Dylan

As soon as I parked the sedan in front of the garage and turned off the engine, I heard the wail of an unhappy infant from within the house. Not a surprise: Ben and Lilly had been on babysitting duty tonight while everyone else scavenged the Norris’s place.

"I knew it was a bad idea to leave Jane with Lilly," Merlot said from the passenger seat. Then she gasped and pointed to the living room window. "Look!"

A cold, flickering light from a TV played across the drawn curtains of the floor-to-ceiling window, shining out to the forest.

"What's she thinking?" I unbuckled my seatbelt and yanked open the car door. I didn’t hear any waking griffin calls. Not yet. It would only take one to notice, though.

"Is she watching a movie?" Merlot demanded. “She’s not supposed to do that."

I shook my head. No, that was both stupid and wasteful of our remaining generator power. I had no illusions about my little sister, but Lilly was not stupid. "Maybe someone finally got a message out over a TV signal?"

Terry and Clarissa were already out of their truck and hurrying for the front door. Terry's face was dark with anger.

Clarissa caught my eye and raised her eyebrows. “What’s she up to?”

I shrugged a reply.

Terry slammed open the door and charged through. "What do you think you’re doing? Turn that off, right now." He stopped mid-stride, blocking the doorway. "What are you watching?"

Clarissa touched the small of Terry's back to move him aside and let everybody else through. Immediately, Merlot squeezed past to take Baby Jane from Ben's arms.

Ben looked relieved and more than a little overwhelmed. The baby looked outraged.

Speaking sweetly and bouncing Jane in her arms, Merlot stepped into the nearest bedroom and closed the door behind her.

I turned my attention back to Lilly. The big TV screen was on, but not turned to one of the news channels. The grainy black and white picture looked like old security footage of a large room. No, a... cave? Two figures stood by a tide pool.

With a swooping sensation, I recognized myself on the screen. I was maybe six or seven years old, wearing the same T-shirt I'd had in the vision in the basement. It was the same cave. The same day.

Lilly twisted around on the couch to face us. Her face was a blaze of anger as she pointed an accusing finger at me. "You knew the griffins were coming, and you never said anything!"

"What?" Terry said, turning to me.

"What?" I repeated. "Lilly, you know better than to point." It was one of the rules in the household. Old superstition from my mother’s side of the family.

"It's right there!" she said, but lowered her finger. "On that old, stupid tape! Why didn't you say something bad was going to happen? Why didn't you warn us?" Her face scrunched up almost as if she were on the verge of tears. But not Lilly. That was impossible. "You could have told us. You could have told Dad!"

A surge of anger tinged with regret burned through my surprise. I'd wanted him dead, and a couple minutes later...

"I don't know what you're talking about," I snapped.

"Liar!" Lilly looked to Terry and Clarissa. "I found a package for Dylan." She gestured to a white FedEx pouch which lay open on the side table. I had seen it floating around the house over the last few days, but never bothered to look closer. "There was an old VHS tape inside, so I dragged out the VCR from the attic. And... and it's right there! He's known for years."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turned to the others, insisting, “I don’t!”

I couldn’t read the expression on Terry’s face. “Clarissa, grab that blanket and hang it off the curtain rod. That’ll block more light from outside.”

I stood awkwardly to the side. No one looked at me. I felt like I was on trial.

Once the blanket was window was covered, Lilly pointed the remote control at the TV and hit rewind. Then play.

The grainy black and white recording began, showing a large cave with rock walls. Nothing spectacular, and most of the fine details were lost, except that the tide pool set up on a rocky shelf in the middle... glowed.

No color on the screen, but I knew it was a pure, sparkling blue.

"Whoa," my young voice came out tinny through the speakers. The boy I had been tipped his head to look around before he dashed to the rocky tide pool. "I've never seen this place before. What kind of starfish live in there?" Not waiting for an answer, he pointed to a goblet-like glass set on the lip of the pool. "What's that for?"

