Then, I heard it. Heard him. The triumphant growl reverberated throughout the empty valley before his body appeared from the shadow line of the trees. Anger burned away my tears of sorrow as I watched his ebony, fur-covered torso stomp through the crimson dirt. His claws sank deep into the damp earth while he lifted his head and sniffed the moist air. His eyes held the glint of satisfaction as he watched the last soul disappear over the horizon, the trail littered with their tears and blood. Without another sound, he turned and slunk back to the woods, free to search for the Tree of Living Water.
Do you see, Little One? Do you understand now?
Yes, Nahu’ala. Oh, God, yes.
Then, he showed me my destiny, and I sobbed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Honey, you okay in there?”
The sound of my dad’s voice pulled me out of my dream. Or vision. Or mind break—whatever it was. My body shook, and I was freezing cold. I looked down and noticed the water had no bubbles left, and it was colder than the water in Caney Creek during the winter. I blinked a few times to focus my eyes, wondering how long I had been in the bathtub. Obviously, it had been long enough for the water to cool and my Dad to worry. “Yes, Dad. Just…paintin’ my toenails. Girly stuff, you know.”
I stood and the cold water dripped from my wrinkled skin. I stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel and began to dry off. I was so cold my teeth chattered.
“Okay, darlin’. Listen, dinner is almost ready. Would you come down and set the table please?”
“Sure. Be down in a minute.”
Dinner?
I glanced out the window above the tub and was shocked to see the sun had set outside. Well, at least I had an answer as to how long I’d been soaking. At least an hour. Great, no wonder my skin looked like an old woman’s. I bent down and pulled the stopper from the tub and watched the water swirl around as it drained. I considered myself lucky I hadn’t drowned.
Once dressed in fresh clothes, I looked in the mirror. The girl who stared back at me looked the same on the outside, but the inside? A completely different story. After what I’d just experienced, I knew I would never be the same. There wasn’t a shred of doubt churning inside of me any longer. None of us would ever be the same. I thought back to the day Nana died and the frightened younger version of myself as I stood in the hallway. Thoughts of all the shame, guilt, and pain I felt all the years since, thinking, somehow, I had either killed her or been responsible for her death. The tormented anguish I buried inside, unwilling to examine it with mature eyes.
Until, that is, today.
Now that I knew the truth, as off-the-wall and utterly preposterous as it was, for the first time in my life, I felt true peace. Not happiness—but peace. I was not responsible for Nana’s death, and knowing that fact took the heavy weight of sorrow off my chest. Once Papa Joe showed me—in the vision, or dream, or altered state—whatever it was, what really happened and why, I changed. Everything changed. I knew what I was, and that knowledge answered some of my questions but left so many others open. The last thing Papa Joe/Nahu’ala said to me before I woke up resounded in my head:
You must cut your ties to your mate. Do not see him again. He poses you great danger.
Of course, I had bowed up and demanded he tell me why. I was greeted with silence for a brief second before I woke up in the tub to the sound of my dad’s voice. Fully awake, warm, and all my wits back about me, anger rumbled through me.
Papa Joe—can you hear me? I whispered in my mind. For a second, I wondered if he would hear me. I never tried to reach out to him and had no clue if I was capable of such a thing. I jumped when his answer rang through my head.
Yes, Little One.
Please, come here tonight after my parents go to sleep. I have much more to ask.
No,you have much more to learn. And I am already here—as I have always been.
He was here?
I turned and yanked the bathroom door open, racing down the stairs. When I made the turn into the kitchen, I almost knocked Meemaw over. But somehow, my body arched in a strange way and, with grace and ease, I missed bowling her over on her rump.
“Well, someone sure is hungry.”
“Sorry, Meemaw. And yes, starved. Your chicken smells great, as usual.”
