The Light Keeper

by Gabriella Lepore

  “When the power is restored to full strength,” she warbled, “nothing can cross the boundaries. Only the Light Keeper shall breathe this air. Only the Light Keeper shall grace this tower. The Light Keeper exists only for the gateway.”

  My whole body sagged. My worst fears had been realized. If I was to accept this, I would save the world from demons—but at the cost of everything else. My friends, my family, my life.

  And my Jake.

  His hand wrapped around mine, but I barely felt it. Still, I knew he was there.

  Over the next hour or so, the old woman delved deeper into the duties of a Light Keeper.

  She spoke about the black rocks—what she called hidden mountain crystals. She explained how they had been discovered in these very mountains and guarded for centuries. When placed in the north, south, east, and west corners of the very center of the three mountains, the age-old energy emitted waves of force field, locking demonic souls into the region. If the crystals were moved, then the invisible barriers would break and the demons would be free to spill out into the world beyond the mountains.

  Unfortunately for me, I was born to be the only one able to survive at such close proximity to the crystals. When their energy source was restored to its full strength, the beam of light would bend the elements around it, thinning the air even more so. The plus side was that the crystals and I would be safe from demonic trespassers. The downside was, I’d be damned to a life of isolation.

  “One cannot exist without the other. Energy feeds off energy. It is the endless circle of life.” And as the old lady’s energy depleted, so did that of the crystals. As such, with the force field around the mountains deteriorating, the demons were in uprising. The laws of the land had loosened. Demons were straying farther down the mountain, on the cusp of breaking free.

  “That’s why they’re able to come out in daylight now,” Jake murmured. “Because it’s already started, the barriers are already failing.” He bit his thumb nail. “Maybe if we’d have gotten here sooner…”

  I bowed my head.

  “It’s not too late to save others,” said the Light Keeper, her raspy tone softer somehow, as though she knew what had happened to Bernard. “It’s over now.”

  A cold tremor moved through me as her words sunk in.

  It was over. For me, at least.

  In the chair beside me, Jake began coughing. The lack of oxygen up here was wearing on him. I knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The benevolent side of me considered telling him to leave, setting him free of his obligation to me. But I was much too afraid to pay any attention to the benevolent side.

  The old Light Keeper left us alone.

  “Time to say goodbye,” she said as she headed for the stairwell. I noticed her round owl-eyes grew glassy—empathic, even. I supposed she’d had to say goodbye to someone once, too. Or maybe it was she who was saying goodbye now.

  After she’d gone, Jake and I sat in the domed room in silence. With our hands still clasped, we watched storm clouds build over the glass ceiling. Shadows fell across the room, casting dark shapes on the wood floor. The owls stared at us, as if daring one of us to speak. Their hollow, unblinking eyes sent a shiver across my skin.

  Jake was first to break the hush. “Are you scared?” he asked, not looking at me. His gaze was fixed on the empty chair where the old woman had once sat.

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  His fingers tightened around mine.

  “I want to run.”

  Jake said nothing.

  I turned to face him and waited for him to return my gaze. When he did, I held his stare, taking a moment to admire the rich mahogany color of his eyes. I committed it to memory in case I never saw it again.

  “I don’t think I can, though. Run, I mean. I want to… but I can’t. And I won’t.”

  Still, Jake was mute. He was listening, and I could tell he wanted to say something, but his mouth remained clamped shut.

  “Bernard was killed,” I said quietly. “Innocent people have been murdered by demons. And it won’t stop there, will it?”

  He swallowed and shook his head.

  “It’ll get worse, won’t it? And someone needs to be here. That’s just… my fate.”

  It was hard to think of myself as a Light Keeper. Or a witch. Despite everything that had happened over the past few days in my mind I was still just a normal sixteen-year-old girl, with normal problems like pop quizzes and bad hair days. I couldn’t fathom the idea that I was actually a tool in the universe’s grand plan. Jake had said he was born to fight demons—that it was his skill, his driving force. Me? I didn’t feel at all skilled at this, but I was apparently born for it. And I had no other option than to step up and fulfil my role.

  That doesn’t mean it didn’t majorly suck, though.

  Jake stood up from his chair and pulled me into his arms, holding me close. Rising to my feet, I sank into his chest, listening to his heartbeat as I breathed in the scent of his skin. After a second I pushed away, afraid that I would cry if I allowed his sympathy to touch me.

  “Go,” I whispered. I couldn’t look at him anymore. A lump rose in my throat.

  He grazed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Make me,” he said, trying to sound flippant.

  I could already hear the strain in his lungs. And once the changeover happened, he wouldn’t be able to breathe here at all. My chest tightened—but for an entirely different reason.

  Maybe that was why I couldn’t let him stay any longer. Like it or not, I’d been awakened to him. I wanted to be close to him, part of him, and it hurt to know that I never could be. Dragging out our goodbye was just prolonging the pain.

  “Goodbye, Jake,” I managed.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Goodbye,” I repeated.

  “No.” He reached for my hand.

  “Don’t make this worse.” I yanked my fingers free from his grasp. “If you care about me at all, just leave!” I squeezed my eyes shut, trapping the tears before they escaped. “Please.”

