The Elysian Prophecy (Keeper of Ael Book 1)

by Vivien Reis

  The police had already questioned her, but what if she hadn't told them everything?

  He got in his truck and the great roar of the engine was comforting. How long had it been since he had been in his truck, had dreaded the early morning drive to school? How little he had appreciated it.

  The ever-present voice tried to peek through the surface, but Ben hummed it away. He couldn't go to the doctor about this. He would deal with it himself. His mom had a doctor since the day she snapped and what good had that done? It just prolonged the inevitable.

  If the doctor was right about the headaches, then all of this was triggered by stress. If he did as Gran asked, maybe school would take his mind off everything and things would calm down.

  Maybe.

  He had dropped Abi off at Cora’s house dozens of times, but never noticed there were two front doors. After a pause, he picked the one on the right.

  Cora answered at the second knock, her now dark purple hair in a bun. She said nothing for a minute and then stepped aside to let him in.

  He didn't waste time. "Have the police come by to talk to you?" Ben had never been inside her house. It resembled a museum and smelled like oranges.

  "Yeah. Twice."

  The house seemed empty. Ben was glad. He didn't want strange looks from anyone at that moment. But Cora's expression wasn't strange, it was knowing. She shared in the same loss for Abi as he did. He had never particularly liked Cora, but right then he couldn't remember why.

  "What did they ask you?"

  "If she wanted to run away." Cora rolled her eyes. "Abi's smart. I told them it would be incredibly stupid of her to run away from her life like that. Ergo, she wouldn't do it. She would be the last person in the world to throw logic out the window."

  "Yeah." Why was his throat suddenly tight? Why was there a heaviness in his chest? "Were there any guys she was seeing? Or any strange things that happened to her recently?"

  "Other than the men showing up at your house while she was there, no. I mean, there was a guy who had her phone number but nothing ever happened between the two them."

  A protectiveness burned in his chest. A guy? “What guy?”

  “Like I said, nothing serious. I don’t even know if he ever texted her.”

  They stood in silence. Ben realized this was the longest conversation they’d ever had.

  The voicechurned inside his head. "You like her," it said, a chorus that overlapped with itself over and over.

  Again, he closed his eyes. "Go away." And the moment he opened his eyes, they disappeared.

  But Cora was staring at him with confusion on her face. "Umm, no? I live here."

  "Huh?" His confusion matched hers. Had he asked her a question and not known it?

  "You just told me to go away. Are you feeling okay? You don't look so good."

  He really wished people would stop asking him that. "I'm fine. My head just hurts again." It was a lie, one he hoped he wouldn't jinx into coming true.

  "So, what's the next step?" She sat down on the floor of her living room, her back against the sofa.

  Ben joined her. "I don't know."

  "Well, we have to do something. We have to help somehow. I'm tired of sitting around, just waiting."

  So was Ben. "But how? I don't see what we could do. We have no leads and no resources like the police do."

  "We do have something." Cora got up and went upstairs. Ben waited a moment before following, unsure if she wanted him to.

  Family pictures lined the stairway from floor to ceiling. As he walked up the stairs, there was a hard transition about halfway up when her dad stopped appearing in the photos. Had it been easier that way? There one day and gone the next? If his mom had disappeared like that instead of getting sick, would his life had been more like Cora’s, more normal?

  He stuck his head in every room before finding the one she was in.

  It was surprisingly not that messy. Ben had always imagined her to have a trashed room. She turned from her nightstand with something dangling from her hand.

  "What is that?" He moved closer and saw it was a necklace with a white stone.

  "Abi found this in your house. This could be what those men were looking for."

  "Did you tell the sheriff?" Cora laid it in Ben's hand and he turned it over, a warmth seeping into his skin from the stone.

  "No. I mean, Abi didn’t want to. But it makes sense now. The men didn't take anything from your house, but they were obviously looking for something." She paused, mulling something over. “We can bring it to the police if you want.”

