Othermoon (6 page)

“I know what Mama would say,” Arnaldo said. At the mention of the boys’ mother, Mr.
Perez’s jaw set. “She would say families don’t hurt each other.”

“You heard me,” Mr. Perez said. “If they’re your family, you are no family of mine.”

Arnaldo’s brown face went gray. Both his brothers gasped. Luis tried to grab his father’s
sleeve, but Mr. Perez pulled away. Cordero took Luis by the shoulders and edged him
back toward the dining room.

Arnaldo’s chin was trembling. “Papi, please. I never meant for this to happen. I’m
proud to be your son.”

“I am not your father.” Mr. Perez’s eyes were aimed at him like a spear.

For a minute, I thought Arnaldo would break down crying. But instead he took a deep
breath and drew himself up to his full height, taller than his father now, slender
and taut. “What would Mama say?’

Mr. Perez winced, as if Arnaldo had struck him. “You are not my son,” he said, but
it was not as convincing this time.

“Mama would say that you drink too much,” said Arnaldo. “I should have told you this
long ago, but I was afraid.”

His father’s eyes were red and bright with unshed tears. The pain behind them made
me look away. Somewhere inside, Mr. Perez knew he was failing his children.

“Mama would be ashamed of how you treat us.” Arnaldo’s voice was shaking. “She would
want you to stop drinking, to get help.”

Tears streamed down Mr. Perez’s face, and his lips trembled, as if saying the words
was almost more than he could bear. “Get out,” he said, and pointed at the door.

It looked like something out of an old silent movie—the proud father throwing his
wayward son out of the family home by flinging out one arm toward the door. For a
moment I couldn’t quite believe it. But it was all too terribly real.

Luis was crying silently, as if he’d learned not to let anyone hear his sobs, and
Cordero stood behind him, arms around his shoulders and chest protectively. “It’s
okay, Arnaldo,” Cordero said. “I’m here.”

I caught November’s eye and saw she was thinking the same thing. We couldn’t leave
these boys with this drunken father. “Let Cordero and Luis come with us to the school
too, Mr. Perez,” I said. “They could learn a lot there, and you could visit—”

“No!” Mr. Perez stepped between us and his two younger sons.

I hesitated. We outnumbered him. We could make him give us the boys.

“Please, go,” Cordero said. He was shaking. His voice wavered, but he cleared his
throat, determined. “We don’t want to go with you.”

“Don’t you hurt Papi, dirty fur-carriers,” Luis shouted. “Get out of our house!”

“You sure?” November asked. “If you come with us, your brother won’t get any more
black eyes.”

Cordero shot a glance at his father, who looked like he might tear November’s head
off. “I was just playing outside. I fell,” Cordero said, his voice dropping, his eyes
darting away.

“That’s right!” Luis piped up. “Go away!”

“You see?” Mr. Perez brought his chin up. “Nobody wants you here.”

“Arnaldo . . .” I said helplessly. It made me queasy to hear the boys defending their
father. But what other choice had he given them?

This was too big for us, and I couldn’t see any way to make it right. We couldn’t
force the boys to come with us, not without possibly injuring their father right in
front of them and dragging them off, probably in some kind of restraints.

“Let’s go,” Arnaldo said, and walked to the door. Siku put a hand on his shoulder,
and Arnaldo turned to look back at his family. “I’ll see you all again soon.”

I looked at Arnaldo’s father. He put his arms around Cordero’s shoulders and hugged
both boys to him forcefully; his mouth was twisted in anger and pain.

“You can come with us, Mr. Perez,” I said. “And Cordero and Luis.”

He glared at me with red eyes. “Get out of my house, cat.”

I bit back a smart remark and backed up a step so that I was outside. “We’ll take
good care of Arnaldo,” I said. “Just let us know if we can help you.”

Still standing near Mr. Perez, November was seething, her small eyes darting back
and forth, her fingers patting her thighs impatiently. I backed up farther, waiting
for her to come with me. She took a step, bumped against Mr. Perez, as if giving him
one last angry shove, then darted past me and into the open before he could react.

A hundred yards away or so, I heard the engine of the SUV getting closer. Caleb, London,
and Amaris were on their way back to get us. And we had Arnaldo. The group would be
together once again, safe. But my heart felt like a deflated balloon; my throat was
tight. I’d never wanted it to be like this.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, walking backwards. “We never wanted to cause problems in your
family, but every tribe is in danger from the Tribunal. And if all the shifter tribes
can’t come together, we don’t stand a chance. If you ever change your mind, just let
us know. If you ever need help, call us.”

