Keeper

by Kim Chance

  “Oh, Henry,” she sobbed from behind her hands. “I’m so afraid. I don’t know what to do.”

  With gentle fingers, Henry pried her hands away from her face. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Jo. I swear it.” He pushed her long hair away from her face, his hand tracing the contours of her neck before kissing the curve of her shoulder.

  For a few precious seconds, the only thing Josephine could think about was the feel of Henry’s lips, the heat that flushed her skin at his touch, but no sooner had he broken away than did her body begin to ache from the unbearable weight of her emotions.

  She buried her face in the crook of his neck as hot tears pricked her eyes. “They’re dead, you know,” she finally whispered. “My father. Mother and Mercy. Everyone.” She continued to weep.

  As she clung to him, Henry rocked her back and forth. “I know, my love. I know.”

  The emotions tormenting her were excruciating, and with Henry’s strong arms wrapped around her, Josephine finally gave in and let herself feel the full extent of her grief.

  Her body shook violently, and sobs tore from her throat as she cried for the family she had lost. Henry held her against his chest, and Josephine was sure that his arms were the only things keeping her from breaking into a thousand pieces.

  Henry kept his hold on her long after her tears subsided.

  “I’m sorry,” Josephine said, sitting up. “I shouldn’t fall apart like this. I’m just so thankful you’re here. I thought I was all alone.”

  “Listen to me.” Henry leaned forward, his expression fierce. “You will never be alone, Jo. I will always look after you.”

  “Always?”

  “Always.” And as if to seal his declaration with a kiss, Henry pulled her toward him, capturing her lips with his own. It wasn’t until she tasted salt that Josephine realized that the tears were not entirely her own.

  Goose bumps rose on her skin and she shivered, but this time, it had nothing to do with the cold. Henry’s fingers traced down her arms, his lips like a gentle caress at the base of her throat. Warmth pooled in the pit of her stomach, and it wasn’t long until her entire body burned. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him tight against her body. Henry’s lips moved from her skin, and Josephine barely had time to take a breath before his lips came crashing back down on hers.

  Their kiss deepened, and Josephine gave herself over to it, letting her pain wash away like rainwater. The only thing she could think about was Henry. Of his strong hands moving across her back. Of the hot kisses he trailed up and down her slender neck. Everywhere he touched felt on fire, his fingers leaving a trail of what felt like tangible flames on her skin.

  Her hands gripped his shoulders as she tried to pull him even tighter around her slender frame. Her arms were aching, but the burning inside her dictated her every move, and she couldn’t let go.

  She didn’t want to.

  So when he laid her against the worn wooden floor, she closed her eyes and gripped him tighter.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Hello?” A pair of fingers snapped in front of my face. “Earth to Styles. Come in, Styles.”

  I blinked several times before Maggie’s face came into view. I recognized the row of lockers behind her head, and the chatter from people moving past us confirmed that we were still in the hallway, in the exact same spot we’d been standing when I saw Josephine.

  “Um . . . are you okay?” Maggie was staring at me, one eyebrow raised.

  I nodded my head. “Yeah . . . sorry.” I glanced around for Josephine, but she was gone. “I just saw Josephine again. She showed me another . . . vision or whatever.”

  “Just now?” Maggie’s face brightened. “What did she say? What did you see?”

  “She was hiding, on the run from the people that attacked her family. But then someone found her.”

  Maggie gripped my arm, already deeply engrossed in the telling.

  “It was her lover or husband, I think,” I continued. “Josephine thought he’d been murdered like the others, but he’d managed to escape.”

  “And?” Maggie demanded. “What happened next?”

  “They . . .”

  I won’t let anyone hurt you, Jo. The words echoed in my ears, and a hot flush crept up my neck as the corresponding images rippled through my thoughts. It was uncomfortable being so present in someone else’s tender moment—especially considering my own experience in the love department was limited at best. I shrugged. “Nothing, they just . . . reconnected. That’s all.”

  “Reconn—oh!” Maggie’s knowing grin made the fire under my skin burn even hotter. Thankfully, she didn’t press me further. “She’s obviously showing you these things on purpose. Why, though?”

  “I feel like she’s trying to tell me something,” I said. “But I have no idea what.”

  “Well, all the more reason for us to check out that supermoon, right?”

  I nodded. “Right. I was doing some research earlier and—”

  The shrill clang of the bell cut me off. I groaned. That red glaring “C” from earlier flashed in my mind. “I guess it’s chemistry first. Paranormal investigation later.”

  Maggie looped her arm through mine as we headed toward the science lab. “I’ll hold you to that, Styles.”

  I laughed. “I’m counting on it.”

  On Friday night when we pulled into the parking lot at the cemetery, the sky was dotted with stars. The moon was a big, shining orb in the sky, despite the thick layer of fog that had settled over the grounds. Drooping magnolia trees loomed eerily over the pathways and headstones, and Spanish moss hung from the low branches. Tendrils of ivy wound around the wrought iron gate that surrounded the premises, and everything looked gothic and full of mystery. The graveyard was spectacularly spooky—the perfect location for contacting a ghost.

