The Light Keeper

by Gabriella Lepore

  “I swear,” he murmured. “I will. Just don’t leave.”

  I looked down at his doleful expression. His promise didn’t have a leg to stand on. Still, I offered him my hand to chew on again, and we prepared to wait out the next thirty-eight minutes.

  By the time we’d reached our five-minute countdown, the elixir had already begun to wear off. Jake had spent the majority of his time as a vampire gazing amorously at my throat and gently gnawing on my fingers—which were now damp and dented with tooth marks. Lovely.

  Honestly, it was the strangest hour of my life. In all my sixteen years, I had never imagined that I’d be trapped in a car with a fake vampire. Or that I’d even talk about vampires in a realistic sense—not to mention werewolves, and witches, and crazy old ladies who wanted to kill me.

  Why did I agree to this? I berated myself.

  I wasn’t sure I knew the answer. What I did know, though, was that I couldn’t turn away from it. Not yet. I was bound to Jake now; I was bound to this journey as much as he was. I’d made that commitment—not only to him, but also to myself. If nothing else, I’d go to the High Peak, hear what this Light Keeper had to say, and make a decision from there. I was fairly certain I’d leave, but I had to hear her out at least. If this truly was some divine cosmic order meant for me, then I needed to see this through.

  Who could say what would happen after that? But for now, I knew, I was sticking with Jake.

  “How do you feel?” I asked him, watching him breathe softly against my throat.

  “Happy,” he answered in a thin, distant voice.

  I chuckled to myself. “Well, that’s a nice change from suicidal. And homicidal.”

  He burrowed closer to the groove of my neck. “Yeah,” he murmured.

  My shoulder was numb from his constant presence. “Why are you happy?” I asked. Through my newly acquired methods of blood-lust distraction, I found that engaging him in conversation was best.

  “Because I’m with you.” He was talking to my artery again, but the statement made me blush nevertheless.

  I’d never seen anyone act like that before—and I don’t mean the vampire part, because obviously that was new to me. I mean the other part. The intense lovesickness. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have thought that he’d been struck by Cupid’s bow. I was rather enjoying seeing him this way: docile, placid, euphoric. I let him indulge in it for a while longer, knowing that it would all end in… I checked the dashboard clock again. Four minutes.

  We sat in silence. I watched the branches of the trees sway gently in the wind. The woodland was rich with greenery, even at a time of year when everywhere else seemed grim and bare. Moss was covering the ground like a woolly green blanket, and birds fluttered through the foliage plucking late-season berries from the thickets.

  It was beautiful. I could have stayed there for hours, content to let the time pass. We didn’t discuss it, but I was sure Jake felt the same.

  At long last the weight of Jake’s head left my shoulder and he lifted himself upright. He blinked, as though suddenly awakening to the world beyond the El Camino.

  “Hi,” I said with a smile. “You’re back, I see.”

  His eyes cast downwards. “Mmm,” he answered quietly. “I’m back.” He stared at his fingers as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

  “You’re not in love with my blood anymore?” I joked.

  He smiled, although it wasn’t his usual roguish smirk. There was something more wistful to it this time.

  “Are you okay, Jake?” I asked carefully, trying to keep my tone wry.

  He still wouldn’t look at me. “Mm-hmm.”

  I watched him with intrigue as he re-familiarized himself with the car, touching the steering wheel and glancing down at the pedals and gearstick.

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He nodded again.

  The car juddered as he turned the key in the ignition. And, just like that, we were back on track. I wiped the last of the drool off my hand and onto my jeans, Jake faced forwards, and we set off through the forested landscape, almost as though nothing had broken our stride. After a few minutes of driving, all of the strangeness that had accumulated between us began to evaporate like the morning mist.

  The rain started, pattering through the trees and speckling the windscreen. Soon it grew heavier, sweeping in through the gaping passenger window and sprinkling onto my lap.

  “You know, it’s not much past midday,” Jake remarked. His voice wasn’t reserved and gentle anymore; it had reverted to its usual firm and assertive tone.

