The Light Keeper

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The Light Keeper Page 7

by Gabriella Lepore


  After lingering for much longer than necessary, Cyborg Barbie departed, leaving Jake and me alone again.

  I set to work heaping sugar into my coffee, and then diluted it with an abundance of cream. Jake looked on, curiously.

  “Did you want some?” I asked, offering the jug of cream to him.

  His nose crinkled. “No. I take my coffee black.”

  I poured what little was left of the cream into my own mug and stirred.

  “By my calculations,” Jake began, pushing his coffee aside while I sipped at mine, “we should reach the Hidden Mountains by nightfall. That means we should get to the High Peak by early tomorrow morning. We’ll be cutting it fine, but I’m sure the old Light Keeper can hold on until then.”

  “Hold on?”

  “Well, she’s on her way out,” he said awkwardly. “It’s time for her to rest in peace and all that. Anyway, she’ll hand the reins over to you before she makes the transition, and then you’re good to go.”

  “And I’ll live happily ever after until I die of boredom.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll be free to steal more unsuspecting people from their homes—”

  “Uh, no,” he interrupted me. “No way. Never again. Nothing is worth this hell.”

  “Oh, it must be so difficult for you,” I replied, my voice heavy with sarcasm. “I feel so sorry for you.”

  “It has been difficult,” he shot back. “You are difficult. And you’re in my care. I need to be with you twenty-four seven. Can’t you understand how stressful that is for me?”

  I pulled a face. “Oh, no,” I drawled, “I couldn’t possibly understand what that’s like.”

  Our waitress returned, disturbing our conversation to place two plates of questionable looking meat pie onto our table. I immediately swapped mine for Jake’s—just in case she’d decided to give mine the sneezer.

  She cast me a surly glance before swanning away.

  “You know,” Jake picked up where he’d left off, “you’re so quick to blame me, aren’t you. It’s all my fault, isn’t it? Crazy Jake—” he stopped himself and pursed his lips.

  I smiled at his slip-up.

  “Shadow,” he rectified his mistake. “Maybe you should try being accountable for yourself for once.”

  I drummed my fingers on the table.

  “It’s not my fault that you were born this way.”

  “It’s not my fault, either,” I snapped. I shovelled a forkful of pie into my mouth. It was vile.

  “It’s more your fault than it is mine.” Jake took a mouthful of pie; he seemed to quite enjoy it.

  “I didn’t ask to be kidnapped.”

  He shrugged, preoccupied with eating.

  It’s not my fault, I repeated silently to myself. It’s his fault that I’m here. That’s the bottom line. That’s why I’m angry.

  While I picked at my sad excuse for a meal, Jake devoured his. Once he’d finished, he patted his mouth with a paper napkin and rose from his seat.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, prodding at the remains of my pie before finally letting my fork clatter to the table in defeat.

  “Bathroom.” He smiled at the irony and left me alone.

  I watched him stroll towards the door marked Restrooms. The diner payphone was right beside it. I quickly assessed my chances of making a call before he returned. I took a sip of coffee as I stared after him, deliberating the possibilities.

  Did I dare? It was now or never...

  “Hello.” A sudden voice in my ear made me jump. The next thing I knew, an elderly lady had joined me in the booth, occupying Jake’s former seat and hijacking my plans. She had a wispy blue rinse, a thick woolen cardigan, and a knitted shawl draped over her frail shoulders.

  I choked on my coffee in shock.

  “Hello, dear,” she said again, peering at me through thick, wire-rimmed spectacles. “Do you think he saw me?” She spoke in a quiet, dithery voice and shot a furtive glance towards the restrooms.

  “Um…” I blinked at her. “Who are you?”

  “Ethel. My Joe owns the grocers down on Clive Street. Do you know my Joe?”

  “No.” My brow creased. “Should I?”

  “Oh, he’s wonderful!” she gushed. “Such a good boy. He’s fifty-two already. Can you believe it?”

  “Um…No.”

  She opened her change purse and flashed me a quick photo of a jolly middle-aged man surrounded by crates of fruits and vegetables.

