The Dark Divine
Page 51
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What if I became a monster, too?
I shuddered and pressed my hands to my face. My skin was still smooth and hairless. I was still human.
I picked up the book, hoping to find solace--to find answers. But the letter stretched on for several more pages, and most of it documented how the Dogs of Death had come to exist--how their blessing became their curse. It confirmed what Daniel and my father had told me but didn't teach me anything new. I skimmed until I came to a portion that mentioned moonstones.
It is strange, dear Katharine, but the blind man says that the Urbat have much greater difficulty controlling the wolf possession during the night of the full moon. As if the moon itself has power over them. Because of this, think there may be a way to manage these beasts. Perhaps if an Urbat were to keep a small piece of the moon close to his body, it would act as a counteragent to the effects of the larger moon, helping him keep the wolf at bay while still retaining its mythical strength. Much like how the ancient Greeks treated disease with the idea that like cures like. I have heard tales of rocks that fall in fiery glory from the heavens. What if some of these rocks have fallen from the moon itself? If I were able to fashion a necklace from one of these moonstones--if finding one was possible--perhaps I could help the Death Dogs reclaim their blessings.
However, such a necklace would be no cure. It would only offer control. I fear that these Urbat have lost their souls to the clutches of the wolf, and unless they are freed of it before they die, they will be doomed to the depths of hell as demons of the dark prince. My eyes no longer felt weary. I hadn't thought of what might happen to Daniel if he died. Would he really be doomed to live in hell as a demon forever? No wonder he was so desperate to find a cure. It would be one thing to live with a monster inside--it was a whole other thing to be damned for all eternity.
I skimmed a few pages farther, looking for anything that might tell me more. The only things powerful enough to deliver a mortal blow to an Urbat are the teeth or hands of another demon, or if he is punctured through the heart by an object of silver. It is believed that silver is poisonous to the beasts I didn't want to think any more about death, so I turned to a new letter.
My Dear Katharine,
I wish to take an expedition into the forest. The blind man says he will find me guides who can get me close enough to deserve a pack of Urbat without being discovered. The journey would cost twenty marks--all that I have.
Father Miguel says the winds are shifting in our favor. He thinks tomorrow the armada will be able to move in closer to the city walls. Perhaps the only good that might come from our forces taking the city is that I might be able to search the books of the great library for more texts on the subject of the Urbat. What jewels of knowledge must lie therein.
If not from the library, I must know more about these Hounds of Heaven. I will make preparations for the journey. My dear Alexius is reluctant to join me, but I will persuade him to go, for I need a translator. He seems to fear the Urbat more than any of the local boys. When pressed about the issue, all he utters is, The wolf seeks to kill what he loves the most
I dropped the book. It skittered across the hardwood floor. I leaned out of bed and gingerly picked it up. Little particles of yellowed paper sprinkled from the binding. I opened the book and found that the page I had just been reading and a few others had disintegrated under my absentminded handling. But my guilt for damaging the book was nothing compared to the other thought that crumpled my insides.
The wolf seeks to kill what he loves the most.
Did Daniel love me? He said I was special. He said I "did" things to him. He said he missed me--sort of. But he hadn't said he loved me.
But he'd kissed me like no one ever had. He made me want to tell him how I felt. But I couldn't forget how he shook and the way his eyes glowed when I did. He'd lost his necklace momentarily, and he looked more frightened than I'd felt. Had I been in danger then?
Had the wolf wanted to kill me? If Daniel didn't have that necklace, would I already be dead? Or would he have just turned me into a beast like him?
I put the book away. I could not handle any more questions--or answers--for a long time.
Chapter Twenty-one Hopeless
AVOIDANCE
Trying to steer clear of Daniel became as difficult as running away from my own shadow. Friday afternoon, he came into Brighton's Art Supplies while I was picking out a new set of hard pastels to replace the ones I'd broken the week before Thanksgiving. I waited until he was finished at the cash register and had gone before I took my box up to the front. When I pulled out my wallet, the girl behind the counter informed me that my "wicked hot friend" had already paid for the pastels.
"What if I don't want them anymore?"
She shrugged and snapped her gum.
I left the box on the counter.
"Are you sure?" she called after me like I was crazy. "You can keep them." On Saturday, he was at the parish repairing a broken pew when I brought the bulletins from the copy shop to my father. I set them on his desk and left through the office door that led into the alley between the school and the parish.
Sunday morning, I saw him staring down at me from the balcony during Dad's sermon. And by Monday, I realized that running any errand seemed to put me in danger. That afternoon, Dad sent me to Day's Market with a list of groceries. It was his turn to make dinner while Mom took a late shift at the clinic--something she'd been doing more of since Thanksgiving so she wouldn't have to leave James at day care.
I rounded the corner into the canned-goods aisle and literally bumped into Daniel as he crouched over a box of canned peas. He stood up and turned around. He wore a Day's Market apron and held a box cutter--the point of which was smeared with blood. He grimaced, and I noticed the back of his other hand was scraped with a long angry cut.
"Sorry," I mumbled, and tried to move around him.
He stepped in front of me and blocked my path. "Grace." The cut in his skin healed over as he put his hand on my grocery basket, stopping me from stepping away. "We need to talk--alone." I looked at the bloody box cutter he held against his apron.
The wolf seeks to kill what he loves the most.
"I can't." I let go of my basket, backed away, and ran out of the market. Dad didn't question why I came home without the ingredients for chicken-fried steak. He made mac and cheese instead. Don, James, and I were the only ones who joined him for dinner anyway. And I wasn't surprised at all when Dad asked Don how Daniel was working out at the market.
