The Gathering Storm Page 5

  “What do you mean—‘completely’?” Gabriella’s voice, very much on edge, broke the silence. “Like—completely a jaguar? Gone?”

  “You would stay transformed,” Ms. Therian explained. “Your Changer form would become your only form.”

  The students exploded with questions.

  “Would we still think like humans? Or would our brains be, like, animal brains?”

  “Would I recognize my family?”

  “Can this happen at any time? How could I stop it?”

  Darren’s voice came last. “Could I hurt someone?”

  Darren’s question hung in the air as everyone waited for the answer. Finally, Ms. Therian sighed and said, “Yes. It’s happened before.”

  Everyone started talking at once, until Ms. Therian finally held up her hands for silence. “Please. That’s very rare nowadays. We have an established network of people whose sole responsibility is mentoring new Changers so that it doesn’t happen. It’s not a small thing to come into your powers. There will be bumps in the road. But we will be here to see you through it.”

  “You said ‘we,’ ” Mack said. “Who else is in this network?”

  Ms. Therian simply smiled. “You’ll find out in time.”

  But to Darren, that answer wasn’t good enough. In fact, none of Ms. Therian’s answers were good enough—they always seemed like half-truths, or something the kids weren’t old enough to handle. Only twenty-four hours ago, Darren had been a regular kid. But now? Everything had changed, and keeping this enormous secret was tearing him up inside. Special powers only sounded cool. For Darren, the reality was the opposite. He remembered the Changing Stone from yesterday—the shrieking impundulu’s razor-sharp talons, the crackling bolts of lightning that shot from its claws—and shuddered.

  “Ms. Therian, I don’t want this,” Darren announced as everyone turned to look at him.

  If Ms. Therian was surprised, she didn’t show it. “Don’t want what, Darren?” she asked, fixing him with a steady gaze.

  “These—these—powers, or whatever you call it,” he said. “It’s not for me. There has to be a way to, I don’t know, give them to somebody else? Somebody who actually wants them? Maybe I could just never transform.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Ms. Therian replied. “Being a Changer is as much a part of you as your own beating heart. And your transformation will happen, regardless of whether or not you want it.”

  It wasn’t the answer Darren had hoped to hear—not by a long shot. His lungs were tight and achy as he tried to take a deep breath. Suddenly, a buzzing noise filled the room as the lights flickered overhead. While everyone looked up, Darren moved to chew on his nails again. But his hand never made it to his mouth. The buzzing, he realized, was coming from his hands. White-hot sparks jumped from fingertip to fingertip; electric-blue lines zigzagged across his skin. Darren stared at them in horror.

  “Is this me?” he asked, gesturing to the flickering lights with his fingers. “Am I doing this?”

  “Fear is powerful,” Ms. Therian said gently. “Fear—and anger—is most commonly responsible for losing control. That’s true for both normal humans and Changers, but you can master them.”

  Darren buried his head in his hands. The sparks at his fingertips didn’t hurt him, but they were a reminder of his fear. He felt trapped in the worst way, until someone sat down beside him.

  “You can do this,” Gabriella urged him. “Look at it this way: if we’re weird, at least we’re weird together, you know?”

  “It’s better than you think,” Fiona added. Her voice was clear and earnest; stronger than Darren had ever heard it before. “Trust me, Darren. If you never try, if you never experience a transformation, you’ll never know how good it really feels.”

  “You can’t give up,” Mack said. “We’re just getting started!”

  Darren took a deep breath, and the lightning at his fingertips fizzled and died. He nodded his head. As the other kids settled onto the bench beside him, Darren caught a strange, knowing look in Ms. Therian’s eye. Had she struggled with this same fear once too?

  “Let’s begin today’s lesson,” Ms. Therian said, breaking the silence. “We will start with your homework. After two weeks’ time, please be prepared to present to the class about the mythology of your type of Changer. You will also write a three-page report, to be turned in with your presentation.”

  Mack’s face fell. “A report?” he asked. “I thought our homework would be practicing transformations.”

