The Light Keeper

by Gabriella Lepore

  I breathed out sharply. “I’m not a park ranger.”

  He acted as if he hadn’t heard me. “Yeah, you’re going to keep those mountains in order. It’s your job to make sure none of the bad comes out.”

  “Mountains don’t need to be watched over,” I bit back. “They’re not alive; they’re not good or bad. They’re just big, dead mounds of dirt.” Whoa. My mother would have had a heart attack if she’d been witness to that kind of Earth trash talk.

  “It’s not the mountains we’re worried about,” he said with a wry smile. “It’s what settles within them.”

  My heart started to thump harder. “And that is…?” I stared at him as he watched the road, hands loosely resting on the steering wheel.

  “The soulless ones.” He turned to scrutinize me with his midnight eyes and I detected a trace of remorse in his expression. “So even though you’re young for a Light Keeper, you were born with the blood,” he said, almost apologetically. “Witches blood and all that. You’re the only eligible descendant from the line.”

  I almost laughed. Or cried. “I’m not a Light House Keeper–”

  “Light Keeper,” he corrected.

  “And I certainly don’t have witches blood! My name is Elana Chambers, I’m sixteen years old and–”

  “Yeah, yeah. I don’t need your life story, Witch. All I need is you.”

  I groped for words.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Hey, I was as surprised as you are,” he said. “I expected to find someone a little more worldly. Someone a little more in tune with their chi.” He cast me a critical frown. “Then I saw you and I thought…” He let out a long whistle. “This kid? Really?”

  “Clearly you’ve got the wrong person, then,” I said. “As you can see, I’m young, distinctly un-worldly, and have no chi whatsoever.” I had to fight every urge to stop myself from grabbing the steering wheel, or jumping out the window, or acting in any of the other ill-advised ways that were brewing while he spoke. I knew I had to tread carefully. Considering his obvious mental instability, who knew what he’d do if provoked? Apart from kidnapping me, of course. We’d already covered that.

  “I wish I could agree with you,” he said, distinctly unsympathetically. “But you’re definitely the right person. Believe me,” he offered me a slanted smile, “I never make a mistake.”

  I drew in a deep breath. Time to change tack. “Okay, so, great,” I said, playing along now—though perhaps not very convincingly. “Onwards to save the Hidden Mountains—”

  “The world,” he amended.

  “Of course, the world. Cool. Before we go, though, can we make one quick stop? I need to get my…to get something from my house. Take the next left up here, we can swing right back around.”

  He rolled his eyes at me.

  “But I need it,” I went on. “It’s my…magic wand,” I improvised. “I need it to protect me from the soulless ones.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “You know. Mock me, like I’m the joke.”

  “Fine. Can we at least stop for a drink? I’m so thirsty.” I coughed.

  “No. We’ve already lost too much time. I should have taken you Saturday night when I had the chance.”

  The car felt as though it were closing in on me. Had he been at the dance looking for me? Had he been stalking me, waiting for his chance? And now he has me. All of a sudden I couldn’t breathe.

  “Come on,” I abandoned my cunning tactics and pleaded with him outright. “Let me out. Please. I won’t go to the police, I promise.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s my job to get you to the mountains in one piece.”

  “It’s not your job!” I took a breath and lowered my voice. “You’re not well,” I said, speaking tenderly now. “I can find someone who can help you. There are psychiatrists and doctors who can—”

  He laughed. “I’m perfectly well. For the record, I’m at the highest psychical condition humanly possible.”

  I groaned.

  “Look, I can understand your concerns. I’m aware that I’m probably not the best person for this job. I’m not trained in...” he trailed off, then snapped his fingers when he’d summoned the word he was searching for. “Compassion,” he finished. “But we’re both out of our comfort zones here. Think about what a downer this is for me. I assumed I’d get someone better informed. Someone serene, someone older—”

  “So go kidnap an old person!” I yelled. I began bashing my fists against the window again, this time without any restraints to hold me back.

  He sighed. “You’re going to break something.”

  “Good!”

  He sighed a little louder and gestured to the dashboard. “Check the glove compartment.”

  I took intermission on my window assault. “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  I lowered my hands to the dashboard and opened the latch warily, half expecting a bear trap to snap out at me.

  “Do you see a piece of paper in there?” he asked, trying to look while simultaneously focusing on the curving, wooded roads of outer Ashwood Hollow.

  I peered into the depths of the storage compartment. There were a handful of loose CDs, a leather hip flask, and a crumpled sheet of notebook paper. Cautiously, I retrieved the paper.

  The subheading read Notes for the Witch. The writing was messy and nearly illegible, but I began reading the bullet points aloud. “One. Try not to alarm her when you take her—”

  “Did that,” he said to himself.

  “No you did not!” I exclaimed. “You alarmed me colossally! I’m still alarmed now.”

  He peered at the paper in my hands. “I gave you the sleeping potion. You were out cold for most of it.”

  “I woke up in a stranger’s car with my hands and feet bound. That’s pretty much the definition of alarming!”

  He rolled his hand in circles, moving me on to the next point in his notes.