I moved past her with minimal effort and came to a full stop when I saw Papa Joe sitting at the table. A flash of curiosity at who was left running the diner crossed my mind, but I dismissed it. At this point, it didn’t matter. Seeing Papa Joe outside of my vivid dreams made him look older and much more tired. I noticed a few more strands of gray intermingled in his ebony hair, and his face seemed drawn… tight. His posture was all wrong—like his body was limp because his bones had turned to mush inside of him. He looked like a deflated balloon and near physical exhaustion. Of course, now that I knew exactly how old he really was, I cut him some slack. After living over four hundred years, he looked damned good. But still, he looked off, out of sorts. I cocked my head to the side and gave him a look of concern. Did his mind-meld trick with me somehow drain him of his energy?
We…we must hurry. There isn’t much time.
I swallowed hard and gave a slight nod of agreement. On autopilot, I smacked a quick kiss to each of my family members and began to set the table. A lump in my throat appeared when I set down the last dinner plate. The delicate scrolls of the blue and silver pattern on the worn china reminded me of the past. Memories of the time in my life when blissful innocence ruled my world hit me. Hard. A life full of playing, laughing, loving, and being loved was what I knew. I listened with a heavy heart while friendly banter and chit-chat filled our small kitchen. The sound of the clock on the wall seemed louder than normal as each second ticked by. The chirps from the katydids were so loud outside it sounded like a horde of them had invaded the house. I almost laughed when I caught myself looking at Tinker’s bowl of uneaten nuggets on the floor, like I expected him to be there chomping away. It dawned on me that he was eating here in human form—and at the table and not the floor. The weird Twilight Zone factor made me shudder.
Yeah, like that was the only weird thing that happened in the last few days…
The aroma of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and—was that chocolate cake?—hung heavy in the room. The lump formed in my throat earlier grew in size with the knowledge this very moment would be the last time things were normal for me, my family, and the entire town.
A few minutes later, the sumptuous meal covered every open spot on our small dining table. We all held hands with our heads bowed as Dad said grace. Once finished, the food was passed around and plates loaded with enough calories for each of us to pack on twenty pounds. After a few bites were swallowed by everyone, Papa Joe spoke. “Thank you for invitin’ an old man for supper. It’s nice to have others cook sometimes. Feels kind of odd, though, closin’ the diner down early.”
“Ahh, come now, Papa Joe. You know this time of year it’s just too hot for folks to venture outside to go eat. They’d rather keep cool inside their homes and take their meals sittin’ next to the air conditioner. It’s perfectly acceptable to close by seven. And you’re part of the family. And you’re welcome here anytime,” Mom said, reaching over and patting his gnarled hand. I saw the look behind her eyes and smile. Something else lurked there. The look it took me a few seconds to place. It was apprehension. It dawned on me she brought Papa Joe here to tell Dad about Ms. Johnson and the note.
Boy, she was going to get way more than she ever thought. She thinks she’s only opening a can of worms. Turns out, it will be an entire case.
“Sheryl, how are Dane and his mother doin’? Did they like the food?”
My eyes shot over to Dad. He wasn’t looking at me, thankfully, as he worked on mixing his food all up on his plate. His hair, once thick and honey-colored, had thinned and was more of a milky white than honey. I saw light pink patches of skin under the glare of the overhead bulb. I couldn’t stop staring at it, for I had never
noticed it before. It was like, for the first time, I realized he had aged. The wrinkles around his eyes, mouth, and neck—when did they arrive? It sent pangs of regret through my chest like a burning arrow. I’d been so busy in my own life, so caught up in growing up and escaping this place, I failed to notice the people closest to me were slowly dying.
I forced my eyes to look away from Dad’s aging features and back to his plate. Anything to keep myself from choking up. I almost laughed out loud at the mess he’d made of his food. You couldn’t tell one entrée from the next. He liked it that way. All the flavors and textures intertwined. It made me feel queasy when I watched him mash everything together. Then I remembered I was supposed to respond to his question. “Um…yeah, best as can be expected. Don’t know about the food—Dane didn’t eat any when I was there, and Ms. Emma was at work.” I paused and slid my glance over to Papa Joe and then to Meemaw and Mom. The imperceptible nod of each of their heads went unnoticed by Dad, so I continued. “But I know they are grateful for it since Ms. Johnson quit them.”
Dad stopped tearing his chicken apart and looked up. “She did? When? Why?”
