I felt like such a fraud. My father told me my name meant mercy, help, and guidance. But he was wrong. All Grace Divine meant was blundering, meddling, disappointment. Everything I touched--everything I tried to help--fell apart and slipped through my fingers. Why did I have to press the issue, refuse to stay ignorant? Why couldn't I go back and stop myself from creating this mess?
If I had just stayed out of things, if I had just minded my own business for all these years, would everything be the way it used to? Would Daniel still be the blond-haired boy next door if I had kept my mouth shut about his father? Would Daniel and Jude still be the best of friends? Would my brother be undamaged? Would Daniel be human?
But how could I have not done anything? Daniel would still be living a life of abuse and torture--he might not even be living at all. And how could I have not helped him when he came back? He still meant so much to me, even now after I knew the truth.
But I couldn't believe I put my need for Daniel over my own brother. I saw the pain in Jude's face the first time I mentioned Daniel's name at dinner. I looked Jude right in the eyes and promised I would leave it alone, that I would keep out of his secrets, but instead I went and dragged the only person who ever hurt him back into our lives. My feelings for Daniel caused the pain, the fear, and the anger that were slowly taking over my brother.
"I hate you," I said into the water, I pounded my wet fist on the shower wall. "I hate you, hate you, hate you," I said as if speaking to Daniel,
But the problem was--I didn't. I didn't hate Daniel at all, and I knew I should. I had betrayed my brother once again.
I stood in the shower until it turned cold. And then I stood longer, letting the icy water cut paths across my skin, just to feel something other than my guilt. I stumbled out of the shower, shivering and clutching my stomach. I made it to the toilet and heaved out what little liquid was left in my body. I felt withered, drained, and I crawled back into bed, still wrapped in my wet robe.
The house was quiet. Everyone else must have left for the day. The silence pressed in on me, making my head pound even more. I closed my burning eyes and
let the silence envelop ray body. I slept off and on, trying to make up for too many sleepless nights. But each time my eyes drifted closed and then open, I felt more drained than before. I stayed in bed for two days.
WEDNESDAY
My family left me alone. I was shocked--but grateful--that Mom didn't try to make me go to school. Every once in a while she sent Charity up with food. Charity would leave it just inside my door, staring at me like I had the plague as she retrieved the untouched plates she'd left hours before. I wondered if my family really thought I was sick, but I feared that they knew what I had done--that they were just as ashamed of me as I was of myself. How could I face my brother again, knowing the pain I'd caused him? How could I show my face to anyone?
It was mid afternoon on Wednesday when I heard my father in his study below me. I wondered what he was doing home. Wednesday was one of his busiest days at the parish, and Jude would be there for his independent study. I thought about Dad surrounded by his books, how he'd seemed lost in them for weeks. What was he doing?
But then I knew. It suddenly clicked. I wasn't the only one to blame in all of this.
DOWN IN THE STUDY
"You knew," I said from the doorway. Dad looked up from his book. I thundered into the room, right up to his desk. "You knew what he was, and you still brought him here!" I grabbed one of his books. Loup-Garou. "That's what these books are for. You're helping him."
My parents were such hypocrites! All this crap they taught us about not keeping secrets, and here my father was keeping the biggest one of all.
I threw the book on the desk. It skidded across the wood and knocked over the lamp. "You're the one who started all this. Not me."
Dad pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He closed his book and put it on top of one of the stacks. He looked completely unruffled by my behavior. It made me want to scream at him more.
"I wondered when you would come tome," he said. "I hoped that if we left you alone, you eventually would." He sounded like the perfect pastor dealing with a troubled parishioner. "Shut the door and take a seat."
I was itching not to listen to him, but I did what he asked anyway. Once I was sitting, I picked up another book. The words and letters were all unfamiliar, like Arabic.
"So you want to know why I'm helping Daniel," Dad said. "The answer is simple, Grace. He asked me to." "When?"
"Daniel contacted me about six weeks ago. I made the arrangements for his return."
"But why would he want to come back here?" "He hasn't told you?" I flipped through the pages of the book until I came to an illustration. It was an etching of what looked like a man transforming into a wolf. A full moon hung in the background. "He said something once about art school. He needed Holy Trinity to get into Trenton. But that was just a cover, right? This doesn't have anything to do with art school, does it?" Daniel just used that to make me feel empathy for him---feel connected in our goals.
"That was the cover story we invented," Dad said. "But that doesn't mean Daniel doesn't want to go to Trenton. He wants to reclaim the life he should have had." Dad leaned forward, his hands clasped together on top of his desk. "Grace, the reason Daniel came back is he's searching for a cure."
Something fluttered in my chest. "Is that even possible?"
Dad looked down at his hands. "While Daniel was gone he sought out the colony that his father came from. He asked them for a place in their pack. However, Urbat who have experienced the change--become werewolves--do not procreate often. It is typically against their nature. And in the pack dynamic, only the alpha is allowed to mate. Daniel's mere existence was an affront to their ways." Dad clasped and unclasped his fingers. "I don't think those ancient wolves had any idea what to do with such a young Urbat--especially one who came from a volatile father who had been banished from their colony. Many of the elders were quite wary of letting Daniel live among them. The alpha granted him a probationary period while they deliberated his future. While there, Daniel met a man--"
"Gabriel?"
Dad nodded. "Gabriel is the beta of their pack. Second in command. He took Daniel under his wing--or paw, as the case may be--and taught him many things about the history of their people. And about the techniques they've developed over the centuries to help control the wolf. The necklace Daniel wears is quite rare. It helps him keep the wolf at bay, and it makes him more sentient--more able to control his actions--while in wolf form. The pendant is many centuries old. I've contacted Gabriel to see if he has another to spare..." Dad rubbed his hand down the side of his face. The dark patches under his eyes had gotten deeper and darker since I last saw him.