Sunblind (35 page)

Lying on the floor looking up at us, Archie has been healed; there isn't a scratch on his body or on his face. But his eyes tell a different story. Gone is the beautiful and rare violet color, and in its place is something unique and frightening. No longer violet, one eye is completely black, while the other has turned a shimmering shade of gold. He's survived the battle for his soul, but it looks like Jess and Nadine can both claim victory. Archie's now a mixture of both good and evil.

“Hi, Jess,” Archie says. “Been a long time.”

And now he's no longer human.

Chapter 28

“I'm sorry,” Jess says.

I want to disagree with her, but I can't because I feel the same way. Not that I blame Jess, not for a second. She's
saved
our friend's life. But if Archie can see her, that means she's also
changed
our friend's life. I just wish we knew to what extent. How much of Jess's light does he have within his body and how much of Nadine's darkness? His body goes limp, but defiantly, his eyes remain open, one black, one golden, staring straight ahead. Which side is stronger, Archie? The darkness or the light? The only response is silence. We'll just have to wait to find out, but time isn't on our side. And more enemies are approaching.

“Domgirl!”

Even as a wolf that voice makes me smile. I don't know why Caleb has come here, but I'm grateful to know he's close.

“We're in here,” Arla shouts. She's clearly in duress, clutching her head with one hand and grabbing the archway of the open door with the other to steady herself. I don't think it's her own pain that's attacking her body; it's Napoleon's.

“Are you all right?” Caleb asks, entering the cabin.

“I'm fine,” she lies.

“Oh my God!” he cries out once he sees our two unconscious friends. “Archie!!”

Caleb kneels next to Archie and lifts his head, cradling it on his knees, and places his fingers on Archie's wrist. I rush next to Caleb and nuzzle my head against his legs. I need to feel him; I need contact. Caleb wants answers.

“What happened?” he asks.

“There was a fight.... Nadine hit them both. . . .” Arla conveys, her voice weary and distracted.

“Are they . . .”

Prince Caleb is so sweet he can't even say the word “dead.”

“We don't know,” Arla admits. “Jess did her best.”

“Jess is here?” Caleb asks, whipping his head around as if he'll be able to see her.

“Somewhere,” Arla replies. “She saved Archie's life.”

“His pulse is strong,” Caleb announces. “He's . . . he's going to be okay.”

Even though my boyfriend has come face-to-face with unexplained phenomena, he's still incredibly naïve. He believes what he wants to believe, that good will always win out and evil will always be defeated. He doesn't understand about balance. Until it's staring him in the face.

“Arla . . .” Caleb says. “What's wrong with his eyes?”

I rub the crown of my head on his hand to comfort him. He's so cold. His bravery is giving way to fear.

“We don't know yet,” Arla explains. “But, Caleb, why are you here? You're supposed to be leading my father and his gang to the other side of town. Why'd you bring them to ground zero?”

“I tried for as long as I could,” he explains. “But a group of them are on their way here. There was nothing I could do to stop them, so I got free from the pack and ran ahead so I could warn you.”

Bending over and clutching her head, Arla shouts. “Get them out of here!”

Like before, she isn't speaking in her own voice, but Napoleon's.

Profoundly startled, Caleb falls backward onto the floor. “Nap?!”

“They're coming!” Arla as Nap shouts.
“Go . . . now!”

I push my snout hard into Caleb's knee to get him to move. I'm not sure if Caleb sees the girl or the wolf, but his lips form a smile and he nods; he understands what my action is trying to tell him, that he needs to take Archie and Arla away from here so they'll be safe. Outside, danger is approaching, and it'll be here any second.

“We have to go, Caleb,” Arla says, finally in command of her own voice. “Now!”

Impulsively, Caleb grabs my head and presses my cheek next to his. I can feel the warmth of his flesh through my fur, and it lights a fire deep inside of me that burns even brighter when he speaks. “Thank God you're all right,” he whispers into my ear.

He scoops Archie up into his arms and runs outside, followed closely by Arla. Just before she leaves the cabin, she calls out to the empty air.

“Jess! Take care of Dominy!”