  If they did, then what would happen to it? They would take it away and what if these people were able to take the necklace from the police? Would it be safer here?

  "No, not yet. But why would they trash our house for this?" To Ben it just looked like an old necklace. Like maybe something Gran's grandmother would have worn.

  "I don't know. But I think it's our first clue."

  Ben stared at the stone and thought he saw a small swirling of red in it.

  Cora sat on her bed, picking at her nails. Her voice was just above a whisper. "Do you think she did it?"

  No one had asked Ben this—what he thought. No one was brave enough to bring it up. "I don't know."

  "I don't think she did." She looked directly at him then, and he glanced away. Her eyes were a dark blue, with a thin star pattern in them. How had he not known that before?

  "I don't either. That's what the police are saying but..." But nothing. There was nothing else to say.

  "Ben." He looked up and her face was a lot closer than he’d expected it to be. "I'm so sorry this happened to you. To Abi. To your dad. It all seems like a bad dream and I can't imagine what you're going through."

  She squeezed his hand. Ben knew nothing about this girl. Cora had always been with Abi, but somehow he had no idea who she was. The hard exterior was just makeup, spiked clothing, and dyed hair. But there was more. Ben could tell why Abi liked her.

  Her mood shifted, like she had realized something. "Did your mom ever keep a journal? A diary?"

  "Uh, I don't know. Maybe." Ben couldn't recall her ever writing in one.

  "What if she had one and wrote something about the stone in it?"

  "Oh." She's smart. "Mom still painted on her good days, but I don’t know about any journals. If she had one, Gran would have boxed it up. Everything's in a storage unit now."

  "Do you have the keys for it?"

  "No, but I can get them." A tremor of excitement made Ben sit up straighter. What were the chances his mom had a diary? What if there was something in it that could lead him directly to her or to Abi?

  He held the stone out in front of him, giving it back to Cora.

  Something about the necklace felt right. If it was what those men were after, Ben and Cora needed to find out where it had come from. Maybe it was worth a lot of money and they thought Abi had it with her that night. Or maybe they thought she would lead them to it.

  Ben and Cora would find out the story behind the necklace and then it would help them find Abi.

  It had to.

  The voice told him it would.

  Ben opened his car door, but he didn't get in. He didn't want to go back to Gran and his life just yet but it was late—no stores were open anymore, no place he could go.

  Closing the door to his truck, he stared down the street to his left and then to his right. Left.

  He didn't know where he was going but the stretch and pull on his limbs as he walked felt good.. A dog barked in the distance and the trees rustled. Stars were barely visible through thin clouds, but he stared up at them anyway.

  Gran probably had the key to the storage shed on her key chain, which meant he would have to get up early enough to grab it before she woke. If he asked her for the key, she might want to go with them and then they’d have to tell her about the necklace.

  And if someone in the police department was really involved in Abi’s disappearance, then they couldn
’t tell the police about it either.

  He would leave Gran’s house, pick up Cora, and then they would hunt through every box. Gran had labeled them all, so he figured it shouldn't take too long.

  For the first time, he actually had something to do. He wasn't sitting around losing his mind by himself.

  Ben kept walking, imagining what would happen if they found something. What if they found his sister? Two teenagers, playing detective. He thought about how proud his dad would be. Maybe the family's luck could change after all.

  And maybe if his dad got better, they could move. He could teach at any university in the country and they'd be able to start over, without the burden of their mom.

  It wasn't until Ben reached the main highway that he realized how far he had walked. He glanced down at his phone—nearly an hour had passed. He texted Gran to let her know he was okay, and would be home by midnight.

  Ben turned down Macomb Street, taking a shorter route than he had come. There were fewer streetlights, but it would cut his return time in half. He was passing a large two-story house on his right when he spotted something in the bushes. It was a figure, moving.

  A guy, about the same age as Ben, sat tucked between two bushes, sipping something from a large bottle.

