by Bree Despain
“For bowling. You still owe me a date.” I could tell from the sound of his voice he was using his “triple threat” smile.
“For tonight?”
“Yeah. We’re doubling with Jude and April,” he said, like the date was already set in stone. “Dinner, bowling, and then a party at Justin Wright’s.”
“Oh.”
I wondered if I should go. Not for Pete’s sake, but for Jude’s. I hadn’t talked to him since he’d freaked out the night before. The fact that he even wanted to go out and have fun with his friends was a good, but surprising, sign. How would he feel if he knew I was passing on spending time with him and April so I could hang out with the person he hated most? But as much as I felt I should go, nothing could make me blow off a chance to run with Daniel.
“I’m sorry, but I already have plans for tonight.”
“Then change them,” Pete said.
“I can’t.” I tried to sound apologetic. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at church, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” His voice sounded hard. No smile at all.
DINNER THAT NIGHT
Every year, the day after Thanksgiving, my mother makes her famous turkey à la king. It’s this creamy sauce with chunks of leftover turkey and fresh veggies she serves in little flaky pastry cups. And since we have it only once a year, no one in my family ever misses this meal.
Except that Charity, Don, and James were the only ones sitting with me at the table when Mom brought the steaming pot from the stove. Don and Charity banged their forks and knives on the table in happy anticipation.
“Save some for the others,” Mom said as Don ladled a second scoop of creamy sauce into his already overflowing pastry cups.
“No way!” Charity grabbed the ladle from Don.
“Their loss,” I said, and passed the salad to my mom.
“Where’d Jude take off to anyway?” Mom asked with a hint of annoyance. “It’s not like him to miss this meal.”
“He has a date with April.” Mom frowned.
“Where’s Pastor D-vine?” Don asked.
“He’s not back yet,” Mom said. “He’ll be here soon … I hope.”
James smacked his hand into his a la king, sending a spray of peas and cream sauce across the table. He laughed and shouted his new favorite four-letter word.
“James!” Mom went a little red in the face. “Where would he possibly learn that?”
Charity chuckled.
“Haven’t a clue,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. Daniel would have laughed his head off had he been here. Really, it was a shame that he wasn’t. This was one of his favorite meals, too. I checked the contents of the pot, and then ladled up a smaller portion for myself than normal.
After everyone was finished and gone, I dished up a Tupperware of leftovers for Daniel. He deserved it—especially if the others weren’t going to show up to enjoy it. He’d put on weight since I’d first seen him last week—like a stray dog thriving under the care of a new owner. He was still thin, but his face was less hollow. My food donations must have done him good, but Meredith Divine’s turkey à la king would truly be appreciated.
I stuck the container behind the milk, deciding to save it as a surprise for after our run, and then I went to meet Daniel.
EVENING
I could see the walnut tree creaking and swaying in the wind, so I decided to wait for Daniel in the front room. I settled into the sofa with my history book—Daniel was always late, after all—and used the opportunity to do some homework. But once I’d finished the assigned reading for the whole next week, I couldn’t shake the creeping feeling that Daniel wasn’t going to show—like something was wrong.
The house was quiet. Mom and James had gone to bed hours ago, Dad had finally come home and gone straight to his study, and Charity had left for a sleep-over with her friend, Mimi Dutton, next door. But I couldn’t concentrate anymore, not with the noise in my head telling me that even Daniel would know that ten p.m. was way too late to be considered “after dinner.” I would have just called it a night and gone to bed if it hadn’t been for the eerie feeling that accompanied that thought.
I was standing in front of the window when I noticed something moving in the grass near the walnut tree. The movement happened again, and I wondered if the Duttons’ cat had gotten out. I hated the idea of something happening to Mimi’s cat—like what had happened to Daisy—so I decided to take action. I draped an afghan around my shoulders and went outside.
I slinked toward the side yard, so as not to scare the cat away. But as I approached, I realized that the huddled mass under the tree was much too large to be anything but human.
“Daniel?”
He was wearing the same outfit from earlier—dark indigo jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt I’d given him. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He stared, unblinking, at the front of his old home.
“Daniel, what are you doing? I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I’m just looking,” he said. “I like this house better in blue. Yellow always made me feel like it was rotting inside.”
“Where’s your coat?” I shivered, wishing I had mine. It was definitely almost December.
Daniel didn’t answer. His gaze never left the house that used to be his. I sat next to him in the crusty grass and draped part of my blanket over his legs.
Daniel sniffed. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“This. Any of this.” He took in a deep breath and rested his chin on his knees. His silhouette was white and soft in the moonlight. “I don’t know how to be anything other than what I am.” He clutched his necklace, almost like he wanted to rip it off. “I don’t want to be this anymore.”
“Why?” I resisted the urge to touch his face. “You’re amazing. The things you can do are out of this world. You’re a hero.”
“There’s nothing heroic about me, Grace. You should know that. Your brother does. It’s why he hates me.” His hands shook like they had when he was child and he knew he was in trouble. “What I am … It’s why no one can ever love me.”
