayna,” Nadine says sweetly.

I try to yank my foot off of the floor with such force that I almost topple over. I grab onto Caleb’s arm and gasp; he feels like stone. Please don’t let this spell she’s cast be irreversible. “I didn’t kill Rayna,” I protest. “You did.”

Laughing heartily, Nadine replies, “Oh no, don’t you remember? I sucked her youth out of her, but you were the one who actually killed her.”

“Because she begged me to after what you did to her!”

“I remember now,” she says, ignoring my accusation. “Didn’t you just put your hand over her mouth, like this?”

Mesmerized, I watch Nadine press her hand over her brother’s mouth. I was right; she is going to try and kill her brother again. I just had no idea she would make another attempt so soon.

“No!” I scream. Lunging forward I grasp at the air, but Nadine is out of my reach, and I only succeed in falling over onto the ground. Looking up I see Napoleon’s body start to shake; he’s trying to fight back, but he’s so weak from last night’s battle; there’s no way he has enough strength to prevent Nadine from succeeding. If only I could break free from this spell, if only I could tear her hand away from her brother’s mouth. But maybe I can fight back another way.

“Don’t you need three of you to fully realize Orion’s power?” I ask, struggling to finally stand up.

“You’re very perceptive,” Nadine replies sarcastically. “Yes, we do.”

“Then stop this!” I beg. “Without Napoleon you can never reach your potential! You need him.”

“Not any longer,” she replies.

What? How can that be? I didn’t think her mother had any power; she wasn’t born with it like the twins were, and I’m guessing that their grandfather was only able to bestow his power onto Luba because he was the original recipient. If there were a way for Melinda to acquire Orion’s legacy, she would’ve already done it.

“Nadine, you can’t do this!” I cry. “Please don’t! You can’t kill your own brother!”

“He made his choice,” she replies calmly. “He doesn’t want to be part of this family, so I’m simply granting his wish.”

“But you’re only going to screw yourself!” I shout. “Without him, you and Luba are nothing.”

Nadine doesn’t care about her brother; it doesn’t even appear as if she cares about her grandmother, which is odd because I thought she worshipped the woman. No, it looks as if Nadine wants all the power for herself. And she’s about to eliminate one member of the competition.

Pressing down harder onto Napoleon’s mouth, Nadine clutches her stomach. “We don’t need my brother any longer,” she declares. “Not now that I’m pregnant.”

What?! Pregnant?! All this time we thought Nadine was getting fat, but she was just gaining weight because she’s pregnant. Stunned, I feel my legs falter, and despite how inhuman Caleb feels I grab onto his arm again to steady myself. Caleb? No. No! Did she seduce my boyfriend and turn him into her child’s father? “Not Caleb!” I scream.

“I could be carrying Prince Caleb’s child,” she says. “Or ... maybe not.”

“Tell me!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Nadine replies, chuckling softly.

“Nadine, I swear to God if you’ve done anything to Caleb to make him father your child, I will . . .”

“What, Dominy?!” Nadine interrupts. “What exactly are you going to do? Haven’t you already learned that there’s nothing you can do to stop me?”

Do not take the bait, Dominy! Do not let her change the subject!

“Have you noticed I’m not always the best student?” I crack. “Now, tell me, is Caleb the father?!”

“There are so many eligible bachelors in this little town. It really could be anyone,” she says, smiling not only because she likes taunting me, but also because she knows she holds my future in her hands. “But don’t ask me again, because you know how I like to keep my secrets.”

When Napoleon flatlines, my first thought is how lucky he is to have finally escaped this madness. My second thought is to scream.

“Why?! Why are you doing this?!”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Nadine asks. “For the hunter to be truly powerful, there must be the hunted—you. That’s why we came back here just before your sixteenth birthday when the curse began. You gave us reason and purpose and power.”

I can just as easily take it away.

“And if I refuse to play along with your sick game?”

“You won’t because Grandmother chose well,” Nadine replies. “The wolf is a hunter too, and as long as the wolf spirit lives within you, you won’t be able to resist. You won’t be able to stop trying to turn the tables and right the wrongs. You will hunt with as much passion and energy and guile as we will. But in the end, Dominy, we will win.”

“You really think so?” I ask.

“Unlike you, Dominy, I understand that to be a true hunter you must be able to kill. It’s the only way to maintain balance in the world,” Nadine rationalizes. “And it’s a lesson you’ll never learn.”

She has absolutely no idea that I’m becoming an excellent student. “Don’t be so sure of that.”

 

Napoleon’s funeral was the exact opposite of Jess’s, quick and quiet. No one spoke other than Father Charles who, since he didn’t really know Nap very well, had a difficult time personalizing the sermon. Luba, Melinda, and Nadine, the three generations of evil, sat in the front row wearing respectful black outfits and claimed that they were too distraught due to their loss to have a repast. They thanked everyone for coming to the abridged church service, then slinked into a waiting black limousine, and probably drove off somewhere to celebrate in private.

Caleb and I sat on either side of Archie, who remained stoic throughout the brief ceremony. But when they lowered Nap’s casket into the ground, he finally broke down and cried in Caleb’s arms. I watched them with such pride. My friend and my boyfriend, two guys consoling one another, acting exactly how two friends should.

I wish I knew how to act. I don’t know if I’ll ever tell Archie exactly how Napoleon died, because I know that he’d want revenge. No, some things are better kept secret. Even if that secret can change a person’s life.

“Are you okay, Barn?”

Ever since I broke the news to him that Napoleon died, my brother has been acting strangely. Even he’s noticed it. “Ever feel like you’ve been sleepwalking?” he asks. Before I can say yes, he continues. “I feel like this whole year has been a fog.”

That’s because when you haven’t been furious with me about Daddy’s death, you’ve been under a spell cast by Luba and Nadine.

“And how do you feel now?” I ask, looking up into his eyes that remind me so much of my father.

“Like the fog’s lifting,” he replies. His words are followed by a hopeful smile. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Depends upon what’s on the other side of the mist. “Yes,” I say instead. “That’s a very good thing.”

And who knows, maybe it is. Maybe this is a sign that Barnaby is finding his way home; perhaps someday I’ll have my brother back. Until then at least I have my friends.

The five of us are standing in a silent line in front of Napoleon’s grave. Caleb, Archie, Arla, Jess, and me. We’re thinking about the body of the boy trapped within the mahogany casket poised in its final resting place, but not yet covered with dirt. He started out as an outsider, someone we weren’t sure we could trust, but once we got to know him, we knew that he was our friend. A friend who had the misfortune of having Nadine as his sister.

Just as we’re about to leave, we hear a rumbling underneath our feet. The world is starting to shake, not enough to cause damage, but enough to capture our attention. Suddenly from the depths of the earth, from somewhere unseen, a swarm of butterflies rises up from the open grave and hovers over Napoleon’s casket. It’s a gorgeous sight, a cluster of bright, happy colors, reminding us of what was lying deep within our friend’s soul.

I watch as one single butterfly, its wings a vibrant shade of violet, breaks from the crowd and lands on Archie’s waiting finger. They stare at each other long enough for Archie to understand what’s happening to him; he’s being given a sign that his boyfriend is going to be okay. Tears slide down Archie’s cheeks, but they’re joined by a beaming smile. Then the butterfly lets go of Archie’s finger to return to the group that’s still waiting for him, and together we watch them as they fly upward into the pale blue sky.

If I didn’t know it already, I know it now: The bee didn’t kill the butterfly; she just gave him the freedom to live his life in a place where there’s peace and joy and love. A place without a moon or stars. A place where the wolf and the girl could be free to roam without being hunted.

Maybe someday I’ll find a place like that too.