Shadows Cast by Stars (11 page)

Ms. Adelaide tells me who they are. “Sidney Morrow,” she says, nodding at a man carrying a length of hose. “Lives out toward the gravel pit. Missus has three girls, another on the way. Pretty lucky that she can pop babies out. Not many women can do that anymore. Madda’s probably out there right now, seeing to her. Their house is a ways away. Don’t know why anyone would want to live so far from town, but I guess people need to live somewhere. Oh, and there’s Peter Vickers. He does woodwork. Made me the most beautiful table …”

I’m busy cleaning a gash on a little girl’s leg when Bran finally appears. Soot is smudged across his cheeks and he looks exhausted, but he’s safe.

“Ms. Adelaide?” he says. “May I borrow Cassandra for a moment?”

She sits down and takes over. “Go on, girl. Chief’s son wants to see you.”

“Thanks, Ms. Adelaide.” I set down the rag and smile. “I won’t be long.”

She snorts and waves me away.

The air outside reeks of smoke. I start to ask Bran whether he’s okay, whether his mother is safe, but he just takes my hand and pulls me into a run.

“Where are we going?” I say.

He only tightens his grip.

Together we race across the park and into the underbrush, crashing through willows and fireweed until we reach the shore of the lake. He drops my hand and starts pacing while I try to catch my breath.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. Gravel crunches under his sneakers. His gray eyes never leave mine.

I take a seat and wait.

The earth is still. Waves do not lap upon the shore. Birds do not call in the trees, nor does wind stir the forest. The earthquake has disturbed the order of things and it will be some time before the earth’s clock resets. Bran’s agitation mars the stillness.

Minutes slip away. Finally, I can stand it no more. “I should probably get back.” I push myself up and dust off my pants.

“No.” Bran catches my hand and turns it over to examine my palm. “Stay a little longer?”

“Let go,” I whisper. “Please. Let go.”

“Why?” He traces my lifeline.

In answer, I lean in and kiss him. I have never kissed a boy before, but I am possessed by immediacy. Now or never.

He smells of ash and tastes of blackberries.

I pull away and dash back to the tent, startled by what I just did and too scared to wait for Bran’s reaction.

Ms. Adelaide looks up from the little boy she’s tending when I step back inside, and gives me a puzzled look. I duck my face and begin rolling bandages. I’m blushing. I know I am, and Ms. Adelaide’s chuckle tells me she knows too.

The little boy leaves, and Ms. Adelaide motions for me to join her back in the doorway. She doesn’t say a word, though I feel her looking at me before turning her attention across the way. I look too, wondering what it is she’s focused on. The church is still smoldering, but it looks like the house next to it will survive after all. Down by the store, a couple of women have built a fire, a proper one for cooking, and have prepared a haunch of venison to roast over it.

“Working hands have empty stomachs,” Ms. Adelaide says. “No better way to knit a broken world back together than to share a meal.”

I nod as my gaze comes to rest on the men gathered at the general store. They’re waiting for something. My
brother is standing among them. Already Paul is fitting in here better than I ever could have imagined. Bran stands next to him, pushing his hair away from his face. I wish I were there too, but I’m not. I’m here in this tent, left to watch from a distance. My hand finds its way to my mouth and I touch my lips, remembering. I kissed Bran. I’d like to kiss him again. I’m sure of that, but what I’m not sure of is if he’d like to kiss me, too.

Ms. Adelaide nudges me. “So, Bran, huh? Well, be careful of his mother. Crazy as a loon, that woman. Oh. I almost forgot. Madda stopped by on her way back from the Morrow house. Seems all that shaking shook Mrs. Morrow’s baby loose. A little girl, healthy as can be. Who would have thought, on a day like today?” She smiles and shakes her head. “Madda said she’d like to talk to you.”

“Do you know about what?” I ask.

Ms. Adelaide shrugs. “Maybe about healing? I told her you did good here. Why don’t you go find out for yourself? She’s up at her cottage—know where it is?”

