I rinsed my mouth out at the sink, staring at my pale reflection. I bent down to splash water on my face, and when I rose back up, Hazel Biet was standing behind me. In the mirror, I could see her wings folded in along her back; they were a mottled gray and black. But when I turned to face her, all I saw was a gangly, horse-faced woman with eyes that bugged out a bit too far. No wings apparent.
I reached past her and pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser. “Here to discuss my love life?” I asked mildly. “Because it’s none of your business.”
I didn’t think her buggy eyes could possibly get any wider or protrude any further, but they did. Her nostrils flared, too, increasing the equine resemblance.
“You’re not the Yatah, you know,” she said conversationally. She stepped up to the sink next to me and leaned in close to the mirror.
“Really?” I asked, trying to make my tone match hers.
“Really.” She flipped a lock of hair off her forehead and patted it down.
“Then why won’t you leave me alone?” I demanded.
“You belong here,” she said.
I stepped away from her. “What makes you say that?”
“Because,” she said, meeting my eyes in the mirror, “You’re one of us.”
“One of you what?” I asked suspiciously, despite the warning voice in my head screaming at me to get away from her as fast as I could.
She shook her hair back along her shoulders and walked toward the exit. As she passed me, she reached over and tucked my own hair behind my ear.
“One of the People,” she said. “A fairy. A demon.”
Chapter Seventeen
I opened my mouth to say something, to call her back. Closed it. Opened it again. Shook my head.
The bell for the end of class rang and I heard students pouring into the hall. The bathroom filled up with chattering girls.
I leaned against the wall and stared at nothing.
She had to be wrong.
Right?
The bathroom emptied back out. The late bell rang.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Turned. Stared over my shoulder at my back. Squinted.
No wings.
Hazel Biet was a crazy woman, I finally decided.
But I couldn’t quit thinking about her comment as I made my slow way to the gym.
Coach Laramie was just taking roll as my classmates came out of the dressing rooms.
“You’re late, Harris,” she said gruffly.
“I’m sorry,” I said honestly. “I was just in the bathroom. I got sick.”
Her assessing look turned to one of concern as she took in my pallor and the sheen of sweat that coated my face. “Do you need to go home?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. I don’t think so. But I think I’ll sit out today, if it’s okay with you.”
“That’s fine,” she agreed. “You can either sit on the bleachers in the gym or go to the nurse’s office. Your call.”
“I feel okay now,” I said. “But I’ll go to the nurse’s if it gets bad again.”
The rest of the class went outside to the track, leaving me alone in the echoing gymnasium. I climbed halfway up the indoor bleachers and stretched out on my back, feeling the coolness of the riser seep through my shirt along my back—my very wingless back.
I sat up quickly, reminded of the chill that had swept through me when Hazel Biet had touched my stomach. What had that touch told her about me? Why would she think I was one of them? A fairy. A demon. One of the People. Was it something she’d picked up when she’d tried to freeze me out? And what was she going to do about it? Why tell me? The questions spun around in my mind, making me feel dizzy and sick again.
I needed to talk to Josh and Mason.
I gathered up my backpack and staggered out of the gym.
They were probably in class, I thought hazily. A drop of sweat rolled down my forehead and into my eye. I put my hand to my cheek; it was hot. The hallway stretched out in front of me.
Josh, I thought. Josh and Mason. I took my hand away from my cheek—and froze with it stretched out in front of me. It shimmered with a silvery sheen. I held out the other arm to compare them.
They were definitely glowing.
My arms looked just like they had when Josh and I had kissed. I looked around frantically, then ducked into the nearest bathroom. One glance in the mirror convinced me that I couldn’t go wandering around the school like this. Once I’d locked myself in a stall, I pulled out my new cell phone and jabbed at the buttons. I was glad I’d taken the time to program in Josh and Mason’s numbers. I texted both of them.
911. Flr 1 grls bthrm. Help!!!!! LH
Then I waited.
It only took them a few minutes. Mason got there first.
“Laney?” he whispered.
“Over here.” I unlocked the stall and pushed the door open but waited for him to come to me.
“What’s the prob—” He froze in mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open as he stared at me. His lip was swollen and split from the fight he’d staged with Josh earlier.
“I got here as fast as I could,” Josh said from behind him. “What’s up?”
Mason stepped out of the way so Josh could see me.
Josh cursed once, then bit his lip as he concentrated. His right eye was bruised. “Okay,” he said. “We’ve got to get her out of here without anyone seeing her.” He looked at Mason. “You wait here. Block the door. Don’t let anyone come in until I get back.”
Mason nodded shortly. Josh sprinted out of the bathroom. As soon as he was gone, Mason’s brow furrowed and he muttered a few incomprehensible words. A faint shimmering filled the doorway.
“That ought to keep everyone out for a while,” he said.
“Is it a shield of some sort?”
He laughed. “Nothing that solid. It’s just a suggestion. Makes everyone who looks at it want to go somewhere else.”
“Does it work on demons, too?”
He frowned at the glimmer in the doorway. “It should hold until Josh gets back,” he said, but he didn’t sound as certain of that as I would have liked.
