The Prophecy (25 page)

“What’s
it like?”

 “What’s
what like?”

“You
know, becoming a wolf every night?”

My father
gave me a brief look, but not so brief that I missed the surprise evident in
his eyes. He took a very deep, very loud breath. “It’s a prison I cannot
escape.”

I
shuddered involuntarily. “It sounds terrible.”

He
nodded. “It is. My life is not truly my own. It is not something I want my own son
to experience.”

My
fingers on the arm rest tightened as I sat up straighter in my seat. Caleb
having to endure the change himself had never occurred to me. “Caleb is half
Manaquay and half Katori. Do you really think the curse will affect him, too?”

My
father’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “I don’t know. It could. The change typically
happens once the males of our tribe reach maturity. But like you said, Caleb is
not full-blood Manaquay. There are so many unknowns.”

“Does
Charley have any idea what could happen to him?”

“She
knows. When Charlene told me that Caleb was mine, I asked her to tell him what
she knew of my people. I
begged
her to tell him the truth.”

“But
she didn’t,” I said. “Caleb had no idea that Nathan Moon wasn’t his real father
until last night.” And last night seemed like a long, long time ago.

My
father’s brow creased and he shook his head. “I can’t believe she never told
him.”

“Can’t
you?” The question was rhetorical, and my father didn’t answer. “Caleb was
totally shocked when he found out. Can’t say that I blame him,” I muttered.

“But
why?” my father said, more to himself than to me. “Why would she keep something
so important from him?”

I could
only guess why, and I felt sick when I considered the depths of Charley’s
vengefulness. My father had broken Charley’s heart by denying her once. Years
later, when she discovered that Caleb possessed a powerful magic within him,
she’d gone to my father. Surely he could love her, if only for the sake of
their son. But he had denied her again and, as punishment, she had denied Caleb
the opportunity of ever knowing his real father, as well as the truth about his
heritage.

My
father spoke then, his words bold and vehement. “I cannot allow the change to
happen to Caleb.”

“Well you
can’t exactly stop it if it’s going to happen,” I pointed out.

“The
change
can
be stopped, Sarah.”

“The
prophecy,” I said with some impatience. “Yes, I know. But the question is
how
can it be stopped? We still don’t know that much.”

“Are
you prepared to do whatever is necessary in order to change many lives?”

I stared
at him. Not for the first time, I wondered how I’d got saddled with this
responsibility. Why me? Would there ever be a time when my life would be relatively
uncomplicated again, when all I had to worry about was Katie Cunningham and Jasmine,
and what shade of lip gloss to buy?

“I am
prepared to save Caleb from the curse, but I don’t understand
how
I’m
supposed to do it. It’s not exactly like any of this comes with an instruction
manual.”

His
shoulders relaxed somewhat. “Thank you, Sarah. I would not ask this of you if
it were just me. You have no reason to help me, after all. But I will ask this
for Caleb so that he doesn’t have to share this burden.”

I
looked at him, my heart squeezing with sympathy. “It’s not just Caleb I’m doing
this for, you know.”

My
father swallowed hard and nodded once, and then he turned forward again.

I
pulled out my cell phone and checked the time. By the time we arrived home,
school would be ending. I quickly texted Caleb. Turns out I had some very important
news to share.

Meg
whirled at the sound of the car’s tires on the driveway and fixed a furious
gaze on me. I could see the dark flush of anger in her face, even through the
windshield of the car. Sebastian was leaning casually against his parked bike,
arms crossed and a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Uh-oh,”
said my father and I at the same time. The car came to a stop, and I sat there,
watching Meg watching me.

She stormed
the car, her entire body vibrating with a barely suppressed rage. She yanked
open the door, grabbing me by the arm so that I practically tumbled out of my
seat.

“What
were you thinking running off with Sebastian? And on the back of a
motorcycle
?”
Her voice pitched up as she gesticulated wildly at my uncle.

“Somebody’s
jealous . . .” Sebastian sing-songed.

Meg
rounded on him. “Oh, grow up!”

She continued
to me. “Of all the irresponsible things you’ve done, Sarah, this has—”

“I’m
her uncle,” Sebastian interrupted, dismissing Meg’s argument with a casual wave
of his hand. “She was safe with me.”

Meg
rounded on him again. “You’re a
stranger
! She doesn’t even know you!”

“And
whose fault is that?” Sebastian spoke evenly, but through his teeth. The
underlying bitterness was clearly there.  

“By the
way,” he said. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you’re
angry?” 

“Save
it, Sebastian. Sarah is
my
responsibility,” she said. “Not yours. And
certainly not his.” She swung her arm in the direction of my father, acknowledging
him for the first time without actually meeting his eyes.

My
father joined me at my side, and he reached out a conciliatory hand to Meg. “We
have not come to take Sarah away from you or David,” he said. “However, she is
no longer a child. I doubt any of us have much say about what happens in her
life.”

“Oh, I
have say, all right,” Meg said. “I have
lots
of say, as a matter of
fact. I’ve been the closest thing to a parent she’s had since she was eleven.”  

She
raised her hand to brush at a strand of flyaway hair dangling in her eyes and for
the first time seemed to notice the makeshift weapon she was still gripping.
She tossed the clippers aside to the grass and then clasped her forearms to
stop shaking. I’d never seen her so upset before.

“If you
haven’t come back for Sarah, then why are you here?”

I
linked my arm through Meg’s, which seemed to confuse her just long enough to
distract her from being angry at my uncle and father. I began leading her
toward the house, with a nod at Sebastian and my father that they should
follow, too.

“Come
inside, Meg. There’s something we need to talk about.”

