It took me a couple of hours to get back to lower ground and onto a main road. I skirted the mountains and swung up the first turnoff I saw for the eastern rise. Of the three mountains, this was the only one that was populated. The western peak, where we’d just come from, was too overgrown to be inhabited—hence the safer travel. The central mountain, where the High Peak was, was also more-or-less deserted. But the eastern peak had been colonized years ago.
Don’t get me wrong, the east mountain wasn’t wholly corrupt; humans lived there, too. They’d adapted, understanding and respecting the laws of the land—which were, generally speaking, no going out after dusk, living by their wits, and becoming Machiavellian by nature. It was how they’d managed to survive all those years alongside the demons.
Me, I knew the rules. I’d been fighting here for more than a decade. I’d been recruited at eight years old. I guess they’d seen something in me, something they liked. They’d watched me grow, all the while shaping me, molding me, cultivating me into what they would one day need me to be—into what I was today. So yeah, I could handle myself on the east mountain. But Elana? She’d been sheltered from this world. Out in the thick of it, she wouldn’t last a day. She wouldn’t last a minute. I hadn’t wanted to expose her to it, although now it looked like I had no other choice.
She slept in the seat beside me, oblivious. I swerved onto the eastern mountain road and sped on through the forest of gnarled, barren trees. At once I felt the uncanny sense of eyes on me, watching from the shadows. Everything seemed darker now, even though my eyes had long ago adjusted to the night.
I switched off my headlamps and forged on through the pitch black, navigating my way from memory, taking turns that seemed familiar. Before long I found myself in the belly of the lower mountain region, winding through woodland towards an old stone cottage.
Once I was near enough, I cut the engine and rolled to a stop. A gale rocked the trees and jangled the wind chimes and dream catchers that were hanging from the front porch of the cottage.
In the refuge of the car, I leaned over Elana and checked her pulse again. Her heart was still beating, dangerously faint. I shook her gently.
“Hey,” I said.
Her eyes remained shut. But she was breathing, which was good enough for me. I tried not to notice how pretty she looked. Without her headache-inducing chatter, I found myself infuriatingly defenseless.
I climbed out of the car and stalked to the passenger’s side. The air was cold and smelled like burnt wood and smoke. Above me the storm raged on, and even under the shelter of the trees, rain spattered over me, prickling my skin in sharp stabs.
I hated the eastern side.
I opened the door and carefully lifted Elana from her seat. She slumped against me like a ragdoll. Her head rolled into me, falling into the grove in my neck. I let out a quick composing breath, then used my foot to nudge the door shut and made for the cottage.
The porch was decked with a wood-planked floor and sheltered by a thatch canopy. I passed beneath the clinking wind chimes and peered through the window. It was just past four a.m. but I could see the ochre glow of a fire burning. I knew he’d be awake; his trade brought him visitors at the most unsociable of times.
My hands full, I tapped the door with my foot.
For several seconds there was no sound except for the tinkle of chimes and the patter of raindrops. I stared at the charms hanging from the wooden door frame: a rabbit’s foot, cloves of garlic, a horseshoe, stone amulets…
At long last a voice filtered through the thick oak door.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
I dipped my head closer to the spyhole. “Cedric, it’s me.”
I heard the deadbolt retract and then the door swung open. A stubby, elderly man with tuffs of snow white hair smiled broadly at me. He was wearing a patchwork robe and fuzzy slippers. I’d forgotten his wide, curious eyes and the brilliantly unhinged look about his kind face.
“My, my, my,” he uttered in disbelief. “Is it really you, or just a Shadow?” He broke into a wide grin.
I smiled. It had been a long time since anyone had called me that—anyone besides me, that is.
Cedric stepped aside, allowing me into the cottage.
“And who might this be?” he asked, pointing his unlit pipe at Elana, who was still slumped in my arms. He shut the door behind us and slid the deadbolt across.
