The Prophecy Read online

  “I hate it when you two fight,” I mumbled, returning my hands to my lap.

  Shyla looked at her brother and nudged him in the side with her elbow. “We can’t help it we’re stubborn. It runs in the family.”

  Adrian’s face blushed a deep crimson, but he gave Shyla a half grin. Then he said to me, “Jasmine and Caleb’s dad walked out on them when they were younger. Did you know?”

  “I didn’t know. That’s awful.” Despite what I felt for Jasmine, I knew the sting of a broken family. And even if you still had lots of people who loved you—or maybe only a few—they could never take the place of the ones who were gone.

  “Nathan was his name. He and Charley were both way young when Caleb was born,” Adrian said. “Jasmine’s never gotten over the fact that he took off. She pretty much hates Caleb.”

  I stared at him in confusion. “Why does she hate Caleb?”

  Adrian stood and brushed the excess dirt and grass from the seat of his pants. Then he held out his hand for me.

  “She thinks it’s his fault their dad left.”

  Sleep didn’t come easy. The cot was too firm and Adrian snored. I spent half the night tossing and turning, holding the pillow over my head to drown out the sound.

  Sitting up, I looked around the cramped room. In the dim light that squeezed through the tiny windows, the others appeared as little more than dark lumps. Sighing, I pushed the covers off and swung my legs over the edge of the cot. I needed air.

  The main room was so dark I could barely see my hand in front of my face, and I had to stop to let my eyes adjust to the lack of light. Using the wall as a guide, I skirted the perimeter of the room and breathed a sigh of relief when my fingertips brushed the cool metal of the door handle. Releasing the deadbolt, I jumped as the echo reverberated through the cavernous space.

  The outside air nipped the bare skin of my arms and legs, and I shivered as a gust of wind lifted my hair off my shoulders. Fall would find this place even before it settled in back home. Tonight, the air felt heavy as a damp blanket and smelled of impending rain.

  I contemplated making my way down to the lake, but it was too dark to see much of anything at all. I’d probably just twist an ankle anyway. Instead, I sat down with my back against the cool brick wall, drawing my knees to my chest and pulling my Mickey Mouse tee over my legs.

  The unexpected cry of a loon startled me, but then I remembered something my mother had told me when I was just a little girl. She believed that when people died, their spirits returned in the body of another living creature. I had been fascinated at the idea.

  “What will you come back as?” I had asked.

  She had thought for a moment before answering. “A loon.”

  Seeing that I wasn’t familiar with that word she added, “Loons are beautiful birds that live on the lake. They’re very good divers, you know; very skilled. But the really cool thing is that loons have special calls to help them find their families so that they never get lost.”

  A loon didn’t seem like a very special animal to me and I laughed. “Wouldn’t you rather be a dolphin or a horse?”

  She had hugged me tight then and kissed the top of my head. “But if I were a loon, I would always be able to find you.”

  From somewhere further down the lake, another loon answered the first. There was something beautiful, yet very sad, in the way the two birds used their ghostly calls to communicate with each other, as if they were trying to reach each other from the impossible distance of two separate worlds. I rested my head against my knees and closed my eyes, listening to their lonely cries and for the first time realizing what my mother had been talking about. But she wasn’t a loon, and neither was I. I could scream and yell out for my mother as loud as I could, but she would never hear me.

  And then I was leaning against Imogene’s warm body, a blanket draped over me, without being aware of Imogene having sat down beside me in the first place. I realized then that I must have fallen asleep. The sky was thick with clouds, with the exception of the occasional flash of lightning. Thunder rumbled in the near distance. The storm was closing in.

  “Adrian snores,” I said with a yawn.

  My head bobbed as Imogene’s body shook with laughter. “I know. Why do you think I came out here? I love my grandson, but I haven’t slept a wink since he moved in with us. The sooner he goes off to college, the sooner I’ll get rid of these bags under my eyes.”

