Crossfire (Book Two of the Darkride Chronicles)

by Laura Bradley Rede

  “Here,” Naomi says. “What if I cast the spell on this jar and just set it over here? If I color the light, does it look less like sun?” The empty jar begins to glow faintly with a cool violet light.

  This time Cicely is ready for it. “Yes, that’s better.” She relaxes a little, sliding down the wall to sit on her haunches. “I’m sorry I hissed.”

  “It’s okay,” Naomi says. “We’re all on edge. How are you holding up, Ander?”

  I glance at D.J., but he’s dozing from the sedative, his big body hanging slack in the manacles. Since he can’t hear me, I tell the truth. “I’m worried.”

  Naomi’s lips purse, her brow creases. “Just about D.J., right? The moon’s not affecting you, is it?”

  “No,” I say. “Not at all.” It seems weird to say it. I can feel the tug of the moon, but it has lost its power over me.

  Naomi nods thoughtfully. “Good. But I know it’s still hard to watch someone else transform. It’s a helpless feeling.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It’s almost worse, worrying about somebody else. I almost wish it could be me, you know?”

  “Survivor guilt,” Cicely says. “You feel bad for being the one who isn’t suffering. You feel like you don’t deserve to be the one who escaped.”

  I know we aren’t just talking about D.J. any more, and I also know she’s right. Looking at D.J. chained to the wall brings me right back to the helplessness I felt as I watched Cicely die. I can’t save D.J. from turning, any more than I could save Cicely from getting vamped. The irony of it never ceases to amaze me: I’m more powerful than any human could dream of being, but I’m powerless over this. I’m Super Man, but I can’t save anyone. I’m finally in control of myself, but I can’t control anything else.

  Naomi reaches out a hand towards me, then quickly draws it back. I know she’s itching to touch me, to charm me, but she doesn’t want to touch me too much in front of Cicely.

  Instead, she lays her hand on D.J.’s shoulder, and I picture the energy flowing into him like honey. “Jonah used to read a lot,” she says.

  It’s the first time she has talked about him in a while. I don’t want to scare her away from the subject, so I try to sound casual. “Yeah? What did he read?”

  “Everything. Research about wolves. Manga. Poetry.”

  “Poetry?” It’s hard for me to picture a werewolf sitting around reading poems.

  Naomi smiles at the look on my face. “There can be answers in poetry, too, Ander, and we were looking for answers. Jonah loved poetry. But his real love was mythology. Did you know in the Norse myths, the cosmic wolf is destined to destroy the world?”

  “Sounds right,” I say. “I’ve felt like I was going to destroy the world a bunch of times.”

  “Why hasn’t he?” Cicely says. I’m not sure if she’s talking about me or the cosmic wolf.

  “Well…” Naomi’s hand moves to the silver plated chains that hold D.J.’s arm. “The gods keep him tied down. At first they tried to bind him with the world’s strongest chains, but he broke them.”

  I laugh nervously. “You consider this a pep talk, Naomi?”

  Cicely laughs, too. Naomi gives me a look. “They found something better!” she says. “The dwarves told them they needed to weave a rope out of six impossible things.”

  “Yeah?” I ask. “Like what?”

  Naomi’s brow furrows as she struggles to remember. “The root of a mountain, I think? The breath of a fish? Things like that.”

  I feel disappointed in spite of myself. For a second, I had hoped there was a real answer hidden in the myth. “The breath of a fish doesn’t sound that strong.”

  Cicely grins. “Strong smelling, maybe.”

  D.J. stirs and opens his eyes.

  “Well,” Naomi smiles kindly at him. “The point is, it worked. They wove the rope of impossible things, and even though it was as thin and soft as spider silk, it still held the wolf down and kept him from destroying the world.”

  “Six impossible things,” I say skeptically.

  “Before breakfast,” Cicely adds. We all look at her like she’s crazy. “You know? That line from Alice in Wonderland? The Queen says she tries to do six impossible things before breakfast.”