“You stupid, foolish girl!” Mr. Perez spat the words out, releasing his sons and pacing
up to me, one hand grabbing the door to swing it back and forth in fury. “Do you think
you are the first to say all we have to do is ‘come together’? Do you really think
the Tribunal hasn’t utterly destroyed every single one of those like you, who came
before and who tried to overthrow thousands of years of tradition? It’s your idiotic
dreams of uniting the otherkin that will kill us all. Go seek glory and power at someone
else’s expense. I’ll keep my family safe.”

He slammed the door in my face. I stood there for a moment, until a quiet hand on
my arm turned me around, and Amaris was hugging me, saying, “Come on, now.” We walked
past the vegetable garden to where Caleb waited in the SUV.

CHAPTER 7

We stopped in Kingman on the way back north to buy Arnaldo some clothes and a toothbrush.
At the store, November pulled out a worn leather wallet I didn’t recognize, drew out
five twenty-dollar bills, and paid for everything.

Arnaldo stared at her. “You
stole
my father’s wallet?”

One corner of November’s mouth deepened, as if to say “duh.” “I picked his pocket
on my way out,” she said. “Been practicing on my brothers.”

It was London who laughed first, then the rest of us, more in relief than anything
else. Arnaldo actually smiled too, though he shook his head at her.

November collected her change from the cashier, then opened Arnaldo’s chest pocket
with one finger and slid the wallet into it. “I know, I know, it’s not ethical and
blah-dee-blah. But before you get all weird about it, just remember it’s the least
he could do, after kicking you out.”

I noticed that Amaris wasn’t with us. I looked around and spotted her through the
dusty window of the store, barely visible behind our parked SUV. Something about the
way she held her head struck me as odd, and I left Arnaldo and the others to buy the
clothes and grab some food, and went outside into the cold desert air.

Amaris was pacing behind the car, practically out in the street. I heard her voice
speaking, though the words weren’t clear, and I realized she was on the phone.

I nearly turned around to give her privacy. But wait—
Amaris doesn’t have any friends other than us
. She’d been raised by the Tribunal and was now an outcast.
Who the hell is she talking to?

I strained to catch even a word of her conversation as I approached. Instead, a deep
growl of engines assaulted my ears. Two engines, very large, very loud, coming fast.
Headlights swept over us. We turned to see two sets of headlights moving at us much
faster than they should have on a quiet street this late at night. One set of lights
started to pull ahead of the other, tires smoking.

They were headed right for us. Sixty feet away, forty . . .

I whirled around and leaped at Amaris. She was standing there, eyes wide, still trying
to understand the hurtling machines charging at her. I cannoned into her and wrapped
my arms around her waist, head down, yanking her with me out of the street, using
the bulk of the SUV as cover. We rolled onto the pavement.

Tires squealed, and one car zoomed past, inches away from the rear bumper of our car.
The wind from it pushed my hair over my face as I sat up on the asphalt, forearms
and elbows bruised from the impact, but otherwise unhurt. Amaris, who had landed on
her side, was getting up, brushing pebbles and dirt from her shirt, although it now
had a long dark slick of oil across one sleeve.

“Oh, my dear Lord!” she said. That was about as much swearing as ever came out of
Amaris. “Have they found us? Was that the Tribunal?”

I stared at the retreating low-slung forms of the muscle cars as they raced away.
“I don’t think Ximon would approve those modifications on a Mustang,” I said. When
she looked at me blankly, I explained further. “I think they were street racers, not
objurers. Just jerks, not assassins.”

“You saved my life,” she said. “I’ve never seen anyone move that fast!”

“Cat-shifter reflexes,” I said. “Still pretty good in human form. What are you looking
for?”

She had hunkered down, scanning the dark pavement. “My phone. I must’ve let go of
it in surprise. Not that I’m not grateful . . .”

“Maybe it got flung over here.” I bent over to look under the truck next to our SUV.

“Don’t bother,” Amaris said. “It’s no big deal.”

“It’s your phone.” My eyes were good in the dark. I spotted a small square object
near the back tire of the neighboring car. “There it is.”