Even though I don't see Jess, I know that she'll do just that. I sense that she's nearby, but I can't wait for her to appear. I need to get Napoleon outside so he'll be seen by Louis and his army. If I can't rely on Jess to help me do it, I'll rely on the wolf.

Opening wide, I grab Nap's ankle in my mouth, but I bite down too hard and taste blood. Hunger rushes into my stomach and my brain and my mouth like water racing into a river after a dam is lifted. Fight! I must fight the insatiable need to feast on this flesh and do what's right. I must keep my paws from crossing over the line, keep them safely on the side my father and mother and Jess would want me to stay on. No, the side that I've chosen to remain on! I may be half animal, but I don't have to act like one.

Suppressing the insane hunger rocking my body, I loosen my grip on Napoleon's leg. I drag him from the cabin, trying to avoid any sharp rocks in our path, and into the clearing so he'll be found by the vigilantes and brought back to safety.

About a mile away I smell fire, not the rage of an inferno, but the whiff of a flame, and I know that torches are close by. Howling madly, I disturb the peaceful silence until I hear voices in the distance.

“Over here!”

I had planned on Louis and his mob finding Luba in her state as the feral black wolf so they would turn predator into prey and kill her, confident that they had finally captured and defeated the Full Moon Killer. I never thought I had a plan B, but I had forgotten that sometimes fate makes plans for us. Instead of finding a killer, Louis's civilian army will find another victim. Fine! Let Luba and Nadine go free for now. If it means that Napoleon can be brought to a hospital and his broken body mended, it will be worth it.

But I don't know if there's enough time to save him. Blood has started to pour out from the huge gash in his chest, racing out from deep within his body and spilling across his pale flesh like red-hued seaweed that washes up, entangled and wet, on a sandy beach. His body is no longer twitching, no longer moving at all except for a slight up-and-down movement near his stomach. His breath is shallow and tired, and he seems ready to give in. Fight, Napoleon! Fight for your life! Don't let Nadine and Luba become victorious yet again.

Another howl spills out of my mouth, louder and clearer than before, ripping through the night and landing right where I want it to.

“It's the wolf!”

No one is behind Louis yet; it's just the two of us staring at each other, the hunter and the hunted. But underneath the sounds of the crackling flame of the torch he's holding, I can hear frantic voices and shuffling footsteps; his army is getting closer. I have to act quickly before Louis uses the gun that he's holding in his other hand, because I know for certain that he's not like my father; he didn't make a pact with God never to pull the trigger of a loaded gun. If Louis aims, he may very well shoot me. His gun may not be loaded with a silver bullet to kill me, but it'll be enough to wound me so he can claim me as his trophy. A trophy that will change shape at dawn.

Louis raises his arm, the one holding his gun, and we lock eyes.

His face is clearly visible, washed in the firelight, and I can see every crevice and mark and wrinkle on his face. It's a marred landscape, but it's still the face of a good man. A man who has squandered most of his life, avoided responsibility, and done the least amount that he had to do in order to survive. He's always allowed others to shape his life for him, his ex-wife, his ex-boss; he went along with whatever decisions they made, regardless of how those decisions affected him. Well, now he has to make his own decision: Kill the beast before him or let it survive to kill another day—that's what must be going through his mind. It's a simple decision, but for some reason he's hesitating.

Could he possibly recognize me? Does he know that beneath this costume of fur and fangs is the daughter of his best friend? Perhaps, but how could he? Whatever he's thinking, whatever emotions are creating a conflicted mass of confusion within his heart, they're making him waver, stopping him from pulling the trigger. Then again, maybe it isn't that complicated; maybe he's just waiting for me to make the first move.

My paws scratch at the dirt, but which way should I move? Run into the brush to escape or leap forward? I could end this curse right now, free myself from these invisible chains. Maybe without me alive Nadine and Luba will move on, terrorize another girl, another community. But no! How can someone who has been so blessed allow such cursed souls free rein to hunt?

It seems that Louis and I are at a stalemate. Neither of us willing to make the first move. Until our reinforcements arrive: Barnaby and Jess.

“Where is it?!”

