The Dark Divine

by Bree Despain

Daniel was up ahead. He scratched at the dirt near the hiking path we used to explore as children. I rubbed my arms for warmth, wishing I’d grabbed my coat. My thin sweater and cotton slacks would have to do.

  “You really think he’s in the woods?” I asked.

  Daniel dusted off his hands and grunted. “Yes.”

  “Then why did you send everyone down to the farm? Don’t we need them here?”

  “I don’t want them mucking up the trail.”

  “What?”

  Daniel grabbed my hand. “Doesn’t this path lead to the creek?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  Daniel wrapped his fingers around mine. “Hopefully, it’s dry by now.”

  We jogged down the trail for what felt like half a mile. The farther we went into the forest, the muddier the path became. And the more my feet sank into the earth, the more I doubted that James could have toddled this way.

  Daniel stopped. He turned in a small circle like he’d lost his bearings.

  “We should turn back.” I pulled off one of my flats, and thanked my lucky stars I hadn’t worn the stupid kitten heels Mom had wanted me to wear to dinner.

  “This way.” Daniel stepped off the narrow path into the brush. He drew in a breath and closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste. “James is this way.”

  “That’s not possible.” I flexed my foot. “He’s not even two yet. There’s no way he could have come this far.”

  Daniel stared into the dark of the woods. “On his own, no.” He rocked up on the balls of his feet. “Stay,” he whispered, and bolted into the thicket of trees. He was there and then gone.

  “Wha …Wait!”

  But he kept moving.

  And I’m apparently not very good at doing what I’m told.

  “He’s my brother!” I yelled, and crammed my foot into my shoe.

  I could barely see Daniel as I followed. Only flashes of his back in the distance as he wove through the trees. He was like an animal, running on instinct without even looking where his feet landed. I, on the other hand, lumbered and crashed into trees that seemed to leap right in front of me. Branches cracked under my shoes, and I stumbled over rocks and roots as I tried to catch up to him.

  It seemed like he’d picked up on a scent or something. Was that even possible? All I could smell with each stabbing breath were decaying leaves and pine needles. Those smells reminded me of only one thing—it was nearly winter. And if Daniel was right, Baby James was out here somewhere.

  The temperature fell as the sun sank below the tall pines. Looming shadows made it even harder to pick my way through the woods. I caught my heel in the root of a large pine and toppled forward. Pain slammed up my arms as I hit the ground. I pushed myself up and brushed my hands off on my slacks, leaving a bloody smear on the fabric.

  I looked around. Daniel was nowhere. And another few steps would have taken me down a deep ravine. If I hadn’t stumbled, I would have fallen a sharp thirty feet. Was that what had happened to Daniel, or did he veer left or right? I grabbed a branch of a nearby tree and leaned out over the steep slope. I could only see more rocks and dirt and thick ferns at the bottom.

  “Daniel!” I shouted. All I got in return was my echo. Wouldn’t I have heard something if Daniel had fallen? Wouldn’t I be able to make out his path if he’d climbed down?

  A half-moon would rise soon to replace the sun. I didn’t have a flashlight, and I’d never ventured this deep into the woods before. How would I find James, or Daniel, or even my way back now? Maybe I deserved to be lost. It was my pie that had burned, and I was the one who had opened that window. It was so stuffy in the house from the two ovens going all day; Charity wouldn’t have noticed that it was still open when she put the baby down for his nap.

  How can I go home without James?

  A howl filled the void below, echoing off the walls of the ravine. Only an animal could have made that noise. But it was like a shout of frustration. Like a wolf anxious to capture its prey. I had to find a way down. I had to find my brother before that animal did.

  Parts of the ravine wall were much steeper than others—a sheer drop-off in some places, but where I was seemed like a somewhat doable incline for climbing down. I grabbed at the roots protruding in the eroded hill and climbed, with my back to the open air, over the side of the steep slope. The toe of my shoe slipped in the mud, and my chest hit the earthen wall, knocking a scream right out of me. I slid several feet before I was able to claw my hands into a tangle of roots above my head. I held on with desperate force, the roots searing like lightning in my injured hand. I tried to determine with my dangling feet how far I was from the bottom. Please be only a couple of yards. I couldn’t hold on much longer.