  Back to business, I noted with an unexpected sinking feeling in my stomach.

  “I bet we could get that window fixed and still get to the High Peak tonight,” he said.

  Wait. I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. Hadn’t Jake been cautioning against spending any more time than necessary on the eastern mountain?

  “It won’t be problem,” Jake reassured me, picking up on my hesitation. “I know a few places around here where we can go to get a window replaced. It won’t be an issue. We’ll be back on the road again before sunset.”

  I glanced at the hole in the window and found myself savoring the way the breeze played across my skin as we drove on through the woods, dodging the tall, willowy trees with impeccable accuracy. Before long we reached the boundary of the woodland and arrived at the mountain road. It looked similar to the western route we’d taken last night—to one side there was a vast outlook over the forest of firs below, and to the other there was a sheer mountain wall—but something about it just felt different. I was immediately alert, conscious of the different smells and the hollow moan of the wind. It was as Jake had said all along: the energy was different. It was darker.

  There weren’t many other cars on the road, which I guess was strange because it was midday. A few beaten-up old trucks passed us, but I tried not to look at the drivers, afraid of what I might see. I noticed that there weren’t a lot of settlements signposted, either. There were a few dingy roadside diners and a couple of small holdings, but that was it.

  Until, that is, we came to a rusted sign for Whitestone Point.

  Jake took the turnoff, heading closer to the mountain now. Naturally, I grew a little apprehensive, knowing that I was about to have my first experience of eastern mountain civilization.

  As it happened, it wasn’t entirely unlike normal civilization. Sure, it was darker, hidden from the misted sunlight on the mountain’s edge. But in many ways the hamlet was kind of charming. The shops were old-fashioned and quaint, with lead-framed bay windows and wooden doors. There were lampposts alight even in the middle of the day, counteracting the damp dreariness of the mountainous nook.

  “This doesn’t seem so bad.” I gazed through the gaping window.

  “No. In the daytime it’s fine.”

  “And we won’t be here to see the night time,” I said, clasping my hands together as we forged on.

  “No.”

  Jake drove deeper into the town. We passed bistros and stores, and I spotted a number of people strolling about the cobbled streets. It seemed livelier than Fallows Edge, and not threatening or hostile at all.

  We veered onto a side street, passing some residential plots before a garage came into view. Jake pulled into the yard and switched off the car.

  “Alright,” he said, stretching his arms across the cramped space we shared. “I’ll go talk to the mechanic to see what he can do about this window.” He stepped out of the car and slammed the driver’s door shut behind him.

  I stayed put, watching from the safety of the El Camino as Jake crossed the yard, passing a garage where a few cars were raised up on stilts and a man in greasy overalls leafed through a newspaper. Jake headed up the front steps of a little cabin that appeared to be the office and knocked on the door.

  It opened and he stepped inside, out of sight.

  As the door closed on him, my
stomach gave a lurch. Suddenly the garage seemed uncomfortably quiet. I bit my lip, staring intently at the black office door.

  There was nothing left to do but wait.

  Chapter Nine

  The Heart Catcher

  My skin started to tingle. All of my senses were working overtime, listening for every sound, watching for any movement. Whitestone Point didn’t seem quite so harmless without Jake at my side. Each second without him felt like a full minute. What would I do if a demon attacked? Or worse—what would I do if Jake was attacked?

  My stomach knotted.

  I couldn’t just leave him in the office to face whatever he was facing…could I?

  No! I would save him.

  Maybe.

  I took a deep breath. My imagination was running away with itself.

  Okay, I deliberated, I could peek through the office window to make sure he’s okay, then run back to the car and lock the doors.

  Yes. Good plan.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt, preparing for my valiant mission, when the office door swung open and Jake reappeared.

  He sauntered towards the car, throwing his keys high into the air and catching them in the palm of his hand. He grinned at me as he slid back into the driver’s seat.