  “Two,” I read. “Tell her she’s the witch who’s been called to watch over the Hidden Mountains.”

  He checked it off on his fingers. “Done.”

  I waved the paper at him. “How is this helping me?”

  “Clearly you’re not taking this very well. I’m wondering if maybe I missed something. Maybe I messed up somewhere.”

  “You think there’s something you’ve chicken scratched onto this piece of paper that’s going to miraculously make me feel better?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Read on.”

  “Three. Try to be nice.” I scoffed at the absurdity.

  He grinned and nodded. “Definitely done.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You’re seriously deluded.”

  “Is there one more?”

  “Four. Allow her some question time.”

  “Any questions?” he asked on cue.

  I stared forlornly at the paper in my hands. “Yes. How do you disable the childlocks on this stupid car?”

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  He snatched the sheet of paper away from me and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

  “We’ll talk more when you’re not in shock. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, so feel free to take your time.” He flipped a button on the stereo and an explosion of loud, heavy metal music poured from the speakers.

  What now? How long would it take for someone to notice I was gone? It was already morning. I’d usually leave for school before Astra had surfaced, but surely someone at school would notice when I didn’t show up for class? They’ll think I ditched. But someone is bound to suspect something’s up. They’ll call me…and my phone would ring silently from the hamper where I tossed it the night before.

  My chest tightened in panic. I clenched my fists and fought back the tears. Trees passed in a blur outside and the sky hung greyish-blue overhead. How could this have happened to me? I was way too normal for this kind of thing. Too vanilla.

  I turned down the volume until the thrash me
tal was just a faint whisper.

  “Hey!” he complained.

  “Question one. Who the hell are you?”

  Chapter Three

  Witch, Witch, You’re a Witch

  Crazy Car Guy looked at me sidelong. “Who am I?”

  “I think it’s a reasonable question.”

  His deep brown eyes flicked away. “They call me Shadow.” I wasn’t sure if it was said with pride or shame, or a strange combination of the two.

  I raised an eyebrow, studying his profile. “Shadow?”

  “That’s what I am.” His focus stayed trained on the dusty road as we sped onwards. The bare branches of the roadside trees threw long, crooked shapes across the tarmac and dimmed the light around us.

  I crossed my arms. “Do you have a real name?”

  “J-0019.”

  “That’s not a name.”

  He shrugged. “That’s what they call me.”

  I sighed. “Okay, well that’s dumb. It sounds like a barcode.”

  He smiled thoughtfully. “It is a barcode.”

  “I’m not calling you Shadow and I’m not calling you J-007—”

  “J-0019,” he corrected.

  “Whatever. I’m not calling you that, either.”

  “Fine, then don’t call me anything.”

  I turned my back on him, watching the spindly trees race by as I was carried further and further away from home. I didn’t need to know his name. In fact, I couldn’t have cared less what his stupid name was.

  After a few miles we reached a crossway. With scarcely a pause to check for oncoming traffic, we served out onto a narrow hedge-bound road.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and clung to the leather passenger seat while I waited for the car to stop rocking.

  Several hate-racing seconds later, I opened my eyes and turned to him. “What does the J stand for?”

  He shot me a quick frown. “What does it matter?”

  I regarded him carefully. “J,” I mused. “John?”

  He wrinkled his nose.

  “Jake?” I tried again.

  He grimaced.

  “It is Jake, isn’t it?” I pressed, eagerly leaning forward in my seat.

  He laughed without humor. “My name’s not Jake. Jake is a Prom King name.”

  “Well, you’d better get used to it, your highness, because that’s what I’m going to call you. Jake.” It pleased me to see his grip tighten around the steering wheel and his lips purse into a frown. “Jake,” I tested it out again.

  “Alright,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t expect me to respond, though.”

  “That’s okay. I’m banking on getting away from you before I ever need a response.”

  “Good luck.”

  “You underestimate me, Jake.”

  “I don’t underestimate you,” he replied calmly. “But I don’t underestimate myself, either. You’re not getting out of this car. Not without me, anyway.”

  “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working,” I said, just about managing to control the waver in my voice.

  “It makes no difference whether I scare you or not. All I’m saying is, you’re going to the Hidden Mountains.”

  “Enough with the Hidden Mountains!” I threw up my hands. “You’re delusional. You need to be locked away in a padded cell.”

  “I wish!” he laughed. “I’d sooner be taking a nap in a nice comfy cell than doing this twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

  My jaw dropped. “Listen to yourself. You want me to save the world from mountains. That is not rational behavior.”

  “No, not from mountains—” He cut himself off and let out a strangled moan. “Alright, let’s go over this one more time. You’ll watch over the beings within the mountains. You’re the glue, the lock, the top-of-the-range security system. Without a Light Keeper, the bad guys come out and all hell breaks loose. And, for some insane reason, it’s your turn to take over the watch. Though, I swear, whoever appointed you to the task needs to be brought in for some serious questioning.”

  “Coming from you!” I exclaimed.

  He pressed the heel of his hand to his brow in frustration.

  “Creeping around kidnapping people,” I muttered. “Calling yourself Shadow. I know that’s not your real name.”

  “It is my name.”