“Cedric,” I said with a slanted smile, “let me introduce you to the next Light Keeper.”
I’d thought that Cedric would burst with awe, but he simply waddled forward and peered at Elana’s slumbering face. In height he barely reached my shoulder, so he had to rise onto his tiptoes just to steal a glimpse of her.
“A young one, eh?” He picked up one of her wrists and let her hand fall limply back down again. “How unusual,” he mused, balancing his pipe between his lips. “Is she…” he trailed off. His eyes moved up to meet mine. “Dead?”
“Not exactly.” I shifted Elana’s weight in my arms and looked down upon her. “Actually, Cedric, I don’t know what she is. Something’s wrong with her. That’s why I’m here. One minute she was talking, talking, talking, blah, blah, blah. And the next minute—nothing.”
“Indeed. How curious.” He puffed on his dormant pipe. “Follow me.” Cedric led me into the living room, shuffling his fleecy slippers across the short distance. “Set her down on the couch.”
I did as he asked, placing Elana on the canary yellow sofa where she was lit softly by the blush of the fire. I immediately felt better. Cedric was a witch doctor—the best around—so if anyone could solve this puzzle, it was him.
He approached Elana and kneeled before her. She lay perfectly still, the warm glow of flames reflecting off her complexion.
“She was bitten by a werewolf.” I peeled back her top to reveal the wound on her shoulder.
Cedric examined it, then prodded it, then examined it some more. “No,” he decided at last. “I shouldn’t think that would be the problem. Although I can give you some ointment to aid its healing, if you like. Werewolf bites tend to scar if you don’t treat them properly.” He glanced up at me, reproachful. “As I’ve warned you many a time.”
“My scars don’t bother me.”
“Yes, well, that may be the case for you…” His gaze wandered to a particular marking on my forehead. “But not everyone wants to be branded with ugly war wounds.”
I touched my scar. “This wasn’t a werewolf’s doing. It was a banshee.” Banshees, I thought ruefully. Why do they always go for the face? I trailed my thumb along the branding she’d given me.
“Regardless,” Cedric continued, “a dab of medicine would have healed the skin nicely.”
“Forget about me.” I waved my hand impatiently over Elana. “What about the Witch? If the werewolf bite isn’t the cause of this, what is?”
“Well now, let me see...” He lifted one of Elana’s eyelids and stared at her eyeball. One honey-colored eye stared back at him. “It seems to me that this is nothing more than a fever. A sickness of human weakness.”
“Oh,” I considered his diagnosis. “She did get caught in a rainstorm. She had quite a long walk in the rain, actually.” I reflected over Elana’s escape attempt earlier that day.
“That’ll do it.”
A surge of relief flooded over me, swiftly followed by a tsunami of embarrassment at my overreaction.
“So how can I fix her?” I asked.
“Bed rest. Warmth. Time.”
I slumped to the floor and leaned back against the sofa. “None of which I have.”
“She can rest here,” Cedric offered. “For as long as it takes.”
“Thank you,” I said, mustering a grateful smile. “But the Light Keeper is diminishing. I need to get the replacement to the High Peak before it’s too late.”
“I see.” Cedric thought about it for a moment. Then he raised an index finger thoughtfully and shuffled to the fireplace.
I watc
hed as he selected a cut-glass bottle from one of his shelves. He emptied a pool of its liquid contents into his hand and sprinkled it over the flames. They hissed and reared up into the chimney in an angry blaze.
“How long?” Cedric whispered into the inferno. Cast from the fire, embers spat out onto the carpet. I watched them sizzle into the fibres as Cedric began counting them. “One, two, three…”
“What does it mean?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”
I waited.
“Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…”
I waited some more.
“Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one,” Cedric finished. He turned to me now. “You have forty-one hours until the current Light Keeper leaves this world.”
We both glanced at the cuckoo clock on the wall.
The new day was already nearly upon us. I did a quick mental calculation. “Forty-one hours? So until, what, around ten o’clock tomorrow night?”