  “Lovely.” I paused. “Do I know you?”

  “No. But I was sitting at my usual table—” she began, pointing over the high-backed seat to indicate the next booth over, “—and I heard every word. He’s kidnapped you, has he?”

  “Uh…Yes,” I staggered.

  “Not to worry, dear. I can get you out. In a crisis or a pinch, you can always rely on old Ethel.”

  In my mind, a choir of angels had already begun their triumphant chorus.

  “So you’ll help me?” I asked urgently.

  “There’s a window in the ladies lavatory. Climb through and I’ll be waiting for you outside in my car. I’ll take you to my house. You’ll be safe there.”

  I almost kissed her wonderful, crinkled little face.

  “Thank you,” I breathed. “Thank you so much for believing me, and for helping me. I was starting to think I’d never get away!”

  “You’ll have to be quick about it, mind you.” She rose unsteadily to her feet. “And don’t make him suspicious. I know his type—they’re dangerous.” She hobbled away from the booth and I watched her leave through the diner entrance.

  My heart started to race.

  No sooner had she left than Jake returned. He seemed happy, smiling to himself as he meandered back to the table.

  I stood up abruptly. “Bathroom,” I said, shoving past him. Then, after a guilty pause, I added, “back in a minute.”

  I felt another wave of pity for him, but I reminded myself to cut it out. I had to get it together. He was a kidnapper, and a bothersome one at that.

  I headed to the restrooms, only seconds away from hooking up with my getaway ride. I concentrated every effort on walking normally instead of running full pelt, waving my arms around in glee. I didn’t dare look back at Jake.

  I kept going, straight through the door to the ladies room.

  It closed behind me with a slow thud. Without missing a beat, I honed in on the rectangular window above the sinks. I clambered onto one of the porcelain basins and jostled the pane open. A burst of cold wind swept through my hair.

  “Elana,” the wind whispered.

  I winced. Go away, imaginary voice.

  I took a deep breath and heaved myself through the gap, then carefully lowered myself down to the ground outside. I emerged in the back alley of the diner. Parked on the pavement was a red mini with its engine running. Ethel’s small wrinkled face, complete with blue rinse hairdo, peeked out at me from over the steering wheel.

  Salvation!

  I flung open the passenger door and dived into the mini. Ethel put her foot down and we shot out of the alleyway and onto the main road. I glanced out the window towards Old Pete’s as we sped past. Jake was in our booth.

  He looked up and, for a split second, our eyes met.

  His face fell.

  I turned away quickly, focusing on the road. I wouldn’t allow myself to feel guilt over this. I didn’t owe him anything. I was out.

  It was over.

  Chapter Five

  Sign Language

  The strangest thing happened as I drove out of Fallows Edge with Ethel: I was sad. The sort of sad that doesn’t come with much logic. I put it down to a combination of tiredness and the overwrought emotions of my ordeal, not to mention the extreme euphoria of escaping. My only goal since even meeting Jake had basically been getting away from the kidnapping jerk.

  So why did I feel so bad?

  Perhaps somewhere, deep within my subconscious, I feared that Jake’s ramblings ma
y actually have been more than just ramblings. I mean, I’d seen the werewolf with my own eyes—and I had the scar to prove it. What if there was some divine purpose I was supposed to be fulfilling?

  Oh well, I thought, gingerly touching my shoulder wound. It’s not my problem anymore. I’m free. Now I can go back to my perfectly ordinary life. Good riddance, Jake! All the same, I missed him a little—if only because I wanted to taunt him with my successful escape.

  “I really appreciate you helping me out like this,” I said to Ethel as she drove us out of town. I wasn’t entirely at ease with her driving, though. She’d zipped straight through a couple of stop signs and, even with the aid of her thick bifocals, she appeared to be somewhat visually impaired.

  “Yes, dear,” she replied distractedly.

  I got the feeling she needed full concentration to operate the vehicle so I stayed quiet, silently savoring my freedom. I spent the next twenty minutes watching the rain patter against the windshield before it was swept clean by the swishing wipers.