  “Yeah, right. Why would anyone call you that?”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “They call me by it because I’m good at what I do. No one hears me coming, but damn sure I’m always there.”

  “Well, you’re right about that. You successfully stalked and stole me.” I shifted in the leather seat, twisting my body away from him and staring out the window at the hedgerows lining the road.

  “You think this is what I do?” he asked, sounding pained. “This is menial drudge work. The lowest of the low. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend what it is that I do.”

  “How convenient. So, what exactly do you do? Are you in a gang? Are you a criminal mastermind? Or just plain crazy?”

  “None of the above.”

  We exchanged a stony look and lapsed into another prickly silence. I reflected over his words, trying to make sense of them. Trying to make sense of him. It was impossible.

  “My name is Elana,” I said after a while.

  “I don’t care.”

  Of course he didn’t. Had I really expected otherwise? “Is that because it makes it easier to kidnap me? If I don’t have a name, then I’m not real, and you feel no guilt?”

  “Nope. I’m just not interested.” He paused. “And I feel no guilt, anyway. I’m helping you. I shouldn’t have to feel guilty.”

  “I don’t want your help!”

  “You don’t get a choice. You need my help, whether you want it or not. You have a role to play now, and if word gets out about who you are—which it undoubtedly will—then you’ll have every malevolent being around here after your blood. Do you think they want to be confined to the mountains? No. If they find out it’s time to change hands, they’ll be out to put a stop to it while there’s still chance. They’ll be out for blood—yours.”

  I swallowed.

  “So, no,” he went on, “I don’t need to know your name. You’re just the witch I’m guarding.”

  “It’s Elana,” I reminded him anyway.

  “Not important.”

  “And I’m not a witch.”

  He laughed and gave me a boyish grin. “It’s adorable how naïve you are, Witch.”

  I crossed my arms. “Elana.”

  “Witch,” he said under his breath.

  “Jake.”

  He pretended not to hear me.

  I took the opportunity to rattle the inside handle and kick at the door. Though I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d managed to pry it open; we were hurtling down the road at breakneck speed. I would hardly have had the opportunity to jump to safety. I shouted for help, not because I thought I’d be heard, but because I was sure it would annoy him.

  Jake cranked up the volume on the stereo. I covered my ears and began kicking the door again.

  By nightfall I was beginning to lose hope. We’d driven all day and we were a long way from Ashwood Hollow, creeping ever closer to the Hidden Mountains. The enigmatic allure of the mountains that had captured my imagination as a kid was even more mesmerizing up close. I almost felt star-struck as I gazed upon the majestic shadowed peaks looming just ahead. It was difficult to tell how close we were, exactly—especially at night on the poorly lit outback roads. But I’d spent the day watching the mountains grow taller and taller until they towered within striking distance. Dense black shadows swept around them and a haze of fog clung to their summits.

  Jake yawned into his knuckles. A few strands of chocolate brown hair fell across his brow.

  “You shouldn’t drive if you’re tired,” I said, turning down the music for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

  “I’m not tired,” he replied.

&nbs
p; “You look tired.”

  He checked his reflection in the rear view mirror. “No, I don’t. I always look this way. It’s just my look.”

  “Exactly. It’s not a good look.”

  “What would you know?” He checked his reflection again.

  I folded my arms. “Dark circles beneath your eyes are never a good look. I know you’re tired. You’ll have to stop eventually.”

  The roads were getting narrower the closer we got to the mountains. The bends were becoming sharper too, and the roadside trees were taller and more spindly, almost bowing over us as we drove beneath them. It felt bleak and forsaken here. I’d seen very few other cars on the road, and the ones I had seen were gone so quickly that I’d scarcely had a chance to register them.

  “Anyway,” said Jake, “I am going to stop.” My heart skipped a beat. “Just not yet.”

  “When, then?” I tried to remain blasé on the matter. It didn’t work.

  He eyed me quickly. “I’m looking for a motel.”

  I sat up in my seat. “We just passed one a minute ago!”

  “Not that one. I’ve got somewhere special in mind.”

  “Ew. Don’t even think about trying to—”

  A small laugh escaped his lips. “You wish!”

  “Hardly!” My cheeks grew hot. “Psycho jerk.”

  Jake glanced at me. “You’re blushing.”

  “Yes,” I floundered, “in rage! Because I hate you so much.”

  He grinned.

  A new wave of loathing washed over me. “I hate you.”

  “You said that already.”

  “It needs to be said often. Stop trying to distract me. Tell me where we’re going. What is it, your gang’s den?”

  He laughed. “That’s an interesting way of putting it. Actually I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard great things about it.” He threw me a sardonic smile.

  Special motel or not, this was my chance to escape. I had to be ready. I would be ready.

  It took us a little while longer to arrive at Jake’s chosen destination. He veered abruptly off the main road and onto a rough dirt track. There’d been no motel sign or welcome lights—he’d simply swerved into the darkness and, moments later, we were rolling to a stop in a near-empty parking lot. The building before us was rundown and dreary, lit only by humming, flickering lights in the outer corridor and a rusted Motel Pleasant signboard. To the left was a neon Reception sign.