  Something about that image makes me think of Michael, shuffling around the kitchen after a long night at the bar, trying to make another batch of potion for me before I leave for school in the morning. Trying to hit on the six impossible things that would keep me from destroying the world that day.

  “And he’ll never break out?” D.J.’s voice is hoarse with pain. I didn’t think he had been listening. He’s scared, I can tell, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

  “Well…” Naomi reaches out one cautious hand to stroke D.J.’s cheek. I see him relax little at her charming touch, but not that much. “The truth is, they didn’t believe it could hold forever. They believed the wolf would some day get free.”

  Cicely widens her eyes at Naomi to say why are you telling him this?

  “But the point,” Naomi says quickly, “is even if the wolf destroys the world some day, today is not the day.”

  Today is not the end of the world. Well, maybe not for all of us, but for D.J. it’s the end of the world as he has known it, the beginning of another life, and no matter how strong or how ready he thinks he is, it’s going to feel like that cosmic wolf has swallowed him whole. That much I know for sure.

  Cicely slips her hand into mine and gives it a little squeeze. She looks up at me and smiles her most reassuring smile. It makes me think of all the little things that bind us—the impossible things, the things that shouldn’t be. They may be soft as spider silk—soft as Cicely’s hand in mine—but they keep us from hurting each other, no matter how bad we want to. Tonight we will wrap D.J. in the strongest chains, but ultimately that’s not what will keep him from hurting someone. Cicely has told me about the night of the Fall Formal, when I chased her across the fields behind the school, how I caught her, but then hesitated for just a second when I looked into her eyes. And I let her go. I can’t remember that, of course, and I’m not sure what to make of it, but I know what Michael would say: it’s the little threads that connect us to each other— the little threads that connect us to our real selves—that keep us from destroying the world.

  And we just have to pray they hold.

  D.J.’s transformation is worse than I imagined. Maybe I’ve blocked out the memory of my first full moon—maybe it’s gone like so many other memories of mine, eaten away like the little moth holes in Cicely’s sweater—or maybe the horror of it is just different when I see it from the outside, but either way, it’s bad and made worse by the fact that D.J. doesn’t turn right away. He struggles with the wolf for hours, his still-human body twisting against the chains, rigid with pain. There is foam at the corner of his lips and his wrists are bloody where the silver plated chains bite into his skin. He’s panting.

  Cicely has gone back to the house now, thank goodness, since having her here would only make things more complicated. Naomi keeps herself busy, as calm and efficient as a midwife at some twisted birth, wetting down cloths for D.J.’s fevered forehead and breaking off bits of dried meat for him to eat. She doesn’t give them to him herself, of course—D.J. could turn at any moment, and as soon as he does, his bite will become contagious. The last thing we need is for Naomi to get bitten, so I make sure she stays well out of reach of the chains. I know it isn’t easy for her, considering her natural instinct is to touch him to calm him down, but even without being able to touch him, Naomi’s magical energy is strong. It radiates from her like heat from a flame.

  In fact, I’m starting to think it’s too strong. As the hours wear on and D.J. is still caught in the painful limbo between forms, I pull Naomi aside.

  “I think you’ve got to tone it down on the calming spells.”

  She looks at me, shocked. “But they’re the only things keeping him sane!”

  “They’re also the only things ke
eping him from turning completely, and he really needs to turn. This being stuck in between is killing him. Putting it off is just drawing it out, postponing the inevitable.” I take both of her hands in mine, feeling the energy swirl around us like a tide. “You have to let him go.”

  Her gray eyes fill with tears. “I can’t.”

  “Yes you can,” I say. “I promise I won’t let him bite you. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

  Her bitter laugh surprises me. “You think that’s what I’m worried about? Getting bitten?”

  “I think that’s a pretty good thing to be worried about, yeah.”

  “There are worse things that could happen, Ander. We could lose him.”

  I squeeze her hands tight. “Nobody’s going to die. Not on my watch.”

  “There are other ways to lose someone.” Her eyes are full of pain. The energy swirls around us like a storm. Maybe she thinks D.J. will go crazy if we let him turn. Maybe she thinks if he wolfs out, he will never turn back. I’ve certainly felt that way a million times, but that isn’t the nature of the curse. The curse wants to torture you, and the torture is in turning back and forth.

