Shadows Cast by Stars (18 page)

I take it that’s not a good sign.

Bran leans into me. The solidity of his shoulder, the heat of his skin, settles into me, helping me stay attached to the ground. I set my hands there, not caring that they’ll
come away dirty. In my mind, great roots creep down from my body. Tonight is not a night for spirit to overwhelm me. Tonight, I wish I had kept Madda’s pouch. I have a feeling I could use its strength, whispers or not.

The cadence of the drum changes and the crowd parts. The Elders, wrapped in cloaks of woven cedar bark, stagger up to the fire. Firelight glints off the shells sewn to the capes, shells that have become eyes of the creatures painted there. The Elder’s faces are covered with red ocher and soot, giving them a nightmarish, menacing look. Madda comes last. Her eyes are vacant, and I can tell just by looking at her that only her body is in this world. She looks exactly like Paul when he goes to his place of visions. I scan the crowd, looking for him, for my father. I can’t find them, but I know they’re here, hidden in the shadows.

A woman walks before the Elders, waving a branch of burning sage in the air as another woman hands out smudge sticks to the crowd.

“What do I do with this?” I ask Bran as he hands one to me.

“Wait and see.”

“We’ve been waiting all night,” I murmur.

He smiles. “Time moves differently in the spirit world. You should know that better than me.” He shifts his
weight and wraps an arm around my shoulder. I close my eyes as he whispers, “We’ll light them in a bit, after Madda speaks to the Old Ones, asking them for guidance.”

“Guidance for what?”

“For the coming winter, for the path of our people, for healing the world around us—who knows, really. The Old Ones choose what they want to reveal. Madda will deliver their messages, and then the celebration will begin. Dancing, drumming, you know. Then, when you’re ready, I’ll take you home, safe and sound.”

The air around me stirs with a wind that doesn’t come from a natural source. This is the spirit wind, the breath of the world, come to the longhouse to speak its secrets to Madda. I feel it drift past me, then stop and double back.
No
, I think,
I’m not the one you want. She’s over there, under that cape, waiting for you. Please, not me. I’m not ready
.

In my mind, I see the wind nod and continue on, looking for the one who has given up her body for its purpose.

The drum changes cadence again and a man starts to sing. Others add their voices, and as Bran joins them I can feel the rumble of his bass coming through his chest, right into my back, echoing out through the longhouse, to the moon, the stars, the sky.

The Elders circle around the fire, supporting Madda as she takes shuffling steps. Her head droops to one side,
her mouth slack. The singing grows louder and louder. Her eyes roll back, and every muscle in my body tenses. I know what’s happening. I know, because it’s happened to me. She’s about to have a seizure.

“Won’t be long now,” Bran whispers in my ear.

But then Madda lifts her face to the moon and shrieks. The men let go and she falls to the ground, crawling on her hands and knees, grasping at things only she can see. Then, she whirls around and points at me. All I can see are the whites of her eyes as she bleats,
Hoo, hoo
.

Bran nudges me. “She’s calling you.”

Everyone’s looking at me as I push myself back, but with Bran right behind me, there’s nowhere to go. This creature isn’t Madda. She’s someone else, someone who terrifies me.

“You must go,” Bran says, more insistent this time as Madda shakes her finger in my direction.

I creep forward. She lunges at me, wrapping me in her arms and cackling. I don’t know what to do. Her grasp is firm and tight, and I can’t breathe. She rocks me back and forth, faster and faster, until the world blurs before my eyes. The singing becomes chanting as the earth tilts and whirls. I squeeze my eyes shut because I feel like I’m falling, falling …

Madda howls. She releases me now and I drop to the ground, panting, as she bays at the moon.

And then, without warning, she collapses in a heap.

That’s when I notice the silence. Everyone stares at us as I crawl forward and check Madda’s breathing. It’s shallow, but regular. “What do I do?” I ask the Elder nearest me. He’s staring at Madda, his eyes wide with fright. “Please—what do I do?”

Madda groans and sits up. “Start the dancing,” she croaks. “Go on, start. Start!” she barks at the nearest person and the drumming begins again. “Henry, help me up.”

Henry Crawford rushes over and lifts Madda to her feet. “You did good, kid,” she says to me as I follow them outside, half-running to keep up with Henry’s long strides. He stops when he reaches the back of the long-house and gestures for me to open a door that leads into a meeting room. There, he sets Madda down on a table.

“You did real good,” she says to me as she struggles to sit up. Henry presses a cup of water into my hands, and I hold it to her mouth. She drinks, coughs, then blinks at me.

“Was that calling down the moon?” I ask.

“No,” Madda says. Her voice is tight with concern. “I’m sorry.” She looks at Henry. “I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”

I agree, though I wish I knew what it
was
that happened. “But you didn’t do that on purpose,” I say.

Madda shakes her head. “No, I didn’t, and let that be a warning to you not to go messing with things that aren’t yours to mess with. Now, go on back. I’m fine,” she says, giving me a push. “The dancing’s started, and I need to talk to Henry. Alone. I’ll see you tomorrow, Cassandra.”

Madda gives me another push. I don’t want to go. I want to stay. I want to make sure Madda is all right, that she’s truly back in her body and attached to the earth. I want to ask her what happened to make her scream like that. What could the Old Ones have told her that would have brought that madness to her eyes? And, is that what will happen to me if I go walking in spirit unprepared? I’ll go mad and not even know it?

I make my way back toward the longhouse. The dancing has spilled outside and with it, whiskey. I can smell its scent on the air. Bran’s nowhere in sight. I look inside the longhouse for him, but right away I’m overwhelmed with the sparks of spirit. There is no barrier between our world and theirs tonight, and one glance at the dancers, whirling so fast that I can’t tell where dancer stops and spirit begins, tells me what I already know: I am not ready for this yet.

