The Star-Fire Prophecy (13 page)

“Galt’s got a phone,” Amy said.

“But he wouldn’t let me call the police.”

Danica tried to fix their position by the stars. “We have to head south,” she told Amy. They started to walk away from the road, stumbling on the uneven ground, and Danica hoped what she remembered about the constellations was accurate.

“We won’t have to go back after you call the police?” Amy asked.

“Back to Star-Fire? No, I won’t let them take you back.”

“You can’t go back after tonight,” Amy said. “Because tomorrow night there’s going to be one of those fires.”

“A ritual fire?”

“Yes. With the chanting.”

“I know you don’t like those fires, Amy.”

“That’s not what I mean. I saw a fire and you were there and someone whose face I couldn’t see and an awful thing happened. What I saw was the ritual fire, yet different. But somebody died, and I couldn’t tell who.” Amy clutched at Danica’s hand. “I don’t want it to be you,” she cried.

Chapter Seventeen

Fire
, Danica thought.
Again, fire
. “Don’t worry about it,” she said to Amy.

“But what I see is always so,” Amy said. “And you’re there. There where the fire is.”

“This time will be different,” Danica promised, but Amy didn’t respond.

A meteor streaked across the November sky, then another and another.

“Shooting stars,” Amy said.

Suddenly Danica recalled the date. November twenty-fifth.

“My birthday’s tomorrow,” she told Amy. “When I was born there was a meteor shower, lots of shooting stars.”

“My birthday’s the last day of November,” Amy said. “I wish I’d had time to bring our amulet.”

The fused meteorite seemed to come from another existence.
I wonder if it really fell the night I was born
? Danica thought.

“If we had the arrow, she couldn’t find us,” Amy said.

“Melantha won’t find us anyway,” Danica told her.
But they’ll find the VW
, she realized.
They’ll know I came back, know Amy’s with me
. She tried to hurry over the rough ground, but Amy tripped and fell.

“I’m tired,” Amy said.

“Let’s rest a minute.” Danica knew she couldn’t force Amy, but the urgency to put distance between them and Star-Fire made her uneasy.

“I see some lights out there,” Amy said. The lights were behind them, from the way they’d come. Was somebody following, already searching for them?

“We’d better keep going,” Danica said. Another meteor arced in a death dive.

“Where do all the shooting stars go?” Amy asked.

“Some fall to the ground like our arrow and some burn up before they get that far.”

“Was it important that you were born when there were shooting stars?”

“I don’t know.” Danica paused and looked at the sky. Four streaks of light shot across the heavens. “I think so. But I’m not sure why.”

“Then maybe we’ll be lucky tonight,” Amy said. She was moving slower and slower.

“Let me carry you for a while,” Danica said. She picked up the child and looked behind them at the bobbing lights. Flashlights?

“We might have to hide,” she told Amy. “If I find a good place, that’s what we’ll do.”

After what seemed like hours of stumbling numbly over the uneven ground, climbing up and down hills, Danica saw a stand of trees etched against the sky. “We’ll go over there,” she said. Amy was walking again, she’d grown too heavy for Danica, but they traveled at a snail-like pace.

The trees grew along a small stream. Danica heard the water before she came to it. Huge boulders, several times again as high as she was, towered above them. “We can hide in here, no one will find us.”

“
She
will,” Amy said. But she followed Danica under a rocky overhang where the bushes grew close.

“We won’t be found here,” Danica said. She sat on the ground with her back against the rock and took Amy in her arms. The child gave an exhausted sigh and collapsed against Danica.

“Rest,” Danica said “Go to sleep.”

“No, I can’t,” Amy said. “I won’t know if she’s coming then.”

The sooner the child was taken away from Melantha’s influence, the better. How terrible for Amy to fear sleep because of this woman’s influence.

“I’ll keep watch,” Danica said.

“You can’t help that way,” Amy told her. “It’s nothing you can see with your eyes. But I can tell if she’s coming. If I’m awake I can stop her from—from…” Amy’s words trailed away. “Sometimes she makes me go to sleep and then I can’t keep her out. Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“You need rest,” Danica repeated.

“But she’ll find us. If you talk to me I can stay awake.” Amy put her hand inside Danica’s, and all at once Danica remembered the dream she’d had about the night of shooting stars.

A dog howled in the distance and Danica shivered. The sound was part of the dream, too. Then she shook her head. The dog meant they must be near the ranch. If Amy wasn’t so exhausted…

“Does Maxwell miss me?” Amy asked.

