Sunblind Read online

  Luba answers my silent questions, and I feel the horror of her words, because now everything makes sense.

  “I believe, Dominy,” Luba hisses, “that you’ve already met my grandchildren.”

  Part 2

  There are three above, there are three below

  Starlight overshadows the moon’s weak glow

  Now my world will change, my fate will shift

  Because of the power contained

  within this trio’s gift.

  Chapter 16

  Remember, Dominy, you are a fool!

  Yes, I am. And I’m looking at the proof. Not one enemy, not two, but three! How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so blind for so long? The clues were all there—the three stars, Orion, the tattoos, Jess’s warning—all there for me to see, all there for me to ignore. Until now. Because evil has just tripled.

  My howl is so loud and so ferocious, not because I’m filled with anger, not because I’m filled with a desire for vengeance, but because I’m filled with self-loathing. Cursed or not, I am a fool. I’ve been used by Luba, and now I’ve been used by her grandchildren. Her grandchildren?!

  The concept is sickening. To think that these two people, one of whom I called my friend, whom I trusted, confided in, shared my secrets with, are nothing but sadistic liars. Blood-linked to Psycho Squaw! It makes no sense, and yet it makes perfect sense. Luba’s son Thorne must be their father. The unborn child Luba was carrying when my father killed her husband grew up to marry Melinda Jaffe and had these twins.

  The bee and the butterfly did not come to Weeping Water by accident; they came here because they were summoned by the devil herself to help carry out her demented plot to destroy my family’s life. I knew they had powers. I knew they were closer to wrong than they were to right, but I allowed myself to think that there was a chance they were like me: victims. Now, looking at the twins flanking their decaying grandmother, I know they are hardly innocent, definitely not unwilling; they are as sick and destructive and malevolent as their matriarch. And I swear on my father’s life right here and now that I’ll make each one of them pay for the role they’ve played in his death and my fate.

  I may be outnumbered, but these three have met their match.

  In response to my silent ranting, Luba raises her hand, her thumb and pinky touching so her three middle fingers are pointing at me, and three streams of black smoke materialize from her fingertips. Three ribbons of deadly black fire are racing in my direction. But I don’t care what deadly power is contained within that smoke; I don’t care what horrors the ribbons can inflict if they touch me; I refuse to move.

  I have powers too. I can feel it in my guts.

  Just as three rays of smoke are about to pierce my body, I let the wolf spirit take complete control, and I feel rage cyclone through my body. Opening my mouth I give the feeling the freedom it craves. The crash is silent, yet visible, and I can actually see the red cloudburst, the manifestation of my fury, shoot from my mouth and collide with Luba’s black energy.

  Black and red twist and conjoin and weave in the sky like a demonic fireworks display, good and evil combining to form something that neither wants to claim.

  As quickly as the mists appeared, they evaporate, rising to become part of the sky, part of something much larger. I have no idea if I’ll be able to create such magic again; it may be a part of the spirit I can’t control. But Luba doesn’t have that problem. She may look tired and weak, but she has backup.

  Luba glances toward Nadine and the black smoke slides out of her hair to encircle her granddaughter. Slithering around and around and around her until it’s created a cocoon from Nadine’s head to her feet, the mist starts to pulse as if connected to her heart. I can see Nadine’s face through the black, woven smoke, and it’s repulsive. She looks deliriously happy, ecstatic to be engulfed by her grandmother’s filth.

  Next, Luba turns to Napoleon and releases her darkness to take her other grandchild prisoner. It moves toward Napoleon, but its approach is more tentative, not as confident as when it swarmed over Nadine’s body. About an inch or two from Napoleon’s skin, the mist stops, unable to get any closer. It surrounds him, outlining his body, but never getting any closer to his frame. The blackness is trying to penetrate, trying to connect, but it’s either too weak or Napoleon is too strong. That’s not it; that’s not it at all. Peering at him with my spirit eyes, I can see that his are flooded with tears. Luba’s essence can’t touch him because he’s still good.

  He is being used . . . just like I am.

