“I’ll listen for it later,” I said. “Right now, I just need to sleep.”
Simon nodded. “Goodnight, Jenna,” he said. Then he turned and walked back to his car. I watched him drive away and wondered if I should have invited him inside.
“You don’t need him,” the Board whispered in my mind. “You have me. You will always have me.”
Ignoring it, I went inside and locked the door behind me, hoping that dreamless sleep would come … and knowing that it wouldn’t.
15
“You are certain she will be leaving, my Lord?”
“She cannot help it. The next Board is calling to her, and she has no choice but to answer. At last, this one, untrained girl, will accomplish what five thousand years of effort could not. And use will be there for it!”
Water rushes toward me in a wall …
A tsunami dances on the surface of the sea …
Cresting, it plunges down over me and I taste salt and death … a strange thrumming beat fills the air. It calls to me. The Board of Water. That is the next Board and I can hear it in my mind, my skin … my heart.
Where … somewhere far from home … to the desert … to a place where kingdoms rose and fell on scimitars blooded by Christians and heretics …
“Come to me … Call me and I will be yours …”
I am in the water and everything around me is dead …
I sat up in bed, feeling worse than I had the night before when I fell asleep. I knew that today would be my last day in Miller’s Crossing, and while I had always wanted to travel, the circumstances that had made that possible weren’t exactly what I’d had in mind.
After dragging myself out of bed and through my morning routine, I sat in the living room, wondering how long it would take before Simon showed up and demanded that we leave. I shrugged—why wait for him when I had other things to do? It wasn’t like he’d had trouble finding me before.
Outside, last night’s promise of spring was being fulfilled. The sun shone, the puddles of rain from last night’s storm were drying up and birds were singing in the trees. I stepped to the front door and opened the hall closet to get a light jacket. The suitcase was gone and I realized that Simon must have taken it when he left the day before. I wondered what he’d done with the money, then realized I didn’t really care.
Has it only been a day? It feels like a year.
I pulled my backpack over my shoulder, and realized that for the foreseeable future, there would never be a day when I wouldn’t carry the Board and the journal with me. To leave them behind was unthinkable—so many people had paid with their lives for me to have them—and yet … I couldn’t use the Board either.
I knew that it would always want to exercise its powers and that was a risk I couldn’t take again. The power had felt too good, too seductive.
Stepping into the sunlight, I realized that I didn’t have a car—Simon had taken it, I guessed—then shrugged and began walking toward St. Anne’s. I wanted to say good-bye to my grandfather and grandmother before I left. I had no idea when I’d be back.
It was a good day for walking. The day was warm and a soft, natural breeze blew from the south. It smelled fresh and clean, and a vague scent of early grass wafted from the ground. Wishing I would get to see the garden this summer, I rounded the corner and made my way to the church.
Father Andrew would still be in the hospital, of course, though I guessed that they wouldn’t be able to keep him there for very long. He’d be back giving Mass and taking confessions within a few days, a week at the most.
St. Anne’s came into sight and I walked into the gardens planted and cared for by my grandmother and the grounds maintained by my grandfather. I wended my way through statues and headstones, and thought about how lucky I was that Tom and Kristen and Father Andrew had survived. I would stay in touch with them as often as I could. Good friends were too rare and valuable to discard like yesterday’s newspaper.
The headstone where my grandparents were buried had been washed clean by the wind and the rains. My parents’ headstone, too. I knelt down between the plots and saw that someone had brought flowers—they were still fresh—and placed a bouquet in front of each stone. I wondered if a neighbor had done it, when I felt a presence behind me.
I knew who it was and didn’t turn around. “Good morning, Simon.”
“Good morning, Jenna. Were you able to get some rest?”
“Not very much,” I admitted. “Somehow I doubt Keepers ever do.”
“Probably not,” he said. “I brought the flowers for you. I knew you didn’t have a car.”
“Thanks,” I said. “They’re lovely.”
“Jenna, I spoke to Armand this morning,” Simon said.
“And?”
“He is curious to know if you will … if you plan on serving good or evil.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “I didn’t know I had to serve anyone or anything.”
“The Boards are evil, Jenna. The role of the Keeper in many ways is to be the force that resists that evil. Peraud wants them for his own foul uses. Why do you want them?”
I stood up and brushed my hands on my jeans. “Simon, I don’t want them. I have to do this. I accept that this is my destiny, whether I want it or not. I don’t serve good or evil, or Peraud or Armand. I’m not going to be a part of this war.”
“You are a part of this war,” he said.
I shook my head. “No, Simon, I’m not. I serve me. I am the Keeper of the Boards and I may be coming into my knowledge a bit late, but I think all of you have oversimplified this a bit. This isn’t about good or evil … it’s about power and how it is used. The Boards were made for a specific purpose.”
“They were?” Simon said, eyebrows raised. “How do you know that?”
“I can feel it,” I said. “Now leave me alone to say my good-byes. I’ll meet you at the car.”