  “Oh, it will be,” Ms. Therian assured him. “And as you practice transforming, you’ll keep a daily journal about your progress. Your journals will be due every Friday.” She took out a stack of composition notebooks and passed them around.

  Darren tried not to groan. Independent Study: Physical Education was turning out to be a ton of work. He’d never heard of a gym class with written reports and presentations.

  “It sounds like a lot, I know,” Ms. Therian said, staring directly at Darren and leaving him with the uncomfortable impression that she’d been reading his mind. “But I can assure you that it’s all essential to your progress. In fact, it’s very common for a young Changer to learn something in the mythology that helps him or her transform.”

  Ms. Therian stood up. “Fiona, since you already know how to transform, you may practice underwater movements in the pool,” she said. “The rest of you will practice your transformations for the remainder of class and—”

  “Ms. Therian,” Fiona cut in. “Before we split up . . . Just before, in the pool . . . I heard your voice in my head, but I was watching you from underwater and your mouth didn’t move.”

  “Changers communicate telepathically,” Ms. Therian answered. “Though it’s something that usually doesn’t come before your first transformation, you will be able to communicate this way in both your Changer and human forms.”

  “So . . . you can read our thoughts?” Darren asked nervously.

  “Not anything so dramatic,” Ms. Therian laughed. “Just as you would speak when in your human form, so you can speak telepathically. You don’t go blurting out every thought that comes into your head, do you? Speak with your mind; you’ll get the gist of it in time.”

  “What are we supposed to do now?” Mack asked as Fiona walked over to the pool and Ms. Therian went along to supervise her.

  Darren shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied.

  “This is boring,” Mack said. “I mean, shouldn’t somebody be able to tell us something a little more clear about transforming?”

  “Maybe if you stopped talking so much, you could figure out how to change,” Gabriella told him.

  Darren tried not to laugh—especially when he saw a flash of gold light up Gabriella’s eyes. She’s like me, he thought suddenly. She’s already started changing. And she doesn’t know how to control it either.

  It wasn’t just relief that surged through Darren then; a bolt of electricity materialized at his fingertips.

  “Whoa!” Mack shouted loud enough that Ms. Therian looked over. “How’d you do that?”

  “I—I don’t even know,” Darren said helplessly. “It only happens in here.”

  “Maybe it’s because we’re all together?” suggested Gabriella.

  “Maybe,” Darren replied.

  Mack reached over to Darren, his finger hovering less than an inch from Darren’s crackling hands. “I can feel the heat,” Mack marveled. “I wish kitsunes could shoot lightning from their paws. Dude. This is so cool.”

  “From what we saw in the Changing Stone, you’ll be able to control fire with your paws—that’s pretty cool,” Darren said, wondering how odd the remark sounded.

  “Do you think you could make a lightning bolt hit the wall over there?”

  “Nah. Not yet, anyway,” Darren said, but just thinking about doing something like that made more sparks shoot from his hands. Darren smiled weakly as he pulled his hands away. Maybe the others thought it was cool, but in his h
eart Darren knew the truth: his powers were completely unpredictable.

  And more dangerous than anyone knew.

  Chapter 7

  The Other Kitsune

  Dinner at Darren’s house was going to be quiet that night. Neither of his parents would ever tell him when they’d had yet another fight, but he wasn’t stupid. He could always tell.

  “Where’s Dad?” Darren asked warily as he set the table.

  “Oh, you know. Watching the game with his buddies,” Mom said. She smiled brightly at Darren, but he didn’t smile back. What was the point of smiling when it was totally fake? Darren knew full well that his mom got upset when his father skipped family dinners, which he was doing more and more often lately. I wish Ray was here, Darren thought as Mrs. Smith brought two plates of food over to the table.

  Darren’s older brother, Ray, had just started his first year of college at New Brighton University, where their mother was a chemistry professor. NBU was only an hour away, but now that Ray lived in the dorms, Darren felt like he barely saw him. Even though Darren and Ray tried to video chat at least once or twice a week, life just wasn’t the same now that Ray was gone. Darren missed him like crazy.