  Moving closer toward the trio, I tilt my head so my fangs catch the starlight and growl ferociously. Let them see what they’re dealing with. I’m not Napoleon; I’m not a confused boy, trapped with nowhere to go. I’m a wolf. I may be their creation, but I’m not their puppet.

  In response to my approach, Luba raises her hands to suck back her foul smoke. No longer embraced by their grandmother’s black energy, Nadine and Napoleon descend to the ground and begin to walk toward me with Luba trailing behind, still a few feet in the air.

  Good, waste all your energy on showing off. You’ll be drained when the time comes to fight.

  And then I learn an important lesson: Never underestimate your opponent. Luba looks frail; Nadine looks ordinary; Napoleon looks reluctant. Despite all that, together they’re lethal.

  Three arms rise up toward Orion’s constellation, one arm for each star, and like a lit fuse, light begins to travel from the stars toward earth. I know I should run; I know I should escape, but my body is frozen, and I truly don’t know if I’m immobile because of my own fascination or because I’m under their spell.

  As their hands capture more and more light, their bodies melt into the glare. I can’t see them any longer; the unnatural light is blinding. First Nadine is obliterated by the starlight, then Luba, and just before Napoleon’s face disappears from my view I see him mouth the words, “I’m sorry.” It’s the last thing I see before I slam into a tree several hundred yards behind me.

  Before I open my eyes, I feel the pain fusing into my back and spreading out like a cobweb on my skull. I roll slightly to one side and stretch my legs. I can move, so I must be alive. There’s a burning sensation throughout my whole body so intense that I sniff deeply, convinced that I’ll smell that my skin and fur and bones have turned to steaming charcoal, but I only smell the scents of the night. And then an odor pouring down on me like rancid rain.

  When I open my eyes, I see the three of them standing over me, two snickering crones and their silent companion.

  “Did you enjoy that, Dominy?” Nadine asks.

  “We do hope you did,” Luba chimes in. “That was a small taste of our power.”

  “Just a way for us to quench our appetite,” Nadine adds.

  Defiantly I growl and let the sound continue even though it feels like stones are being rubbed along the inner lining of my throat. I’m so dry; I feel brittle inside and out. The shock of the starlight feels like I’ve been electrocuted. I try to stir, lift my head, but my body gives out, and I fall back onto the ground. A screech rips through the air that reminds me of the call of some damned creature. When I see Luba laughing, I know that I was right.

  And when I hear Arla’s screams, I know that the night has gotten much, much worse.

  “Children!” Luba wails. “Remove the intruder!”

  Without hesitation Nadine sprints toward Arla, who’s standing in a clearing about a hundred yards away. Frightened into submission and illuminated by the combination of moon and starlight, Arla’s a waiting target, unable to move, unable to defend herself. The only chance she has is if she starts running. Now!

  “Aarrrrgghhh!!!”

  My indecipherable sound penetrates the fear gripping Arla’s body, and finally she turns to run. Struggling against my own pain, I take longer than usual to stand, but when I do I see that Luba and Napoleon haven’t left my side. One has remained because she considers herself too lofty to get her hands
dirty, the other because he doesn’t want to get his stained any further.

  “Napoleon!” Luba cries. “Help your sister!”

  Napoleon looks deep within my eyes for just a split second, but it’s long enough for his thoughts to penetrate into mine. I know everything there is to know about him. He’s frightened—for me, for Arla, and for himself. He isn’t as powerful as his grandmother or his sister, but he has his own strengths. And despite his fear he isn’t afraid to use them.

  Watching Napoleon sprint after Nadine, I’m amazed at how fast he can move. Is his ability natural or spell-driven? I don’t know, and I don’t care as long as he gets to Arla before Nadine does.

  I leap into the air, but the glare of the starlight makes me miss a clean landing, and my paw is punctured by a sharp twig jutting out from the base of a fallen tree trunk. The pain sears up my leg, and I have to pull back several times before I can wrench myself free. Limping and bleeding I continue on just in time to see Nadine fly into the air and land on Arla’s back.

  “Get off of me!” Arla screams as they both fall to the ground.

  Rolling Arla onto her back, Nadine straddles her, her knees pinning Arla’s arms down. “Not until I’m looking at your corpse.”