I shuddered and pressed my hands to my face. My skin was still smooth and hairless. I was still human.
I picked up the book, hoping to find solace--to find answers. But the letter stretched on for several more pages, and most of it documented how the Dogs of Death had come to exist--how their blessing became their curse. It confirmed what Daniel and my father had told me but didn't teach me anything new. I skimmed until I came to a portion that mentioned moonstones.
It is strange, dear Katharine, but the blind man says that the Urbat have much greater difficulty controlling the wolf possession during the night of the full moon. As if the moon itself has power over them. Because of this, think there may be a way to manage these beasts. Perhaps if an Urbat were to keep a small piece of the moon close to his body, it would act as a counteragent to the effects of the larger moon, helping him keep the wolf at bay while still retaining its mythical strength. Much like how the ancient Greeks treated disease with the idea that like cures like. I have heard tales of rocks that fall in fiery glory from the heavens. What if some of these rocks have fallen from the moon itself? If I were able to fashion a necklace from one of these moonstones--if finding one was possible--perhaps I could help the Death Dogs reclaim their blessings.
However, such a necklace would be no cure. It would only offer control. I fear that these Urbat have lost their souls to the clutches of the wolf, and unless they are freed of it before they die, they will be doomed to the depths of hell as demons of the dark prince. My eyes no longer felt weary. I hadn't thought of what might happen to Daniel if he died. Would he really be doomed to live in hell as a demon forever? No wonder he was so desperate to find a cure. It would be one thing to live with a monster inside--it was a whole other thing to be damned for all eternity.
I skimmed a few pages farther, looking for anything that might tell me more. The only things powerful enough to deliver a mortal blow to an Urbat are the teeth or hands of another demon, or if he is punctured through the heart by an object of silver. It is believed that silver is poisonous to the beasts I didn't want to think any more about death, so I turned to a new letter.
My Dear Katharine,
I wish to take an expedition into the forest. The blind man says he will find me guides who can get me close enough to deserve a pack of Urbat without being discovered. The journey would cost twenty marks--all that I have.
Father Miguel says the winds are shifting in our favor. He thinks tomorrow the armada will be able to move in closer to the city walls. Perhaps the only good that might come from our forces taking the city is that I might be able to search the books of the great library for more texts on the subject of the Urbat. What jewels of knowledge must lie therein.
If not from the library, I must know more about these Hounds of Heaven. I will make preparations for the journey. My dear Alexius is reluctant to join me, but I will persuade him to go, for I need a translator. He seems to fear the Urbat more than any of the local boys. When pressed about the issue, all he utters is, The wolf seeks to kill what he loves the most
I dropped the book. It skittered across the hardwood floor. I leaned out of bed and gingerly picked it up. Little particles of yellowed paper sprinkled from the binding. I opened the book and found that the page I had just been reading and a few others had disintegrated under my absentminded handling. But my guilt for damaging the book was nothing compared to the other thought that crumpled my insides.
The wolf seeks to kill what he loves the most.
Did Daniel love me? He said I was special. He said I "did" things to him. He said he missed me--sort of. But he hadn't said he loved me.
But he'd kissed me like no one ever had. He made me want to tell him how I felt. But I couldn't forget how he shook and the way his eyes glowed when I did. He'd lost his necklace momentarily, and he looked more frightened than I'd felt. Had I been in danger then?
Had the wolf wanted to kill me? If Daniel didn't have that necklace, would I already be dead? Or would he have just turned me into a beast like him?
I put the book away. I could not handle any more questions--or answers--for a long time.
Chapter Twenty-one Hopeless
AVOIDANCE
Trying to steer clear of Daniel became as difficult as running away from my own shadow. Friday afternoon, he came into Brighton's Art Supplies while I was picking out a new set of hard pastels to replace the ones I'd broken the week before Thanksgiving. I waited until he was finished at the cash register and had gone before I took my box up to the front. When I pulled out my wallet, the girl behind the counter informed me that my "wicked hot friend" had already paid for the pastels.
"What if I don't want them anymore?"
She shrugged and snapped her gum.
I left the box on the counter.
"Are you sure?" she called after me like I was crazy. "You can keep them." On Saturday, he was at the parish repairing a broken pew when I brought the bulletins from the copy shop to my father. I set them on his desk and left through the office door that led into the alley between the school and the parish.
Sunday morning, I saw him staring down at me from the balcony during Dad's sermon. And by Monday, I realized that running any errand seemed to put me in danger. That afternoon, Dad sent me to Day's Market with a list of groceries. It was his turn to make dinner while Mom took a late shift at the clinic--something she'd been doing more of since Thanksgiving so she wouldn't have to leave James at day care.
I rounded the corner into the canned-goods aisle and literally bumped into Daniel as he crouched over a box of canned peas. He stood up and turned around. He wore a Day's Market apron and held a box cutter--the point of which was smeared with blood. He grimaced, and I noticed the back of his other hand was scraped with a long angry cut.
"Sorry," I mumbled, and tried to move around him.
He stepped in front of me and blocked my path. "Grace." The cut in his skin healed over as he put his hand on my grocery basket, stopping me from stepping away. "We need to talk--alone." I looked at the bloody box cutter he held against his apron.
The wolf seeks to kill what he loves the most.
"I can't." I let go of my basket, backed away, and ran out of the market. Dad didn't question why I came home without the ingredients for chicken-fried steak. He made mac and cheese instead. Don, James, and I were the only ones who joined him for dinner anyway. And I wasn't surprised at all when Dad asked Don how Daniel was working out at the market.