My heart sank deep. I hated seeing him this way. I turned my gaze to his house. It did look better now. The new owners had added a porch, put up shutters, and painted it a nice robin’s-egg blue. “That’s not true. Your mother loves—”
“I don’t have a mother.”
“What?” I looked at him.
“That woman isn’t my mother,” he said through clenched teeth. His jaw tightened; the veins in his neck bulged. “Even she didn’t want me. She chose him over me.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
“I thought he skipped town when the sheriff took you away.”
Daniel snorted. “He didn’t stay away for long. He started coming around as soon as I moved to Oak Park with my mom. He kept begging her to take him back. At first she told him to get lost because he wasn’t allowed to come near me. But he said he loved her, and she believed him. He said I made him crazy. I made him do the things he did.” Daniel rubbed his hand over his head, as if he could still feel the pain of his fractured skull. “One night I overheard her on the phone with my social worker. Mom told him to come get me because she wanted to leave with my dad. She said she didn’t want me anymore. She said I was too much for her to handle anyway.” Daniel rocked forward and back, smacking his shoulders against the trunk of the tree.
“Daniel, I didn’t know.” I wanted to sooth his shaking. I put my hand on his chest and smoothed my fingers up his neck. “What did you do?”
“I ran away. I didn’t want to go back into foster care.”
“But you could have come back to us.”
“No, I couldn’t,” he said. “That beast—my father—was as horrid as they come, and my own mother chose him over me. You wouldn’t have wanted me, either. Nobody would have.” He cringed, shaking more than ever. “Nobody ever will.”
“But I want you, Dani
el.” I brushed my fingers into his hair. “I’ve always wanted you.”
I had to show him that I needed him. I had to do something. I tilted his head toward mine and put my lips on his. He was like stone—stiff and cold—and I wanted to warm him. I moved my lips, and tried to kiss him, but his mouth stayed rigid and he didn’t kiss back. I pressed harder.
His lips parted, melting, soft. He wrapped his arm around my waist under the blanket, and pulled me onto his lap. His hands slid up my back, over my shoulder blades. The afghan fell to the ground. Then one of Daniel’s hands was in my hair, cradling my head. His mouth became warm and fierce. He pulled me hard against his chest, as if he couldn’t get me close enough.
I’d pictured this moment with Daniel when I was younger. I’d shared a couple of awkward doorstep kisses since then with other guys. But the passion in Daniel’s kiss—his mouth searching mine, as if seeking an answer that could save his life—was more than anything I could have ever imagined. The shadows and the winter chill melted away around us. I’d never felt so encircled by warmth. I slid my hands across his shoulders, then up his neck. My fingers tangled with the leather strap of his necklace. I leaned my head back as he trailed his lips down my throat. My heart pounded with the truth I’d been trying to deny—the words I couldn’t hold in any longer. Maybe it was the answer he’d been searching for in my kiss.
“Daniel, I lo—”
“Don’t,” he whispered. His breath was so hot on my neck. “Don’t say it, please.”
But I had to. He needed to know how I felt. I needed him to know.
“I love you.”
Daniel shuddered. A low, rumbling growl echoed deep in his throat. “No!” he roared, and pushed me away from him.
I hit the ground, too shocked to speak.
Daniel, on all fours, scurried back a few feet. “No! No!” He clutched at his neck, as if to grab his stone pendant. But it wasn’t there. It was in my hand. The leather strap had snapped in my fingers when he thrust me away.
My hands trembled as I held it out to him.
He reached for it, shaking more than I was. Like an earthquake ravaged in his chest. His eyes blazed as bright as two full moons. He grabbed the pendant, squeezing it so tight it would have sliced his hand had it been sharp, and backed away. The light left his eyes. He breathed hard and fast like he’d just run a marathon.
“I can’t do this,” he panted.
“Daniel?” I crawled toward him.
He backed away even farther. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He jumped as a car pulled up along the curb. He whispered something so low I could barely understand over the sound of the engine. “It can’t be you,” I thought he said.
Pete Bradshaw said something as Jude and April got out of the car. A girl’s laughter followed. It sounded like Jenny Wilson.
“I can’t do it.” Daniel retreated into the shadows, still watching the car. “I could never ask.”
I glanced at Pete as he waved good-bye to Jude and April. When I turned back, Daniel was already gone.
You could never ask what?
ALMOST MIDNIGHT
I hid behind the tree while Jude and April sat on the porch swing and said their good-byes. I pulled my legs to my chest and buried my head in my knees. I tried to stop trembling. I tried to stop thinking about that kiss. I tried to stop thinking about Daniel’s reaction to my admission—that frightening look in his eyes. Daniel’s words played in reverse in my head. I could never ask. I can’t do this. I’m no hero. Your brother knows that. What did my brother know?
That was it. I had to talk to Jude. No more dancing around the subject. No more treating it like nothing. I had to know what had happened between the two of them. How could I truly fix Daniel—how could I help him—if I didn’t know what plagued his conscience?