  “Help!”

  Arla’s cry is impulsive, but futile.

  “Give her to me!” Napoleon orders. “Let me prove myself! Let me get rid of this one.”

  I watch Napoleon’s actions in disbelief; I can’t believe what I’m seeing. In two incredibly quick moves he’s knocked Nadine to the ground and pulled Arla up off of the earth. He’s holding her close to him, her back to his chest, and his forearm is wrapped around her throat. His arm is smooth and pink and strong; veins are visible underneath his skin, making it look like there are long, thin tubes running through his body. He appears stronger than I remember, and again I don’t know if this is how he normally looks or if tonight’s ceremony has increased his virility. And he’s cunning. He isn’t out to kill Arla or me; he’s trying to protect us.

  “Don’t fight me, Arla,” he whispers. “I want to help you.”

  Unsure, Arla claws at his arm and kicks at him.

  “Trust me,” Napoleon adds.

  “No, brother,” Nadine says. “Trust me!”

  Either I’m not the only one with super hearing, or the twins truly are psychically connected despite the fact Nadine told me earlier that they weren’t. The only thing that matters is that Nadine is now royally pissed off.

  “This voyeuristic bitch is mine!”

  With one hand Nadine shoots a streak of silver light at her brother, causing him to duck out of the line of fire. In doing so, he loses his grip on Arla, and instinct overtakes her and she starts to run. I count three strides before Nadine catches her, whips her around so they’re facing each other, clutches her by the throat with one hand, and lifts her off the ground.

  “Nadine, stop!” Arla cries, her voice desperate and distorted, her fingers frantically clawing at Nadine’s arm to try and break free from her hold. “You don’t want to do this.”

  Nadine lowers Arla so their faces are less than an inch apart. They can each see the creases in the other’s skin, the freckles on the other girl’s face, the scars. Nothing can be concealed, so Nadine decides to tell Arla the truth.

  “No, Arla, I really don’t,” she admits. “But you’ve left me no choice.”

  “That’s right, my child,” Luba hisses. “Make your grandmother proud.”

  At the sight of his grandmother hanging in the sky like a limp, beat-up rag doll, Napoleon’s bravado and courage flow out of his body, slowly, but certainly, like water twirling down a drain. The flow can’t be stopped; it can only be watched and mourned.

  Napoleon falters, but catches himself before he falls into the ground. He leans over, hunched, defeated, and grabs his head between his hands. His sobs are so loud they can be heard over Arla’s screams and my growls. I look at Nadine, hoping that her brother’s breakdown will distract her, but it’s only made her more focused. She is definitely a girl who likes to be in control.

  “Kill . . . her . . . now!” Luba bellows.

  Smiling innocently, Nadine lifts Arla higher off the ground and squeezes her neck even tighter. Arla tries to dig her fingers in between Nadine’s, separate Nadine’s hand from her throat, but it’s no use. I have to move now; I have to do something even if I don’t have all my strength back.

  Lunging forward as high as I possibly can, I aim for Nadine’s body. If I can just rip some flesh from her body, it should be enough to make her drop Arla, give us some time to fight back. But Napoleon has other ideas.

  “No!”

  Two streaks of silver lightning blast through the air, one hitting me in the side, the other hitting Nadine in the back. We both tumble to the ground with Arla falling on top of us. Shaking my head, I swallow hard to try to moisten my throat, which is still parched. I nudge Arla and look her in the eye, wolf to girl, just so she knows she isn’t alone. I hope my eyes say everything that’s in my heart: I will die trying to protect her from this insanity.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” Nadine screams.

  Hands and knees pushed into the dirt, Nadine looks just like me right now, an animal on all fours, filled with primal instinct and no inhibitions.

  “If we kill her it will draw attention to us,” Napoleon asserts. “All we have to do is make her forget.”

  From the look on Nadine’s face this proposition seems worse to her than actually strangling Arla to death with her bare hands.

  “Are you willing to take that risk?” Luba asks.

  Pausing to look at Arla, a glimmer of concern breaking through his steely gaze, Napoleon takes a moment to respond. When he does his voice and his intention are clear; he’s made the decision for them. “Yes.”

