The Dark Divine (7 page)

I wasn’t a liar by nature. My chest and neck would turn bright red even when I told the slightest fib. Good thing no one bothered to ask how I’d gotten the car
running again, or I would have turned into a shiny, blubbering radish. But I figured I might be able to get away with a half-truth when begging a car off my mom.

“I have to meet April at the library.” I scratched at the thick wool scarf I’d wrapped around my neck to hide the blotching. “We’re working on our research project for English.” April and I
were
scheduled to meet at the library—but not until later.

Mom sighed. “I guess I can go to the grocery store tomorrow. We’ve got plenty of leftovers.”

“Thanks. I probably won’t make it home for dinner. I’ve … we’ve got a lot to do.”

I zipped my coat up to my chin and took the car keys off the table. I was ready to bolt, but Mom reached out and clasped her hand on my forehead.

“Are you feeling okay, honey? You seem flushed.”

“I just haven’t slept well lately.” I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since I first saw Daniel on Wednesday. “I gotta run.”

“You’ll have to take the minivan.”

Ugh. It was one thing to come rolling into the city in an old sedan, but it was another to show up in that part of town in my mother’s Blue Bubble—that’s what April called our royal-blue minivan, which resembled a bubble-gum ball on wheels and screamed “middle-aged mom out to get the groceries.” I could just picture the snide look on Daniel’s face.

DOWNTOWN

I almost turned the car around three times.
I must be crazy
, I thought as I navigated through the alleys near Daniel’s apartment. I pulled over under the same lamp from Friday night and studied the squatty building across the street—it didn’t look
quite
as ominous in the waning afternoon light. It was constructed of yellowed bricks that looked like rows of rotting teeth with a wide gap in the middle where the front doors must have once stood. Cigarette butts and mucky trash littered the crumbling stoop.

I wasn’t too anxious to learn what the
inside
of that apartment building looked like.

What was I supposed to do anyway, go knocking door-to-door, asking if anyone knew a tall, thin guy with the complexion of a ghost who answered to the name of Daniel—and hope that no one felt like taking advantage of a very innocent-looking girl?

I sat and watched the comings and goings of the street and hoped that Daniel might just happen by. I counted five homeless people hurrying along in the direction of the shelter, and at least seven different stray cats bounded down the street as if they were just as anxious to find refuge before nightfall. A black Mercedes with tinted windows pulled slowly to the curb and picked up what appeared to be a very tall man in a miniskirt who’d
been fidgeting and pacing on the corner of Markham and Vine for the past thirty minutes.

The street got emptier as the sun sank deeper behind the city smog. Two guys walking in opposite directions paused briefly in front of Daniel’s building. They didn’t acknowledge each other, but something definitely passed between their hands before they walked on. One of them glanced right at the minivan. I ducked and stayed down for a few seconds and then peeked out the window. Markham was now just as deserted as it had been the other night. I checked the clock on the dash. It was past four thirty p.m.—I hate how early the sun sets in November—and I was going to be late meeting April if I didn’t leave right away.

I was shifting the car into drive when I saw him. He wore a gray mechanics jumpsuit and tapped his fingers on his leg like he was playing along to a secret song in his head. He was just about to go inside the apartment building, so I turned off the ignition and lugged my backpack out of the car before I could lose my nerve.

“Daniel,” I shouted as I crossed the street.

He turned back, looked at me, and went inside.

I stumbled up the stoop. “Daniel? It’s me, Grace.”

Daniel started up a dimly lit staircase. “Didn’t expect to see you again.” He made a slight “follow me” motion with his hand.

I crept up the steps behind him. The stairwell reeked
like stale coffee made in a dirty bathroom, and the walls had been spray painted over and over again with so many jumbled obscenities it looked like they had been wallpapered by a very disgruntled Jackson Pollock.

Daniel stopped on the third landing and pulled a key out of his pocket. “You just can’t resist my good looks, can you?”

“Get over yourself. I just came to tell you something.”

Daniel pushed open the door. “Ladies first,” he said tersely.

“Whatever,” I said, and brushed past him. I realized about one second later that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Mom didn’t let me have boys over when she wasn’t home, and going into a guy’s apartment alone was definitely not something she would have approved of. I wanted to stay close to the door, but Daniel walked inside and kept going. I followed him into a dingy room populated only by a TV set on a cardboard box and a short brown couch. Faint, thumping music wafted in from a room down the hall, and a lanky guy with a shaved head was draped over the couch. He stared up at the peeling ceiling with rapt, unblinking attention.

“Zed this is Grace, Grace this is Zed.” Daniel motioned to the guy. Zed didn’t move. Daniel kept walking.

I tilted my head toward the ceiling to see what was so fascinating.

“Grace,” Daniel barked.

I jumped and went to him. Before I knew it, I was in what I presumed was his bedroom. It was about the size of my parents’ closet, with a mattress, covered by a crumpled gray blanket, pushed into the corner next to a small dresser piled with stacks of Masonite boards. Daniel kicked the door shut behind us. Little tingling pricks ran up my spine.

It looked like someone had been keeping a large dog in this closet/room. The door was marred by several claw-like gashes—like the way Daisy would leave scratches on my bedroom door when I left her home alone, only these scratches were much larger and deeper. The door frame was splintered and cracked. Whatever animal had been kept in here had apparently gotten out.

