The Dark Divine(69)

He’d known the truth that night under the walnut tree. My father must have told him that afternoon. It’s why Daniel was so distraught. He feared that there was no cure for him because he thought no one could love him. But I think what he really feared was that I did.

I was the one.

And he could never ask me to kill him.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Truth





THIRTY MINUTES LATER




I sat with the book open in my lap until a small brown spider crawled across the brittle yellow pages. The spider paused for a moment and then climbed up onto the back of my hand. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t brush it away. Its tiny legs pricked my skin as I let it wind up my arm.

The spider perched on my shoulder—only inches from my face. I scooped it up and cupped it in my hand. It would only take a slight flexing of my fist to smash it.

I imagined it squished in my palm: all brown and gooey and warm.

I shuddered and opened my hand a bit. The spider tried to scurry out of my grasp. I cupped it again, blocking its escape.

Killing was wrong. Isn’t that one of those basic truths? Thou shall not kill, and all that commandment stuff. But that only pertained to people, right?

I thought of Mr. MacArthur and his spaniel’s spring litter. I thought of Daisy, all runty with only three legs. She’d been so tiny, so helpless. Mr. MacArthur had wanted to put her down—for her own good. That had seemed so wrong to me. But maybe he was right. Maybe she would have been better off going out that way. Better than being ripped to pieces by my next-door neighbor. By the Markham Street Monster.

But then she wouldn’t have been my Daisy.

The spider twitched inside my hand. Wasn’t it okay to kill a pest? To kill something dangerous? A beast? A monster? That was the real difference here, wasn’t it? Daniel had a demon inside of him. And the only way to kill the monster was to kill him. It was the only way to save his soul.

But would I be the one who went to hell instead?

Would I lose myself?

I shook my head. Katharine’s brother wouldn’t have asked his sister to do such a thing if that were the case. He wouldn’t trade her soul for his.

At least, I wouldn’t think.

I walked to the window and pushed it open with one hand. I pulled out the loose screen, climbed through the window, and crouched on the eave of the roof in the bitter night wind.

The spider was restless in my hand, twitching and fluttering its legs against my skin. I felt a sudden sting in the middle of my palm. My fingers flinched inward. I wanted to smash it. But then I hesitated and opened my hand and dropped the spider. I watched it scuttle across the shingles and out of my reach.

A small red lump rose in the middle of my hand. The stinging was only slight compared to what I felt inside. I loved Daniel. I was probably the only person who had ever loved him so much. And that made me the only person who could save him. But what he needed me to do was impossible. I’d lived without him before, and I thought I was prepared to do it again when I told him to leave town.

But how could I let him die? How could I be the one who killed him?

I looked up at the almost-full moon that hung over the walnut tree. Through my blurry eyes, it seemed too bright and strangely colored—a blood-red moon. I wished on it then like I had when I was kid. I wished this responsibility could pass to someone else. I wished for another way. I wished for a world free of darkness.

But I knew those wishes couldn’t come true. So I wished for something different.

I wished for time.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Always





THURSDAY




As terrible as the truth was, there was something restful about it. Like knowing the answers finally calmed my brain enough for me to sleep peacefully for the first time in weeks. I woke up to a rustling sound. I assumed it was the wind and rolled over on my blanketless bed and saw the book lying open next to me. I wondered why, if the clock said it was only 2:00 a.m., it was so light out. I got out of bed and pulled my blinds open. The sun glinted off the walnut tree, and I realized it was afternoon.

Something rested inside my windowsill—a white cardboard box, like something you’d put a present in. My name was written across the top. I picked it up and was surprised by its weight. I backed away from the window and pulled off the lid. There was a note on top of a large paper-wrapped bundle. I recognized the handwriting from my childhood.

Gracie,

You are right. If I love you, then I should leave. I have already caused so much damage to your family.

Staying only puts you all in greater danger. I do love you, so I will go.

But I wanted you to see that I’ve been trying to make things right. I didn’t just come here to ruin your life.

Will you please give this to your father? If I tried to give it to him in person, he wouldn’t take it. I wanted it to be the full amount. I wanted to fulfill my obligation.

But it would be wrong to stay until I had it all. I’ve kept only a small amount to buy supplies. I’ll send more when I earn it.

Please tell Jude that I am gone. Tell him I will never return—for his sake, and yours.

I’ll love you always,

Daniel



I dropped the note and unwrapped the bundle. It was stacks of bills—thousands of dollars to replace the money he’d stolen from the parish. This was Daniel’s mysterious “obligation.”