  “Then so be it,” Luba says. “I will allow you—this once—to override my command.”

  Crawling backwards, Arla has no plan to run; she’s just obeying her body’s refusal to be still. “What . . . what risks?!”

  Lifting Arla off the ground without touching her, Nadine places her in between her and Napoleon. Arla twists her body violently in a valiant attempt to break free from Nadine’s invisible hold on her, but Nadine’s grip is mighty. “What are you doing to me?!” Arla shrieks. “What are you talking about? What risks?!”

  “You’ll live,” Nadine replies.

  Thank God!

  And then Nadine completes her sentence. “But we may suck out your mind when we try to erase your memory.”

  “Noooo!!!” Arla screams.

  Ignoring her protest, Nadine and Napoleon raise their hands, and two streams of silver light fly out and drill into both sides of Arla’s skull. Her thrashing stops momentarily as her body lifts even higher in the sky, and her eyes whip back in her head, leaving only the whites of her eyes remaining. Then the movement resumes and her body shakes uncontrollably, four limbs moving in different rhythms. Her mouth opens wide, and I can almost hear her silent screams. There’s nothing I can do but watch and jab at the earth with my paws, trying to destroy the guilt and shame and self-hatred that I’m already feeling, knowing that once again my friend is being viciously harmed because of me.

  Bubbles of sweat have formed on Napoleon’s brow, and several beads are dripping down the sides of his face. Nadine’s legs are trembling. This ritual, this game, is taking its toll on its participants as well as its victim.

  “Hold on, children!” Luba cries. “It’s almost finished!” Her face shines in the starlight, a psychotic version of pride.

  And then it’s over. The silver beams of light retract. Arla slams into the ground face first. Nadine and Napoleon stumble, able to do nothing more than catch their breath. I run to Arla and put my snout next to her throat. I can feel her pulse; she’s still alive.

  With a flip of her hand, Luba makes Arla’s body roll over, and Arla looks peaceful, like she’s sleeping. There’s no way of knowing what damage the twins have done, bu
t because of one of them, Arla has a chance of waking up.

  “Children,” Luba says, “take me home.”

  Linking arms with her grandmother, Nadine bends her head, and her lips graze my ear when she speaks. “This is just the beginning, Dominy.” And then she lets out a growl that sounds more primitive than anything I’ve ever heard come out of my own body. A growl that morphs into maniacal laughter.

  His head slightly bowed, Napoleon grabs Luba by the other arm. Regardless of what he’s feeling inside, he’s acting like the dutiful grandson. Maybe it’s a ploy; maybe it’s the truth; I don’t know. Even if he’s conflicted, he’s still connected to Luba and his sister. He may not be as morally corrupt as they are, but their blood flows in his veins.

  When they dissolve into the night sky, I look at Arla, and I have no choice but to be thankful that he spared her life. I’m not ready to absolve him of his sins, not until Arla wakes up and I know that she’s safe and not permanently damaged by their memory swipe. My fur sways before I feel the breeze, and when I notice Arla’s eyelashes fluttering, I think it’s because of the gentle wind. But it isn’t. She’s already waking up!

  Whimpering, I rub my snout on her arm, a futile attempt to let her know that I’m here and I won’t hurt her. But she isn’t scared; she isn’t terrified of my presence. She also doesn’t appear to be herself.

  “Please forgive me,” she whispers.

  Problem is, it wasn’t Arla’s voice that I just heard. It was Napoleon’s.

  Chapter 17

  What happened?

  I don’t know if I’ve spoken the words or if I’ve thought them to myself.

  “Dominy, what happened?”

  They’re not my words after all; they’re Caleb’s. What is he doing here? With Archie by his side. And why am I in human form when the full moon is still looming overhead? I look down and see that a blanket is covering me and not my glorious red fur. I’m no longer a wolf; I’m Dominy. How is that possible? Have the rules of this curse changed? Or do I have more control over this spell than I realize? That would be amazing if it were true, but I can’t ponder those thoughts now. Such reflection will have to wait for later when I’m not lying on the grass naked next to Arla.