Mom cleared her throat. “She decided to quit after findin’ Mr. Witherspoon. It was quite…rough on her.”
“Well, that’s understandable. Seein’ death up close and personal ain’t never easy on anyone. But she quit? That’s kind of odd, dontcha think? A vacation, sure—I can see that. But quit? What’s she gonna do now? I mean, she’s been with them for, well, ever since I heard tell. Didn’t her momma work for the family as well?”
“Yes, she did. I believe Ms. Johnson was the third or fourth generation to work for the Witherspoons. Isn’t that what she said, Mom?”
Meemaw piped in. “I believe she said she was the third generation when she came in this mornin’ to say goodbye.”
Dad stopped chewing and wiped the grease from the corners of his mouth. “What do you mean, ‘to say goodbye?’ She’s gone? Like, moved away? Ain’t she gonna wait to go after attendin’ the funeral?”
Mom folded her napkin in her lap and reached for her tea. I noticed her hand shook as her fingers latched around the glass. “She…went to visit family up North. And no, she isn’t plannin’ on payin’ her respects at Mr. Witherspoon’s service.”
“Well, I’ll be. Never woulda figured Ms. Johnson as that kind of person. She seemed so, you know, old school southern. Gotta say, I’m surprised.”
The ticking of the clock grew louder with each passing second. Mom and Meemaw exchanged worried glances with Papa Joe and then me. For a split second, I thought Mom was going to change the subject, but then I saw her jaw set. She took a large swallow of her tea before she continued. “Now Jared, don’t go judgin’ Ms. Johnson too harshly until you know all the facts.”
“I’m not judgin’.”
“Good. Because…well, there is a reason she up and skedaddled outta town, and it ain’t got nothin’ to do with losin’ her manners.”
The tone in Mom’s voice made Dad set his fork down and look up from his plate into her eyes. “Oh? Somethin’ besides just visitin’ long lost kin?”
Silence. The greasy chicken sat on my stomach like a lump. Finally, Meemaw reached into her purse and rummaged around, producing the wadded note Ms. Johnson left us. A flutter of anger danced across my chest as she opened it. A light tremor of worry made her hand shake as she slid it over in front of Dad. “I believe, Jared, you need to read this.”
“What the…?” Dad mumbled. He wiped his hands on his napkin before picking up the note. None of us moved while we watched his eyes scan the crinkled paper. I held my breath at the stench that wafted from it. It was so strong, I could almost see the scent molecules rising from it. I swallowed hard and clenched my teeth to keep from yanking the paper from his hands and shredding it into a pile of unrecognizable strips. Dad’s expression changed from shock to curiosity and then over to horror and anger. He dropped the flimsy paper like it just bit him. “Where did you get this?”
Mom pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. Visibly shaking now, she held out her slender hand and motioned for Dad to stand up. “Jared, I believe it’s time we have a family meetin’.”
On cue, the rest of us stood up and followed my bewildered dad into the living room. Family meetings were only called under the direst of circumstances and had only happened three times prior. The first was Nana’s death. The second, when Meemaw decided to move in. The third happened when I began dating Dane. Now, the fourth would be the last one I ever participated in. Mom and Meemaw thought they were going to drop a bombshell in Dad’s lap, which in truth, they were.
They just didn’t know exactly how big the explosion would be. Had they really known, they would have never lit the fuse.
So much for my senior year…
Almost an hour later and countless footsteps across the hardwood floors by Dad, we all waited for his response. As was his way, Dad never spoke during the time each of us took turns and talked. He listened intently and let the entire tale about the strange death of Mr. Witherspoon soak into his mind. I sensed he was rolling it around his head as he tried to sort through it all. Once he ingested all of it, his pacing picked up speed—keeping in time, I assumed, with the spinning wheels in his mind. He stopped moving and I saw the change in him. His back stiffened, and he squared his shoulders, cracked his neck and fingers, and took in a deep breath. “Sheryl?”
“Yes, Dad?”
He turned his big eyes over to me, his focus sharp and steady. The way he looked at me, his piercing gaze full of accusations, almost physically hurt me. “What’s goin’ on here?”