She knelt down to get it. “Darn, the keyboard’s cracked.” She pressed a few buttons.
“The power’s on, but the buttons don’t work.”

“Bummer,” I said, watching her face closely. “Who were you talking to?”

“Hunh?” She glanced up fast, and then looked back down at her phone. She looked distracted,
but her eyes flickered strangely. Was that guilt? “Nobody. I was listening to music.
I have to hold the phone up to my ear because I don’t have earbuds.”

“Music?” Until about a month ago, Amaris had led the most isolated life possible in
this modern world. The only music she’d ever been exposed to consisted of traditional
hymns. Even the religious symphonies of Handel and Beethoven had been forbidden.

Pounding feet announced the arrival of everyone else, coming at a run. “Are you guys
okay?” asked November, darting over.

Caleb swept up to me, eyes running over me carefully. His concern smoothed out the
frazzled edges in me left over from the adrenaline rush. He gave Amaris a once-over
too, face settling as it became clear we were both okay. “We heard the cars, and the
tires squeal, and then we couldn’t see you.”

“Did they hit you?” asked Arnaldo, pointing to the smear on Amaris’s shirt.

“Dez pulled me out of the way just in time. ‘Speedier than the righteousness of Isaiah
drawing near.’ ” Amaris smiled, as if she’d made a joke.

We looked at her blankly.

Except Caleb. “Isaiah fifty-one five,” he said. “Don’t let the heathens bother you,
Sis. You sure you’re okay?”

“Just shaken up,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Here.” London stepped forward and held out a bottle of water. “Scary stuff always
makes me thirsty.”

Amaris took it with a shy smile. “Thanks.”

Caleb opened the passenger door for me, and everyone piled into the SUV.

“Maybe you can show me what kind of music you like sometime,” Amaris said to London.
“I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Uh, okay,” London said, making her way to the seats in the far back again.

As she pulled out her phone and earbuds, I still wanted to know who the hell Amaris
had been talking to. But unless I confronted her in front of everyone, the moment
had passed. The group’s trust in her was tentative enough without me making it worse
for no good reason.

Amaris had been lying. Maybe the reason was unimportant. But maybe it was critical.
I’d thought I could handle Arnaldo’s family situation, and that had turned out to
be out of my league. What if there was more going on with Amaris than I knew? What
if I’d been mistaken to let her into our lives? She’d whispered to me earlier that
she had something to tell me. Were those things related?

I resolved to get her alone as soon as possible and drag it out of her. Amaris was
something rarer than a shifter or a caller of shadow. She was a healer, able to steal
power from Othersphere to heal wounds and illnesses. But after she ran away from the
Tribunal, her recapture and marriage to a horrible old man had traumatized her so
much, she’d been unable to access her skill. She could be hiding things from us out
of some irrational fear.

The only good thing about all that guilt and shame was that it made her a terrible
liar. It shouldn’t be too hard to get the truth out of her once I had her alone. Also,
I needed to tell her what Lazar had said, that he was sorry. There hadn’t been any
time for that either.

On top of that, I hadn’t had a second alone with Caleb. So much still to tell him.
If I could just be with him, touch him, hear his voice speaking only to me, I might
feel like everything could be all right again.

I stewed in uncertainty as we zoomed down the freeway. I felt so useless. There had
to be something we could do. I turned in the passenger seat to see Arnaldo staring
out the window.

“I was thinking,” I said. “Maybe we should call the Department of Children’s Services,
or whatever it’s called.”

Everyone in the car stirred uncomfortably, except Arnaldo, who turned his head to
look at me with eyes that were still red and heavy with pain. “I know you mean well,
Dez,” he said. “But no.”

“ ‘Hell, no,’ you mean,” November interjected. “Shifters can’t let humdrums solve
their problems.”

Siku was nodding. London looked uncertain.

“
Won’t
let humdrums help them, you mean,” I said. “It’s not like he’s just going to stop
drinking all by himself.”

“I said, no!” Arnaldo’s voice sharpened and rose, but he forced himself to remain
calm. “Things are bad enough between me and my dad now,” he said. “If I did that to
him . . .” He shook his head.

Everything was messed up, thanks to me. I turned back around in my seat and stared
straight ahead. Maybe I had been wrong to force Mr. Perez’s hand. But I couldn’t help
feeling that Arnaldo’s brothers’ safety was more important than trying to mend the
shreds of his relationship with his dad. Or maybe I was wrong about that, the way
I’d been wrong about everything else.