  “Naomi,” I say, “I would spare him this if I could. You know I would. I would turn for him, if I had the choice.” I mean it, too. I’ve turned more times than I can count, and I would do almost anything to keep my little brother from going through that.

  But right now, the only way out is through.

  “D.J.,” I say, “Naomi’s going to leave now.”

  They both look at me, horrified. Naomi starts to protest, but I cut her off. “Naomi,” I say quietly. “Go.”

  She hesitates, and I’m aware she could defy me. I’m not Naomi’s alpha. She could simply charm me into agreeing with her. She could stay here and draw this thing out.

  But she doesn’t. Naomi just nods once. Then she turns and hurries up the stairs without looking back. I hear the trap door slap shut behind her.

  My brother and I are alone.

  D.J. glares at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?” I say.

  “Like you feel bad for me!”

  It’s a ridiculous question. He spits bloody foam when he talks. His back is bowed with the pain. “You’re chained to a wall, Deej. I can’t exactly feel happy for you.”

  “Well you should.” He lifts his head with effort so his bloodshot eyes meet mine. “I chose this.”

  My mind flashes back to my fight with Cicely. I told her she chose to be a vampire. She said it wasn’t a choice when there was nothing else you could do. I shake my head. “I was there when Jason bit you, little brother. You didn’t have a choice.”

  “Jason bit me because I was chickening out. He knew I wanted this. Becoming a werewolf is part of becoming a Hunter now.” His voice sounds like it’s being dragged over nails. “It’s an upgrade, Jason said, same as learning a new weapon or buying body armor.” He holds my gaze as long as the pain will let him. “I’m still a Hunter, Ander.”

  His words make my gut twist. Is that how he really feels? He doesn’t look like a Hunter. In spite of his new bulk, he still looks like a scared, defiant kid.

  But I can’t argue with the guy now. Let him think he chose this. Let him feel in control one last time before that luxury is stripped away. I know no one chooses to be a werewolf. For a choice to mean anything, you have to understand what you’re choosing and there’s no way to understand this.

  I put on my best alpha wolf voice. “Damon James,” I say. “Change.”

  Only then do I hear the first bone snap.

  Chapter 10: Ander

  We have to keep D.J. in the saferoom for two days, and locked in his bedroom for a day after that. When I finally decide it’s okay for him to be out, Emmie decides we need to celebrate with a big dinner—or breakfast, or whatever we’re calling that meal we have in the evening, when half of us are getting up and the other half are going to sleep. We’ve missed Thanksgiving somehow in all the preparations for the full moon, and Emmie is determined to make up for it. Even from outside, the house smells like fresh eggs and onions.

  I hear Naomi’s voice as I walk through the front door and into the living room. “Just try one more time.”

  “But we already tried like fifty times!” Cicely sits down heavily in the armchair. “He’s not going to come to me.”

  “He will.” Naomi scoops Grimm up off the back of the couch and sets him on the bookshelf, across the room from Cicely. “He’s just shy, that’s all.”

  “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” Grimm bobs his head to his own tune and wolf-whistles loudly.

  “Yeah,” Cicely mutters. “Real shy. The bird is ready for his close up.”

  “Hey, guys.” I take off my raincoat and resist the urge to shake my wet head like a dog. “Animal charming practice?”

  “More like animal charming fail.” Cicely sighs. “Turns out I have zero animal magnetism. Watch.” She stands and stretches her arms out to the raven, her eyes closed, forehead pinched with concentration. “Grimm,” she says deliberately. “Come.”

  Grimm cocks his little head to one side, studying her with a beady eye. Then he takes off and flies to the top of the bookshelf, as far from her as he can get.

  He blows a loud raspberry.

  I can’t help it. I laugh.

  “Do you see what I mean?” Cicely lets her arms flop to her sides in frustration.

  “Grimm! Naughty bird!” Naomi climbs up on a teetering pile of books and plucks Grimm off the shelf. She wags a finger in front of his beak. “Why won’t you go to Cicely?”

