The Dark Divine(22)

How could I help Daniel find his way, without losing mine?





AFTER SCHOOL




“So what are you going to do?” April asked as we hiked through the parking lot separating the school from the parish.

I unrolled my chem test and stared at the red D marked on the page, followed by a scribbled note from Mrs. Howell: Please have parent sign your test. Return after the holiday. “I don’t know,” I said. “Dad usually handles this sort of thing the best, but I don’t want to bug him right now. And Mom’s all hopped up in Martha Stewart mode, so if I show her this, she’ll probably make me drop art next semester.”

“No way,” April said. “Maybe you should sign it yourself.”

“Yeah, right. You know I can’t do that.” I rolled the test up again and stuck it into my back pocket. “He’s here!” April yelped.

Jude pulled up to the curb in front of the parish in the Corolla. He was picking April up here for their “coffee date.” I waved to him, but he didn’t wave back.

“Lipstick check.” April smiled so I could inspect her teeth.

“You’re good,” I said, not really looking. I watched Jude idling in front of the parish. He had that stony look on his face.

“Good luck with the test,” April said, positively shaking.

“Hey.” I reached out and took her hand. “Have a good time. And … watch out for Jude for me, okay? Let me know if he needs anything.”

“Will do.” April squeezed my hand and then bounded across the rest of the parking lot to the Corolla. I was surprised Jude didn’t get out to open the door for her—not very Jude-like at all. But at least his expression softened slightly when she hopped into the car.

As much as I wasn’t too keen on the idea of my best friend dating my brother, I hoped Pete was right about April—that she could crack Jude’s stoic shell when nobody else could.





AT THE PARISH




After Jude and April drove away, I pulled my rolled-up test out of my pocket and went down the alley between the parish and the school. I stopped at my father’s outer office door and tentatively listened for signs of life. I figured Dad was still the best bet for signing off on my grade, plus I wanted to check on how he was doing, but I had no idea if he had even ventured out of his study at the house yet. My question was answered before I could even knock on the door.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I heard someone say. The strained voice sounded somewhat like my father’s. “I can’t do it again.”

“I didn’t mean to,” someone else said. It was a masculine but childish voice. “I didn’t mean to scare nobody.”

“But you did,” the first voice said, and this time I was certain it belonged to my father. “This is the third time this year. I can’t help you again.”

“You promised. You promised you’d help me. You fix things. That’s what you do.”

“I’m done!” my father shouted.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I pushed open the door and saw Don Mooney throw his hands over his head. He wailed like a gigantic baby.

“Dad!” I yelled over Don’s cries. “What on earth is going on?”

Dad looked at me, startled that I was suddenly there. Don noticed me, too. He fell quiet, trembling in his chair. Fluid streamed from his nose and his great, swollen melon eyes.

Dad sighed. His shoulders slumped like the weight on them had increased tenfold. “Don decided to take his knife to work. Again.” Dad pointed at the hauntingly familiar dagger that lay on his desk. It was the same knife Don had once held to my father’s throat. “He scared off a bunch of customers, and Mr. Day fired him. Again.”

“I didn’t know he’d been fired before.”

Don cringed.

“That’s because I always smooth things over. Don screws up, and I fix it.” Dad sounded so distant, not with the normal kindness and compassion so characteristic of his deep, melodic voice. His face sagged with lack of sleep, his eyes shadowed by dark circles. “I try and I try to fix everything for everyone, and look where it’s gotten me. I can’t help anymore. I only make things worse. Both of them are on their own.”

“Both?” I asked.

Don wailed, cutting me off.

“Dad, this is Don we’re talking about,” I said, shocked at the sudden rush of feeling I had for the blubbering man—even with his knife so close by. “You weren’t trying to scare anyone, were you?”


“No, Miss Grace.” Don’s huge lower lip quivered. “Them people were already afraid. They was talking about the monster—the one that tried to eat Maryanne. So I showed them my knife. It’s pure silver. My great-great-grandpa used it to kill monsters. My granddaddy told me so. All my ancestors took an oath to kill monsters. I was showing the people that I could stop the monster before it—”

“That’s enough,” Dad said. “There’s no such thing as monsters.”

Don cowered. “But my granddaddy—”

“Don.” I gave him my best don’t push it look. I turned to my dad. “Don needs you. You said you’d help him. You can’t just quit because it’s hard. I mean, what ever happened to seventy times seven and all that ‘be your brother’s keeper’ stuff you’re always talking about?”