  “You’re safe,” Daniel shouted from somewhere below me. “Push off and let go, and I’ll catch you.”

  “I can’t,” I said. His voice sounded too far away—too far to fall. I couldn’t look.

  “It’s just like jumping from the gate in the Garden of Angels.”

  I panted into my shaking arms. “I almost killed myself then, too.”

  “And I caught you then, too.” Daniel’s voice seemed closer now. “Trust me.”

  “Okay.”

  I pushed off and fell. Daniel whipped his arms around my chest, stopping me before I hit the boulder-strewn ground. He pulled me tight against him.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “So what part of ‘stay’ did you not understand?” he whispered. His warm breath brushed down my neck like caressing fingers. Heat encircled my whole body.

  “Well, since I’m not a golden retriever …”

  Daniel set me down gently. I turned toward him. My legs wobbled as I moved. His blue shirt and slacks were still spotless. Only his forearms, where he caught me, were smeared with mud.

  “How did you …?”

  But then I noticed what was in his hand. Small, brown, fuzzy, and all too familiar. One of James’s Curious George slippers.

  “Where did you find this?” I asked, snatching it out of his hand. Strangely, the slipper was almost completely clean, not caked with mud like my shoes from wandering in the forest.

  “There,” Daniel said. Pointing to a heap of decaying ferns between two boulders about twenty feet from where we stood. “I thought for sure …” Daniel backed away, looking around at the ground as if searching for some kind of trail.

  “James!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the ravine like hundreds of desperate cries. “James, are you here?”

  Daniel kept searching the ground. His face became rigid with frustration. I followed him as he crossed to the other side of the ravine, opposite from where I’d slid down. He crouched, spreading a few ferns with his hands, and inhaled deeply. “I thought for sure I was on the right trail.”

  “Like you followed his scent?” I asked.

  Daniel tilted his head slightly as if listening. He shot straight up and spun around, staring back up at the ravine wall, about a hundred feet from where we stood now. Then I heard something, too. A faraway cry from somewhere back up on the ridge. The monkey slipper fell from my fingers. And my heart stopped beating as I watched something that looked like a little white ghost in the twilight toddle out from behind a boulder, and right toward the edge of the cliff.

  “James!”

  “Gwa-cie!” he wailed with his arms outstretched to me.

  “Stop!” I screamed. “James, stop!” But his little legs kept moving. “Gwa-cie, Gwa-cie!” Then Daniel was moving. Running across the ravine floor toward James—faster than I thought possible.

  James took another step, slipped in the mud, and toppled over the edge.

  “James!” I shrieked as he fell like a limp doll.

  Daniel dropped to all fours and leaped like a mountain lion off a boulder. He sailed into the air toward James—twenty feet high, at least. I watched in paralyzed amazement as he caught James in midair and wrapped him in his arms, simultaneously twisting until his back slammed with bone-breaking for
ce into the jagged rocks of the ravine wall. In that split second I saw a look of pain rip through Daniel’s face, but he clutched Baby James closer as they ricocheted off the wall and started to fall, twisting out of control, the last twenty feet.

  “No!” I clamped my eyes shut and said the fastest prayer ever. I waited for the gruesome sounds of a skull-cracking impact. But instead, all I heard was the shifting of rocks and the crunch of a branch, like someone had jumped a mere few feet on top of it.

  I opened my eyes and saw Daniel standing on the ground with Baby James clinging to his chest like a little wolverine. My mouth dropped open.

  “Holy sh …”

  THE WAY HOME

  “Nice word to teach your little brother,” Daniel said as I pulled James out of his arms.

  Baby James clapped his hands and repeated my expletive with his happy baby lisp. He patted my face with his icy hands. His jumper and his one Curious George slipper were caked with mud. His lips were a ghastly shade of blue, and he shivered in my arms. But thankfully, he seemed uninjured.