“Why can’t you just take me into the ethereal?” I asked.
“The norms wouldn’t see you that way, but all the other People could,” Mason said.
“Can y’all see each other in the ethereal all the time?” I asked.
“If we concentrate.” His tone was distracted. “Come on, Josh,” he muttered.
“What if you don’t concentrate?” I persisted.
He shook his head, still not entirely paying attention to my questions. “Then we just see it sometimes.”
Just sometimes, I thought. Like when you catch a glimpse of wings that you shouldn’t be able to see.
Neither of us said anything else until Josh came back in. He wrapped an oversized hoodie around me, pulling it up over my hair. “I went to the office, and told the secretary that Laney was sick and I was taking her home,” he said.
“They give you any trouble?” Mason asked.
“Nah. Apparently Coach Laramie had been in asking if anyone had seen Laney, so I think they were just glad to know where she was.”
I zipped up the hoodie and let the sleeves dangle down to my fingertips.
“Okay, Mase,” Josh said. “You go back to class. If anyone saw us all together, it would blow our chances of keeping our story straight. Come to my house after school, but don’t let anyone see you.”
Mason hesitated for a moment. “You going to be okay?” he asked me.
My giggle sounded a little hysterical. “I don’t know,” I said. “I hope so.”
He and Josh exchanged worried glances. “After school, man,” Josh said.
Mason nodded and left.
Josh wrapped one arm around my shoulders. “Ready?” he asked.
“I guess so,” I said.
“Good. Keep your face down,” he instructed. We moved swiftly down the hall and out the door, his arm steadyi
ng me, as he swept me into the parking lot and opened his car door for me.
I slumped into the passenger seat as Josh moved around to the driver’s side and got in.
“Don’t look up,” he instructed. “I don’t want anyone to see you.”
“Don’t worry,” I muttered. “I’m too busy concentrating on not throwing up.” The car jostled over a speed bump and I groaned.
“Here,” he said. He pointed the air-conditioner vent so that it blew fresh air into my face. “Breathe. You’re going to be just fine.”
By the time we got out to the ranch, my stomach had settled a little. But it clenched up again as soon as we drove over the cattle guard.
“We can’t let my mom see me like this,” I said. “I don’t know what I’d say to her.”
“That’s why we’re going to my house,” Josh said.
“But what if the school calls?”
“Dad can take care of it,” he said. “I called him after I went to the office earlier. He’s expecting us.”
I hunkered down in the seat and closed my eyes as we drove past the main house.
“We’re here,” Josh announced a moment later. I opened my eyes to see Mr. Bevington holding the front door open for us.
“Come on,” he said, scanning the horizon and motioning at us to hurry up.
Once in the living room, I pulled the hood down. Mr. Bevington shut the door and was turning toward us when he caught sight of my face.
“Oh,” was all he managed.
“I know,” Josh said.
“I thought we’d agreed no more kissing at school,” Mr. Bevington said.
So Josh had told his dad. If ever there was a time for the floor to open up and swallow me, this was it. But of course that sort of thing never happens at a convenient time, so I got to stand there feeling more and more self-conscious and miserable.
“We didn’t,” Josh protested.
“Then what do you think caused this?” Mr. Bevington asked.
“No idea,” Josh said.
I pulled the hoodie all the way off and stared glumly at my glowing arms. Josh and his father stared as well, seemingly spellbound by my shininess.
“I think I might have an idea,” I finally said.
Mr. Bevington jerked his eyes back up to my face. “What?” he asked.
I sank down onto the couch and leaned forward so that my elbows rested on my knees. I stared at my hands some more.
“Miss Biet thinks I’m one of y’all.”
They both stared at me blankly.
“You know,” I said. “One of you. Not a human. A demon. Fairy. Whatever.” I waited. “Well? Is anyone going to say anything?”
The Bevingtons turned to face each other, eyes wide.
“Do you think—” they began at the same time. Then they stopped and stared at each other again. Their enormous eyes turned toward me at the same time. I dropped my head into my hands.
“You think she’s right, don’t you?” I said. I groaned in misery.
“But Laney,” said Josh. “That would be great! Don’t you see? If you’re one of us, then it means that you can’t fulfill their stupid prophecy. It would mean that you’re not the Yatah at all.”
“You might think so,” a cracked, withered voice said from the doorway. “But you’d be wrong.”
I looked up to where Oma Raina stood, leaning on a dark wooden cane.
* * * *
Mason stepped up behind the old woman and helped her into the house. He got her settled into the recliner and leaned her cane next to her.
“I said to meet us here after school,” Josh said.
“I know. But I started thinking,” Mason said.
“Never a good idea,” Josh muttered.
“Shut up, man. Listen. Remember when Laney told us that she saw Bartlef’s wings?”
Josh nodded.
“And how she glowed when you kissed her? And how we can take her through to the ethereal plane?”
“Of course.”
“And then, in the bathroom, Laney started asking all these questions about when we could see each other. After you’d left, I started thinking about all those things, and suddenly it hit me.” He slapped the heel of his hand to his forehand, presumably to demonstrate the force of his realization. “Laney’s one of us! Once I figured that out, I decided that we had to get Oma Raina’s help.” He looked around the room. “Of course, it would have helped if you’d told me you already knew that she was one of us,” he added.