  “How was school?” Mom asked automatically as she sat down.

  Darren paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, considering all the different answers he could give:

  Good. I can make lightning with my fingers.

  Good. I’m in a special class for half-human, half-animal freaks.

  Good. I’m learning how to transform into a giant bird.

  It would’ve been such a relief to say any of those things—to tell someone he loved and trusted the truth about what was going on. But Ms. Therian’s warning about secrecy flashed through Darren’s mind. In the end, all he said was, “Good.”

  Darren waited to see if his mom would ask more questions, but she had started flipping through a chemistry journal. Darren would never understand why his mother got to read during meals, but he wasn’t allowed to use his cell phone. Darren sneaked a few glances at her while he slipped his phone out of his pocket. She didn’t even notice as he sent a text under the table.

  R, you around to chat tonight?

  Darren took another bite of food, still holding onto his phone under the table. When it buzzed, he jumped.

  Absolutely, bro. 9?

  “Darren,” Mom said, holding out her hand. “No phones at the table. You can have it back after dinner.”

  For once, Darren didn’t even complain about having to give up his phone. Just knowing that he would be able to talk to Ray in a few hours made everything seem more bearable.

  At 8:54 p.m., Darren was already sitting in front of his mom’s laptop, waiting for Ray to sign on.

  “Little D!” Ray announced as he appeared on the screen. “Big seventh grader! What’s happening, man?”

  A huge grin spread across Darren’s face. “Not much,” he said. “I’m getting slammed with homework already.”

  Ray chuckled. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word,” he replied. “I was at the library last night until four a.m.”

  “Are you serious?” Darren asked.

  “Like a heart attack,” Ray said. “But enough about me. I want to hear everything about seventh grade.”

  Darren started telling Ray all about his new classes but was consciously aware that he was holding something back—a lot of things, actually. He quickly changed the subject to his football practice, but Ray held up his hand.

  “Hang on right there,” Ray said. “I can tell you’re keeping something from me. What’s wrong?”

  The last thing Darren wanted was for Ray to know he was keeping something back, but at the same time, it was such a relief that somebody was paying attention. And yet, as much as Darren wanted to tell Ray the truth—to show him his hands, which were at this very moment crackling with electricity under the desk—he didn’t dare. The danger was too great.

  But was there a way that Darren could talk to Ray without telling him everything?

  “Things are kind of . . . weird this year,” Darren began, choosing his words carefully. “It’s almost like I don’t . . . really fit in, you know?”

  “Of course I do,” Ray said in such a knowing way that for an instant, hope swirled through Darren’s heart. Is Ray a Changer too? he wondered. Ms. Therian did say that it ran in families. . . .

  “I was wondering when it might come up,” Ray continued. “Things started to change for me in middle school too—”

  Darren was hanging on Ray’s every word.

  “I mean, it’s really pretty obvious: there aren’t a lot of African-Americans in Willow Cove. And even when everybody’s being cool, it’s normal to feel different sometimes.”

  It wasn’t exactly what he was hoping to hear, but Darren had looked up to Ray his whole life. Ray always had the answers before. Maybe he had the answer to Darren’s real question, too, even if he didn’t know it. “So . . . how did you handle it?” he asked.

  “Just do you,” Ray advised him. “You’ve already got a ton of friends, more than I ever had. That’s a good start. Work hard in school, stay out of trouble. Basically, just do your best, you know? That’s all Mom and Dad want from us. And speaking of Mom and Dad . . .”

  Ray didn’t need to finish his sentence; Darren already knew what he was going to ask. “Pretty much the same,” he said. “Dad skipped dinner again tonight.”

  Ray made a face. “He has to step up,” he replied. “He knows that drives Mom crazy. I saw Mom yesterday and tried to talk to her, but she said she was late to class and rushed off.”

  “Well, neither one of them is telling me anything,” Darren said. “So if you find something out . . .”