I was about to ask about it when Daniel flopped down on the mattress. He pulled off his shoes and went for the zipper of his jumpsuit. A flash of panic went through my body. I turned my head and lowered my gaze.

“Don’t worry, precious,” Daniel said. “I’m not going to violate your virgin eyes.”

His wadded-up uniform landed in a heap at my feet. I glanced, ever so slightly, and saw that he was fully clothed in torn jeans and a whitish T-shirt.

“So what could Her Graciousness possibly need to talk to me about”—he stretched out across the mattress and cradled his hands behind his head—“that would bring her all the way down here on a school night?”

“Forget it.” I wanted to throw my bulging backpack
at his head. Instead, I unzipped it and dumped the contents on the floor—protein bars, soup cans, beef jerky, trail mix, a half dozen shirts, and three pairs of pants that I’d weeded out from the donations that had come into the parish over the weekend. “Eat something. You look like a starved dog.”

Daniel reached down and sifted through the pile, and I started to leave.

“Chicken and stars,” he said, holding one of the cans. “That was always my favorite. Your mom used to fix it.”

“I know. I remembered.”

Daniel ripped opened one of the protein bars and wolfed the thing down in two bites. He moved on to a piece of beef jerky. He looked so eager I decided to tell him my good news after all.

“I talked to Mr. Barlow today. He says if you meet him tomorrow morning, he might give you a second chance. But you have to be there before seven twenty a.m.,” I said, padding the time a bit. “And you should wear something respectable.” I pointed at the pile. “There’s a pair of khakis and a button-up shirt. Try not to be jerk, and he’ll probably let you back in his class.” I hitched my empty backpack onto my shoulder and waited for his response.

“Huh.” Daniel grabbed another protein bar and leaned against the wall. “Maybe I’ll show.”

I don’t know what else I expected—maybe he’d
jump up and hug me and call me a miracle worker? Or actually say thank you. But I could see the gratitude in his dark, familiar eyes—even if it would kill him to actually say so.

I wrapped my fingers around the straps of my backpack. “Um … I guess I should go.”

“Don’t want to be late to your Divine family dinner.” Daniel chucked a wrapper onto the floor. “Meat loaf tonight?”

“Leftovers. But I’ve got other plans.”

“Library,” he said, like he was summing me up with one word.

I huffed out of his room and back into the living area. Zed still lay on the couch, but two other guys slouched in the room, smoking something that didn’t smell like cigarettes. They stopped talking when they saw me. I suddenly felt like a marshmallow in my white puffer coat. One of the guys looked at me and then at Daniel, who came out of the bedroom behind me. “Well, ‘ello there,” he said, and took a drag. “Didn’t know you liked ‘em wholesome.”

The other guy said something vile that I
will not
repeat, and then he made an even more disgusting gesture.

Daniel told him to go do something to himself and then took my arm and led me to the door. “Get out of here,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I didn’t peg Daniel as the type who would walk a girl to the car, but he followed me down the stairwell and,
as I glanced over my shoulder while I unlocked the van, I saw him watching from the shadows of the doorless entryway.

LATER THAT EVENING

April Thomas had the attention span of an ADHD five-year-old when it came to computers and English books—reality television, on the other hand, could keep her occupied all day. Her latest favorite show was on Monday night, so I wasn’t too surprised that she wasn’t at the library when I got there. Which was totally understandable, considering I was almost an hour and a half late. I got stuck in rush-hour traffic from the city, and it was pitch-dark when I pulled up to the library. I wasn’t much in the mood for tackling Emily Dickinson on my own, so I decided to go back home for dinner.

I whipped into the driveway and slammed on the brakes when a dark shadow lunged out in front of the car. My heart pounded against my rib cage as I peered out the window. Jude shielded his eyes from the headlights. His hair was disheveled, and his mouth was fixed in a thin, tight line.

“Jude, are you okay?” I asked as I got out of the car. “I almost hit you.”

Jude grabbed my arm. “Where have you been?”

“At the library with April. I told Mom—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said through clenched teeth.
“April came here looking for you. Good thing I answered the door. Mom and Dad can’t deal with this right now. Where were you?” His eyes were sharp, like he wanted to tear me to the bone—and his fingernails, digging into my elbow, felt like they could finish the job.

“Let go,” I said, and tried to pull out of grasp.

“Tell me!” he shouted, wrenching my arm even harder. I’d rarely ever heard him shout before, even when we were kids. “You were with
him
, weren’t you?” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, like he could smell Daniel on me.

I shook my head.

“Don’t lie!”

“Stop it!” I shouted back. “You’re scaring me.”

There was a catch in my voice, and when Jude heard it, his eyes softened and he let go of my elbow.

“What on earth is going on?” I asked.

Jude put his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry.” His face twisted like he was trying to hold back a rush of emotion. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. This is just so horrible. I … I needed to talk to you, and when I couldn’t find you—”

“What?” Flashes of horrible things happening to Baby James or Charity shot through my mind. “What happened?”

“I found her,” he said. “I found her and she was all blue and cold … and those gashes … I didn’t know what to do. Dad came, the sheriff, the paramedics. But
it was too late. They said she’d been gone for hours, more than a whole day.”

“Who?!” Grandma, Aunt Carol, who?