“We just figured it out ourselves,” Josh said drily.
“And we don’t even know if it’s true,” Mr. Bevington reminded the boys.
The old woman tsk’d at him. “Should have come to me sooner,” she said. She stared around the room at us disapprovingly. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves,” she said, “acting like you can’t trust me. You know better.”
I crossed my arms. “I don’t know better. I don’t know anything at all. I don’t trust you. And I don’t have any reason to.”
“But you will,” she said. “You will.”
“Great,” I muttered, glaring at Mason. “Now that you’ve got Yoda here on the case, I think your work is done.”
Josh snickered. His dad frowned at both of us reprovingly.
“As long as you’re here,” he said to Oma Raina, “we’d love your input. How does Laney being one of us mean that the prophecy doesn’t change?”
The old woman leaned back into the chair. When she began speaking, her tone had changed. For the first time I could see her as the teacher Josh had told me she was.
“You all know the prophecy,” she said.
“Actually,” I said, raising my hand as if I were in class. “I don’t. Not the prophecy itself, anyway. I just kind of have the gist of it.”
She nodded at me. “You don’t speak our language, so I don’t expect you to know it. Roughly translated, it tells us that the Yatah—the abomination, the stillbirth, the human without a soul—will come to us and bear the Dumaya—the Angel of Destruction—to save us from the encroaching spread of humanity.”
“Got that part,” I said. “But if I’m one of you, then how can I also be the ‘human without a soul’?”
Oma Raina raised her eyebrows and looked around the room. “Any guesses?”
“No guesses,” I said emphatically. “Just tell us.”
She ignored my demanding tone. “It’s in the translation,” she said. “For as long as I can remember, we have translated Yatah as human without a soul. But prophecies are tricky things. After all, how can you tell whether or not a human has a soul?”
“That was my question,” I muttered.
Josh’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, damn,” he said.
“You understand, then,” said Oma Raina, nodding sagely.
“Understand what?” I almost shouted in my frustration.
Mr. Bevington turned to face me, speaking quickly when he saw my face. “The problem with the translation is that it’s an unsolvable riddle. How do you know if a human has a soul?” He looked around the room, stopping at the confusion that clouded Mason’s face. “It’s one of the first things we learn about the differences between us and them,” he prompted. “How do you know a human has a soul?”
Mason’s look of confusion cleared. “Oh. Because they’re human,” he said. “And all humans have a soul.”
Josh looked at me. I still wasn’t getting it. “So then who wouldn’t have a soul?” he asked me.
“Someone who wasn’t actually human,” I said slowly, finally understanding. I looked at Oma Raina. “You People don’t have souls?” I asked.
“Not as you understand them, no,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. More cryptic. My favorite. “So are you telling me that this means I am the Yatah? Because I’m human but I might be one of you, too?”
She lifted her frail shoulders in a slight shrug. “Possibly. If you actually are one of us. And if we’re now understanding the translation correctly.”
>
I shook my head. “Okay. But here’s a question: why me? Josh, you told me that a lot of the . . . fairies, the People, are part human. Let’s say I am one of you—just for the sake of argument, because I don’t actually believe it. But let’s just say I am. What makes me different from any other part-human fairy out there? What makes me the Yatah?”
Everyone swiveled to look at Oma Raina, who nodded judiciously. “Good question,” she said. Yep. She was definitely a teacher. “But you’re missing some important information; we track births among our kind very carefully. It’s unusual—almost unheard-of—for a part-blood to be born without our knowledge. And even if it happened, the child would be unable to hide from us for long. Once he or she starts using ether, someone in the nearest enclave generally senses it.”
“Using ether?” I asked.
Oma Raina waved her hand through the air. “The ether. That which is all around us, in us, passing through us and into the other world. The stuff of magic. The source of the Power.”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely certain what she meant.
“The child is then brought into the enclave for teaching,” she continued.
“Unless, for some reason, he or she didn’t show Power as a young child,” Mr. Bevington said.
Oma Raina nodded. “Indeed. In that case, it would be difficult for anyone to sense the child. But it would be no worry, as a child who has not evinced Power by the age of two or three is unlikely to do so, and could thus remain ignorant of his parentage.”
“But what if the Power came late?” I asked.
They all stared at me.
“That just doesn’t happen,” Josh said.
Oma Raina shook her head. “Ah. But I think perhaps it has.” She smiled at me, and I realized that she was missing a tooth along one side of her mouth. I shook myself, suddenly aware that I had been lulled into acceptance by the familiar tenor of an exchange between a teacher and a student.
Or perhaps by something more? A subtle glamour, shading my attitude toward the old woman?
I shuddered at the thought and took a deep breath, mentally shaking off whatever was affecting me.
“What makes the rest of you think we can trust this old hag?” I asked. No one answered me—they all just stared at me. “That’s what I thought,” I said. “You don’t have any more reason to trust her than I do.” I shook my head.
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