  “You’ll be the first person I tell. You know that,” Ray said.

  “Thanks, Ray,” Darren said. He really did feel better. With the relief came a surge of tiredness, too; it was exhausting to hold on to so much stress all the time. Darren said good-bye to his brother and then flopped down onto the bed with his social studies book. He still had to read a chapter before bed, and his mom was as strict about lights-out as she was about cell phones at the table.

  But Darren found himself nodding off after the first paragraph and falling instantly into a dream.

  There should’ve been a full moon, but a heavy cover of clouds made the night sky darker than usual. The only visible light came from the gleaming streetlights; Darren had never seen them from above before. High, low, swooping, soaring—there was nothing he couldn’t see, nothing he couldn’t do. Darren got it now; he understood what Ms. Therian and Fiona had tried to tell him. With every beat of his wings, Darren understood. This was his power. This was his destiny. This was his real, true self, flying over Willow Cove and seeing the world in an entirely new way.

  Darren flew as low as he dared over the dark, quiet homes of Willow Cove. What would they think if they could see me? he wondered.

  Below him, something began to stir. Were people getting up already? It was still dark out.

  Uh-oh, Darren thought. He didn’t want to be seen by anyone, but he wasn’t ready to stop flying, either. It wouldn’t be a problem to fly over to the forest, though. Maybe he would head in that direction. . . .

  But something inside him prickled at the thought of pulling away.

  Darren flew lower still to see if he could find what had caught his attention, but with his incredible vision, he didn’t really need to. The movement on the street sped up, but he realized suddenly that it wasn’t people moving. Shadows were unfurling throughout the streets, choking the sleepy houses, seeping under doors and through windows. What was that stuff going to do to all the people asleep in their homes? They had no idea about the threat approaching them.

  Only Darren knew.

  And that meant only Darren could stop it.

  He flew lower. It seemed like the right thing to do, but it was the worst mistake he could have made. The shadows reared back, surrounding him, grasp
ing at his feathers, yanking at them—It hurt—

  It really hurt.

  There was a bright, brief spiral of pain, and then Darren found himself on his hands and knees—hands and knees—in a wheat field outside town. It was hard to catch his breath in his human form. Just a dream? Darren thought. All that crazy stuff from school has messed up my head.

  Even as he tried to convince himself, Darren longed for his strong wings. He felt utterly alone—incomplete, even—without them. Had he really flown? There was a strange ache in his shoulder blades as he pulled himself up. He would have to find his way back to town—but it would take hours to walk the distance. He must have flown—how on earth could he have sleepwalked this far, and out his second-story bedroom window no less?

  Darren jumped, realizing he wasn’t alone. There, at the edge of the clearing, stood the most magnificent creature Darren had ever seen. A huge, pure-white fox with fiery paws, sitting at attention with nine long tails splayed out on the ground behind it. A kitsune, Darren thought suddenly as he remembered Mack’s projection from the Changing Stone.

  The fox stepped forward, and a deep voice echoed in Darren’s head. Hello, Darren. It was not Mack’s voice.

  “Who are you?” Darren asked. “How do you know my name?”

  You can call me Mr. Kimura, the fox replied. I know you have questions. Come with me, and I will answer as many as I can.

  They walked in silence for a few moments before Darren suddenly exclaimed, “Kimura! Are you Mack’s grandfather?”

  The fox nodded. Smart boy. Dorina said as much.

  “How . . . ,” Darren began, but he couldn’t finish the sentence. There were too many things he wanted to say all at once.

  You changed in your sleep and flew here on your own, Mr. Kimura explained. What do you remember?

  “I was really tired,” Darren said. “But I don’t remember falling asleep. The next thing I knew, I was flying over Willow Cove. Then . . .”

  The fox’s ears pricked up as Darren’s voice trailed off. Go on.

  “It was a shadow, kind of,” Darren said. “It was . . . bad. I wanted to stop it from sneaking into everybody’s houses, but it started to attack me instead.”