The Mountain's Shadow

Andrew died this spring, I have been so lonely. There hasn’t been anyone to talk to besides the dog, and he doesn’t talk back. I’m looking forward to lots of long walks in the woods and pretend balls with Mr. Bear. You don’t have to do anything special for me, I promise you I’ll be good company, just wait!

Love,

Joanna

That was the summer after Andrew had died, the summer my grandfather had bought Mishka for me. He had known that my parents’ marriage, never good to begin with, was on the rocks because my father’s friend had operated on my brother. My mother never forgave him even though the cause of death was some strange reaction Andrew had to the anesthesia.

Dear Grandfather,

It’s actually snowing for once, and I’m stuck in bed with a fever of 102, and Andrew said he would bring me a snowball, but he’s still outside playing with his friends. It’s not fair—we probably won’t get any more snow for years, and I’m sick! Mama says it’s because I have a delicate, ladylike temperament, but I know it’s because Andrew is “ridiculously healthy”, like Dad always says. Is that normal, for doctors to have a sick kid and a healthy one? I think this is the fourth time I’ve been sick since school started! I want to take some of my snot and look at it under the microscope you sent me for Christmas (thank you, thank you, thank you!), but Mama says that’s gross, and Dad says that being a pathologist doesn’t pay like it used to, whatever that means. I think I might wait until they’re not home and try it.

Love,

Joanna

“Ridiculously healthy…” There was that phrase. An idea formed in the back of my mind, something that my grandfather had figured out and was trying to tell me. I kept reading, but most of the rest of the letters were childish things, news of my school and science-fair successes, and Andrew’s escapades.

Dear Grandfather,

Last night Andrew showed me how he likes to climb out his window at night and go running through the woods behind our house. I told him there are snakes out there, but he doesn’t care. He says he can’t breathe in here when it’s a pretty night. Last night the moon was so big that it was almost like a cloudy day instead of nighttime…

Dear Grandfather,

Andrew got to play the Big Bad Wolf in the Second Grade play, Little Red Riding Hood, and he was so excited he wanted to sleep in his costume. He said his teacher told him it would help him to “get into character”. I think it’s silly. I’m just a forest flower, so it doesn’t matter much anyway…

Reading the letters reminded me I hadn’t had a very interesting childhood, but my twin brother had. He had come home from the hospital with a wild streak, Mama said. He had been the one to climb out of his crib, to run before he walked, and to get in trouble at school.

I put my head in my hands. Impossible! Not my brother. I tried to think back to the night he disappeared—a cold, clear February night—when the full moon made everything stand out in silvery relief. I had been downstairs watching TV with my parents and felt guilty because I got to stay up late, and Andrew, having just come home from the hospital after having his tonsils out, had to go to bed early. They had never gotten infected, but they were so big that the doctors were worried anyway. I went to take him some ice cream, and he was gone.

The full moon.

He had just come home.

Could Andrew have had CLS? Was that the root of my obsessive interest in it? I put my head in my hands. It made sense, crystal-clear, full-sun, spotlighted sense.

“Joanie?” Leo stood at the door. “Are you okay?”

“My paradigm has been shifted.”

He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe, a smile on his lips. “I know the feeling.”

“I think my brother may have had CLS. That that’s what the Landover Curse is. My grandfather must have had it, too.”

“We were wondering when you’d catch on. You’re no dummy, but there’s no messing with denial for some people.”

I realized that we were alone, the rest of the house asleep. The thought gave me a thrill along my arms that made all the little hairs stand on end.

“So this is the old man’s study?” he asked and looked around at the books.

“Yep. Actually, it’s my study.”

“I guess it is now.” He walked in and stood beside my chair so as to get a better view of the bookshelves.

Once again, I was aware of how he towered over me, his heavy black brows moments from drawing over his eyes in stormy anger. A flush warmed my face.

“Don’t you have a ton of books at Peter’s house?”

He ran a finger along my jaw and then picked up my left wrist, almost as though studying it. It was still bruised, but the pain had subsided.

“I’d rather be doing than reading.” His voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.

“Is that why you were going into orthopedics?”

He chuckled. “Maybe.” He leaned down so that his face was only inches from mine. “You know they call us the cavemen of medicine?”

“Oh, really?” I could feel his breath on my nose and cheeks. The image of him bonking me over the head with the Encyclopedia of Magic and Witchcraft and dragging me upstairs to have his way with me came into my head.

“Oh, really.” His eyes locked on mine. A little thrill moved in my chest—he’d had the same thought, I knew it!

A knock startled us, and Lonna poked her head around the door. “You guys couldn’t sleep either?” she asked.

I shook my head, my cheeks hot. “We were just discussing the, ah, charts and the vaccinations.”

“I may start looking at them since I can’t sleep. Leo?” She arched an eyebrow at him, and the familiar resentment stabbed through my chest.

“I believe I can go back to sleep now, but thanks.”

I tried not to look at Leo, but I couldn’t resist a small glance. Laughter danced in his eyes as he wished me sweet dreams and walked out of the study.

“I think I can go to sleep now, too.”

Lonna shrugged, but a smile played at the corner of her lips. “Suit yourself.”

“Good night!” I heard the library door close and was happy to be left alone with the shifting sands of insight.

Andrew had CLS. My grandfather might have had it as well. So where did that leave me? Still with more questions than answers, one of which was why Lonna tended to appear whenever things were about to get interesting with me and one of the werewolf men. It was like she was trying to protect me from myself while she was the one with the bad taste in men, and that was the nice way of putting it.

I powered down my laptop, piled the papers into neat stacks, and turned off the desk lamp with its green cover. Why is it that only one of us gets to have fun? As I waited for my eyes to adjust to the moonlight streaming in through the windows, I closed them and thought I caught a whiff of Leo’s scent, soap and rain and woods. Nothing of dog, thankfully.

“It’s a good thing I smell like a dog,” he’d said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have found you.”

I smiled at his quip and at the thought that he’d been looking for me. Him, not Gabriel. Had they argued over who got to come rescue me? Or had Leo just made his decision and struck off, all dark energy and determination?

Don’t kid yourself, Joanie, I told myself. He’s way out of your league...