The Keeper's Heart

by Catherine Stovall

  Their weapons were nothing like those in the human world. They harvested metals from the core of Sheol’s fire to fashion the blades of their swords, coated the tips of their arrows with the poisoned juices of fruit not seen since the time of Eden, and the worst were the dogs. Hellhounds enchanted to look like oversized Dobermans snarled and snapped at the end of their chains, thirsting for blood.

  As she searched frantically for the nearest escape, Amara pushed the children back farther into the room. Inside, she swore at the Parcae. Even though she had expected the Apollumi to come after them, she felt betrayed. The hurt welled up inside her, threatening to burst out in the form of uncontrolled screams, and she cursed her human emotions once more.

  Marcus mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, apparently arguing with Emateus, all the while never dropping the barrel of the gun he had trained on the hunters. The two had a heated argument, until the haunting voice of the Apollumi leader halted their exchange.

  The hunting party’s general stepped forward, “Attempts to escape are futile. If you struggle, we will release the hounds. Emateus, you are not hidden from us, and there are others awaiting you in the mist. If you try to escape, you will be punished that much more. You will all surrender or pay with your lives.”

  Amara knew there was no use fighting or running. The Sheol guards would only use an attempt at either as an excuse to torture them. Yet, she couldn’t see simply giving up. Reaching her hands back, she pulled both Desiree and Anthony forward to stand beside her. Marcus moved to stand at their side as well, sunlight glinting off the chrome-plated barrel—a glimmer without hope.

  The Apollumi leader laughed, “Is this your stand?”

  Before anyone else could speak, Amara answered her, “No, Chiyo. I knew the sisters would send you. I just want to ensure this happens with as little violence as possible.”

  “The Parcae and their assignments mean little to us. We are here under a direction greater than the sisters’ whimsy. Now, stand down and come peacefully, or we will be all too glad to use force.” Her eyes gleamed with madness and the want to shed blood.

  “Who sent you here? What business do I have with the guards of Sheol if it is not at the command of the sisters?” Amara’s anger clouded her mind as she tried to formulate a plan.

  “Quit stalling, little Keeper. You will not escape.” Chiyo loosened the length of chain that held one of the Hellhounds. The creature lurched forward, jaws snapping inches from Amara’s flesh.

  Without thinking, Marcus trained his gun on the animal and fired. Fur and bone particles sprayed outward as the bullet ripped through its lower jaw. Yelping, the mutant hound spun sideways. Crimson droplets rained down as it shook its head, madly trying to rid itself of the pain that surged through its face.

  In the minutes that followed, the room went into pure chaos. Chiyo released the chains and the other two snarling hounds pounced as the Apollumi advanced. Additional shots rang out, the sound barely covering Desiree’s screams as the hellhounds fell to the ground. Twitching and emitting the most heart wrenching whines, their bodies died and their deviled souls returned to the depths of Sheol.

  Grabbing the small table she had been sitting on, Amara swung it at the window in a fury of shattering glass and cheap wood. She doubted any one of them would escape, but she was determined to try her best.

  Shoving Desiree toward the broken window, she screamed, “Run, damn it!”

  Their efforts were fruitless and the struggle was brief. Marcus and Anthony worked together, trying to defend Desiree, but the Apollumi’s armor, combined with the supernatural strength pumping through the human bodies, deflected their attempts.

  A female attacker caught Desiree by the hair and dragged her back as she made a run for it. To her credit, the girl kicked and screamed, managing to connect a few of her wild blows before she found herself wrapped in the chains that had once leashed the hounds.

  Amara tried to intervene, but a rival of her own stepped in front of her. Still clutching a leg from the table she had used to smash the window, Amara moved out of the way of Chiyo’s first swing and countered with a strike of her own. The Apollumi woman was a trained fighter, and she took the hit as if she had been batted at by a kitten. However, Amara’s head spun as a closed fist met with her jaw line.

  As she fell, she saw the glimmer of a net as it closed over Emateus. Made from the same special materials as the enemies’ weapons, it trapped the Keeper and prevented him from escaping into the mists or taking a solid form. Even before she could call out to her Keeper brother, Marcus turned to rip the mesh away. As soon as his back was turned, one of the soldiers brought the blunt of his sword down hard against the back of Marcus’s head. With a cry, he fell unconscious to the floor, spittle pooling at the corner of his mouth.

