The Dark Divine (28 page)

I took the key out of my music box and unlocked the drawer. I removed the book from the box, curled up in my comforter and pillows, and carefully turned to the second marked page.

A little bedtime reading couldn’t hurt anyone, right?

Daniel hadn’t mentioned that his wolf condition was contagious. I couldn’t believe that I had actually wanted to be like him, and now it made my mind spin to realize that it was as simple as a bite from his teeth—almost as simple as a kiss.

I looked at my hands and couldn’t help picturing
them covered in shaggy fur. My fingernails grew long into pointed claws that could rip flesh from bone. My mouth suddenly felt like it was full of razor-sharp teeth and long, tearing fangs. What would my face look like with a long snout and muzzle? What if my eyes turned black, with no inner glow—reflecting only the light around me? What if I became a monster, too?

I shuddered and pressed my hands to my face. My skin was still smooth and hairless. I was still human.

I picked up the book, hoping to find solace—to find answers. But the letter stretched on for several more pages, and most of it documented how the Dogs of Death had come to exist—how their blessing became their curse. It confirmed what Daniel and my father had told me but didn’t teach me anything new. I skimmed until I came to a portion that mentioned moonstones.

My eyes no longer felt weary. I hadn’t thought of what might happen to Daniel if he died. Would he really be doomed to live in hell as a demon forever? No wonder he was so desperate to find a cure. It would be one thing to live with a monster inside—it was a whole other thing to be damned for all eternity.

I didn’t want to think any more about death, so I turned to a new letter.

I dropped the book. It skittered across the hardwood floor. I leaned out of bed and gingerly picked it up. Little particles of yellowed paper sprinkled from the binding. I opened the book and found that the page I had just
been reading and a few others had disintegrated under my absentminded handling. But my guilt for damaging the book was nothing compared to the other thought that crumpled my insides.

The wolf seeks to kill what he loves the most
.

Did Daniel love me? He said I was special. He said I “did” things to him. He said he missed me—sort of. But he hadn’t said he
loved
me.

But he’d kissed me like no one ever had. He made me want to tell him how I felt.

But I couldn’t forget how he shook and the way his eyes glowed when I did. He’d lost his necklace momentarily, and he looked more frightened than I’d felt. Had I been in danger then? Had the wolf wanted to kill me? If Daniel didn’t have that necklace, would I already be dead? Or would he have just turned me into a beast like him?

I put the book away. I could not handle any more questions—or answers—for a long time.

AVOIDANCE

Trying to steer clear of Daniel became as difficult as running away from my own shadow.

Friday afternoon, he came into Brighton’s Art Supplies while I was picking out a new set of hard pastels to replace the ones I’d broken the week before Thanksgiving. I waited until he was finished at the cash register and had gone before I took my box up to the front. When I pulled out my wallet, the girl behind the counter informed me that my “wicked hot friend” had already paid for the pastels.

“What if I don’t want them anymore?”

She shrugged and snapped her gum.

I left the box on the counter.

“Are you sure?” she called after me like I was crazy. “You can keep them.”

On Saturday, he was at the parish repairing a broken
pew when I brought the bulletins from the copy shop to my father. I set them on his desk and left through the office door that led into the alley between the school and the parish.

Sunday morning, I saw him staring down at me from the balcony during Dad’s sermon. And by Monday, I realized that running any errand seemed to put me in danger.

That afternoon, Dad sent me to Day’s Market with a list of groceries. It was his turn to make dinner while Mom took a late shift at the clinic—something she’d been doing more of since Thanksgiving so she wouldn’t have to leave James at day care.

I rounded the corner into the canned-goods aisle and literally bumped into Daniel as he crouched over a box of canned peas. He stood up and turned around. He wore a Day’s Market apron and held a box cutter—the point of which was smeared with blood. He grimaced, and I noticed the back of his other hand was scraped with a long angry cut.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, and tried to move around him.

He stepped in front of me and blocked my path. “Grace.” The cut in his skin healed over as he put his hand on my grocery basket, stopping me from stepping away. “We need to talk—alone.”

I looked at the bloody box cutter he held against his apron.

The wolf seeks to kill what he loves the most
.

“I can’t.” I let go of my basket, backed away, and ran out of the market.

Dad didn’t question why I came home without the ingredients for chicken-fried steak. He made mac and cheese instead. Don, James, and I were the only ones who joined him for dinner anyway. And I wasn’t surprised at all when Dad asked Don how Daniel was working out at the market.

“Real great,” Don said. “Mr. Day’s been so stressed about Jess, he needs all the help he could get. Lucky Daniel needed a job.”

Or convenient
, I thought—but it was Jude’s voice that echoed sarcastically in my head.

I pushed away my plate. Daniel had cared for Maryanne. She made him feel safe and loved. And now that she was gone, he had a comfortable place to live. Daniel had never met James, but he loved this family. “Saving” James had made Daniel a hero in my family’s eyes, if only for a moment. Daniel and Jess had been in the same grade for many years. She’d lived in Oak Park while he was there with his mom. And then she had moved to the city and lived there until she disappeared. I knew all too well from Daniel’s admissions that I was not the first girl in his life. People always described Jess as “troubled.” Wasn’t that the kind of person Daniel said he’d sought out for companionship? Was it possible that he could have ever loved Jessica Day?

All I knew was that she was missing, and Daniel
had a good job that let him fulfill the requirements for Barlow’s class. Which meant he’d be able to stay in Rose Crest indefinitely.

Convenient. It was all too convenient
.

But to what end? Were they random attacks on people he cared about? Or did they serve some purpose? Did they point in some direction?

Did they get him closer to … me?

Something deep down in my heart told me my doubts about Daniel had to be wrong. Dad had read those letters. He knew that Daniel’s inner wolf would target the people he loved, and still, he kept Daniel here. He helped him get that apartment. He helped him get that job. He wouldn’t do these things if he thought Daniel was hurting people, or if he would hurt me.

But the thing was, I’d thought the same thing about Jude’s accusations. I’d thought that if Daniel had truly tried to kill my brother, Dad would never let him near our family. But I’d been wrong about that. He helped Daniel, fully knowing what he’d done—what he
was
.

Was Jude right? Did Daniel have Dad under some type of spell?

Or did Dad just know something that I didn’t?

GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE

I didn’t know why, but I felt like I couldn’t read the book of letters in my bedroom that night. Like the words that
echoed off of them would be heard by everyone in the house. I drove to the library. It was almost closing time, but I settled into one of the scratchy orange couches, trying to push down the nerves that rumbled inside of me. I figured that if Dad really knew something that I didn’t, then the answer was probably hidden in these letters.