  “It looks like something right out of Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination,” I said, scrunching my nose.

  “Doesn’t it, though?” Maggie beamed, peering eagerly out the window.

  “It’s certainly creepy enough.”

  “This is one of the oldest cemeteries in the state,” Maggie said. “I looked it up, and there are stones here that date back to the 1700s. My guess is if there’s anywhere we’ll find Josephine, it’s here. Now, come on. It’s time to track down a ghost!”

  “It does look promising,” I said, trying to ignore the way my stomach was churning.

  Maggie stopped right outside the main gate and slung off her backpack. She began pulling things from inside—flashlights, a mirror, several pieces of chalk, matches, salt, candles, a thick white crystal on a string—and arranging them neatly on the pavement.

  “Whoa, Mary Poppins,” I said, staring at the supplies. “What’s all this?”

  I’d done a lot of reading on supermoons, but nothing I read mentioned the arsenal Maggie was assembling.

  She rolled her eyes. “Contacting the spirit world is complicated, Styles. I wasn’t sure what we’d need. I had to come prepared.”

  “Right. I guess I didn’t know that,” I deadpanned. “Séances for Dummies wasn’t exactly high on my reading list.”

  Maggie glared at me for a minute before turning her attention back to her supplies. She pulled a composition book from her bag and flipped to a page covered in her messy scrawl. “Just give me a few minutes to make sure I’ve got it all in order.”

  Kicking loose pieces of gravel with my shoes, I walked toward a dilapidated picnic table off to the side of the main gate. The magnolia trees were blowing in the wind, casting strange shadows on the slabs of wood. I sat with my hand in a sliver of moonlight, watching the shadows dance across my skin. My stomach was in knots, and my hands and feet tingled with nervous energy. I began to run the facts through my mind—everything I’d gleaned about supermoons and then every little de
tail I recalled from the visions of Josephine.

  “You’re doing this to find the answers,” I reminded myself. “Don’t be a chicken shit, Lainey.” I shook my shoulders out and took a deep breath. Whatever Josephine had to tell me, I needed to be ready.

  I jumped off the table and turned to head back toward Maggie when I noticed that a figure was making its way toward me. My heart reacted before my brain did, jolting in my chest. The cemetery didn’t get a whole lot of foot traffic during the day, and I doubted the evening hours were any different.

  Panic lanced through me, and my mind immediately began imagining a scene from Law and Order. I almost yelled for Maggie, but the words caught in my throat.

  There was something familiar about the strong set of his shoulders—I was sure it was a guy—and the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Tension stretched across his back, and I watched as he reached up and entwined both his hands behind his neck—a gesture I’d seen Gareth make on several occasions when he was thinking hard about something.

  As he came closer, I got a better look at his face.

  “Ty?”

  He stopped and trained his eyes on me. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt over a pair of worn jeans and looking more like James Dean than anyone had a right to. My heart began to race. I gulped. “Hey,” I managed to squeak out.

  Ty took a few steps closer to the table and nodded. “Hey,” he replied, his expression changing into a smile. He sat down on the picnic table. “What are you doing here?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same question.”

  Ty shrugged. “I like to go for walks in the evening. Helps me clear my mind.”

  “And a cemetery is your idea of a good place for a leisurely stroll?”

  A strange expression crossed Ty’s face. I couldn’t place it, and it was quickly replaced by his usual half smile. “Why not?”

  A beam of light cut through the darkness, landing on Ty’s face. He squinted and raised a hand.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Maggie said, walking over, her flashlight still aimed at his face. “What are you doing here, Pretty Face?”

  My cheeks flamed. “Maggie!”

  “What?” Maggie looked at me for a second, then trained her eyes back on Ty. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

  “Just walking. It’s a beautiful night.” Ty gestured to the sky. The full moon was a silver orb shining brightly against the velvet backdrop of the night sky.

  “Uh-huh,” Maggie said. “Well, if you’re here, you might as well help.” She tossed him one of the flashlights and gave me an obvious wink. “Come on.”

  Ty grabbed the flashlight out of the air. “And what exactly are we doing?”

  “We’re—”

  “We’re doing research,” I blurted out. “For a history project.” There was no way I was about to admit the real reason behind our visit to the graveyard.

  Maggie snorted but didn’t contradict me. She just rolled her eyes and gave me a look that said, “Really, Styles?”

  I pushed past her and walked through the front gate. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain Maggie’s bag of supplies or keep Ty from thinking we were both complete nut jobs, but I was determined to try.

  I moved through the headstones, reading off the names in my head as I passed.

  Lainey.

  I jumped, a cool shiver cascading down my spine.

  The voice whispered again in my ear. Lainey.

  I twisted my head back and forth a few times before I saw her. Josephine was standing under a tall tree, waving her arms. Her eyes were wide and her lips were moving, but no sound came out. The look on her face set an alarm bell off in my head.

  “You okay?” Ty was at my shoulder, silhouetted by the moonlight.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said, as Josephine blinked back into the shadows. “I . . . thought I saw something.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “Well, we are in a graveyard,” Ty said with a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe it was a ghost.”