My brother's voice startles Louis, and the finger that's pressed against the trigger reacts. It pulls back to release a bullet in my direction, a bullet I see speeding toward my unmoving body. A bullet absorbed by a wall of golden light. Jess's simple yet effective way of saving my life. And Napoleon's.

“It got away,” Louis replies. I swear I hear relief in his voice mixed in with astonishment.

“How?!” Barnaby cries. “You said it was right here!”

“I said it got away!” Louis bellows.

From deep within my hiding spot in the brush alongside the cabin, I see Louis thrust his torch into my brother's hand, and in two quick strides run to Napoleon's side. He doesn't flinch when he sees Nap's ghastly wound. The hesitation he was feeling just seconds ago has released its grip on him so he can act quickly and lift Nap's body up in his arms. But before he runs off, Louis pauses, not because he's questioning his actions, but because he's questioning what he sees.

Looking into the bushes where I'm hiding, he stops when he sees my eyes, the blue-gray standing out against a mane of red fur. His eyes widen with something, recognition or wonder or horror, I don't know, but he remains silent; he doesn't alert Barnaby or the other men and women gathering around him of my whereabouts. This confrontation will be our secret. Instead he convinces them that life and not death is the night's priority.

“Forget about the wolf,” he commands, rising and turning to face the group. “We have to get this kid to the hospital.”

“Oh my God, it's my son!”

I fight the urge to leap out from my shelter and pounce on Melinda Jaffe's body, rip a hole in her chest that would make the one in Napoleon's look like a pinhole, but there's still a flicker of golden light dancing in front of my eyes.

“Don't move.”

I can't see Jess, but I hear her voice. She's still protecting me.

“Napoleon!”

Melinda's shriek sounds incredibly real, and if I didn't know better I'd actually think that she was grieving her son's condition. But I do know the truth. She doesn't care about him; she's just like the other Jaffe women. She only cares about following Orion's mission and reaping all the benefits his power can bring. If her son has to die, like his father before him, in order for that power to grow, then so be it.

She's a very good actress, however, and I can tell from the look in Louis's eyes that despite her infidelity with Winston, despite her betrayal, he wishes he could wrap his arms around Melinda and calm her. But his arms are full. He's holding her son, the son that she hopes will soon die. Not if Louis has anything to say about it.

“Get me to the hospital!” he roars.

 

I wait until I no longer hear any sounds other than the wind before I start to venture out from my hiding spot. But Jess has other ideas.

“What part of ‘I'm trying to save your life' do you not understand?” she asks. She's sitting cross-legged and cross-armed, floating in front of me, an expression of disbelief on her face.

“I have to get to Archie and the others!” I silently cry.

“Prince Caleb has everything under control,” she sighs. “Why do you constantly underestimate him?”

“I don't underestimate him,” I protest.

“Nanite koto!”
she cries.

“Why are you arguing with me?” I ask. “Napoleon is dying, and I have no idea what's going on with Archie.”

Jess repositions herself to stand in front of me like a golden barricade. She lifts up her arms, and her hands begin to stretch out to her sides to create a sphere of sunshine all around me. I'm not going anywhere no matter how badly I want to. Or how loudly I howl.

“Oh will you shut up!” Jess cries. “There is nothing that you can do for Napoleon and Archie that you haven't already done. And what do you think you're going to do, enter the hospital as a wolf and just waltz on into the emergency room?”

She has a point.

“You have to start thinking logically, Dom,” she berates. “And not like some wild beast. If I didn't stop Louis's bullet . . . Without you this town would be at the mercy of Psycho Squaw and twinemy!” she declares. “You have to protect the town like I have to protect you.”

Jess's touch feels so wonderful, warm and loving and honest. Just like her words.

“You didn't mention Napoleon,” I say.

Ignoring me, Jess continues to run her fingers through my fur.

“Jess, is he going to die?”

“Mr. Dice allowed me to, um, circumvent our limitations so I could intervene and save one soul,” Jess replies. “I had to make a choice.”

“And you chose to save Archie?”

I don't know why I'm surprised by her actions, but I am. Yes, she loves Archie, but as a friend. She was
in love
with Napoleon. If she could only choose one, why would she choose her friend over the guy she was in love with?