  Amara’s attention was pulled in too many directions, and her tiny human body struggled against Chiyo’s powerful physique. Her back slammed into the wall, the Apollumi woman’s forearm at her throat, cutting off her air supply and preventing her from helping the others.

  Only Anthony remained on his feet. Having the dexterous agility of a teenage boy, he had deftly evaded two soldiers by using a small stool as a lion tamer would to hold his attackers at bay. However, with the others restrained, his luck was running out as two more Apollumi joined in the fight.

  A final surge of energy and adrenaline pushed up inside Amara, a need to survive driving her to fight. Jerking her hands upward, she drove her thumbs into her enemy’s unprotected throat. Blinded by her own choking tears, Chiyo hunched over gasping for air. There was a second of silence, a second of hope, before she felt herself being propelled through the air as the Apollumi leader threw her to the floor.

  Amara’s vision blurred as a heavy, boot clad foot collided with her face and unconsciousness rose along with the bile that filled her throat. The darkness consumed her, and the only sound that seemed able to penetrate the deep abyss was the strange whining of the last hell hound as it struggled to join the battle despite its mangled state. The snarling of the mutant animal elicited a small amount of regret from Amara’s hazy mind, pitying the creature.

  Chapter 6

  The One Man Calvary

  Amara’s head ached and her eyes would barely open. Someone, she assumed Apollumi members, held her by her arms while her feet dragged behind her. Her long blonde hair hid her face, but her view was mostly obscured because of her supine position. She remained limp for a moment, hoping they would not notice her return to consciousness as she attempted to gain some understanding of where she was.

  Peering through her eyelashes, she realized she was being dragged from the house. And from the sobs and cursing that surrounded her, she assumed, so were the others. Relieved that she had been unconscious for a shorter time than she had thought, Amara instantly began trying to formulate a plan. She had no real weapons, and by the feel of her body, she doubted she could move fast enough to escape by herself, let alone rescue the others.

  However, she still had her wits about her. Having spent three hundred years as an observer of the human race, she understood things about the mortal world that the Sheol guards did not. It was the middle of the day on a Saturday, the gunshots alone should have alerted someone to call the human authorities. Amara just had to find a way to stall.

  Typically, the Apollumi would have grabbed her and Emateus and vanished into the mist, leaving their familiars to clean up the rest. However, having two humans in their possession complicated things. They would have to travel to a place where they could properly bind Anthony and Desiree with magic, before taking them across the threshold and into Sheol.

  Just as they reached a large, black Lincoln Navigator, Amara jumped up, and using the soldiers’ grip on her arms for balance, she planted both feet on the side of the truck. Pushing with all her strength, despite the screaming pain in her skull, she propelled backward, taking the Apollumi along as well. They didn’t fall as she had hoped. Instead, they stumbled off balance and away fr
om the vehicle. Her child sized and frail body was no match for Chiyo and the bulky male that held her, but she didn’t need to win, just survive a few minutes longer.

  Hoping the others would follow her lead, she called out, “Fight back, run, or scream! Don’t get into that car!”

  Desiree did what she did best and screamed as if she had been shot. Her high voice shrilled through the quiet neighborhood, causing dogs to bark and blinds to crack open. Though a few people poked their heads out to see what the commotion was about, no one came to help. They might call the cops, but no one was going to get involved in what looked like gang activity.

  Doubling her efforts, Chiyo yelled at her companion, “Hierosham, get her in the car. Someone’s going to call the human guards, we are out of time.”

  A hard blow to the back of the skull made Amara’s vision swim and her body go limp. She could feel the forward motion carrying her closer and closer to the SUV that would be her chariot into hell, but she was helpless to prevent it. The sounds of the sirens had still not come, and she didn’t have the strength to raise her head to check to see how the others were fairing.

  Tears leaked from her blue eyes when she realized she couldn’t even pray to the Creator, because she had betrayed him. Silently, helplessly, she allowed the Apollumi to drag her across the lawn, the toes of her sneakers dragging across the grass. She had tried and failed, unable to survive even a short time in her human state and condemning her children to the very same fate she had tried to save them from.

  She landed with a thud as they tossed her roughly into the third-row backseat of the car, the male Apollumi sliding in next to her. Still sick from the dizzying blow, Amara forced her pounding head to turn toward the window. She caught a glimpse of Anthony, face bloodied and pummeled, before the cold feeing of a blade touched her throat and pulled her attention back to the interior of the truck.