  We’d been heading along the same road for some time and we seemed to be edging further and further away from what passed as civilization. The roads seemed disused here; they were pot-holed and rutted, and obstructed by gnarled hedgerows that grew out onto the shoulder. I wondered where exactly Ethel’s house was. Perhaps she lived in a quaint cottage in the middle of the woods, or maybe this was a shortcut to the next town over.

  “Do you live around here?”

  “No, dear,” Ethel answered. “I live in Fallows Edge.”

  I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “But we left Fallows Edge. A while ago.”

  “I know,” she said, letting out a contrite breath. “I’m afraid I haven’t been honest with you, pet.”

  A knot began to form in my stomach.

  “What do you mean?”

  She didn’t answer.

  I clasped my hands together in my lap. Suddenly Ethel didn’t seem so wholesome and harmless anymore. The quiet inside the car that had once felt peaceful now felt downright eerie.

  We approached a dead end in the road. A short way ahead, the dirt track was blocked by dense foliage.

  “Ethel,” I pressed. “What haven’t you been honest about?” The knot in my stomach was doing flip-flops now. She slowed the car and pulled over onto the side of the road. Prickly boughs from the hedges scraped against my window.

  A wave of dread made the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Why are we stopping?”

  “Well, dear,” Ethel started, her voice deafening in contrast to the forsaken landscape “I’m afraid I’m going to have to do away with you.”

  “Excuse me?” I choked.

  “Kill you, dear. I’m going to have to kill you.”

  My jaw dropped. She was a total fruitcake.

  “It’s nothing against you, dear,” she went on. “You’re a lovely young lady. And if things were different, I’d love for you to meet my Joe. But there’ll be a price on your head, I bet, and it would earn me some points if I were to catch and kill the next Light Keeper.” She offered me a semi-apologetic smile.

  I stared at her exposed dentures, not sure what to say. Was this really happening? Was I seriously getting a death threat from a granny in a pink shawl?

  Flustered, I attempted to reason with her. “You don’t need to go to such extremes,” I said, tugging agitatedly at the sun charm on my bracelet. “I’m not going to go to the Hidden Mountains. I’ve escaped now. I’m going to go home to Ashwood Hollow and I’m going to forget that any of this ever happened—”

  She cackled in amusement. “Oh no, pet! Did you really think it would be that simple? Poor little duck.” Her face showed genuine pity at my ignorance. “We can’t have you out there—out anywhere. As long as you’re alive, they’ll always try to get you to the mountains.”

  I assumed the they Ethel was referring to was the same they that Jake kept bringing up.

  “And you’ll always pose a threat to the soulless ones,” Ethel went on. “With you out of the way, I’ll go down in history as the human who stopped the Light Keeper and freed the Hidden Mountains,” she fantasied dreamily.

  “Who are the soulless ones?” I floundered. “Werewolves?”

  “Oh, piffle,” she scoffed. “Werewolves are nothing more than slobbering, overgrown dogs. They can stray beyond the mountains so long as they’re on their best behavior. It’s the rest of them we’ve got to worry about: vampires, incubuses, shapeshifters. They’re the ones who’ll benefit the most from having you out of the way.”

  “If they’re the ones you’re worried about, then why do you want to set them loose on the world?” I cried, my voice rising.

  “It’s every man for himself,” she said simply. “The way I see it, if I get rid of you, dear, I’ve bought myself protection for life. They’re in my debt.”

  I watched as her face lit up with excitement. My gaze traveled down to her wrinkled hands. Tucked into the sleeve of her cardigan, my eyes were drawn to a flash of floral stitched embroidery on a handkerchief, and wrapped inside the delicate white cotton, I noticed the tip of a blade.

  A knife, I realized. She really is going to kill me.

  But she’d have to catch me first.

  I flung open my door and jumped out into the rain. Ethel had the advantage of the car, but I was willing to wager that my legs would move a lot faster than hers over the forested terrain. I scrambled into the hedgerows and made a wayward dash through the undergrowth.