“Plenty of time,” Cedric concluded. “You’ll have nearly two full days to get to the High Peak. I suggest you rest here for a few hours, get some sleep. She’s free to use the guest bedroom. Meanwhile, I’ll see if I can brew something that’ll speed her recovery along.” He rose to his feet and gestured for me to lift Elana.
I obeyed, and he ushered us through a tunnel-like corridor and into a small bedroom at the other end of the cottage. It was cozy and florally decorated, and smelled faintly of candle smoke and sandlewood oil burners.
I hitched her up higher and carefully rolled her onto the bed.
“Keep her warm,” Cedric instructed. “And try to get some rest yourself. I’ll be in my lab if you need me.”
I nodded. “How much do I owe you?” I moved to retrieve my wallet from my jeans but he stopped me.
“This one is on the house.”
His generosity took me by surprise. “Thank you, Cedric. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, my boy. In fact, the things you don’t say are usually the things I hear loudest.” Cedric turned to leave. “Oh, and, just between us…” He paused, grinning significantly. “It’s a funny old thing, isn’t it?”
I narrowed my eyes, confused. “What’s that?”
He patted the left side of his chest. “The ole ticker. It affects us in the most unexpected ways.” And, with that, he disappeared into the corridor.
I looked at Elana. She lay motionless on the rose-patterned bedspread. I touched her head and then her fingers. Her brow was hot with fever, but her hands were ice cold. Cedric’s instructions circled through my head. Keep her warm? I’d never dealt with taking care of a weak human before, but it sounded easy enough.
I began piling Cedric’s abundance of afghan throws and embroidered cushions on top of her until she was nothing more than a mound of bedding. I looked on at my accomplishment, proud of my ingenuity.
Wait—where’s her face? I frowned. I’d forgotten to leave her an air hole. I unburied her face and hastily checked that I hadn’t inadvertently suffocated her. Nah, she was fine. Things were going pretty well so far.
Now what?
I knelt on the floor, leveling my eyes to her face, and I watched.
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out… At first it was boring, and I don’t know why I carried on. I mean, watching someone breathe is like, well, watching someone breathe. But then—and this might have been a sign of my descent into madness—it got fun.
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in…wait for it…breathe out…
I watched in fascination, wondering what she was dreaming about. Was that a smile? Was she feeling better? Did she know I was there?
Asleep, she had me captivated. Sleeping Elana was a much lesser pain in the ass than awake Elana. I’d never been in someone’s company for so long; not since I was a kid, anyway—not since Flip and Billy—and I decided I really didn’t mind the Witch after all. In fact, I kind of liked her
I laughed to myself.
Chapter Seven
Side Effects May Include Drowsiness
“Can we wake him?”
I blinked in the darkness. I knew that voice.
“Flip?” I called.
I couldn’t see a thing, but I could hear the sound of ocean waves churning beneath me. I was dreaming; I knew I was. I’d had this dream before, stood on the precipice of a rocky cliff, overlooking the wild, surging waves. At night my mind would retreat to this place, and I would simply watch, a bystander in my own subconscious. Only it was different this time. This time, I wasn’t alone.
“Don’t wake him, Flip,” a second voice said. “Let him rest for a while. He needs it.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Billy?” I called into the darkness. There was a catch in my throat; a rasp of emotion brought on by the voices of my fallen friends.
They carried on chatting amongst themselves, as though they hadn’t heard me calling out to them. Maybe they hadn’t. I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t move, either. I was cemented to this rocky outcropping as though I were part of it.
“I want to tell him,” Flip went on. “He has a right to know.”
My chest tightened. In my mind’s eye I could see Flip’s wicked smile. I could picture his grubby eleven-year-old face as he spoke. He didn’t sound eighteen, as he would have been if he’d have survived. No. He was still eleven years old, and Billy was thirteen, the age he had been when he…
“You’re dead,” I whispered into the dark abyss surrounding me.