“No.” I’m only half listening as more men gravitate toward the general store. My father is there now too, standing on the far side of the group, hands on his hips, legs wide. His
concentrating pose
, as he would call it. Everyone’s attention is on the tall, scar-faced man I met the other day.

Ms. Adelaide nods at him. “That’s Henry Crawford.
Bran’s daddy’s best man. The new chief, since Bran’s daddy left. They’ll be going soon.”

“Going?”

“Yup. To the boundary, or even to the Corridor. If the quake was bad, people will be heading this way, looking for refuge. But don’t you mind that. Madda wants to see you. That’s all you have to concern yourself with now. Down the street, turn left at the old post office, and keep on going until you can smell roses. That’ll be her cottage. Go on. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Okay.” I like Ms. Adelaide. I hope she’s right, that I will see her around, though my mind is already drifting back to Bran. He smiles at me as I pass. I smile back, but my smile fades when I see Avalon standing at the back of the group. Though she doesn’t look the least bit friendly, I wave. She doesn’t wave back.

Madda’s gray cottage is hidden behind a mass of blackberries. A stone path crested by a pergola once led to the door, but so many blackberry canes have fallen from their pinnings on the pergola that the path is impassable. A wooden chest with a heavy leather strap sits next to the gate along with a basket of blood-soaked linens, but there’s no sign of Madda.

“Hello?” I call.

Madda’s head pops out of the brambles. “Over here,” she says. “I can’t even get to my door! Help me, would you? Goddamned things.” She snarls as she heaves a newly shorn bramble out of the mess. “They were gnarled before, but with all that shaking, they’re hell-bent on taking over the cottage. There’s another set of shears over there somewhere, if you can find them. Helen!” Madda calls. “Can you get the back door open yet?”

“Not yet,” Helen calls from behind the house.

“Bloody hell,” Madda mutters as she ducks back into the blackberries to continue her fight.

I don’t find the shears, but I do find a hatchet, and start to hack away.

“So,” Madda says as she rips another length of cane out of the mess. “You have a way with healing, and you have a way with spirit.” She peers at me. “True?”

I nod. “But my mother said I shouldn’t talk about it.”

“Wise, that bit of advice. But I dreamed of you, a long time ago, before I even met your parents. You have a mole just under your right shoulder blade.”

I blink at her. She’s right.

“And you’re much prettier when your eyes aren’t bugging out of your head. Go on. Tell me about what you see.”

“My mother said I see into the spirit world.”

“I don’t want to know what she said. I want to know what
you
say. Is it true?”

“I don’t know.” Because that
is
the truth. My mother said I played with imaginary friends when I was small. The shades came later, when I shed my first moonblood. I’ve puzzled out what they are on my own, but I certainly don’t have any control over what I see, or when spirit decides to intrude into my life. And if the shades are supposed to presage something, I don’t know what. Sometimes I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.

Madda nods and steps back, pulling another long, rambling vine from the mass of brambles. “I can help you, teach you the spirit paths. I’m a witching woman—a medicine woman—and I need an apprentice, someone to take my place when I’m gone. I haven’t had one for years—too many years.”

I cast my eyes to the ground. This is one of those times I don’t want to see a shade.

“Oh, I don’t mean that kind of gone!” She pats my arm. “Sometimes I have to leave—spirit quests, gathering medicine, that sort of thing. Sometimes I just need to be alone.” She smiles. “What do you think?”

“But,” I say, pitching my voice lower, “what about Helen? Isn’t she your apprentice?”

Madda’s gaze hardens. “No. Helen is a good girl and
she’s good with the ways of spirit too, but becoming a medicine woman isn’t the path for her. It’s not an easy job, you see, and I don’t just mean it’s hard work. I mean, you have to walk the truth, no matter what people think, no matter what they want you to do, and that’s a lonely life. Sometimes a medicine woman has to make hard decisions … unpopular decisions. People think they know what’s good for them, but not always. It’s like the best medicines—they taste awful, and no one wants to take them, but that’s what you’ve got to do in order to get better. So? What do you think?”