Mom jumped up from her spot on the couch. “Jared! How in the world would she know? She’s just a child, for goodness sake! Don’t you go takin’ that tone with…”
Dad cut her off, his eyes never leaving my own. “Jolene. Sit down.”
Mom’s face blanched, and Meemaw let out a small gasp as her hand flew up to her mouth. Never, not once, had Dad ever spoken like that to my mother—or anyone for that matter. Dad wasn’t cut from that type of cloth. He liked to smile, to tease, to make others laugh. He hated confrontation and did everything in his power to avoid it. “Sheryl. Talk.”
“Jared, why in the world do you think…?”
“Ms. Gertie…you read the note. You know exactly why I’m askin’ her.”
The tension in the room was so heavy, it felt like someone just tossed a wet blanket on us. I knew if I didn’t speak, things would deteriorate, fast. “Dad, before I answer, I need to ask Mom and Meemaw somethin’, okay?” No response. Just an icy stare. I waited to see if Papa Joe was going to admonish me to be still but heard nothing. Turning to Mom and Meemaw, I asked, “Where is Nana’s totem necklace?”
“Sheryl Ilene! Are you accusin’…?”
“No, no, of course not. Please, everyone…calm down. I can’t stand all this anger and distrust swirlin’ around. Let’s not forget we’re all family. Please…I need to know if either of you moved Nana’s necklace from the jewelry box.”
“Well, of course not. Why would we? It’s hidden safely away upstairs…wait, do you think the one Ms. Johnson had is ours? Is that it? You think someone broke in here and stole it?”
Why did I even bother to ask? I already knew the answer.
“We don’t think someone stole it. We know they did.” Three sets of eyes converged on Papa Joe. I stared at my hands, trying to gather the courage to continue.
“How do you know that, Papa Joe? Sheryl, what is goin’ on?” Dad asked.
I sighed and stood up. It was like moving through mud or quicksand. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to come clean and tell them the truth. Didn’t want to break their hearts and destroy their idyllic worlds, but I had no choice. I reached into my back pocket and produced the note I found in Meemaw’s jewelry box and set it on the coffee table. All three of them moved closer to read it, yet none of them reached out to touch it. Instincts seemed to warn them of the danger the no
te contained.
I moved over next to Papa Joe and let the tips of my fingers graze his shoulder. I needed the connection with him to get through this. The need to pull from the depths of his strength, to explain the unexplainable and downright unbelievable to my family, raced through me. My heart skipped a beat when I felt the intense heat burning through him. He was fading, fast. He said my transformation needed to happen soon because the danger was high. My heart broke when I realized what he really meant by the statement. For me to transform, he would have to pass the gift, which meant his physical body would die.
That is the way, Little One. Do not fear or be sad. I will always be with you. Now, you must hurry.
“Mom. Dad. Meemaw. I want you to open your hearts and listen with it. Not your minds, okay?” Three curt nods were my answer. “Remember all those crazy stories Nana used to tell us? The ones about the big cat that saved her from the flood and how she would see the white beast in the forest sometimes late at night? The one she said gave her the totem necklace and watched over her?”
Tears sprang from Mom and Meemaw’s eyes. Mom looked horrified, but Meemaw looked—what?—accepting? On the same page with me almost. No, the look was one of understanding.
She knew!
I struggled to retain my own composure and let the words flow out in a sensible fashion. “The one she called Nahu’ala? And my dream years ago? About the Shadow-Man and how Tinker turned into a big, white panther and saved me? And the next day I called him Nahu’ala?”
Mom and Meemaw gasped when I said the name. Dad didn’t react as strongly, but I noticed the fire behind his eyes dimmed a little. He sensed something was wrong. Really wrong. None of them said a word, so I continued. “Well, there is a reason for all of that. A crazy, out of this world, aliens-have-just-landed-on-the-planet and the zombie plague just started type reason. In other words, somethin’ it will take your eyes to see for your brains to understand. So, Papa Joe is goin’ to demonstrate what I’m talkin’ about, and then we’ll do our best to explain the rest. What I don’t know or can’t answer, Papa Joe will help you understand. Ready?”
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