  Ben didn't recognize him. He was tempted to cross the street to avoid the kid, but it was too late, he’d spotted him.

  "Hey!" The boy stepped out from his hiding place.

  "What's up?" Ben gave a slight nod, not intending to stop.

  "Wait, you want some?" Even though Ben was at least twenty feet from the boy, he held the bottle out toward Ben.

  "Nah. I'm good." He didn't feel like socializing with this stranger, but more than that, he wasn't sure if he should mix alcohol with his meds.

  "Oh, c'mon. I'm bored out of my mind out here." The boy's voice was surprisingly deep for how skinny he was. After giving a quick glance over his shoulder, he jogged over to where Ben stood. "I'm Avery."

  "Ben."

  They shook hands, which seemed strange, like Ben was playing at being an adult.. Avery was the same height as him but had jet black hair and eyes so dark that it was impossible to see where his pupils started.

  "You new here?"

  Avery nodded, motioning to the house behind him. "I just moved in with my uncle. He's Hitler reincarnate, if you ask me. He legitimately gave me a list of rules. A fucking list!"

  "Damn." Ben didn't know what else to say.

  "I know. My parents sent me here because they thought I could learn some discipline from the man. All I've learned is how many germs live on the bottom of shoes, and that bread absolutely needs to be in a bread box."

  Ben actually chuckled, struck by how strangely good it was to hear about someone else's problems. Normal problems. "Where'd you move from?"

  "New York City! This little town is already driving me nutso. What's there to do around here, anyway?"

  "You're doing it. That and play sports."

  "Heh, do I look like I play sports?" Avery motioned toward his thin frame and took another swig. He had long, bony fingers, and Ben imagined him playing video games.

  A nerd that drinks by himself at midnight?

  "Well, our school's not that big, so you might actually make a team if you showed up for try-outs. I guess we have a good journalism program too." He kicked an acorn across the street.

  "I just need to survive the rest of this year. Hunker down for the storm." He said it like Logan's Bluff was a prison sentence.

  Even though Ben didn't have plans to stick around after high school, he also didn't think their town was half bad.

  "I have to get going, man. I'll see you around."

  Avery held up the hand holding the bottle, wiggling his fingers in a goodbye. "Later, Ben."

  By the time he reached his truck, it was already midnight, and sweat dewed on his forehead. His skull ached at his temples. He hadn't even thought about the physical exertion causing a headache.

  Ben strained his eyes. He reached out to grab the door handle and missed, falling into the truck. His limbs felt foreign to him, the door nearly impossible to swing open. He froze.

  Bright lights flashed and disappeared in odd patterns, blinding him, and then casting him in darkness. A loud and vibrating buzz filled his head with each nauseating flicker. Ben steadied himself against the truck.

  Each buzz violently squeezed him, like a giant rubber band compressing tightly around his head before releasing.

  The flashing disappeared and Ben fumbled, trying to get his hand to open the door. He needed to get into the truck. Sit down. Breath.

  Flashing light erupted again, and he fought with every pause to climb inside his truck, finally hoisting himself inside.

  He lay across the bench seat, legs dangling out of the open door.

  Several agonizing beats later, Ben saw something in the pulsing light. He strained against the pain to make out shapes.

  Odd lines made a faint geometric pattern with the source of the light directly in the center. It took four more flashing spells before Ben could make out what it was—white ceiling tiles.

  The next set of painful flares spun the room around.

  There was someone there. A man, sitting calmly in a chair. Ben concentrated on picking up one detail at a time with each flicker.

  Black boots.

  Tan pants.

  Black shirt.

  The man's face took longer.

  Closely shaved.

  Thin lips in an animalistic smirk.

  Buzz cut, dirty blond hair.

  And then he saw the eyes. Intense and ice blue. They were staring right at him, and he could feel the man inside his head.