  For a minute or two, we were silent. I knew my final words had hit him. I knew in my heart he would leave.

  And I was right.

  Opening my eyes, I watched him walk towards the stairwell, leaving me alone in the cavernous room with storm clouds brewing above my head and dark fog swirling beneath me.

  Jake stopped at the iron banister and glanced back at me. I understood the helplessness and sorrow in his eyes. The guilt, also. I understood it and forgave him instantly.

  I knew that look would be my last memory of him—the one memory of his face that would survive the test of time. Only I didn’t want that pain to be the last thing we shared, the last thing we remembered of each other. I knew what I wanted my last moment with Jake to be. I knew what I wanted my last moment as Elana to be—my last moment as myself before I transformed into the Light Keeper. And it wasn’t this.

  It was this…

  I raced across the room and enveloped myself around Jake. I kissed him and held on, letting every ounce of my being dissolve into him. Giving in to everything I’d felt for him that, up until now, I had repressed.

  He kissed me back, his arms tightening around me, his heart beating fast against mine.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice choked.

  I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. All I could do was kiss him.

  What we shared in that moment was greater than anything I’d ever known possible. Our kiss was like a glimpse of what I imagined love to be, although even in my wildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined that anything could be charged with such overwhelming emotion and fervency. Nothing or no one could ever compare—I believed that with all of my soul.

  To leave on this note was the only way to do our goodbye justice.

  And when, at long last, Jake descended the spiral staircase, I sank to the floor, crumpled, and listened to his footsteps until I could no longer hear them. Soon after, the El Camino engine revved outside. I wrapped my ar
ms around myself until the rumble of the car engine was nothing more than a distant murmur on the wind.

  Jake was gone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Role Reversal

  The next couple of hours passed in a blur. I wasn’t really conscious of what I was feeling in the final time before the changeover—other than I knew I would do it. In a piteous way, it somehow just felt right.

  I stayed in the room at the top of the tower, sitting on the same chair with my knees drawn up to my chest. The old woman came and went at regular intervals. She lit the log fire for me and muttered a few unintelligible comments every now and then. I would have thought that, after decades of seclusion, she would have appreciated the company. But she didn’t. And I was secretly glad of that. I didn’t feel like company either—well, not hers, anyway.

  Jake’s, on the other hand…

  I missed him. I missed him in an unbearable sort of way, with the sort of longing that eats away at your insides until you want to burst.

  How pathetic, I thought, to be so devastated by the absence of my kidnapper.

  It was easier to think of Jake as my kidnapper. If I allowed myself to think of him as anything more, I would fall to pieces.

  Outside, the storm raged. The sun was setting and the sky bled with purple and cobalt blue. Rain hammered on the glass ceiling and poured off the panes in waterfalls. Inside, sheltered from the storm, I was alone. Not completely alone, of course—the owls still watched me with their wide, glistening eyes and the fire crackled, breathing hot air and ochre light into my dimming world.

  In my reflective solitude, my thoughts strayed back to Ashwood Hollow once again, a place that I’d been so cynical of. Though now I was away from it, I pined for it. Oh, the keen sting of irony.

  I thought about everything Ashwood Hollow represented: my family, my friends, my house, even the lame parties in the community hall. They didn’t seem so lame anymore, now that I was permanently off the guest list. I thought about Marissa and my sort-of ex-boyfriend, Ben. I’d never get to wish them well—or, more feasibly, be witness to their break-up. I thought about all the little things I’d taken for granted that I would never again have the chance to appreciate. I’d miss it all.

  With a weary sigh, I rose to my feet and began wandering aimlessly around the room. I stopped at one of the stone pillars and rested my fingertips on its crystal. It was silky and cool to the touch. A small current of electricity buzzed against my skin; it was alive and responsive to me.

  This was my destiny, after all.

  The easiest thing to do would be to wallow in self-pity—to concentrate on all the things I would lose when I became the Light Keeper. Yet, in the midst of my wallowing, I’d overlooked the gain. Merely by giving in to this fate, by staying here, I would save untold numbers of people. Okay, so I wouldn’t have chosen this calling if I’d had the option. But it chose me, and I had to trust that there was a reason for that.

  There is a reason, I assured myself. This is my part to play. I reflected over Jake’s comment about leaving his old life behind: that one day this would all make sense.

  Would it?

  What about his role in all this? Was it over now?

  Yes.

  The answer came to me, clear as day. The memory of his touch, his kiss, the sound of his voice that I so desperately wanted to hear, it would all fade. In time I’d be forced to forget him and commit to a life of eccentricity and owl collecting. I’d spend my time counting down the years until the next poor sucker came along to take my place.

  My eyes began to pool.

  I swiftly reprimanded myself. No more self-pity. Jeez, that was going to be a tough one to uphold.

  I heard the clang of footsteps ascending the iron staircase.

  My stomach knotted. Was it time?

  The old Light Keeper appeared on the stairwell, and scuttled into the room.

  “Broth?” she said in a scratchy voice, offering me a steaming bowl of grey liquid. She dipped her finger in it and gave it a quick stir.

  I summoned a smile but shook my head no.