  I heard Ethel cuss in frustration. “You can’t run from this!” she yelled. “Someone will get you eventually, and it might as well be me. Wouldn’t you agree, dear?”

  “Sure,” I shouted back. “But you’ll have to catch me first, dear.”

  “Ooh, you little so-and-so!”

  There was a rustling sound behind me. So she was following me on foot, just as I’d hoped. I kept going, picking up my speed and grimacing as the foliage pricked my arms and legs with its toothy thorns.

  I ran for what felt like hours, plunging deeper into the brush, ducking beneath tangled branches and scrambling over debris. The rain lashed down through the trees and my shoes became heavy with water and mud as I plundered on. I didn’t care where I was heading, just so long as it was away from Psycho Granny and her murder mobile.

  At long last, I came to a breathless stop on a grassy ridge. I’d reached a small gorge, at the bottom of which a shallow stream separated me and the snarled shrubbery from a road on the other side. I could no longer hear Ethel behind me; the only sounds I could make out were the rasps of my own breath, the patter of rain, and the gush of water flowing through the gorge.

  I edged down the slippery bank and waded through the steam. The water soaked through to my calves, but it was raining so heavily now that it didn’t make much difference. I climbed up the opposite bank to the road, but hovered close to the surrounding trees—well out of sight in case dear old Ethel drove by, but near enough to the road to stop other passing cars. Although, I had to admit, my confidence in the kindness of strangers had been seriously rocked. How would I know whom to trust? I mean, Ethel had seemed like a safe bet at first and look how that turned out.

  I forged on alongside the small river in the hope that I would come across a town soon. The rain poured down over me as I trudged through the mud and undergrowth. I missed my home, and Astra, and my simple Ashwood Hollow life. I was growing colder by the minute and losing hope, fast.

  I was beginning to think I needed a miracle.

  I walked for hours. No cars passed, not even suspicious ones. I spent my time thinking, mostly about Jake. Was he out there looking for me? Despite his earlier conviction, I doubted he’d find me. I mean, if I didn’t even know where I was, how could he?

  The thought left me feeling sad again. It was the same sensation that had crossed over me when I’d left Jake at Old Pete’s—an emotion spurred on by the look in his eyes as he watched us drive away from him. I couldn’t explain it. I supposed it was t
he realization that I’d probably never see him again. Don’t get me wrong, that was a good thing. Great, even. It’s what I’d aimed for all along. But amidst that elation, there was a strange hollow in the pit of my stomach.

  I thought back, using the solitude of the walk to dissect what had been exchanged between us. If, for argument’s sake, Jake’s words had been truth and there really was some higher calling for me in the Hidden Mountains, then at least his intentions hadn’t been malicious. Yes, he’d stolen me against my will. But he hadn’t actively harmed me, and he’d helped me out of the werewolf dilemma. So, I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—hold bad feelings towards Jake. However, I stood by my belief that escaping was the right thing to do. After all, I didn’t want to go to the Hidden Mountains; that was a certainty.

  Yes. I’d done the right thing.

  That being said…if Jake had been telling the truth, did that mean I really was a witch?

  Surely not—I’d know! I’d even rhymed in the motel, willing Jake to go away, and no supernatural consequences had come of it. Although Jake had said there wasn’t enough feeling behind my chant.

  I glanced surreptitiously over my shoulder. I was alone.

  Okay, I reasoned with myself. I’ll give it one more shot. Just to prove that this is all nonsense.

  I cleared my throat and said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m all alone, and I want to go home, so give me a break, and find me a phone.” I paused and looked around, waiting for a nice new touchscreen to drop miraculously from the sky.

  It didn’t.

  I smiled to myself. Definitely not a witch. Satisfied, I carried on walking.

  After some time, I came to a turn in the road. It was a junction that opened out onto civilization. A town! I had to pinch myself to make sure it wasn’t a mirage. There, laid out ahead of me, were pavements, streetlamps, and parked cars.

  It was real. I had made it to an actual town! With actual people. Of course I’d have to be more careful when selecting who to trust this time.

  I wiped the rain from my eyes and used the last of my dwindling energy to race onwards.

 

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