"I thought maybe I could get rid of the monster if I got rid of my father--told someone about what I saw. I wanted to tell. I almost told. But then I thought I had to forgive him. That no matter how bad he hurt me or anyone else, I had to turn the other cheek. You're the one who told me that. Told me my father hurt me because he was desperate."

My knees went numb. I clung to the counter for support. I didn't understand what I'd said back then--still didn't really. But that wasn't what I'd meant. Not at all.

"So I kept my mouth shut," Daniel continued. "Sometimes I tried to paint the things I saw, but that only made my father go ballistic. One day I finally tried to tell Jude about the Urbat--what little I'd learned about them by then--but he thought I was making up stories. So instead I told him how my father hurt me. I thought if I told one person, but made him keep it a secret, it would ease the burning a bit, and I wouldn't be betraying my father. I made Jude promise not to tell. But he broke that promise. He ruined everything."

"But you got what you wanted." The numbness in my knees spread up my legs. "You became our brother."

"But it didn't last. Before I had only dreamed what it would be like to be in a real family, but if your brother hadn't broken his promise, then I wouldn't have ever known what it was like. I wouldn't have known what it felt like to be wanted and then get ripped out of the only warm, loving place I'd ever had. Things would have gone on like in the past, and my own mother wouldn't have had to choose between that monster and me."

Daniel cleared his throat and coughed. "It was easier to control the wolf when I was with your family. But when I left, it started stirring again. But this time I didn't fight it. I sought out other people who had demons inside--other creatures of the night." He made a scoffing laugh.

"Although, most of their inner demons weren't quite so literal." Daniel swallowed so hard I could hear him from across the room. I could tell he wasn't going to make any more jokes.

"The wolf grew stronger," he said after a moment. "It influenced everything I did. And then that night in the parish when I saw your brother standing there and he had everything I ever wanted, the monster finally broke free."

I cringed, imagining Jude alone and frightened.

"I raged and wailed on Jude like my father used to wail on me. I wanted to make him feel all the pain I had inside. He didn't even try to fight back.

He just took it like he was some kind of martyr, and that made the wolf fume. I wanted to strip him of everything he had.''

Daniel took in a long breath. "When I told Jude I was taking the money and his new coat, you know what he did? He got to his feet in front of those stained-glass pictures of Christ, took off his coat, and offered it to me. 'Take it,' he said. 'It's cold outside, and you need it more than I do.'

He put the coat in my hands, and he was so calm and peaceful and I didn't understand. I didn't know this place he was coming from. I didn't know how he could just offer it to me like it was nothing--like I'd done nothing. That's when I thought it--I wanted to kill him. And then something seared through my veins, and I started to shake and scream ... and I lunged at him.

"All I remember after that is waking up outside on the parish grounds. My clothes were missing and shards of colored glass were scattered all around. There was blood all over me. But none of it was mine. I had no idea what happened---what I'd become. Gabriel says it's like that the first few times; you're not conscious of your actions at all. I was frantic. I didn't know where your brother had gone. But then I saw him, lying, twisted, in the bushes a few feet away. And I knew I was responsible."

I held my hand over my heart. It was racing so fast it felt like it was going to burst through my ribs.

"Was it you or the wolf?"

Daniel was silent for a moment. "The wolf took him through that window. But I was the one who left him there. I saw the blood on his face. I knew he needed help. But I ran away. I took the cash box and I left him there."

The chair creaked as he stood up. I heard him moving closer to me. I could see his dark reflection in the cat clock's shifting eyes.

"You want to know what the real kicker is?" he asked, only a few inches from me now. I didn't answer, but he told me anyway.

"That money only lasted me three weeks," he said. "Five thousand dollars of blood money, and I pissed it away on shit-hole motel rooms and girls who said they loved me until the drugs ran out. And at the end of three weeks, when I'd sobered up enough to remember what I'd done, I started running. But no matter how far or fast I ran, I couldn't get away from the wolf. So I kept running and drinking and using--anything to numb the memories away--and I ran so far, that's probably how I ended up back here."

He moved closer to me--as close as he was when I kissed him in the moonlight. "Do you know me now? Do you still think I'm worth saving?" His breath burned the side of my face. "Can you look me in the eyes and say you love me now?"

I shifted my gaze from the clock to my feet. I picked my way through the broken glass and grabbed my backpack, leaving the bottles of linseed oil and varnish on the table, and went straight to the door. My hand was on the doorknob when I stopped.

"Jude didn't break his promise," I choked out. "I was the one who told on your father. I'm the one who turned you into the wolf."

I wrenched the door open and ran up the stairs to the minivan. I drove aimlessly for at least an hour and somehow ended up at home in my bed.

I had no thoughts in my head. No feeling in my skin. There was nothing in me at all.

Chapter Eighteen Book of Secrets

MONDAY

I woke the next morning, tangled in the bed sheets. My shirt clung to my chest, sticky with cold sweat. My head throbbed. It felt like someone was drilling a hole in the base of my skull, the pain radiating up behind my eyes. I squinted at the alarm clock. It was much later than I thought. I pushed myself out of bed and into the shower.

I stood in the stream of hot water and let the heat prick at the numbness under my skin, washing away the shock. That's when the tears came.

I never cried. Not since I was a baby, according to my mother. I didn't get the point. Crying never fixed anything. But as the tears started to roll down my face, mingling with the rain from the showerhead, I couldn't hold it in anymore. I sobbed into the steam, hoping no one could hear me over the somber buzz of the bathroom fan. It was like I finally let out every tear I'd ever held back. I cried for the time Don Mooney held his silver knife to my father's throat. I cried for the times I overheard Daniel's father ripping into him. For the time his mother took him away from us. For when Charity and T were sent to our grandparents for three weeks without any explanation. I cried for Maryanne's death, for James going missing, for Jude. But mostly I sobbed for what I now knew about myself.