  She didn’t force the issue, setting the bowl on the floor beside me, obviously presuming I’d change my mind at some point.

  She gave me a toothless smile before she left. There was kindness behind her wide, inquisitive eyes. I could see courage there, too.

  “Um, Miss?” I called, stopping her. What was her name? Miss…Keeper?

  She paused at the staircase.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know your name.”

  “I am the Light Keeper,” she replied robotically.

  I grimaced. So was this what I had to look forward to? Becoming the nameless, faceless old owl woman who lives in the tower?

  She made a move to leave again.

  “Do you remember it?” I blurted out. “Do you remember when you were first brought here?”

  She craned her neck to look at me and her expression clouded.

  “How long ago?” My voice was weak and I felt cold all over.

  “Long ago,” she finally answered.

  “Were you scared?”

  The lines on her forehead deepened. “Yes.”

  I swallowed. “Are you scared now?”

  She hesitated. “No.” She offered me another toothless smile.

  How, when facing her death after a long life of loneliness, could she be so calm? Complacent, even?

  “Why not?” I asked.

  Her gazed moved to the owls dotted around the room, regarding each one with a fond expression. “My life,” she began empathically, “has been wonderful.” She stared thoughtfully at me. “And so shall yours be. No greater purpose has ever been served.”

  I gazed numbly into her knowing eyes.

  “I’ve seen your future,” she went on with a lopsided grin. “I foresaw your coming, and I foresee beyond. It is a gift bestowed upon me by the crystals. You have no need to fear the future. It is already written.”

  A chill ran down my spine. Her words were both comforting and threatening all at once.

  She approached me and touched her frail, bony hand to my cheek. “You,” she said, sounding strong all of sudden, “will live on.”

  My eyelids lowered. There was nothing else to say.

  Then, to my surprise, she planted the smallest of kisses on my forehead, and without another word she left me alone.

  The sun had set now, and the dwindling light outside was quickly seeping away. The fire glowed softly at the back of the room, offering a red haze of light. When darkness finally took over, I made no attempt to light the candles; I was content to stay in the moon shadows cast through the glass roof. The full moon that had brought Jake and me together was gone, replaced by a half moon. It felt apt.

  It was time for the changeover.

  I heard the clank of someone moving along the staircase. But something was different this time.

  All of a sudden there it was again—that same intuition that had told me Jake was behind me on the night he’d taken me from my bedroom. It wasn’t explainable; I just knew it was him.

  Jake was here.

  My focus shot to the dimly lit stairwell. I clung to the edge of my chair, waiting, hoping.

  The clang of footsteps grew nearer.

  And then, out of the darkness, he emerged. He let out a breath when he saw me. In a daze, I leaped from my seat and ran to him.

  His arms locked around me and I clung to him, burying my face into his neck. His clothes and skin were damp with rainwater, and the rush of his scent made my head spin.

  “You’re here,” I breathed.

  He untangled himself from me and pulled back just a little, giving me a chance to see the wild look in his eyes.

  “Shh.” He pressed his finger to his lips.

  My gaze met his in the low light of the stairwell. “What—” I’d scarcely started my sentence before his hand was pressed over my mouth, stifling my words.

  “Shh,” he warned again in barely a murmur. �
�We’re leaving.”

  It was then that I realized why he was here. It wasn’t to steal more minutes with me before the changeover. No. He was here to steal me. Again.

  I eased his hand down from my mouth.

  “I can’t,” I mouthed. “I have to…” I trailed off.

  He shook his head. “I have a plan.”

  My breath caught. “Plan?” I echoed in a whisper.

  This time he said nothing. He wound his fingers through mine and led me onto the staircase. We began our descent in silence, treading softly on the iron rungs. In no time we were back in the dark hallway, where the brass candlesticks projecting from the walls set out a path to the door.

  “How?” I asked under my breath. My pulse was racing. Could Jake have really found a way around this? I could hardly breathe as a surge of excitement rocked through me.

  Jake’s grip tightened and he pulled me to the exit. The next thing I knew, we were outside and running full pelt through the lashing rain. I could see the half moon reflecting off the El Camino, which was parked at the bottom of a small grassy incline, hidden amongst a cluster of fir trees.

  Hand in hand, we raced towards it, slipping on the waterlogged bank. Jake flung open the passenger door and forced me in. Seconds later, he was in the driver’s seat and the car rumbled to life.

  I let out a breath. “Jake, speak to me,” I urged, my voice louder now. “What’s going on?”

  He pressed his foot to the accelerator and the El Camino jumped.

  My whole body trembled as we tore downhill through the High Peak forest. I craned my neck to look out the rear window. Behind me, the watchtower gradually disappeared from sight.

  “What about the Light Keeper?” I choked, looking over at Jake. I clung to my seatbelt as the car rocketed forward, making hairpin turns to dodge trees and foliage.

  “You can’t stay there,” he replied in a stony voice. “You need to go home.” His eyes remained fixed on the route ahead.

  I stared at him, aghast. Talk about a colossal turnaround. Of course I was glad to hear him say that. After all, that’s what I had wanted him to say since day one. But now that I knew what I knew, I felt like a traitor.