“Very much.”

“I think he can get to be smarter,” Amy said. “When I look in his head I can see a funny round thing in the way, like it’s growing there. Couldn’t a doctor take it out?”

My God
, Danica thought,
a tumor? Does Maxwell have a brain tumor? And Amy can sense it? What is this child I hold in my arms
?

“I’m awfully sleepy,” Amy said. “If I fall asleep you wake me up.”

“All right,” Danica said to soothe Amy. “Rest now.”

At first Danica was tense, and every slight noise made her start, but as the night wore on she found herself dozing, then jerking awake, uncomfortable in her cramped position. Amy had long since fallen asleep. Closed in by the bushes as they were, Danica couldn’t see if the lights were still following their track.
Should I wake Amy and start walking again
? she wondered. But she knew she had no idea now which direction to take. In the dark they might head back to Star-Fire and not even know it.

Were the meteors still flashing across the sky? Lucky, as Amy would have it? Or had their luck run out? Why did Amy attach such importance to the arrow amulet?

The night grew chillier and though Amy’s body against her provided some warmth, Danica began to shiver.
Is it midnight yet
? she wondered.
Am I a year older
?

“November born in falling flame

The firebird shall give you name

Leaves turn

Arrows burn…”

Danica had never forgotten the prophecy, but the words had seemed so much gibberish except for the first line—that was her birth. But the firebird, the phoenix, regenerating itself, burning to ashes and then being reborn—what had that to do with her?
Leaves turn
—time passes.
Arrows burn
—the amulet? The fused meteorite that was her arrow amulet, seared by its passage through earth’s atmosphere. All right. Then:

“Beware the two-edged gift of fire

The ashes of the funeral pyre

Birds fly

Years die…”

Fire had been no gift to her. But
ashes of the funeral pyre
? What could it mean? Maybe referring back to the phoenix? Beware of burning and not being reborn. But that was nonsense.
Birds fly, years die
—November. In November the birds flew south and the year was close to its end.

“Your charm the molten archer’s sign

Your fate the numbers nine on nine

Find death’s black flower in disguise

Burn, phoenix, and arise.”

The amulet, yes, her Sagittarian arrow, and Galt the numbers nine on nine—the Cancer symbol. Her fate—the word was ominous. What was death’s black flower? Hidden, because in disguise. Then again the firebird rising from the flame. What did it mean all put together? Would she ever know?

Fire, Amy had said. Another fire. If Amy’s foreseeing came true, was there any escaping the predestined flames?

“Danica,” the old man in the desert had said, seeming to savor the syllables on his tongue. “A good name.”

“It means the morning star,” she had told him. “My mother says names should mean something.”

“They do. All names have meaning. Danica is a good name for you,” he had repeated.

Sitting against the rock in the cold November night twelve years later, Danica could see the old man’s face as clearly as if he were before her now. He’d called himself Path Marker, though he’d said his name was Francisco. Francis—that meant
free
, didn’t it? And he’d said something about the Watchers. He was the last, now that her twice great-aunt was dead. A thrill ran through Danica that was not from the cold. It was almost as though Francisco was here with her, unseen but present.

Dark flower, dark flower
, he seemed to say.

But flowers were bright, flowers meant sun and cheerfulness. Except for the stiff white lilies on her mother’s coffin. They were death flowers. Shouldn’t there be a black flower for death instead of white ones? A black lily. Dark like Melantha. What did her name mean? In medicine
mel
was a prefix meaning black. Was Melantha death’s black flower?

Amy stirred in her arms. “No,” she muttered, “no, no.”

Danica bent over her and found the child was still asleep. But hair rose on Danica’s nape and her muscles tensed. Something was wrong. She searched the darkness within her niche with widened eyes. What?

“Amy,” she whispered into the child’s ear. “Amy.” She shook her gently. There was no response. Danica’s fear grew until remaining quiet was impossible. She shifted the sleeping Amy so she could ease out from under the overhang. Why was she so afraid?

Amy. Amy was broadcasting her own fear and overwhelming Danica. But that meant…

Even as the realization came to her, she heard Melantha’s voice.

“We’re practically on top of them, Evan. They’re somewhere in these bushes.”

Then she saw the light probing, finally catching her within its circle, passing on, then coming back and staying.

“I see them,” Evan said.

Hopelessly she crawled out of the hiding place, carrying Amy’s limp form. “I—I can’t wake her up,” Danica said.