  No, it didn't feel like his head. Ben's vision floated him up and around until he saw the outline of a person that chilled his blood. Abi.

  She was curled into a ball, her matted hair covering most of her face. Her clothes and skin were filthy. The man was doing something to her from across the room, without even touching her.

  The flashes disappeared and Ben was drained, shivering. He winced against the threat of another flash but none came.

  His skull was hollow and full to bursting at the same time. He pushed his stiff body into a sitting position and tried to slow his breathing, to ease the painful throbs in his temples.

  Ben mustered the courage to look at his phone. 12:30. He had two texts from Gran, but his stiff arm could hardly hold the phone steady.

  He drove home slowly, afraid another attack would take hold of him. Only one car passed him on the entire drive to Gran's, and Ben was thankful.

  For the first time, he started to think maybe he wasn't losing his mind.

  Maybe these attacks were visions. Maybe he’d glimpsed where they were keeping Abi.

  A chill ran deep through his bones at the idea. Ben didn't know who the man was, but he was sure about one thing.

  The man was torturing his little sister.

  # EIGHTEEN

  Pain.

  Abi tried her best to remember where she was. Who she was.

  Loops of time wove in and out of each other, pushing her through the nothing she was in. She would wake up, hard stone beneath her, before being ripped back under. The soft ground was like flesh under her feet, warm and wrong. Wake up. Back under. Here. Away.

  Voices drifted around her. A sharp sting to her right cheek. She whimpered. It was the man again. The man with no name. She was still blind, and she wanted to sob, to scream and claw and kill these people. But it hurt too much.

  Something hit her side and clattered to the ground, plastic crinkling. She picked it up, feeling it over. Water. She snatched the bottle up, ripped the top off, and drank greedily, spilling it down her front. It burned as it hit her empty stomach and almost came back up. She coughed, sputtered, and continued drinking, hating herself for acting like an animal in front of these people. Hating what they were doing to her.

  A metal on metal screech tore through her skull. The chair.
<
br />   Her ribs ached as she rose up, pressing hard against the wall. She was too weak to stand.

  "Hello, Abigail." She hated her name. The way it rolled off his tongue like she was a delicacy—a food. Hot pain rushed through her body in a wave. "Are you ready?"

  And then he punched the air from her lungs, but it wasn't him and it wasn't his hands. Bright lights danced before her eyes, waiting to take shape. But it wasn't a vision.

  For the first time in ages, she could actually see. Her eyesight was blurry, and she had to squint and blink hard past the stiffness of her eye muscles. It was surreal, like she was viewing the world through a fishbowl lens.

  Everything blended into one long streak of nausea and sweat and chills. A group of cloaked figures surrounded the man. A bright light shone behind them, making it difficult to clearly discern the man who had tormented her for what seemed like weeks.

  "I'm curious to know what your mother has told you. Have you ever heard of King Lucius?" He spoke slowly, each syllable grating against the inside of Abi's skull. Haunting. Beautiful. "He's not mentioned in history books, but he was a demi-deia. The first among us. Our father." Reverence permeated the room, filling into the corners and cloaking the skin on Abi's arms, her legs. She shivered.

  She didn't want to hear a story. She wanted to sleep, to slink down the wall and rest.

  "The deias banished him from Elysia for crimes he didn't commit, and then a human murdered him in cold blood. He gave so much in that time, living for generations, ruling, teaching. You, Abi, will help us bring him home."

  He fell silent, and the lights blinked out. Panic seized her but the man hadn't taken her sight. She could make out tiny lights bobbing around the room.

  No, not lights. Candles.

  Red painted faces were illuminated by each candle, the swish of long, dark robes, and the shuffling of feet surrounding her.

  The man stood and disappeared behind the cloaked people, who yanked Abi to the center of the room and encircled her.

  A hum spread through the crowd, buzzing into her brain. It grew louder and louder until the words of a chant rose above them. Abi didn't understand them. Her eyes darted from person to person.