You have no choice
, the thunderbird guarding the door seems to say.
This is what has been given to you. You cannot give it back. Ready or not, here it comes
.

I turn and rush outside, bumping right into Paul. “Hey,” he says, taking my arm and steering me into the park. “You okay?”

“No.” I look over my shoulder at the longhouse. “Were you there? Did you see?”

“Yeah,” Paul says. “Not the best way to introduce you to everyone, was it?”

“No.” I cross my arms. Suddenly I’m very cold. “Do you know where Bran is?”

“No,” he says a little too quickly, and when I follow his gaze, I see two shadows just a little ways off. Firelight flickers across them. It’s Avalon and Bran. She passes him a bottle and leans in, kissing his neck.

“Cass,” Paul calls as I pull away from him. “Cass, come back!”

But I don’t. I find my feet and run into the night.

H
alfway home, my dress soaked with sweat and my legs burning, I stop running. What am I running from? I’m not even sure. The sight of Bran and Avalon? Yes, that’s part of it, but it’s Madda, too, how she singled me out. She might not have said a word to me, but in those howls I heard despair, and confusion, and sadness for me and for her. What did the Old Ones show her? What could have been so terrible?

I stand there, panting, thoughts of Madda giving way to Bran again. How could I be so stupid? I try to tell myself he doesn’t matter, he’s just some dumb guy, but that’s a lie. He does matter now. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let this happen, that I wouldn’t care, that I wouldn’t become like the women who live here, the ones who pine after
Band men and get nothing in return. So I won’t. No matter what I feel in my heart, I won’t go back to that.

Bran’s not like that
, a small part of my mind whispers.

But the image of him and Avalon passing the bottle, sharing a kiss? It mutes that whisper. I know what I saw, and no matter how strong I wish I was, it still hurts.

Above me, the night sky is awash with stars. When I was little, my mother told me that when people died, they became stars. I’d like to believe that my mother’s up there somewhere, watching me at this very moment.

Mom, if you can hear me, make this right. Make everything all right. Make me strong enough to do what needs to be done. Make me brave enough to weather whatever is heading my way
.

I’m still staring at the stars when I hear someone coming up the road. For a moment I think about stepping into the forest and hiding, but I don’t. There’s only darkness there, so I break into a run again.

It could be Paul. It could be your father. It could be …
But I don’t let that whisper take root. All hope needs is a spark, and I’m too smart to allow that.

I don’t stop until I reach our house, my heart pounding, my skin cold with fear. Whoever is chasing me hasn’t let up, and isn’t far behind.

I round the corner and am halfway down the hill when Bran calls my name. I don’t stop. I’m past the house, the
boathouse, out to the end of the dock as fear transforms itself into fury. How dare he chase me, after what I saw in the park? How dare he!

His footsteps echo behind me. “Cass! It isn’t what you think,” he calls from several steps away, as if he’s afraid to approach.

“Isn’t it?” My words come out as a hiss. “I saw you with her. What was all this about, coming to get me, holding my hand? What was that all about? I’m not like her. I’m not like
that
.” I spit the last word at him.

“I know. I know you aren’t,” he says, his voice halting, unsure. This is not the Bran I know. He holds his hands out toward me, pleading. “Please, Cass. You have to listen. She has ideas, Avalon. She won’t listen. She kissed me. I didn’t kiss her, and I’m sorry you had to see that. There was something between us, once, but it hasn’t been that way for a long time. That’s where I went when I left you with Ms. Adelaide. She had something of mine I needed back, and I had something of hers. I thought she’d understand, but …” His voice trails off.

I want to believe him. I want to believe him so badly it hurts.

“Ask Paul,” he says. His eyes are full of desperation. “Please. He’ll tell you.”

I turn toward Bran. A green stone hangs at his throat.
The one Avalon wore the day I met her. With two quick steps, I stand right before him, catching the stone in my hand. “Then what is this?”

“That?” He meets my gaze. Moonlight reflects in his eyes. “That is mine. Avalon took it months ago, and I’ve been trying to get it back ever since. That’s what you saw—me, trying to get it back.”

“And the whiskey?”

“I didn’t drink any.” He whispers the words, and I can tell they’re true, but I can also tell that he can taste the memory of whiskey on his lips. If a bottle appeared in my hand and I offered it to him now, he’d drink. “I’m trying, Cass,” he says. “I don’t want to be like my mom, but it’s hard. It’s so hard sometimes.”

We stand like that for several minutes, me gazing into his eyes, searching for—something. I don’t know what, exactly, and finally I sigh and pull him close, resting my forehead against his.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he says.

“I think so,” I say.

“Good.” He traces my arm with a single finger. “I want you to have …”

The sentence remains incomplete as the dock suddenly lurches. Bran makes a desperate grab for me but misses, and we both tumble into the water.

I try to swim back, but my hand slides off something smooth and slick that blocks my way. It writhes in the water, churning it to white as I kick with all my strength, trying to get away.

“Here!” Bran screams. He’s back up on the dock. “Give me your hand!”

I swim toward him, stretching my hand out to his, but as our fingers touch, I’m hit square in the stomach and borne to the bottom of the lake, pinned there by a glittering mass of black.

I kick and try to scream, but water fills my mouth. My hands rake across leathery skin as clouds of sparks fly at me, misting my vision so I can’t see anything as I lash out, fighting with all the strength I have. The creature bites me right in the stomach and I scream, and scream again, even as water gushes into my mouth, down into my lungs, consuming me whole. The lake is my coffin, and I am about to die.

No
, I think.
No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be! I will not be trapped here in the dark with that creature. I want to live, so I can hunt it down and do to it what it’s done to me!