“Very well,” he said. He turned and walked back across the cemetery to where he’d parked my grandfather’s car.
I waited until he was out of earshot, then looked at the graves of my family. “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” I said. “Maybe never. But I love you and miss you. I’d give anything to know that you were with me, but more than that, I hope all of you are at peace.” I blew a kiss to each headstone, then turned and walked away.
Long good-byes never serve a real purpose except to delay the pain of leaving. But the pain comes anyway.
Simon was waiting for me and he drove me back to the house. The whole way there, he remained silent, and I was thankful for that—and that he didn’t say a word about my tears.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Simon said, “Where are we going?”
I sipped my coffee and thought of my vision from the night before. “The Middle East,” I said. “Jerusalem, I think, near the Dead Sea. But I thought you probably knew that.”
“Not exactly,” he said. “The last clue I found to the Board of Water led me to believe it was in the Caribbean, perhaps the Bahamas.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s over there somewhere. I can feel it.”
“Okay,” he said. “We have to leave, tonight if we can. Tomorrow at the latest.”
“Why are we in such a rush?” I asked.
“Because what if Peraud can hear the Board calling, too?” Simon asked. “We don’t know that he can, but we don’t know that he can’t. Armand said he’s much more powerful than he was the last time they met. We don’t want him to get to it before we do.”
“Point taken,” I said. “Still, I’ve got to arrange for finances and the house and my belongings. That’s going to take some time.”
“Not really,” Simon said. He reached into his coat pockets and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Here’s an updated statement of your checking account, along with some other papers you’ll need to sign.”
I quickly scanned them and saw that my current checking account balance was … my eyes widened. Over fifty thousand dollars. “Where did
you—?” I snapped my mouth closed and saw that Simon had put more money into a dividend paying mutual fund. That money, along with what was regularly deposited from my parents and grandparents’ trusts would take care of my needs comfortably for years.
“Why?” I asked.
“We’re going to need the money,” he said. “Why not use it for good instead of evil?”
I agreed and said, “What about the house? I’d planned on selling it, even though I didn’t want to.”
“I guessed that,” he said. “But you shouldn’t sell it. It’s your home and you may want to come back here someday. It’s always good to have a place to come home to.”
“Who will take care of it?”
There was a knock on the door and Simon grinned. “That should be her now,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He got up from the table and a moment later I heard Kristen’s voice calling my name.
“Jenna! Are you serious about this?”
I looked at Simon. “Of course she is,” he said. “Who better to stay here and take care of things than one of her best friends? Besides, Tom is going to need a place to recuperate and he can’t do it going up and down the steps to his apartment, right?”
“Right,” I said, knowing that Simon had made a good decision.
“Yes, but Jenna, we should at least pay you something,” Kristen said.
I shook my head and smiled. “You already have,” I said. “Your friendship is payment enough and it’s not like the house costs me anything. The mortgage was paid off years ago. Just keep up with the utility bills, okay?”
“Agreed,” she said. “Thanks so much! This will make school a lot easier, too!” She was very excited and I could see that she was just aching to tell Tom, but there was something I had to ask her about first.
“Kristen,” I said, “I’m wondering about something.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“The crystal you gave me. The story about the love spell you cast on Tom. All of it, I guess. How much power do you really have?”
Kristen laughed softly. “Not enough to threaten yours,” she said. “I’m just a small town witch, really.”
“So how come you never said anything when Tom and I were making fun of you? Why didn’t you tell us?” I really wanted to know because Tom and I had teased her mercilessly.
She looked around the house and gestured vaguely. “Before all of this, would you have believed me?”
I laughed and shook my head. “Probably not,” I admitted. “But I still feel bad.”
“Don’t,” Kristen said. “In a small town like this, I prefer the anonymity—and that’s something I don’t think you’re going to get the luxury of having.” She leaned closer in and added, “There is one thing, though …”
“What’s that?” I asked, putting a hand on her shoulder and hugging her close.
“Tom doesn’t really know about my true abilities and I’d kind of like to keep it that way. So … would you mind not saying anything to him about it?”
Tom, I thought, you are going to have your hands very full. “He won’t hear a peep out of me,” I promised.
“Thank you,” Kristen said. She gestured around the kitchen. “For everything. No matter where you travel, Jenna, Tom and I will always be your friends and we’ll always be with you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Now why don’t you go tell Tom about it?” I suggested. “He’s probably ready for some company anyway.”
“Yeah,” Kristen said. “Besides, I’ve been reading to him out of this new book I got.” She held it up so I could see it. The cover was some kind of weird shiny chromatic swirl of color and read: PAST LIVES AND THE LOVERS WHO LIVED THEM. “He loves it,” she said.
Chuckling, I said, “I bet he does. Take care of yourself, Kristen.”
“You, too, Jenna,” she said. “Thanks again.” She clasped me in a tight hug, and added a whispered, “Be careful out there,” before heading back out the front door.