  “Da da da dum, Click! Click!…” Grimm starts singing the Addams Family theme song, complete with little tongue-clicks for the finger-snaps.

  “You see?” Cicely jabs an accusing finger at the bird. “I told you he thinks I’m creepy! Ander, what are you laughing at?”

  “Nothing.” I turn to hang up my raincoat and try to hide my smile.

  “I wouldn’t say he thinks you’re creepy, exactly…” Naomi says carefully. “It’s just that he interprets you as a predator and it makes him wary. He just sees something strong and quick and—”

  “Creepy!” Grimm breaks in. “Creepy! Creepy! Creepy!”

  “Yeah?” Cicely says. “Well, you’re not exactly normal yourself, Mister Talking Bird!”

  “Cissa, I’m sure it’s not personal.” I lay my hand on her shoulder. “Naomi is right. It’s a predator thing.”

  “Well,” Cicely grumbles, “it’s not like I’m going to bite the bird.” But she looks at him like she might.

  Grimm flutters to Naomi’s head and fluffs out his feathers, indignant.

  Naomi scoops him up and cradles him in her arms. “But I still believe you can do it, Cicely. You simply need to have more confidence in your abilities.”

  “What abilities? Just because I’m a witch doesn’t mean I can charm animals. You said yourself there are different kinds of witches.”

  “Well, it may not be your specialty, I’ll admit,” Naomi says, “but you should still be able to learn to do it, at least a little bit—and maybe more than a little! Can you imagine what you could do if you could charm?”

  “Horseback riding on the beach.”

  I turn to see Luke standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his shoulder leaned casually against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He gives Cicely a languid smile and I can tell he’s imagining a romantic sunset gallop for two.

  “She wasn’t talking about the horses.” We both know why Naomi is trying to teach Cissa to charm. She wants her to learn to charm werewolves.

  Which makes perfect sense, of course. Charming D.J. down would be a lot easier if we had more than one witch, and I know Cicely is jealous of how much I rely on Naomi’s touch, too. That’s the only reason Cissa is working on this as hard as she is.

  And I should be rooting for her. If Cicely could be the one to charm me, the one I rely on for help, wouldn’t that be ideal?
r />   Well, at least in theory. In reality, it’s hard to picture letting a vampire have that much power over me, even if that vampire is Cicely. I watch Grimm, his black feathers ruffled, his bright little eyes pinned warily on Cicely. I hate to admit it, but I know how the bird feels.

  “Well,” Luke pushes off the door frame and stands upright. “Emmie told me to tell y’all dinner is served.”

  “Good.” The smell of frying eggs is making my mouth water. “I’m starved.”

  “We’ll try again tomorrow, huh?” Naomi gives Cicely a sympathetic look. “I really believe you can do it, Cicely. I sense it in you, and when I asked the cards, it looked like there was real potential. You just need to trust yourself, and have the right motivation.”

  “Sure.” Cicely sounds unconvinced. “The right motivation.” Maybe deep down she’s wary of having that connection, too. Maybe she doesn’t want all the responsibility of keeping D.J. and I human.

  Or maybe she’s just tired of trusting in oracles and prophecies and hunches.

  Cicely sighs. “Really, I’m just tired.”

  “Trouble sleeping again today?” Luke studies her, concerned. “What’s keeping you awake?”

  “It’s nothing,” Cicely says. “Just the storm.” But she doesn’t meet his eyes.

  Naomi smoothes Grimm’s feathers. “Grimm is thrown off by the storm, too, aren’t you, Grimm? How was it out there, Ander?”

  “Just starting, but it’s going to be a humdinger, you can tell. It started to get dark a while ago. We’re lucky it isn’t snow.”

  Naomi nods. “So warm for November! I think I heard thunder. I better run and check on the horses, just to make sure no one’s freaking. Try to leave a little food for me, okay?”

  “I will,” I say. “But I make no promises about D.J.”

  “I’ll hurry, then.” She grabs her jacket off the coat rack and heads for the back door.