  “Are they going to fix the window?” I prompted.

  Jake started the engine and rolled closer to the garage workshop. “Yeah, no problem,” he said. Then he hesitated. “Well, actually, there is one problem.”

  “What?”

  He pursed his lips. “It’ll take a couple of hours. Should be done by four p.m.”

  “Four? That’s cutting it close, isn’t it?”

  “It’ll be okay,” he said. “We’ll be out of here before sunset and across the bridge in no time.”

  The husky man in greasy overalls waved to us from the workshop. Jake cut the engine and stepped out of the car. I followed his lead, venturing into the wintery chill outside. At least the rain had eased off.

  Jake tossed the keys to the man in the overalls. “We’ll be back at four,” he called. “Don’t scratch the paintwork.”

  The man nodded and offered a gruff goodbye as Jake and I strolled across the yard, back towards the road.

  “Now what?” I asked as we reached the pavement.

  Jake shrugged. “Whatever you want.” He balanced on the curb, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  I gazed at the road. “We could look around,” I suggested. “Maybe stop for a drink and something to eat. That’d kill an hour or two.”

  Jake bounced off the curb onto a drain grid. “Don’t say kill,” he teased. “We’re on the dark side now.”

  I shuddered and looked up to the grim sky; the air was heavy with grey fog and the rise of the mountain formed a wall around more than half the town, blocking out the sunlight. We were on the dark side—literally.

  Jake prodded my shoulder with his index finger. “So? Food?”

  I nodded.

  We set off walking in the direction of town. I took more interest in the surrounding houses as we passed them on foot. They seemed eerie to me; they were dark and huge, like haunted old manor houses, and the lawns were overgrown and wild.

  Jake made up stories about them as we passed, whispering melodramatically into my ear. “That one,” he breathed, “is the house where the mad scientist Doctor Ecclestein lives. You’ve heard of him, right?”

  “Oh, sure,” I played along, “Doctor Ecclestein. Everyone’s heard of him.”

  “That’s what I thought. Did I ever tell you I was invited inside once?” He gave a low whistle. “It was like a dungeon, with chains and shackles on the walls. And he had a collection of… hearts,” Jake improvised. “Yeah, real hearts. In jars.”

  “Hearts in jars?”

  Jake nodded his head solemnly. “He collects human hearts. Ever since his wife ran off with his nemesis, Doctor Frankelstein—”

  “Doctor Frankenstein?” I interrupted.

  “Not Doctor Frankenstein.” He rolled his eyes. “Doctor Frankelstein. Different guy. Anyway, Doctor Ecclestein’s wife—”

  “What’s her name?”

  He paused, thinking about it. “Mrs. Ecclestein.”

  I placed my hands on my hips and shot him a look.

  “Fine, Joan.”

  “Fine. Continue.”

  “Ever since Joan ran off with Frankelstein on that fateful day back in… January, Doctor Ecclestein has made it his life’s mission to collect the hearts of all the humans in Whitestone Point. No one in this town will ever love again.” He waited for me to look sufficiently shocked, then carried on, his voice dropping mournfully. “He tried to take mine once.”

  “Oh, no,” I feigned sympathy. “How’d you get away?”

  “I didn’t,” he whispered. “My heart is now pickled in a jar inside that very house.”

  We both looked back at the bleak manor with its boggy, unkempt lawn.

  “It’s true,” Jake insisted. “That’s why they call me ‘the boy without a heart’.”

  “I thought they called you Shadow.”

  “That too.”

  I pressed my hand to Jake’s chest where his heart beat beneath his shirt.

  “It’s a miracle,” I murmured.

  His hand reached up and landed on top of mine. And then, as though suddenly aware of our laced fingers, he dropped his hand back down to his side so fast that I barely saw it move. In response, I hastily dropped my hand, too. We both looked to the ground.

  After an awkward pause, Jake cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, “looks like town wasn’t too far away, after all.” He gestured ahead.