I didn’t say anything to Simon for a long minute after she left, and then I smiled. “Good choice,” I said.
“They deserve it,” he replied. “And now I have to use your phone. We have plane tickets to buy and a lot to do before tomorrow.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ll go pack.”
I went upstairs and began putting my life into a suitcase and looking around my room, wondering if I would ever see it again. The art prints on the walls, the little white vanity my grandfather had given me when I turned sixteen, my comfortable reading chair and the small desk next to it where I had done more homework than I could remember. I ran a hand along the quilted comforter that my grandmother had made—a stars and moons pattern. Reminders of my past life, and that it was gone as inevitably as my family.
I doubted I would ever see any of it again.
This would always be where a piece of my heart was, I knew, but I was the Keeper of the Boards, and home would be wherever I needed to be to find the next one and keep it safe.
“Miss, can I get you anything else?” the flight attendant asked.
“Not right now,” I said. “Thank you.”
She nodded and continued to pass through the first class cabin. Simon had balked at spending the money, but I badgered him about it until he gave in. “It’s a long flight,” I told him. “We have the money and may as well be comfortable.”
He’d finally agreed, but I guessed he felt unused to such treatment. He kept scowling every time the poor woman came by and offered us anything.
The backpack containing the Board and the Chronicle of the Keepers was under the seat in front of me, and I glanced at Simon, who appeared to be asleep. “Simon?” I said. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “But I’d like to sleep. I’m tired.”
“That makes two of us,” I said. “But I can’t sleep.”
He opened his eyes. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m afraid to sleep. Every time I do, I see things, dream things and it’s always me as someone else.”
“Are you experiencing your past lives as the Keeper?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think I’m just experiencing their lives as they lived them. I don’t think it was me, really, it just feels that way.”
“You should consider it an opportunity to learn,” he said firmly. “Maybe it will give you information you need.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But that’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what is it?” he asked.
“Not all of the Keepers were …” My voice trailed off as I tried to find the right word and failed.
“Were?” he prompted.
“Nice,” I finally said. “Many of them, I think, were as mad for power as the Boards themselves. They were like Peraud.”
“They made their choices, too, just as you did in the warehouse,” Simon said. “Some of them chose to use the Boards. You should not unless you absolutely have to.”
“Because they are evil?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “But more than that, because of the power they represent.”
“You mean what they can do?”
“No,” he said. His face was solemn. “Armand and I believe that they may be connected to some sort of demon or evil entity not of this world. The Boards may derive their power from that force, and not any natural magical source.”
“A demon?” I said. “They really exist?”
Simon sighed. “Without a doubt,” he said. “They are angels of evil.”
“You’ve seen one?” I asked.
His scowl deepened and he said, “No more questions right now, Jenna. We can talk more after we get some sleep. The important thing is that you remain true to who you are, who your grandfather raised you to be—a good person trying to do her best—and that you accept your destiny as the Keeper of the Boards.” He leaned his seat back and closed his eyes. “Now try to get some sleep.”
I didn’t answer him, but I thou
ght about what he said for a long time. Was it even possible to be the Keeper and a good person? Why had I been chosen to have this destiny? Why not my mother or my grandmother or some other Solitaire woman at some point in the past?
I looked at Simon who was breathing softly. He had already fallen asleep. He was a man with secrets, too, and I realized that while I cared for him, I didn’t fully trust him either. I would have to make sure to use my own judgments and instincts when we got to Jerusalem and began searching for the next Board.
I’d never been to the Middle East, and I was excited to see it. The desert was supposed to be beautiful, and the Dead Sea had been the site of so many historic events. I could not see the future, and my past was as different from that and my present as could be. In some ways, I missed Miller’s Crossing already, but in others, it had been good to leave. I felt horrible for the death and destruction that had come to my home and the quiet people who lived there. So many had paid with their lives because I had refused to face the truth and I would be thinking about that, I knew, for many days to come.
Simon was right. I was the Keeper—for good or for ill—and it was my destiny. Someday, perhaps, I would figure out why.
I picked up the backpack and removed the journal, ignoring the Board’s voice in my head, constantly whispering to me, asking me to call on it. So far, every time I’d read the Chronicle, it had exhausted me, and I silently wondered if reading it was completely safe. Still, I had to have information if I was going to survive and learn what I needed to know. If there was a danger to it, it was a risk I was willing to take.
Leaning back in my seat, I opened the journal to the front and watched as the letters rearranged themselves into readable English. Simon had told me that only the Keeper could read it—to all others, it was an undecipherable mess often called the Language of the Birds … the language of man before the fall of the Tower of Babel.
The first lines of the journal read:
To my daughters,
I am sorry for the burden you will inherit, but judge me not harshly. I tried to save us all and failed. The future of the world depends on you and preventing one thing: the opening of the way.
Keeper of the Winds Page 17