  “What else did you expect me to say?” I hugged James close, hoping to share some of the panicked heat that had flashed through my body when I watched them fall. “How on earth? What on earth? That was a freaking miracle.”

  “Fweaking,” James said.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Miracle,” Daniel said with a shrug. He winced. That’s when I noticed the bloody tear in his shirt across the back of his right shoulder. I remembered the look of pain on his face when he hit the ravine wall.

  “You’re hurt.” I touched his arm. “Let me look at it.”

  “It’s nothing,” Daniel said, and turned away.

  “No, it’s not. And what you did wasn’t nothing.” I’d heard of people doing extraordinary things when pumped full of adrenaline—but I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen, no matter what the circumstances. “Tell me how you caught him like that.”

  “Later. We need to go.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m sick of everyone dodging my questions. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Gracie, James is freezing. He’s going to get hypothermic if we don’t get him home.” Daniel grabbed my uninjured hand and pulled me to a patch of mud. He pointed at some animal tracks. They obviously belonged to something large and powerful. “These are fresh,” Daniel said.

  I remembered that strange animal howl. I hugged James even tighter.

  “We need to get out of here.” Daniel unbuttoned his long-sleeved oxford shirt and pulled it off, uncovering his faded Wolfsbane T-shirt underneath. He tied the two long oxford sleeves together at the cuffs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making a sling.”

  “I thought your shoulder wasn’t—”

  “It’s not for me, it’s for James.” He made a couple more knots in his shirt. “If I wear him up front, it’ll be easier for us to make a run for it.” Daniel pulled his homemade sling over his shoulder and took James out of my arms. The baby squealed as Daniel situated him in the fabric folds, but sure enough, the shirt had made a perfect little seat for him to sit in against Daniel’s chest. “I’ve been here before. This ravine curves around back toward your neighborhood.” Daniel took my hand again.

  He started running, pulling me with him.

  “But how are we getting out of the ravine?” I asked. “My hand is trashed. I don’t think I can climb.”

  “Leave that to me,” Daniel said, and picked up his pace.

  I had to sprint to keep up with him. I couldn’t believe how fast he ran, especially while hefting James. Daniel never missed a step, even though it was getting quite dark—we’d probably been gone from the house for more than an hour. I had to concentrate hard on my footfalls just so I wouldn’t slip in the mud or trip over boulders. Anytime my feet faltered, Daniel would pull me up before I could fall. His hand twitched as he held mine. I could tell his shoulders were tightening and relaxing like they had when we rode on the motorcycle. He craved more speed. But I was thankful he didn’t pull me any faster. I was breathing so hard I couldn’t even speak.

  The ravine wrapped around toward the east, and it felt like we’d been running for at least a mile. My feet burned with blisters. My legs and lungs ached. I couldn’t see anything now in the dark, so I closed my eyes. I listened to my heart pounding in my ears, and to Daniel’s breathing. His sounded so even compared to mine. Just when I thought I couldn’t go any farther, it happened: I felt a wave of energy pass from Daniel’s hand into mine. That connection, that lifeline, from the Garden of Angels was binding us together again. Only this time the energy rushed through my body, and I felt a sudden liberating release, and I knew I could trust that Daniel would keep me safe while I ran blind. I let go of myself and let his graceful movements flow through me, let him be my guide in the darkness, as we ran with total abandon in the night.

  I’d never felt so free.

  I almost forgot where I was until Daniel leaned into me. “Almost there,” he said. He let go of my hand and slid his fingers up my arm. In one fluid movement, he gripped me tight underneath my arms, and lifted me up off the ground and onto his back. “Hold on!”

  I latched my arms around Daniel’s neck and wrapped my legs around his almost-nonexistent boy-hips. James giggled and tugged on my hair. I’m sure I did look funny. Daniel picked up a sudden burst of speed. We shot forward, and I opened my eyes just in time to realize that he was running headlong into the ravine wall. He jumped onto a fallen tree and leaped.