My mom, too, looked exactly as in the vision. She walked to the tide pool and crouched down. With one elegant hand, she took the goblet and dipped it into the water. And it was as if all the light collapsed to collect into the goblet as she drew it out again. Her face was completely lost in the tape’s low resolution. I couldn’t tell if her eyes were dark pits like in the vision.

"No starfish, but a special kind of life does exist here." My mom held out the goblet to the boy. "Drink it."

The boy shifted and glanced back the way they had entered the cave. "My science teacher says I shouldn't drink seawater."

"And so you normally shouldn't, but this is a special kind." My mom stepped forward. "It will not taste good, but medicine hardly does."

"Medicine? But I'm not sick."

"Not that sort of medicine."

"Oh," the boy said with an impatient sigh. "You mean the Indian kind of medicine. Magic. But that's not really real, my dad says."

"I think," my mom said, "you should find out for yourself."

To the boy’s credit, he didn't give in that easily. "But why?"

Mom smiled. "You alone in our family’s generation have the sight. This type of power—this medicine—calls to itself."

"What does that mean? I don't understand."

"Think of this as an inoculation. A shot in the arm to hold bad things at bay."

Finally, dubiously, the boy took the goblet from her hand.

I knew the exact moment the saltwater hit the boys tongue, because he tried to spit it back out. But quick as a snake, my mom swooped in and tipped the cup up. Her other hand pinched the boys nose tight. The boy's eyes went wide with terror.

"Drink," my mom commanded.

The boy made a horrible choking, gasping sound, and tried to shove the goblet away, but he was too small and the woman was too strong. He had no choice. He swallowed only because if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to breathe.

Finally, the goblet fell to the cave floor, empty. Coughing, the boy bent to retch.

My mother laid a hand on his forehead. The boy went still and quiet. He straightened, his eyes blank as a doll's.

"Forgive me," Mom said. Then he raised his face and look straight at the camera. At me. "Forgive me, Dylan. I had only enough for one, and this was the only way I could save you. If not for this, you would have Turned with the rest."

Horizontal lines played across the screen as the tape ended.

Dead silence filled the room. I felt as if the floor was sinking under my feet. But there was something else. Maybe it was shock or adrenaline, but the hair stood up on my arms and on the back of my neck as if there were an invisible current of electricity running just under my skin.

No, not electricity. Power.

For a moment it was as if I could feel my mother's hand on my forehead. A brief flash of indefinable power burning through my mind—burning out my memories.

I think I swayed on my feet, because Clarissa’s hand was suddenly warm and steady on my elbow. I looked into her green eyes and saw concern. No judgment.

"She didn't tell Dylan anything about the griffins," Clarissa said evenly to Lilly.

“She said ‘Turned’, didn’t he? ‘If not for this, you would have Turned with the rest’. What else do you think he meant?” Lilly demanded.

“But Dylan’s not grown up,” Ben said. “He wouldn’t have gone griffin.”

“Some kids didn’t griffin-out, but they died. Remember Merlot’s friend who couldn’t breathe?” Lilly pointed to the whiteboard. That incident had rated four gold foil stars.

Clarissa’s squeezed my arm. "Are you okay?"

It was easier to speak directly to her as if we were alone in the room. "I don't... I don't remember any of that—"

"That's convenient," Lilly sneered.

"Shut up, Lilly," Terry snapped. Then he turned on me with a hard look. "Why would he pick you for... for some sort of cure? Why you and not Lilly?"

Clarissa flared up. "For goodness sake, Terry. Dylan was just a kid." Suddenly, the grip on my elbow went from comforting to viselike. Too strong to be from a girl her size. "He poured seawater down his throat. That's abuse! I'd repress that, too!"

"I don't think—" I started, and was drowned out by Terry.

"You don't get it," Terry said. “My aunt, their mother. She had power. She always knew when storms were coming."

"This again? Wow, then I guess I must have ‘medicine’, too!" Lilly exclaimed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Mine is called Doppler radar and the Weather Channel." That was a phrase exactly from my father’s lips. It was an old family argument: was Mom misguided or powerful?

