Starfall (17 page)

“It was everything I dreamed it would be, Caleb,” I tell him. “And more than I could ever have imagined.”

Once again words fail us, so we just hold each other and kiss. Our bodies melt into one another, muscle and flesh and lips, all connecting, all desperate to remain united, until I open my eyes and look over at the clock on his nightstand.

“Sorry, Caleb,” I say. “If I don't leave now I won't make it home before Louis gets back from his cop conference.”

“They have cop conferences?” Caleb asks.

“In Nebraska they do.”

“You don't think they have them all over?”

“I have no idea,” I reply. “But why are we bantering about police business?”

“I just like to banter with you,” Caleb says, smiling devilishly. “Among other things.”

My gigglaughs and Caleb's high-pitched laughter fill up the room, the crumby little dorm room that will always hold a special place in my heart.

 

“Tell me everything!”

Jess's voice startles me. It's not accompanied by her golden light, and it literally blares at me the second I walk through my bedroom door.

“Where are you?” I ask the uncolored air.

“Right here!” she squeals.

Finally her body joins her voice, but once again it's a body that isn't shining as brightly as I've grown to expect. She's shimmering like she's somewhere off in the distance.

“Why do you look different?” I ask.

“I don't have much time left,” she announces.

Her voice is flat and final, and just like with Jeremy I instinctively understand what she's trying to tell me even though she hasn't the strength to utter the words. Her time here on earth is coming to an end. For some reason she isn't going to be able to straddle both worlds much longer.

When I look at Jess, she looks away, so I know I'm right. How can this be happening? How can something so heartbreaking follow something so magical? I've just connected with Caleb on such a deep level, in a way that has left me feeling euphoric, and now my best friend and I are about to be ripped apart. How is that possible?

“It isn't like it's going to happen in the next second, Dominy,” Jess corrects me. “But it will happen soon.”

I don't want it to be soon; I don't want it to be ever! I want to stay connected to Jess for the rest of my life! I don't care how selfish that sounds; that's what I want!
Oh, will you listen to yourself, Dominy! Stop thinking about yourself and think about Jess! Think about what she's going through, a spirit, some kind of ghost, all by herself.

“Are you happy, Jess?” I ask.

“I am,” she replies without hesitation. “It's truly astonishing here, Dom, I think it'll take me a few eternities to explore it in its entirety.”

Her words should make me feel better, and they do partly, but I really just wish she could stay.

“Remember, Dominy, you have a part of me inside of you,” Jess says. “So it's kind of like I do get to stay.”

Regardless of that fact, our time is still running out, so I don't want to waste time thinking and worrying about the future. I want to gossip about the present.

“It was everything I dreamed it would be, Jess,” I share. “Just beautiful.”

Lying next to me on my bedroom floor, Jess grabs my hand, and it's covered in sunlight. “I'm so happy for you,” she says. “For both of you.”

Then why do I detect such sadness in her voice? It doesn't take me long to figure it out.

“I'm sorry it's something you never got to experience,” I say.

“Don't be silly,” Jess replies. “As crazy as it sounds, sex doesn't matter over here.”

What?! That is crazy. But not as crazy as Jess's next comment.

“If you want to defeat Nadine, you have to listen to Caleb,” she says. “You and Luba have to work together.”

“That's crazier!” I shout.

“It's your only chance.”

It can't be! I was planning on using Luba like she used me, but work with her? Cozy up to the psycho? I don't think I could do that even if I were all wolf all the time.

“Don't fight me on this, Dom,” Jess says. “There isn't enough time. You have to prove to Luba that you and she can be allies.”

“How can I possibly do that?!” I ask. “Luba knows that I despise her.”

“Let Vera help you.”

Vera?

“Can she really help me defeat Nadine?”

Jess turns to look at me, and I see my best friend's face, but when she speaks I know I'm once again hearing a message from an Omikami. I know I have to trust what she says even if I don't understand the true meaning of her words.

“Why do you think Orion sent her?”

If Vera has Orion's blessing, how in the world can that be good? And why in the world would I want to learn from someone who's in cahoots with Luba's idol? Sometimes Jess really doesn't make any sense; it's like she's in her own private world and has her own set of rules and has completely lost touch with reality.

Sometimes I can be such an idiot. That's exactly where Jess is, in her own world or at least in Omikamiworld, a place that has a different set of rules than we have down here on earth, and her grasp on reality is loosening; she's being pulled farther and farther away from me and closer to
her
new reality.

I don't even realize I'm holding on to the thick trunk of The Weeping Lady's oak for support until I press my hand so hard into the tree I can practically feel its rough flesh through my gloves. I can't lose Jess, not yet, not now! I don't care how selfish that sounds; I don't care that our relationship has continued long after it should have been severed; I don't care if there are other people in my life willing to step into the best friend role. Jess is irreplaceable.