  I didn’t want to think about Adrian going off to college. I was deluding myself by assuming we’d end up at the same school. I’d probably stay close to home because that’s all I’d ever known and, quite frankly, the thought of leaving terrified me. But I couldn’t expect Adrian to stay here, too. What would happen to us if he left? Could we realistically last four years with only the occasional long weekend or holiday visit? I refused to be one of those love-sick girls who can’t survive without her boyfriend, but the thought of going long stretches at a time made my heart ache. I would never admit it to Adrian, though. I had to have faith enough for the both of us.

  “What’s wrong?” Imogene’s grip around my shoulder tightened. “There’s no use in trying to hide it from me.”

  I sighed. “I guess I’m just homesick.” I missed my room and bed. I missed Priscilla. And, more than anything, I missed my mom.

  “I can’t imagine this place feels like home to you, does it?”

  I shook my head. “No. Does it feel like home to you?”

  Imogene fell quiet. I didn’t look at her face to gauge her expression, if only because I was afraid of what I might see in her eyes. A loon cried out again in the distance, almost wolf-like, and the sound of it caused the tears to finally spill over.

  I felt like one of those loons floating on the water’s dark surface, in search of another creature exactly like it. But unlike that loon, who would eventually find its mate, I knew I would never find another person completely like me. As much as my family loved me and accepted me, I was still different. And I would never really belong to the tribe.

  “No,” Imogene finally said. “I guess I don’t consider this place my home, either. I haven’t for a very long time.”

  I swallowed hard. “Can I ask you something?”

  Imogene smoothed my hair. “Always.”

  “If Charley and my mom used to be best friends, why does it seem like she hates her?”

  Imogene took a deep breath. “Charley and your mom were smart girls,” she said, “but they had a streak of mischief in them. Trouble just had a way of finding them whenever they got together.”

  “What sort of trouble?”

  “Oh, mostly silly little things. And then one day, they stopped speaking to each other. They wouldn’t even look at one another.”

  “Why?”

  Imogene’s shoulders rose and fell. “Well, I don’t know exactly. One day they were friends, and the next day they weren’t.”

  “Was it because of me?”

  “What?” she said, genuinely surprised. “No, honey. You weren’t even a blip on the radar yet.”

  “But if I hadn’t—”

  “Listen.” Her tone was firm, but kind. “Don’t you for one minute think that your mom ever regretted having you,” Imogene said, almost as if she had read my mind. “Or that her friendship with Charley was somehow more important than having you as a daughter. Bigger and better sometimes comes in very small packages.” She chuckled and pinched my arm.

  “Do you think Charley blames my mom for, you know, tearing apart the tribe?”

  Imogene breathed out through her nose. “Maybe. I don’t know. But what’s the point of blaming people for things that happened in the past, especially when those people are no longer here to speak for themselves?”

  “Adrian said Caleb and Jasmine’s dad left when they were young.”

  Imogene took another deep breath, as though dredging up the past was laborious work.

  “He did. His name was Nathan Moon. They hadn’t been together very long when C
harley found out she was pregnant with Caleb. It came as a real surprise to everyone. And I’ll give Nathan credit for sticking around as long as he did. Not many boys fresh out of high school would marry a girl he barely knows and take on two jobs just to support her and a new baby. But as the years passed, you could tell how much he’d grown to really love them. Doing the right thing wasn’t just an obligation.”

  Something didn’t add up, though. “If he loved them so much, what happened to change that? Why did he leave?”

  I felt, rather than saw, Imogene shake her head. “I have no idea. Are you going to be the one to ask Charley why her husband left her alone with two young children?”

  I laughed. “I guess not.”

  We settled into silence again. But after a few moments I whispered, “Tell me about the night your daughter died.”

  Imogene stiffened. “You’ve already heard this story, Sarah.”

  I pulled the blanket tighter around me. “But not from you.”

  Imogene didn’t speak for a while, but when she did, her voice was low and quiet.