“I need to speak to my father first.”

“He already knows. I asked him about it when I saw him in town earlier, but I don’t care what he thinks either. What do you think? The sooner you start speaking your mind, the sooner you’ll figure out how to use your gift.”

I blink at her. What
do
I think? Is this what I want? Is this what I’m meant for? Back in the Corridor, I never thought about what would happen after I finished school. There was always too much else to worry about, like trying to survive, or Paul’s visions, or keeping him out of trouble, but here? Maybe Paul will find his own way. That’s what I wish for. That’s what I’ve always wished, for Paul to feel complete unto himself—not half of a whole.
Not the flawed twin, which is what Paul calls himself. Maybe, just maybe, Madda might teach me what I need to know to help him achieve that. “I’d like to be your apprentice,” I say, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice, so I say it again. This time I can’t help smiling.

“A smile? Now, would you look at that?” Madda chuckles and takes a deep breath. “All right. Just a little more to do, and we’ll be inside. I’ll brew us a pot of tea, and then you can head back to town to see what your dad and brother are up to. I’ll come with you. Folks will get a better impression of you and your family once we’re seen together. There’s talk, eh?” Her shears bite into another length of blackberry.

“What sort of talk?”

“Well, a new family comes to town. They’re given a house, a truck. The girl’s seen with the chief’s son, the boy is his new best friend. Breeds jealousy, that sort of thing. I imagine you’ve been warned about Grace?”

I nod slowly.

“Well, take care with her. Her spirit is tainted. I tried healing her once, years ago, but she just won’t have it. Good thing Bran’s more like his father than her. Now, get back to work. These canes aren’t going to go anywhere by themselves.”

It’s not long before we have the last of the blackberries cleared away. I follow Madda into the cottage. A rustle of wings follows me, but I don’t look back. I don’t want to see the ravens lined up on the fence, watching to see what happens next.

After tea, Madda and I head into town, leaving Helen behind. I sense she’d like to come too, but something’s stopping her. What that is, I can’t say, but it troubles me.

The town is all but deserted when we arrive.

“Hmm,” Madda mumbles. “Must have reached a decision quickly. Better get home, then. Come see me tomorrow morning.”

I run along the broken asphalt as fast as the heat allows. I can’t wait to tell Paul what’s happened. An apprentice! The more I think about it, the more excited I get. I run with my arms extended, two featherless wings, bearing me away from the Corridor, away from my old life, and as I swoop down the driveway, I know I’ve come home.

My excitement vanishes the moment I step inside the house.

Paul and my father sit on the floor. Ammunition runs along the floorboards like a deadly brass river. Paul is cleaning his rifle. My father is fitting his back together.

“No guns in the house,” I growl.

Neither of them will meet my eyes.

“You promised me to never bring those in the house!”

My father peers down the bore of his rifle and then sets it aside. “Paul’s joined the Band. He and Bran are going to patrol the boundary.” He says it as if that justifies the breaking of his promise.

“By themselves?” I ask in my most sarcastic voice.

Paul still refuses to look at me. My father glances up and scowls. “Watch your lip.”

“Right.” I turn on my heel and march outside, only to run right into Bran, who’s materialized at the door. He holds an armful of books. Two slip from the top, falling between us.

“Did you put him up to this?” I demand as he bends to pick up the books.

He straightens and hands them to me. “These are for you, from my mother; and no, I didn’t put him up to this. I told him to stay.”

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed with fatigue, as if the world is pressing down on me. Bran somehow senses this. He takes the books from my hands, sets them on the counter, and then leads me back outside. “He’ll be fine. We shouldn’t be gone long—a week, at most, and all we’ll be doing is looking for refugees. Searchers hardly
ever show up after this sort of thing.” He draws a deep breath. “I’ll see him safe.”