  We’d reached the end of the residential street where the path forked onto the town’s cobbled main road. As we continued onwards, a damp wind stole any warmth from my core and tousled Jake’s hair, playing with the short strands.

  I could see shops and eateries now, and people milling around the charming old-world streets. Oil-burning lampposts lined the pavement, bringing a gentle orange glow to the foggy day.

  Jake set the pace, leading me along the main street. “Do you mind if we make a quick detour before we stop for lunch? I want to call in on a friend of mine.”

  Friend? Jake had friends here? I pictured a demon—a fang-y half-animal, half-human hybrid thing.

  “Okay,” I said, unable to disguise my stricken expression.

  Jake responded with a flippant laugh. “Don’t worry, he’s nothing like me.”

  “Is he…” I swallowed, “human?”

  Jake laughed again. I grimaced.

  We passed a few boutique-style stores and finally came to a stop at a small curiosity shop. The lead-framed window bowed out onto the street, displaying an array of trinkets: a brass lamp, a ship in a bottle, a stack of aged books. The sign above read Seraphim’s in curving gold script.

  “This is it.”

  “Seraphim’s,” I said aloud. “Who’s that?”

  “It’s not a who. It’s a what. It means angel.”

  He opened the door and ushered me inside. A bell chimed above our heads, announcing our arrival. Inside, the shop was dark and musty. It was long and narrow, like a rabbit’s warren, with pillars holding up a low wood-beamed ceiling. The shelves were filled with leather-bound books and quirky ornamental treasures.

  A grey-haired man was standing behind an oak counter, inspecting objects through a magnifying glass. He looked up as the bell sounded. His face, though blessed with gentle features, was aged and weathered.

  “Well, I’ll be…” He set the magnifying glass down and broke into a wide grin.

  “Hello,” Jake said, grinning back.

  The older man stepped out from behind the counter and hugged him. He patted Jake on the back, then pulled away to take a good look at his face.

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, boy,” the shopkeeper said affectionately. “You haven’t been around in a while. I was getting worried.”

  Jake leaned against the counter. “I�
�ve been away from the mountains.” He glanced at me. “They took me out of combat.”

  The man frowned. “Why?”

  Jake shrugged, not giving anything away.

  Now the man turned his gaze towards me. There were faint scars on his skin, proving he’d lived a life beyond that of the humble old shopkeeper I saw today.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself,” he said. “We can’t rely on our friend here” —he thumbed towards Jake— “to abide by the rules of social etiquette. I’m Bernard.”

  I smiled back at him. “I’m Elana.”

  Bernard’s tired eyes lit up. “What a lovely name. It has Greek origins, if memory serves. I believe it means light.”

  “Oh.” My eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Bernard is a general knowledge wiz,” Jake explained. “I swear, there’s nothing this guy doesn’t know.”

  “Oh, well,” said Bernard, laughing, “that’s most definitely an exaggeration.”

  Jake gave another grin.

  “I must admit,” Bernard went on. “It’s a relief to see you alive and well.” He patted Jake on the back again. “And this is a first,” he said, beaming at me. “The boy’s never brought a girlfriend to meet me before—”

  “It’s not like that,” Jake cut him off. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He snorted at the idea. “Not in this lifetime!”

  “Oh.” Bernard cleared his throat and shifted in discomfort.

  I felt my cheeks grow hot. Jake had protested a little too strongly for my liking. Was he really that appalled to have me mistaken for his girlfriend?

  Rude! He should be so lucky!

  “Are you staying a while?” Bernard changed the subject. “I’ve got plenty of room in the apartment if you need a place to stay. You know you’re always welcome.”

  “Thanks, but we won’t be stopping,” Jake told him. “We’re just passing through. Business, you know.”

  At that, Bernard took another long look at me.

  “Elana,” he murmured to himself.

  I swallowed. Light. I sensed I’d pieced together that little coincidence at the same time he had. Although I suspected it wasn’t much of a coincidence at all. Was there even such a thing?