  “Aida was attacked by a . . . a wolf, as you know. I saw it happen, but there was nothing I could do to save her. I held her in my arms at the end—Victor and I both did. She cried out for Adrian and Shyla, begging to see them one last time. She breathed her last breath into Shyla’s small body and passed on the gift of Spirit Keeper. And then she was gone. Just like that. As quick as blowing out a candle flame.”

  I couldn’t imagine the horror of watching someone die in such a painful and unspeakable way. But then I remembered I almost had when Victor stabbed Adrian, his own son. Victor had meant to kill me, of course, the so-called product of a great betrayal to the tribe. I’d escaped, but only just barely. And through some mystery of magic and love, I’d managed to save Adrian’s life, making him whole once again.

  I curled my hand around Imogene’s. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You should never apologize for your questions.”

  “I know, but I feel like I have to keep apologizing for so many things. My father killed your daughter. I keep thinking it was just an accident, that she just got in the way, you know, and that he didn’t really mean to hurt her. And I can’t understand how you and Adrian and Shyla don’t hate me like Victor did. Or does . . .”

  “What good is hate, huh? What has hating someone ever accomplished? And I could never hate you. I love you as though you were my own granddaughter.”

  I thought of Jasmine then. How could I hate her when I didn’t even really know her? And I certainly didn’t know all the facts about her and Adrian, or if they’d even been an item at all. All I had to go on were my own jealous suspicions, and that wasn’t fair to anyone.

  “How did Victor used to be?” I said, trying to get my mind off Jasmine.

  Imogene drew a deep breath and laughed. “You’re just full of all the difficult questions tonight, aren’t you? Well, Aida and the children were his life, once upon a time. He always had a smile on his face, and it was because of them. They were the center of his universe. He almost died when Aida did, but he pressed on for the kids. At least for a little while. But then something changed him.”

  “What was it?”

  I felt Imogene shake her head again. “I don’t really know.”

  “And now?”

  “I feel sorry for him,” Imogene said. “He’s the father of my grandchildren. I know they say that forgiveness is the key to happiness, but I can’t forgive him for doing what he did. Victor let his anger and rage consume him, and it nearly got the two of you killed. And let’s not forget about your grandparents and mother. There can be no forgiveness for their deaths.”

  No. I could never forgive him for setting the fire that killed my family. And I would never be rid of the fear that would continue to plague me as long as he remained out there. What if he came back one day and tried to kill me again?

  I cleared my throat. “Do, uh . . . do you think you could show me the house where my mom grew up?”

  Imogene wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug, and I knew it was a prelude to bad news. “Oh, honey. I wish I could. But that house was torn down soon after your family left the reservation.”

  My heart seized in my chest. “Torn down! But why? I don’t understand.”

  “Victor insisted. He wanted no visible reminders of your mother or family. The Council tried to talk him out of it, but he was so distraught. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “I can’t believe it. It’s like they never even existed. It’s like everyone’s completely forgotten about them.”

  “Not completely,” Imogene said. She held me tightly against her. “After all, you’re still here to remind them.”

  SIX

  I had just managed to block out Adrian’s snoring and fall asleep when the clanging of a portable wind-up clock jarred me awake. Bringing my knees to my chest, I pulled the scratchy wool blanket over my head, catching a glimpse of the leaden sky outside.

  “It’s going to pour soon,” David said, raising his voice against the howling wind squeezing through the cracks of the cinderblock building.

  “I hope we’ll get some of this back home,” Meg said with a yawn. “We’re losing inventory to the heat, and I don’t entirely trust the Templeton boys to do a proper job of watering.”

  “Breakfast is almost ready. Everyone up!”

  At the sound of Imogene’s voice, I recalled our conversation from the night before. I pulled the blanket down from around my face and watched as she prodded Adrian with the end of her wooden spoon, trying unsuccessfully to wake him. With a sigh and a shrug, she finally gave up.