“Of course not, I’m controlling her.” Melantha’s voice was scornfully triumphant. “This was a ridiculous maneuver on your part. You know I can locate Amy, anywhere. She’s mine. How dare you try to interfere?”

For a moment Danica thought the dark woman would strike her and she stepped closer to Evan, still holding Amy.

“Give her to me,” Melantha commanded.

“Evan,” Danica begged, “don’t let her take Amy. She…”

Evan took the child from Danica’s arms.

“Please, Evan, listen to me. Melantha’s dangerous, she’s harming Amy, she…”

Melantha laughed. “What do you have to offer, you pale spark? You know nothing of the powers of the mind. Do you think that green eyes and red hair are enough for a man? Evan, give me Amy.”

He handed the sleeping girl to Melantha, and she wrapped Amy in her dark cloak.

Not a bird’s wings, Danica thought in horror, but the petals of a black flower closing, trapping the prey inside. Trapping Amy…

“No one can stand against me now,” Melantha said. Her voice rose. “I foresaw tonight, the two of you crouched among the boulders next to the stream.” She swept the flashlight in a semicircle. “Even to the details: the sycamores, the meteors, the dog howling…” Melantha laughed, a paean of victory.

“Amy has shown me the way. I need her yet, I haven’t tapped all her power. Though now that I’ve broken through the time barrier, nothing is impossible.”

She’s mad
, Danica thought.
But what if she isn’t? What if she really can foresee the future
?

“I’ll control Star-Fire first,” Melantha said. “Galt will arrange for me to adopt Amy. I’ll use legal means for a while until my power is great enough to control anyone. I’ll see ahead, follow my foreknowledge.” She stepped in front of Danica, who put her head up to face Melantha.

“You! Do you hear me, firebrand?” Melantha’s voice held contempt. “The future is mine. All futures. And yours will never be.”

“Evan…” Danica pleaded.

“Bring her along,” Melantha ordered. “Bring her back to Star-Fire.”

Evan’s grip on her arm was firm and Danica stumbled along next to him. What was the use of fighting?
Not here
, she thought.
But when I get to Star-Fire I’ll go to Galt
…

Galt, who is in love with Melantha, too, like Evan
?

“Evan,” Danica whispered. “Let me go.”

He said nothing, but his grasp tightened.

Evan and Melantha. Had all Evan’s pretended affection, his seeming interest, been a sham? To what purpose? When she’d first come to Porterville he hadn’t wanted to bring her to Star-Fire, hadn’t sounded like the Evan she’d met in L.A. But then he’d given a lame excuse…

“You didn’t want me to come to Star-Fire,” Danica said to him. “Why? Because of Melantha?”

“I warned you about Geminis,” he said. “I told you how it was.”

“But she—she’s evil.”

“That’s your value judgment,” he said. “Not mine.”

“But Evan…”

“There’s no use in talking,” he said. “I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” she asked.

His fingers pinched her arm painfully. “Shut up,” he said. “Just shut up.”

I haven’t failed
, she told herself.
Not yet. When they let me go, I’ll see that Star-Fire is investigated. If Galt won’t listen, if he’s been blinded like Evan, I’ll contact the police somehow. Maybe through Lydia or Fred or Dave. Someone
.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked Evan.

“She’ll take care of that,” he muttered.

A cold chill ran through Danica, but she took a deep breath.
Melantha can do nothing to harm me
, she told herself firmly.
I’m not Amy. Once we get to Star-Fire, they’ll have to let me go
.

“Why couldn’t you mind your own business?” Evan said to her, his voice low.

She didn’t answer. After what seemed hours of walking, the fence of the corral loomed ahead. As they started the climb toward the houses, a particularly brilliant meteor flamed down the sky in front of them. Danica drew in her breath.
A sign
, she thought. But that was the last coherent thought she had.

A fog came into her mind, blurring and distorting the images she tried to form.
Evan is here
, she remembered, but she didn’t know why.
And someone else—who
? But the knowledge lay hidden behind a barrier, misted over, and she couldn’t find her way to it.

Someone—was it Evan?—had her arm and was leading her. She followed, though she had no idea where they were going. No, not Evan, she seemed instead to be with a woman; she knew who it was, of course she did. For a moment fright flared, but the fog covered it over, softened the fear so nothing mattered, and she followed Melantha. That’s who the woman was, Melantha. She knew Melantha. Then she was thrust into a room by herself, a room she didn’t recognize, and the door was closed. She heard the click of a lock, and then the lights went out and darkness pressed close.