“He’s not ready,” Billy told Flip. “He’ll find us when he is.”
I swallowed. What were they talking about?
“Billy, please,” I tried again, urgently. “Talk to me. You can hear me, Billy. I know you can.”
“Let’s wake him,” Flip persisted. “Come on, Billy. What harm could it do? His fate’s already sealed, right? So what’s the harm in hurrying it along a bit?”
“Yes!” I shouted. “Wake me! Talk to me.”
“We can’t,” Billy answered Flip, though he may well have been speaking to me too. “You know it’s against the rules.”
Flip snorted with laughter. “Screw the rules.”
“Yeah,” I said. “To hell with the rules!” Good to see the afterlife hasn’t quashed the renegade in you, Flip.
“No,” Billy scolded him gently. “You know we can’t.”
There was a quiet pause between them. All I could hear was the water lapping against the rocks and the quick pant of my breath while I waited for their next move.
“Okay,” Flip conceded at last.
“Okay?” I echoed in disbelief. “Okay? Come on, guys, don’t do this. Don’t give up on me. Break the damn rules!”
“It sucks, though,” Flip muttered. “I want to speak to him.”
My heart was pounding wildly now. “I’m right here! Speak to me!”
“You’ll get your chance,” said Billy. “Soon enough.”
Wait, what? Soon enough? What did that mean?
I awoke abruptly to the sound of another voice. For a short spell of time, I forgot where I was, and who I was, and why I was there…wherever I was.
“Hi.”
I opened my eyes blearily and rolled onto my side. I was on a floor. Next to a bed.
“Do you want some tea?” A hand reached down to me, offering a steaming mug.
I bolted upright, my dream already dissolving into a foggy memory. I’d fallen asleep, left Elana defenseless, and, perhaps most bizarrely of all, she was still here. She was sitting up in the bed with the covers bunched around her, watching some mindless, canned comedy sitcom on Cedric’s portable TV.
I pushed the mug aside. “Why didn’t you run away?”
She peered down at me. “I thought about it, but Cedric is cooking bacon so it seemed like a bad time.”
I could have kissed her. In a purely platonic, celebratory way, of course. She hadn’t run! We were making
real progress here.
I heaved myself onto the bed and sat beside her, shoving her over to allow myself more room.
“Careful!” She shuffled over to accommodate me. “You’re making me spill my tea.”
I grabbed the TV remote from beside her and muted the sitcom. “You’re not unconscious anymore.”
“Neither are you.”
I looked at her, meeting her caramel-colored eyes and holding her gaze for as long as I could without being weird.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel good,” she replied brightly. “A few hours ago I didn’t, though.” She paused and crinkled her nose at the memory. “But then I had a herbal tonic and a cup of tea, and now I feel great!” She grinned, light emitting from her smile.
Way to go, herbal tonic. Cedric could whip up a remedy for just about anything.
“So I take it you’ve met our host?”
She nodded.
“You must’ve been awake for a while, then.”
She nodded again. “A couple of hours.” She took a sip of tea. “Although there is one thing I’m confused about. What exactly happened last night, Jake?”
Good question. “Oh, this and that.”
“How did we end up here?”
“I drove,” I answered, pretending to be absorbed in the soundless TV show. “You were comatose so I thought I’d pass by to see Cedric while I had a moment’s peace.”
Elana stared at the TV screen, too. “The last thing I remember is the crash….”
“Yeah, you passed out after that.”
“Why?” she pressed. “What was wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” I said, shrugging it off. “You had a fever, that’s all.” I caved and took a sip of her tea.
“Did we move the tree?”
I smiled to myself. “No,” I said, “we didn’t move the tree.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Forget it. I’m just glad you’re—” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. It would have left me too exposed, vulnerable. I cleared my throat. “I’m glad you didn’t run away again.” Which was also true.
The Light Keeper Page 10