  “Let him starve,” she said, winking at me before going back to preparing breakfast.

  I looked over at Adrian. He lay sprawled on his belly, his long arms dangling over the sides of the cot and comatose with sleep. Shyla was nowhere to be seen, but her blanket lay folded in a neat rectangle at the end of her cot.

  I reached for my bag, having packed it with no idea what to wear to the Council meeting. I wanted to make a good impression, but I also didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard—not that my wardrobe would give anyone the impression that I actually cared about what I wore. Frustrated, I had given up and shoved a pair of worn jeans and faded tee into the bag, and I pulled those out now.

  Shyla entered the room rubbing a towel against her wet head. She saw me watching her and smirked knowingly. “Get ready to work some magic.”

  I shoved my feet into my slippers and stood, my clean clothes balled in my hand. “Huh?”

  Shyla bent at the waist and wrapped her hair turban-style. “You’ll see.” Her voice was muffled against her chest, but I thought I detected a grin.

  Without another word I plodded to the cramped bathroom where rust-colored water stains lined the sink. When I turned the tap in the shower, the water came out little more than a tepid trickle. A garden hose would have been more efficient.

  “You have got to be kidding,” I muttered.

  Bracing myself against the cold, I stepped in. The tiled floor was like a block of ice under my bare feet, and I wrapped my arms around my shoulders, convulsing with shivers. But then I remembered what Shyla had said about working magic. What did she mean?

  I put my hand against the shower nozzle as my teeth chattered. Goosebumps rippled across my skin as rivulets of cold water dripped down my raised arm and off my elbow. I closed my eyes and tried to infuse every warm thought I could muster into my fingertips, which only succeeded in creating a lot of steam. I jumped back, afraid of burning myself.

  Closing my eyes again, I reached toward the metal nozzle but didn’t touch it. I pictured an ocean swell of deep-sea green, and immediately the water came rushing out in full force. It hit me square in the face, clogging my nose and stinging my eyes. I sputtered and quickly gave up, deciding I could go a day without a proper shower. I’d have to practice water tricks later.

  “Did you get it to work?
” Shyla said.

  I glared in her direction, still freezing. “Ha! I’m pretty sure Charley arranged for us to stay here based on the crappy bathroom facilities alone.”

  Shyla laughed. “I was never very good at manipulating water. It’s a hard element to control. Fire was definitely my thing.”

  “I remember,” I said dryly. “It seems to be my thing, too.”

  Our voices finally roused Adrian, who grunted a few times before slowly pulling himself to the edge of his cot and stretching his arms above his head.

  “The shower sucks,” Shyla announced.

  Adrian blinked. “Oh.” Then he fell against the cot and, within seconds, was snoring again.

  When Imogene finally called us for breakfast, Adrian, Shyla, and I took our food and mugs of coffee outside. We were looking forward to eating down by the lake before the rain started in. But the gravelly rumble of a car made us pause. When it stopped, Jasmine emerged from the back seat and stared at us as Charley and Caleb got out.

  “Don’t go running off,” Charley called to us as we continued on our way with Caleb now in tow. No one invited Jasmine.

  “Did you hear me?” Charley called. “I’ll need help setting up for the meeting.”

  Only with a tremendous amount of effort did I resist the temptation to roll my eyes. More than anything I wanted to tell Charley that I wasn’t going to help at all, that it was her stupid meeting, anyway, and she could do everything by herself.

  But then I remembered that dumb proverb about keeping your enemies close, which sounded like a good idea in any case. So I mustered the sweetest smile I could and turned to Charley. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  Charley stood in the middle of Council Hall directing us how and where to set up the metal folding chairs. We filled three-quarters of the room, arranging the chairs in ten uniform rows.

  According to Imogene, only the eldest female member of each family was required to attend the monthly meetings. I sincerely hoped some of the chairs would remain empty and that the whole tribe—men, women, and children alike—wouldn’t show up just to stare at us newcomers.