Closing my eyes to welcome the blackness, I swim in that sea of nothing, pushing all thoughts out of my head. The feeling lasts for about three seconds. After that the deep black void bursts into golden sunshine, and I see Jess floating, lazily twirling her hand in the air, making sparkly circles of yellow light. Bringing light where there was darkness, bringing a smile where there was sadness, bringing peace where there was only havoc. Bringing into focus that other side of me that sometimes I can't reach. If Jess leaves for good, will she take that piece of me with her?

Remember, Dominy, who you really are.

The cryptic comment wraps around my eyes like a cold compress. I try to let the words sink in so that they can be interpreted by my brain, but the sensation just remains on my skin, enveloping me, but not penetrating. They're just words with no meaning, coming from some unknown voice. Until I listen without my ears.

The gasp that escapes my throat is loud and sudden and revitalizing; it brings me back to life, back to my own reality, even if I would rather burrow through the cold earth and live among The Weeping Lady's tangled roots for the rest of my life. Still leaning on the tree for support, I look up to the sky and watch an innocent cloud be stretched apart like an unfortunate piece of cotton candy that's being mutilated by several pairs of greedy hands. When the cloud is ripped into puffy shreds, I can see what it had been hiding; I can see what was lying behind it, just out of reach, just beyond this reality. I can see the faintest trace of Orion's constellation.

As is often the case, I don't know if I'm looking through my own eyes or the wolf's, but I have to stop thinking in dualities; I have to stop categorizing. I am a girl, and I am a wolf, not either-or, but one and the same. It's time I accepted that concept, because it isn't going to change. Regardless of the reason, I can see the murky outline of three stars in one line, not touching, but connected. Their light is dim, but their presence is overwhelming.

Remember, Dominy, who you really are.

I've never heard this voice before, and yet I know exactly whom it belongs to. Orion. The Original Hunter. Luba's god. The demon who gave her the power to curse my father and me, now trying to offer advice.
I don't want any advice from you! I just want you to leave my family and me alone!

Remember, Dominy, I am your family now.

NO!

The third time I ram my fist into the tree, the few leaves remaining on The Weeping Lady's branches rustle loudly in the wind, as if to compel me to stop. Hurting someone else never eases your own pain, no matter how good it may feel in the moment of release. I whisper “I'm sorry” to The Weeping Lady, and she replies by relinquishing one leaf as a sacrifice. It falls slowly, sliding bumpily down the unruly waves of my hair, then spiraling horizontally like a roasted pig on a skewer until freefalling to the frosty grass. Bending down to examine the leaf, I see that we have a lot in common. While it's still mainly green, there are blotches of brown on its surface, and its center is starting to become brittle and worn. It's still intact from its journey, but it's beginning to show signs of becoming weary.

Orion's voice is clinging to my memory. I don't know if the sound is still alive and echoing or if I'm mentally playing it over and over and over again in my mind. I detest the way it sounds, because it's not at all the way it should be; he sounds kind and reassuring and fatherly. He should sound unnatural, as if words are uncommon to him and have to be yanked out of his throat by a clawing hand. Instead, his words demand attention.

But as sickening as his words may sound, they're true. My knees crash into the ground, and I hear the leaf crunch underneath the weight of my body. The Weeping Lady's offering is gone, severed into many tiny pieces like the cloud thousands of miles above. Destruction is rampant because I am part of Orion and a part of Luba and Nadine as well. A cold wind showers down on me and pushes me to the earth, and I realize I'm the same as Nadine's unborn children. All three of us are children of darkness.

The same way my innocence was tainted by Luba's curse, Nadine's innocent twins are going to be tainted by her sins. They'll have no say in their future, just like I had no say in mine. They'll inherit a legacy of evil, and with Nadine as their mother and mentor and guide, they'll embrace their darkborn legacy just as I've had to embrace my curse. Even if they accept it with reluctance, with Nadine at the helm of their lives, they will accept it as their fate.

Slowly I feel my body stand up, and I finally regain my balance so I don't have to lean into the tree for support to stand. But I'm still not comfortable. I feel a gnawing at my knee, not a pain, more like an itch, and I look down to see that the remnants of the leaf are stuck against my jeans, three separate pieces of what was once one leaf pressed against me. One by one the pieces fall to the ground, landing in one straight line until it's as if the wind rises from inside the cold blades of grass and the pieces are torn from each other and scatter. Even with my wolf vision I can't see where they go; they're lost to me and to each other.

This time when revelation consumes me, I don't let out a gasp, probably because I'm too shocked that such a horrid thought could voluntarily enter my brain, but sometimes the world is a horrid place. The best way to stop Nadine from creating her own bloodline of evil is to stop her children from ever being born. Kill her spawn before they're hatched.