  I swallowed. “Yeah, maybe.” You have no idea how right you are. I waited for a few seconds, but Josephine didn’t reappear. I headed toward Maggie, a feeling gnawing at my mind: something was wrong.

  Lainey!

  This time, her voice was as light as the wind, barely above a whisper, but with a resonating undercurrent that made my entire body tense.

  “Josephine?” I whispered into the darkness. I was trying not to panic, but the look I’d seen on her face was disconcerting. A layer of goose bumps popped up, coating my skin. The air itself seemed suspended . . . as if it was waiting for something.

  “Mags—” I broke off. A strange pressure wrapped around me and I couldn’t breathe. My heart thumped in my chest, and every nerve cell in my body prickled.

  “What’s wrong?” Maggie appeared at my side.

  It took all my effort to respond; the pressure squeezed me like a vice. “I don’t know,” I managed to whisper. “But I saw her.”

  “Josephine’s here?” Maggie’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s great!”

  The pressure lessened, but uneasiness still coursed through me. “No, something’s wrong. It was like she was trying to talk to me but couldn’t. I don’t know, Mags . . . the look on her face was . . . something’s not right.”

  “You guys okay?” Ty appeared beside us, and we both jumped.

  “Holy crapkittens,” Maggie squealed, smacking Ty with her hand. “Don’t you know not to creep up on someone in the middle of a cemetery?”

  “Sorry. Wasn’t trying to scare you.”

  I tried to laugh, but it came out breathy and high-pitched. Cringing, I gave a little shrug and started walking toward another section of the cemetery. Maybe if I’m alone, she’ll come back. Glancing behind me to make sure I was out of earshot, I whispered, “Josephine? Are you there?”

  Though the moon was high in the sky, the trees in this part of the cemetery were dense and looming, not letting in much light. Another shiver darted down my back, and with shaky hands I reached in my back pocket for the flashlight I’d shoved there.

  I clicked on the power. The beam of light was solid for a few seconds before flickering and going out.

  “What the hell?” I tapped the flashlight against the palm of my hand and clicked the button a few more times. Nothing. It was completely dead.

  I turned around, but it had become so dark I could hardly see two feet in front of me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my breathing seemed to echo back at me across the eerily quiet grove of trees. Though I could hear their voices, farther away than I thought, I couldn’t see Maggie or Ty from where I was standing.

  Too far, Styles. A little too far. I shook my head and turned back the way I’d come. I’m going to get back to Maggie and we’re going to get the hell out of here. We’re going to—

  The breath caught in my throat, and I stared at the ground—my eyes refusing to accept the sight: a long, thick vine was creeping toward me, slithering like a snake across the grass.

  You’re seeing things, the ever-faithful voice of reason whispered, but I shook my head. No, this was real.

  The realization barely registered when the vine jerked toward me, snapping and twisting as it wrapped around my ankle and yanked me forward. I landed hard on my backside, all the wind knocked out of me. Another thick vine wrapped around my arm and encircled my hand and wrist. I shrieked and kicked at the vine, but it was too fast and too strong.

  Using the flashlight in my free hand as a weapon, I tried to bludgeon the vine holding my wrist. The tree above me swayed, its limbs moving like a puppet master working his marionette. I screamed as one of the branches dipped down and wrapped around my waist, yanking me to my feet. It pulled me toward the thick trunk of the tree, the vines tightening around my arms and legs.

 
; “Lainey!” a voice called, but it sounded a million miles away.

  “Help!” I wailed, struggling against the tree. Hot tears burned my eyes, and I blinked rapidly, trying to clear them. The trunk of the tree was vibrating, and the rough bark against my back was hot, like the surface of an oven. Wind whipped through my hair, and I swore I heard laughter in the leaves as they enveloped me.

  “Please,” I choked out. “Please let me go.”

  The tree responded by squeezing me tighter. I cried out, and the movement created a painful pressure in my chest.

  I’m going to die.

  I tried to move, to scream, but every cell in my body was wailing in pain. The tree held me so tightly I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. The branches continued to loop over my body, the leaves coarse against my skin. It was getting harder to breathe.

  The vines rippled across me. My brain hurled the image of a boa constrictor in front of my eyes, and it was then that I knew: I’m already dying.

  Uncontrollable tears gushed down my cheeks as I waited for the inevitable. The branches got tighter.

  The tree isn’t going to suffocate you. Like a boa, it’s going to kill you from lack of blood circulation to your vital organs. The voice in my head spoke like a teacher giving a lecture. No emotion. Just the cold, hard facts.

  Your circulatory system is malfunctioning. Your arterial pressure is dropping, and your venous pressure is skyrocketing. Your blood cells are beginning to close.

  “Lainey!” The voice was closer this time, but I knew by the time they reached me it would be too late.

  Your heart is going to give out. It won’t be long now.

  “No!” My voice was strained, and the cry was barely audible. No! I don’t want to die tonight! I fought against the calm, scientific voice, NO!

  Warmth bloomed in the pit of my stomach and began to spread throughout my body.

  I will not die tonight!