  Daniel grabbed at a root, but he barely touched it. He kicked off the wall and flew another six feet up the slope. His feet touched down on a rock outcropping. He jumped again. I slipped on his hips. My fingers dug into his throat. James clung to my arms. Daniel grabbed a tree branch that sagged over the top of the cliff—with only one hand. And then we were up and over the top. Safe.

  Daniel jogged a few more paces into the trees and then leaned forward, panting. I slipped off his back, and the three of us went tumbling onto the dirt-packed ground. I lay next to Daniel for a moment, my body shaking with shock and a whole lot of awe. “That … was … was …”

  I’d spent two weeks once watching parkour videos online because my art camp roomie, Adlen, had been totally in love with a French free-style runner. But compared to those films, the things Daniel had done today—while carrying two people, no less—weren’t humanly possible.

  Daniel looked at me, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

  James clapped and squealed, “More!”

  Daniel drew in a deep breath. “But we’re home, little guy.” He pulled James out of the sling and pointed through the woods to where my neighborhood’s lights called like a beacon in the distance.

  James pouted with disappointment, and I felt the same way.

  Daniel rolled over onto his stomach, still breathing hard. I fingered the tear in his T-shirt and realized that even though the rip was matted with blood, there wasn’t a cut in his skin. Only a long, jagged scar where a bleeding wound should have been. I brushed my fingertip down the warm, pink mark. Daniel started to flinch away, but then he sighed, as if my touch was soothing to his skin.

  “How …? I mean … What are you?” I asked. Daniel laughed—a real laugh. Not a snort or sarcastic snicker. He stood up and offered me his hand. “I think it’s best if we walked from here,” he said, and pulled me to my feet. He picked up James and motioned for us to keep going toward my house.

  I frowned. Did he really expect me to just walk away?

  “Tell me, please. That was so not normal. How did you do all that?”

  “Let’s get your brother home first. We’ll talk when this is all over. I promise.”

  “Don’t promises always get broken?”

  Daniel reached out and brushed my cheek.

  James coughed. His breath fogged out of his lips. I was so hot from running so fast, I’d completely forgotten that it was cold. I felt a chill creeping up my sweaty arms, and knew Jame
s must be even colder. But I also knew once we passed through the fence into my yard, the magic—the connection—I’d felt while running with Daniel would be gone. And my chance for getting answers might never come.

  What if Daniel decided to disappear again?

  But I knew James had to come first, so I swallowed my questions and followed Daniel through the woods until we came to the fence behind my house. I climbed through the gap.

  BACK IN THE YARD

  Blue and red lights flickered from the street, illuminating the patched roof of the house. Beeping and shouting and a lot of movement filled the shadows cast by the light. It seemed like half of Rose Crest, including the sheriff and deputy, had converged on the neighborhood.

  “Looks like they organized a search party anyway,” I said.

  Daniel stiffened as he came through the fence. “I should go. Take James. Tell them you found him yourself.”

  “No way.” I grabbed his hand. “You’re the hero here. I’m not taking credit.” I dragged Daniel toward the front yard. “Mom, Dad!” I shouted. “We’re here. We’ve got James.”

  “James!” Mom pounded down the porch steps.

  “How did you …? Where did you …? My baby.” She tried to take James from Daniel.

  James squealed and locked his little arms around Daniel’s neck. Daniel went pink. But that might have just been the glow from the flashing police lights.

  “Daniel saved him, Mom.” I touched Daniel’s elbow. “I think Baby James is a bit attached to his hero.”

  “Okay, little guy. Let me breathe.” Daniel pulled James from his throat. “I bet you’re hungry. You want some turkey and a piece of pie?”

  James nodded.

  Daniel passed James to my mom. She hugged him so tight he whined, and she kissed him all over his face. “James?” Dad came up the driveway. The sheriff followed. Daniel moved slightly behind me.

  The deputy tried to bar our neighbors from entering the yard, but he let Dad and the sheriff pass.

  Dad grabbed James and swung him around. He looked at Daniel. “Well done,” he said, and wrapped his arm around Daniel’s shoulder. “Well done, my son.”