The girl is appalled by such a thought; the wolf just licks its fangs.

Once again I'm reminded that I'm not two things any longer; I'm one. Part of me might be disgusted by the idea of killing innocent children, but the other part of me understands that it's necessary. But could I actually do such a thing? Could I actually listen to the wolf voice, the hunter, Orion's descendant, and destroy two lives before they can take their first breath, simply because they will grow up determined to destroy everything in their path? Wipe out the source of misery and evil and violence before it has a chance to begin? Is that what Jess means when she says I have to learn from Vera?

No! Absolutely not! Jess may be in another realm, forces may be pulling us apart like a cloud, but she could not condone such a heinous act. Especially after she was duped into believing that killing Barnaby was a solution. She might still be impulsive and carefree and brazen, but she wouldn't be so reckless. There may be a lot Vera can teach me, a lot that I need to learn, but twinicide is not part of it.

I look up at the sky, and Orion's constellation is twinkling in the midday sun, as if anointing me with three gold stars, agreeing with me. I think I just passed my first test.

 

Louis is about to take his own personalized exam.

“Melinda?”

Arla and I are thrilled to hear the question mark firmly nailed at the end of her name when Louis opens the front door. He's as surprised to see her standing on the other side of the doorway as we are; her sudden appearance is unexpected. Hopefully it's also unwanted. I mean what the hell is she doing here? Ringing the front bell as if the welcome mat's message extended to everyone including homicidal housewives, two-timing tramps, and unmotherly mothers. Okay, I'm done. But Louis isn't.

“I told you not to show up like this,” he announces, his voice emotionless and flat. “I don't want to see you anymore.”

Burab
!
Which is Japanese for bravo! The Jaffog has truly lifted, and Louis is able to see and think and react clearly. And he clearly doesn't want Melinda in his life.

“And I told you that I'm not giving you up without a fight,” she replies. “Merry Christmas.”

“Christmas isn't for another week,” Louis reminds her.

“I thought I'd give you your present early,” she replies, walking right into the living room and revealing a large red ribbon from behind her back. “Me.”

B
inguhisu!
Which is Japanese for boo hiss! Clearly Melinda doesn't like to take no for an answer. Nor does this gift-giver like an audience.

“Why don't you two be good little girls and give the grown-ups some privacy?” she asks.

Neither Arla nor I budge from the couch where we're co-reading a fashion magazine. Sadly, I have to admit that Melinda looks like she belongs right on the front cover. Wearing form-fitting Lycra-infused pants the color of Louis's mocha-tinted skin, tucked into chocolate-brown cowboy boots, and topped with an espresso-colored double-breasted suede bolero jacket, Melinda certainly dressed for the occasion. Too bad her occasion was to try and seduce her ex-boyfriend fully clothed and Arla's occasion is to save her father from becoming an ex ex-boyfriend fully committed.

“As a good girl, I know what's best for my father,” Arla starts. “And that isn't to be alone in a room with you or accept gifts from strange women.”

While Melinda scowls, Louis laughs at his daughter's comment, which only makes Melinda scowl deeper. If the look weren't so frightening, it would be interesting, like some avant-garde fashion shoot, but the problem is Melinda Jaffe isn't a model; she's a murderer. I can tell by Arla's nervous stare that she's remembered that Louis, the only professional detective in the room, hasn't got a clue to that fact.

“What's the problem, Melinda?” he asks. “Winston dump you too?”

At least Louis has his moxie back and he isn't falling for his ex's pathetic attempt to reunite. Unfortunately, his ex may have more than just a reunion on her mind.

“You haven't seen the last of me, Louis,” she declares. “Because when a Jaffe woman wants something, a Jaffe woman gets it.”

Her reply doesn't have its desired effect, and Louis merely laughs louder and heartier than I've ever heard him before. Like a desperate out-of-work actor auditioning to be a street-corner Santa.

“Did you practice that line in front of a mirror?!” he asks, the words barely identifiable among his cackles.

Louis is too busy howling with laughter to see Melinda crush the red ribbon in her hand, destroying any semblance of holiday cheer or goodwill that she might have brought with her and unveiling her true malicious nature. She may not be a supernatural power like the rest of the women in her family, but she's something almost as deadly, a sociopath who will stop at nothing to get what she thinks is rightfully hers.

“Merry Christmas, Melinda,” Louis says, practically pushing her out the door. “Thanks for the laugh. I needed that.”

Slamming the door in front of her face, Louis is consumed with another round of guffaws. “All right, girls, there's going to be a full moon tonight, so I have to gather up the troops to go track a killer.”

Louis has no idea he's just insulted one.

“Did you see her face?” Arla asks me when her father is upstairs and out of earshot.