Shadows Cast by Stars

rotting string, covers it. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at it, and listen to the clank of Ms. Adelaide setting the stew pot on the cookstove, the pop of a cork being pulled from a bottle, glasses clinking together, and the rush of something being poured.

“Here,” she says, slipping a glass of parsnip wine beneath my nose. “Drink it.”

The wine is sweet and musty, a strange taste in my mouth after the sourness of fear. I’m aware of Ms. Adelaide waiting for me to swallow, but I can’t. I just swirl the wine around and around my mouth, because I’m not sure that I’ll be able to keep it down.

When I finally swallow, the wine drops into my stomach, and a burst of warmth rises up. I sigh, a deep, releasing sigh that makes my bones go slack.

Ms. Adelaide smiles. “There,” she says, settling back. “My parsnip wine will fix just about anything.” The words are light, but I see the cloud of worry in her gaze. “Good thing no one else was here to see that. Best not speak of it. You’ve got a mighty strong way with the supernatural world, that’s for certain, but this…” She gestures at the bundle on the table. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“Should I open it?”

“Suppose so.”

A shiver runs down my spine. The last thing I want is to touch the bundle. Grease on the bark glistens in the candlelight. Where did that grease come from? Some poor animal? An unsuspecting child? Madda?

Ms. Adelaide cuts the string with a paring knife. “The rest,” she says, “is up to you.” With a faint smile, she picks a tangled skein of wool, sits down across from me, and begins to unravel the knots. “Staring at it won’t make it go away.”

“I guess not,” I say, but that doesn’t mean I’ll touch it. A pair of tongs rests by the hearth. I grab them and fish the bark away. The pieces come off, one by one, to reveal a smooth, translucent moonstone hidden beneath the layers.

My breath catches in my throat.

The chair creaks as Ms. Adelaide reaches out to me. “What’s wrong?”

It takes several minutes before I can tell her. “That’s Madda’s,” I whisper. With a single finger, I reach out and touch it. It’s icy cold. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Now, don’t panic. Just sit for a bit. But first, burn that bark. The dzoonokwa touched it.”

I fling the bark into the fire where it bursts into blue flame. “That’s not normal.”

Ms. Adelaide snorts. “Honey, when you’re dealing with supernaturals, nothing is normal, and it’s unreasonable for you to expect it to be. You probably want to know why it’s you they’ve chosen. I wondered the same thing once, back when Dzoonokwa came to see me. You’re young, you’re strong, you’re as smart as a whip. And you’re pretty- the gods like the pretty ones.”

“Gods?”

She shrugs as she rummages around in the pantry. “Gods, spirits, Elders, whatever you want to call them. Shining Ones-that’s my own favorite.” She emerges triumphant, a kettle in one hand and a canister in the other. “Aha! I knew Madda had a stash in here!” She sets the kettle on the stove. “Whatever you call them, they’re the same thing, and they’re all part of this land. They’re waking up and they’re not happy. If I was a bettin’ woman, I’d bet you’re their voice.”

I let my head fall to the table with a dramatic thunk. “They? Who’s they?”

“The spirit people, the ones from the old stories, Cassandra.” Ms. Adelaide looks at her hands, turning them over to expose her palms. “These hands are supposed to tend the land, care for it, nurture it. This voice? For telling the old stories, for keeping our way alive, and it’s not just our way-it’s the way. Look at the Corridor. Do you think what’s happening there is a coincidence?”

“It’s a big leap from Plague to gods and myths, Ms. Adelaide,” I say.

“So it is, but how does it feel to you?” She cocks an eyebrow at me as she sets the kettle over the fire. “Take a second. Feel it out.”

I close my eyes and think about all that’s happened, about the shades I see, about walking the paths of spirit. I think about the sisiutl and the earthquakes and how ravens haunt my every step. I think about Bran with his shifting shade and my brother’s relationship with lost souls, and how we came to the Island. I think about Plague, and the sea wolf, and the poisonous cloud that works with him. Everything happens for a reason, and nothing-absolutely nothing-is without meaning. I stretch my hand out toward the moonstone, hesitating for one moment, and then wrap my fingers around it, claiming it. This has been given to me. I don’t know why, but there’s a reason. There’s a reason for everything.

Ms. Adelaide nods as if she knows my answer.

“So,” I say, “what do I do now?” My fingers wrap around the moonstone, tracing its smooth, cold planes, over and over. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?

Ms. Adelaide sinks into the armchair, shuffling back and forth until she’s comfortable. “I’m not sure, but what I do know is that the creatures of the old stories are seeking you out.” She points at the moonstone. “Madda told you about the making of the boundary?” I nod. “Well, here’s a bit more of the story for you. Back when that happened, the women who made the boundary asked the supernaturals for help, you know, all the old ones. Raven, Thunderbird, Sisiutl, Wolf, the ones from the old stories, except, that’s the thing. They aren’t stories. They’re living myths, and those creatures, they’re as alive as you and me. You know that now. Anyhow, some of them agreed to help, those that still had hope for humans. Some just wanted to cause trouble, like Raven, and look what happened to him. And the dzoonokwa, well, my guess is they just don’t care anymore. People have been hunting them for ages, trying to take their picture, making up all sorts of lies about them, so I don’t blame them for ignoring us. But when the boundary went up, they got stuck in it.”

“In? Like, they are the boundary?”

Ms. Adelaide nods. “And now the boundary’s failing, which tells me that the supernaturals aren’t going to last much longer, either. They don’t belong to us, Cass. They aren’t ours. This place, this haven we’ve created?” She casts her arm around me. “It isn’t for free. Everything costs something. I know we think we’re safe here, but are we?” She peers at me. “Are we really? Or do we just think we are, because that’s what we want to believe?”

I’m not sure she’s really talking to me anymore, but her words hit me in the face just the same. “So what exactly am I supposed to do?” I ask. All the hair has risen on my arm. “Free the dzoonokwa? Just how do I do that?”

“I don’t know, but then, it’s not for me to know. It’s your task.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “But I think you’ll be okay. One dzoonokwa could have killed you in the blink of an eye. Three? They could have torn you limb from limb, but they didn’t. They need you for something. Just remember that Dzoonokwa’s not bad. She just is what she is. She takes the life of some people; she gives others beautiful things. Special things. You know what that spirit stone is, don’t you?”

“Sort of. Madda told me the story, but I’m not sure I understood it entirely.”

“Well, I imagine you know that there are only two left-that we know of, at least. That one was Madda’s. Now it’s yours. A little bit of the wearer stays with the stone forever and ever, so your ancestors are always with you. You just have to listen, and they’ll help you along, but you have to know how to listen first, and that’s the hard part. The monolith was a gift from the supernaturals, and so is that stone. You have a piece of spirit, and now, by wearing that stone, it has a piece of you.”

“So Bran’s…”

“Is similar, though his stone is bound more to the land.” Ms. Adelaide yawns. “Now, stir that stew, would you? Don’t want it to burn.” She goes back to her wool while my mind spins. Spirit stones. Supernaturals. Old stories. The land. And the task Dzoonokwa has set before me.

Then it dawns on me-Bran’s spirit stone. If I’ve lost it, the thing that binds Bran to this land, where, exactly, does that leave him?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

I dream.

I dream I stand in a circle of light. Across from me is Paul, standing in his own circle, and when he