“I’m sorry, Arnaldo,” I said.

“I know,” he said, leaning his forehead against the window glass. “It’s not your fault,
Dez.”

The drive back to Morfael’s school in the Spring Mountains northwest of Vegas took
forever, but Caleb wouldn’t let anyone else drive. He explained that once we left
Kyle Canyon Road, the turns got tricky. He and Morfael had deliberately planned it
that way to make the school harder to find, so in the dark after a long day it was
better for him to find the way.

Amaris and London took turns listening to music on her headphones till London’s phone
died. November fell asleep with her head on Siku’s elbow, and Arnaldo stared stiffly
out the window, not saying a word.

It was past three a.m. when we arrived, pulling the car next to an ancient pickup
truck inside an underground garage area. The truck belonged to Raynard, the gruff
school handyman and Morfael’s apparent boyfriend, though the two of them never talked
about their relationship.

Raynard was also compulsively neat. He’d thoroughly organized building tools, saws,
and planks of wood against the back wall in stacks or on shelves. The floor was firmly
packed earth, the sod over our heads reinforced with what looked like logs from fallen
trees. The overhead light was dim, and the automatic door to the outside cleverly
planted with grass to look like the rest of the hill.

The others headed out of the garage door, muttering about bed, toward a low hill,
which had been partially cut away to reveal a wooden door. That had to be the entrance
to the school, embedded in the side of the earth like a human-sized hobbit hole. One
by one, they disappeared inside it, like rabbits into a burrow.

I started to follow them out into a cold forest landscape with the stars overhead
so clear I felt like I could reach up and stir them around.

Warm hands enclosed my waist from behind, and Caleb’s lips pressed against my ear.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, voice low and soft. “I’ve waited so long for you.”

I turned in the circle of his arms, hands sliding up his chest. “You’ve been with
other people, and I haven’t, which means I’ve waited even longer.”

He kissed me, his lips curving upwards in a smile. He smelled like grass after a passing
cloudburst, clean and just warming in the sunshine. “Ah, but waiting for you is different.
You’re not like any other girl. Waiting for you is like saving the best bite of cake
for last.”

His words and his touch flooded me with a heat so intense, I knew that it was time
for the wait to end. We hadn’t been alone together in weeks, and we might not have
another chance soon. The craving to show my love for him, to satisfy the desire inside
me, was overwhelming.

Caleb had been my first kiss, and now he would be my first lover. The images conjured
by that thought sapped all the strength from my knees even as it strengthened the
need to press my skin against his, to make the union of our bodies match the harmony
of our feelings.

“I vote we have a large piece of cake tonight,” I said, then lowered my voice to a
whisper. “Or maybe the whole thing.”

His arms tightened around me, pressing me full length against him, my hip bones grinding
into his hips, thigh to thigh, heart to heart.

“If you’re sure. I don’t think I can wait a minute longer. . . .” His lips trailed
kisses down my neck, hands up under my shirt tracing the bare skin of my back, between
my shoulder blades. He was so strong, so certain.

How different things were, how much had changed since I’d hidden from sight and touch
because of the back brace I’d worn for so many years. Caleb’s unabashed admiration
and love, his desire for me even when I’d been wearing the brace, my decision to own
my own body, had wiped all of that away.

Caleb’s hands stroked the bare skin at my waist. I slid my hand a few inches down
the back of his jeans.

“Where can we go?” I said. “Now.”

He said nothing, only kissed me again with a craving that pulled the breath from my
body. I was light-headed, floating, and at the same time never so certain about anything.
His hands were guiding me, pulling me back into the dark enclosure of the garage.
“All the rooms inside the school are communal,” he said. “There’s nowhere else. .
. .”

I didn’t care. “As long as we’re alone,” I said.

I leaned back against the side of the SUV and pulled him to me. Something like a groan
escaped him as he dipped his head to kiss me again, crushing me against the metal.
The boundaries between us were dissolving. I pulled his long black coat from his shoulders,
even as his fingers trailed over my neck to grip the collar of my jacket and wrench
it off me.

Somehow we were in the backseat of the SUV, me lying half under him. He reached down
and pulled my shirt off in one smooth move. Then, with one swift snap, he undid my
bra.