TWENTY-TWO

Meg called
David in from where he was replacing a greenhouse window, and the five of us
sat in a long, uncomfortable silence. David kept one eye on my father, while
Meg looked as though she was ready to spit venom at Sebastian if he so much as twitched
a finger.

The
door finally creaked open and I sighed gratefully with relief, despite the obnoxious
clamor of Jasmine’s incessant complaining.

“ . . .
understand why I have to be here,” she was saying. “I don’t even like you guys.
This is so unfair.”

“Sarah
said it was important for all of us to be here,” Caleb said as the door slammed
shut again. “That includes you. So stop whining like a baby.”

Their
footsteps, as well as their voices, grew increasingly louder as they drew
closer to the living room where we were waiting—to ambush them, it felt like.

“Of
course
her
word is law,” Jasmine said.

Sebastian
and David each snorted with suppressed laughter and then grinned broadly at the
malicious look I turned on them. Apparently one annoying uncle wasn’t enough to
contend with. Now I had two.

“Seriously,
Jasmine. Just shut up for once in your life,” said Caleb.

“Make
me.”

“How
about I make you?” Shyla said. “And where is Adrian?”

“Stop
your bickering. All of you,” came Imogene’s voice of authority. “Or I’m going
to—”

The
group halted suddenly as they came face-to-face with us gathered before them.

“Who
are
you
?” Jasmine said rudely, her eyes volleying between Sebastian and my
father.

“I
think,” Caleb said, standing breathless and wide-eyed behind her, “that is my
father.”

Jasmine’s
eyes narrowed, and I could tell she was trying to reconcile the image of the
man sitting next to me with her vague memories of Nathan Moon. Finally she said
to Caleb, with a breath of disappointment, “No. That’s not him.”

“That
man is not
your
father, Jasmine,” Imogene said, her voice a barely
audible whisper. “But he’s your brother’s. As well as Sarah’s.”  

“What
are you talking about?” Jasmine said, but no one was paying attention to her
anymore.

My
father rose and stood paralyzed under the weight of Imogene’s gaze. The rest of
us held our collective breath, unable to look away or even blink.

“You
killed my daughter,” she said.

I wanted
to reach out and squeeze his hand, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t bring myself
to look at Shyla, to see the pain and shock that I knew must be written on her
face. I could see it plainly enough on Imogene’s.

My
father knelt in front of Imogene, never taking his eyes from hers. She looked
momentarily taken aback but didn’t utter a word.

“There
is a custom among my people,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion as it bobbed
too near the surface of his tightly-lidded calm. “When one commits an immense wrong,
he must sing a lament for the preservation of his soul. That is why the great
wolf howls. He sings not only for his soul, but for the souls of his
forefathers and all the ones who bear the curse of Kamut.”

My
father took a deep breath and continued. “Every night since your daughter’s
death, I have sung to the moon. Not for
my
soul,” he said, with an
adamant shake of his head, “but for the life I took from this earth. Someone’s
daughter, wife, and mother.”

My throat
burned with unshed tears, and I gnashed my teeth to keep the terrible ache of sadness
at bay.

“Gran. It’s
okay,” Shyla said, resting her hand gently on Imogene’s arm as she whispered condolences
in her ear.

Imogene
blinked several times as she struggled to bring her own emotions under control.
She laid her hand on Shyla’s. “I know. I’m fine, honey. I just . . . I need a
moment to process this.”

She
closed her eyes and took a labored breath, putting her hand over her heart, as
if it was all too much and she would crumple under the weight of grief exhumed.

My
father’s shoulders slumped. He began to rise to his feet again. “It was a
mistake coming here. I’ll go.”

“You
can’t!” I instinctively reached toward him and grabbed his arm.

Imogene’s
eyes opened then, and she fixed them on my father. “Sarah’s right. Our Spirit
Leader does not make mistakes. We might not understand all that She does, but
there is a purpose to everything. I’m sure of that. If you leave now, before we
know why we’ve even been called here, my daughter will have died in vain.”

My
father hesitated, bowed his head in a solemn nod, and then returned to his seat
next to me.

“Now,”
Imogene said, with obvious effort as she sat down next to Meg. “Would someone care
to explain what is going on?”

Jasmine’s
shrill voice shattered the relative stillness of the room. “Thank you! I’ve
been waiting for someone to explain ever since Caleb started talking crazy and
saying that man is his dad.” She curled her long fingers around her practically
non-existent waist and stared at the rest of us expectantly.

“Look
at them,” Imogene said, tilting her head first at Caleb and then at my father.

Jasmine
rolled her eyes. “I
am
looking. I’m not blind.”

“Really
look.”

I
looked, too. We all did. Smooth down Caleb’s blue-tipped spikes and erase the
lines around my father’s eyes, and anyone could see the resemblance. Standing
nearly equal in height, they shared the same imperious nose, high cheekbones,
and caramel-colored skin. It struck me then just how very handsome both my
father and half-brother were.

Jasmine’s
eyes darted between them. And then almost at once, her face crumpled as the
truth of it dawned on her.

“You
mean it’s true? But how? I don’t understand. Caleb and her,” she said, swinging
around and pointing an accusing finger at me, “are
related
? They’re
brother and
sister
?”

“I
knocked, but I guess no one—” Charley breezed into the room just then, her face
a mask of irritation, and stopped in her tracks.

Charley’s
complexion paled visibly and her mouth hung slack. “Lucas,” she said in obvious
surprise, when at last she found her voice.  

“Hello
Charlene.” My father’s greeting was cool, but I could tell he was just as
shocked to see her here.