The Dark Divine

Something fluttered in my chest. "Is that even possible?"

Dad looked down at his hands. "While Daniel was gone he sought out the colony that his father came from. He asked them for a place in their pack. However, Urbat who have experienced the change--become werewolves--do not procreate often. It is typically against their nature. And in the pack dynamic, only the alpha is allowed to mate. Daniel's mere existence was an affront to their ways." Dad clasped and unclasped his fingers.

"I don't think those ancient wolves had any idea what to do with such a young Urbat--especially one who came from a volatile father who had been banished from their colony. Many of the elders were quite wary of letting Daniel live among them. The alpha granted him a probationary period while they deliberated his future. While there, Daniel met a man--" "Gabriel?"

Dad nodded. "Gabriel is the beta of their pack. Second in command. He took Daniel under his wing-- or paw, as the case may be--and taught him many things about the history of their people. And about the techniques they've developed over the centuries to help control the wolf. The necklace Daniel wears is quite rare. It helps him keep the wolf at bay, and it makes him more sentient--more able to control his actions--while in wolf form. The pendant is many centuries old. I've contacted Gabriel to see if he has another to spare..." Dad rubbed his hand down the side of his face. The dark patches under his eyes had gotten deeper and darker since I last saw him.

"Although Gabriel has a lot of influence with his pack, after the time of probation, he was unable to convince the other elders to let Daniel stay with them permanently. I think the memory of the damage his father caused to the pack was still too fresh. They sent Daniel away."

I bowed my head. Just another set of names to add to the long list of people who had rejected Daniel--a list my name was now on after I couldn't look him in the eyes.

"However, before Daniel was removed from the colony, Gabriel told him that there may be a way for him to free his soul from the clutches of the wolf. That there may be a cure. Gabriel said he couldn't tell him the details but that the record of the ritual could be found if he looked hard enough. He told Daniel to enlist the help of a man of

God. He told him to return to where someone loved him--he told him to go home."

"And that's why he contacted you. You're the man of God."

"Yes. I've been poring through every text on the subject since. Searching for the cure." He gestured to the scattered books on his desk. "Then I realized that the answer must be something religious in nature-- something only a man of God could obtain. I remembered meeting an Orthodox priest many years ago. He told me about a relic they kept in his cathedral. A book that contained translations of letters written by a monk who traveled to Mesopotamia during the Crusades. Although I thought little of it at the time, the priest joked that he had documented proof that God had invented the werewolf."

Dad opened his desk drawer and pulled out a wood box. The lid was inlaid with a golden pattern of alternating suns and moons.

"I drove most of Thursday night to the cathedral. It took quite a bit of convincing, but the priest finally consented to loan the book to the parish. I couldn't rest until I found the answer."

"You found it?" My heart raced. "You can cure Daniel?"

"No." Dad stared down at the box. "I can't help him anymore."

"No, you didn't find it? Or no, you can't cure him?"

Dad took off his glasses, folded in the arms, and placed them neatly on his desk. He leaned back in his chair and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Tell me something, Grace. Do you love Daniel?"

"How can I?" I studied a hangnail on my thumb. "Not after what he did to Jude. It wouldn't be right. ..."

"Do you love him?" Dad's voice told me not to consider those other things. "Do you?"

Tears welled behind my eyes. How did I have any more to cry?

"Yes," I whispered.

Dad sighed and picked up the box. "Then it's out of my hands." He placed the box in front of me, something rattled inside it as he did. "I feel you must discover the answer for yourself. I'll be here when you do ... but the choice is yours to make."

LATE AFTERNOON

I sat cross-legged on my bed with the box balanced between my knees. I couldn't believe all the answers-- the final pieces of the puzzle--could be found in such a narrow box. Could I really hope for such a possibility? Maybe all it held was more disappointment. Maybe there was no cure after all. It would explain how distraught and tired my father seemed. Maybe he thought I needed to discover that for myself ... become resigned just like him.

But he said I had a choice to make. And choices can't be made without knowledge--without answers. So why can't I open the box?

The truth was that I was afraid of answers. Ignorance may not be bliss, but it seemed preferable to all the pain that accompanied the answers I'd found already.

I stared at the box until my knees ached in their position. My fingers trembled as I reached for the blackened gold latch. I popped it open and pushed up the lid. Inside, I found a book that looked older and more brittle than any of the ones in Dad's office. The cover was a faded sapphire-blue, with the same gold sun-and-moon inlays as were on the box. I brushed the cover tentatively. I was afraid the book might fall to pieces as I picked it up.

Several slips of paper protruded from the top end of the book. Had Dad marked certain passages to make my reading easier? I turned the delicate tissuelike pages to the first marked entry. The page looked like a handwritten letter, or a copy of one, in faded brown ink. Dad said this was a translation, not the original. I found myself wishing I'd taken Mrs. Miller's calligraphy class, in addition to painting, as I tried to make out the pale, scripted words.

My Dearest Katharine, Tidings of the joyous Marriage to Simon Saint Moon could not have come at a letter time. My encampment has been besieged by despair and many of the foot soldiers and squires cower at the cries of wolves that surround our camp by night. They think god will let them devour us because of our sins.

My Squires, Alerius, claims that the wolves are not ordinary animals, but the Dogs of Death of local by god to be his soldiers but the devil turned them from their uest, and now they are cursed to roam them from their guest and now they are cursed to roam the earth as savage breasts.

Oh little sister, you would love dear Alerius. I do not regret taking him on as my squire after the fires many of the other local boys heae not fared as well. I pray we will give up on this campaign and move on to the holy land. I did not leaver our village behind to side in the killing of other Christians. Perhaps the devil is typing to sway us from our quest also.

Father Miguel assures us that our mission is true and that god will protect us in our light against the Greek Traitors

A knock sounded softly against my bedroom door. I covered the box and book with my blanket. "Come in," I said, expecting Charity with di

"Hey." Jude leaned against the door frame. He held a dark green folder in his hands. "This is for you." He crossed the distance to my bed and handed it to me.

"What is it?" I pushed the book farther under the covers with my foot.

"All of your homework." Jude half smiled. "Junior grades are critical for college admissions. I didn't want you to get behind. I got April to copy her notes from English. But