Now if only I could get Jude alone. April’s car was in the driveway, but it took them a good half hour to even start inching toward it. I squashed the blanket around my ears to block the sounds of their kissing. April made this little purring noise every time they came up for air.
I must have nodded off because the glow-in-the-dark hands on my watch said it was nearly midnight when I heard April’s car finally pull out of the driveway. Jude was about to go into the house when I called his name.
He wheeled around. “Grace, how long have you been there?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Not long.” I scrunched the blanket closer around my shoulders to hide the pink splotches creeping up my neck. “I was just walking back from the MacArthurs’. I was babysitting.”
“Oh.” He looked at the blanket. “You okay?”
“I need to ask you …” I stepped closer. “I need to ask you about Daniel.”
He jangled his keys in his hand. “What about him?”
“I need to know what happened between you two. Why you hate him so much.”
Jude grunted. “So you do care about that?” There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “It’s about time.”
“I’ve asked you a dozen times. You’re the one who won’t talk.” I stepped up on the porch. “I care, Jude. I’ve always cared about you.”
“Not as much as you care about him.”
“How can you say that? You’re my brother.”
“If you cared so much about me, then how did Daniel get that coat?”
“His coat?”
“That coat he was wearing earlier today. The red-and-black North Face. How did he get it?”
“I … I gave it to him.” I didn’t understand why that coat was important. And then I remembered. “It was yours, wasn’t it?” Jude didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry.” I dropped the blanket at my feet. “I didn’t realize. That night I got stranded on Markham, Daniel came along and fixed the car. I gave him the coat in return. He really needed it. He’s been through so many bad things—it just felt like something small I could do to help.”
“Yeah, well, bad things happen to bad people. Didn’t you think about that? They get what they deserve.”
A shiver ran through me. “What about Maryanne Duke? She never did anything bad in her life, and she still froze to death on her porch. Something still mauled her body.”
Jude jerked his head up. “Something? Try someone. You’re so blind you don’t even see it, Grace. You’re letting Daniel walk all over you—just like Dad.”
“We’re helping him. He needs us—all of us.”
“He’s using you. He’s using you both. I saw him with you that night on Markham. Do you really think it was a coincidence that he just happened along? April told me what you’ve done for him.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at the fallen blanket around my ankles. “And I can only imagine what you’ve done with him.”
“Jude!” What a hypocrite. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? Daniel will do anything to get what he wants.” Jude glared at me. “Tell me, whose idea was it to help him get back into your art class? Whose idea was it to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Mine. They were my ideas.”
“Were they really? Think about it, Grace. Daniel didn’t somehow plant those ideas in your head? Subtly suggest how you could help him?”
I paused. “None of that matters. He’s not manipulating me, and he’s not manipulating Dad.”
“Ha!” Jude smirked. “How do you think Daniel even got into Holy Trinity? Who do you think brought him back here? He’s got Dad under his spell … and for all you know, Daniel’s the one who stole James. He sure did find him easily, don’t you think? It’s just the kind of thing someone like him would do. Pretend to find a baby so people will think he’s a hero.”
“He wasn’t pretending. I was with him. He found him so easily because of his abilities….”
Jude fell into the swing. His eyes wide. His mouth open.
Did I say too much?
“So you know.” Jude rubbed his hand across his scars. “You know what he is?”
“Yes.”
“What did he tell you?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer. Daniel hadn’t asked me to keep it a secret. He’d know better than that with me. But still, how much could I say if I wasn’t sure Jude was just baiting me for answers? But I had to be honest if I wanted Jude to be the same. “Daniel is an Urbat. His people were created to fight demons. He’s a Hound of Heaven.”
“Urbat? Hound of Heaven?” Jude laughed. It sounded like a harsh, high growl. “Look it up, Grace. Daniel’s screwed you over good.”
“No, he hasn’t. He’s lost and frightened and he needs us. I can help him be a hero.” I hadn’t thought it before I said it. But I realized that’s what I had to do—that was my role in all of this. “I can show him that he can use his abilities to help people. They’re a blessing; that’s what he told me.”
Jude shot up from the swing. “Then that monster is a liar as well as a thief and a murderer.”
“Murderer?” I backed away and almost fell off the porch. “I don’t believe you. You’re jealous of him. You’re jealous of the way Dad believed him over you. You can’t stand that Dad and I want him to be a part of this family again. You’re even making crazy accusations against me. How can I believe anything you have to say?”
“Then you ask him,” Jude said. “Go ask your precious Daniel about the night he tried to take that coat from me. Ask him what he did with all the money he stole. Ask him what really happened to those stained-glass windows in the parish. Ask him what he really is.” Jude slammed the swing into the wall. “You ask him what it felt like when he left me for dead.”
“What?” I stumbled backward and caught myself with the railing. It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my chest. “No …”
He lunged off the porch and ran down the driveway.
“Jude!” I shouted after him. But he didn’t stop. He kept on running—so fast I couldn’t follow—until he disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Undone