Terry ignored her. "She could go to any roulette table and lay thousands on the right number. Every time. Sick animals would turn up on your doorstep—"

"Oh my God." Lilly threw her hands in the air. "Magic doesn't exist, dummy. Mom was crazy, but clearly she knew what was coming.” Her flinty eyes turned to me. “You knew too, didn't you?"

"No," I said simply. But I might be crazy just like Mom.

"I'm the oldest in the family, the closest to turning seventeen." There was a hardness in Terry's gaze that he had never directed at me before. "And if she knew what was about to happen, she should have told me."

"Dylan didn't have a choice," Clarissa said.

By the bruising grip on my arm, her getting angry right now was not good.

"It's okay," I said quickly to her. "No, Terry's right. But my… mom," I swallowed and licked dry lips. Did I taste a hint of sea salt? "She always said I had shaman blood."

My sister rolled her eyes again.

Terry stepped close. His eyes were like chips of coal. "I remember my aunt," he said. "She had real medicine. There's nothing special about you."

That hurt. But before I could find something to say, Terry turned to Lilly.

"Turn off the damn TV. You know better than to have any lights on after dark."

He strode past us all, down the hall into his bedroom. The slam of the door shook the windows. From several floors up, Baby Jane wailed again.

Ben made a face. "Ugh. He woke the baby. I'm not changing another diaper tonight. You guys deal with it." He left for the direction of the basement, as far away from the baby as he could get.

I let out a long breath and glanced meaningfully down at my arm.

Instantly, Clarissa dropped her hand. Red, finger sized marks were visible against my skin. "I'm sorry," she gasped and stepped back. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

I shook my head. I didn't know if I should feel hurt or angry, but all I felt was drained. It was as if while everyone argued, their anger had filled the room with a physical weight. Now, it was dissipating. "Forget it."

"Terry shouldn't have said that to you."

I shook my head again. "I know what it's like to be overlooked by your family."

If Terry was acting out this much, I couldn't imagine how Lilly must be feeling.

Lilly either didn't notice or care about the marks on my arm. Retrieving the tape from the dusty VCR, she walked over and shoved it into my hands. She didn't meet my eyes. "Mom was crazy," she said. "She wasn't magical, but she knew what was coming. You might want to figure out how."

And just like that, I didn't feel drained anymore. "You're right," I said. "Thank you, Lilly."

My sister looked briefly taken aback. Then again, kind words were few and far between in our house even before our mother had died. "Yeah. Okay." Casting a look at Clarissa, Lilly left for her own room.

I glanced out the window. Still dark outside, but that wouldn't last much longer. I rubbed my hand over my mouth and nodded once to myself.

Yes, this was the right thing to do. It felt right in a way that nothing else had since the adults Turned.

"Dylan?" Clarissa asked tentatively.

"I'm going out."

"Out where?" She stared at me. "Outside? In the woods? No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am." She wasn't going to stop me, but it was important that she understood why. "You know that feeling you get when you need to clear your head and get away from it all?"

If anything, Clarissa looked more alarmed. "No...?"

"Lilly's right." I took two steps to the window, glanced out, then back at her again. A surge of energy danced under my skin. "I don't know why I didn't see it before. And... You're supposed to fast for four days, that's what Uncle told me on the beach. But I don't think I have that kind of time, now. We don't have that kind of time. Don't you see?"

She spoke slowly. "There are griffins out there, remember?"

"I know, but staying here is a death sentence." I wasn't sure why I'd phrased it that way, only that it struck hard. Solid and true. "It's something I have to do—something I should have done already. And I can't be here. I have to be away."

"Dylan, you aren't making sense."

I ran a hand back through my hair. "If there are answers out there, Uncle has them. He said he stopped me from turning. That means he had a cure, Clarissa."

That did it. Her expression went from worried to carefully blank. She took a long look out the window.

"Well," she said. "Then you're not going alone. I'm coming with you."