  “Try anything stupid and I will cut your throat right here, right now,” Hierosham growled.

  Amara took in the sight of her opponent for the first time. His eyes were a dark green, the color of thick, forest moss, and even sitting down, his bulky figure towered above her. She nodded her understanding, while staring into the blood splattered grill covering his mouth and trying to look as harmless as she could.

  Hierosham lowered his blade just as the truck door opened and a distraught Desiree was shoved inside. The swollen and split lips of her pretty mouth spewed blood and spittle as she cursed the female guard. “You dirty witch, I’ll kill—”

  The door slamming in her face cut her off, and she turned to Amara. Ignoring the monster-sized man with the large knife, she leaned over the back of the seat and pulled her into an embrace. “Oh, my god! Are you okay?”

  Before Amara could answer or register the shock of being hugged, a voice spoke from the cargo area of the truck. “It looks as if the cavalry has arrived.”

  Jerking around, she saw the chain mesh net behind her on the floor of the vehicle, Emateus’s invisible form inside. Hierosham fisted his hand in her hair, making her scream out in pain, as she unconsciously reached to help the Keeper.

  “Don’t worry about me, little one. Take care of you and yours, and Marcus as well.” His last words were nearly drowned out by the sound of gunfire and a shower of shattering glass filling the quiet summer day.

  Hoping the human police had finally arrived, Amara knew it was her last chance to escape. While Hierosham was distracted by the chaos outside the vehicle, she leapt over the seat, grabbed Desiree’s hand and bolted out the door. Because of his size, Hierosham had a more difficult time maneuvering in the small space, giving the two girls just enough time to tumble out into the street.

  There were no police cars, no fleet of uniformed supermen and women there to save the day. The Apollumi fled, leaving a single old man with a shotgun standing in their wake. Amara knew that they would be back, and with their magical ties and well laid out systems, the Apollumi would hunt their little group to the ends of the realms and back.

  Plopped on the curb, all in a row like misfit ducks, the four of them waited as the stern looking man with a paunchy middle and haggard eyes stared down at them. When he turned to Amara and asked her name, age, and her parent’s phone number, she stumbled over her words.

  She had no answers to give. She couldn’t very well tell him the truth. Her parents had died centuries before, an event that had gone almost unnoticed by her in her Keeper state. The lack of emotions was something she was sorely beginning to miss as she sweated in the heat and under the scrutinizing glare of the man who introduced himself as Linier Jones, former General of the Queen’s Army.

  Desiree came to the rescue, pushing herself from Anthony’s chest to throw an arm around Amara’s bent shoulders. “She’s in shock, I think. Her name is Amara Camberry. She’s my cousin and is staying with my family for the summer.” Becoming convincingly bereaved in an instant, she lowered her tone and added, “Her parents were killed in a car accident last month. Drunk driver.”

  General Jones immediately gave Amara what she thought was a sympathetic look, though it was difficult to tell from his deeply wrinkled grimace. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ms. Camberry. It’s a shame what those bast…unfortunate accidents do to families.”

  Amara concentrated on looking shocked and sad, unable to really comprehend what either emotion could feel like.

  The general looked to the others. “Give me your parents’ numbers, and I will contact them before we call the police. Exactly what the bloody hell happened here?”

  Four blank faces looked up, fear striking them all in their chests like a lightning bolt. Marcus opened his mouth for the first time, trying to stammer out an excuse as the rest sat dumbfounded. There seemed no way to explain the dead dogs, the illegal firearm, the attempted kidnapping, and the strangers who had fled the scene.

  The general pulled out an ancient cell phone, his fingers ready to dial as he gave them all a deeply concerned look. All seemed lost, until something miraculous happened—the world around them stopped. Birds hung in mid-air, the general paused in mid-step, and even the elderly woman trying to covertly watch from the edge of her bushes froze. The street went from a quiet neighborhood to a world of life-like statues, posing in mid-animation.

  Marcus grabbed Amara’s arm, his large hand bruising her skin. “What the hell is going on, girl?” The sound of his voice broke the eerie silence that had fallen over the area, making Desiree jump and nearly fall off the curb.

  Amara stood, looking around her in shock and awe. She turned in a slow circle and answered, “I have no freaking idea.”

  Anthony stood up, wobbly on his feet and still oozing blood from a deep gash on his forehead, and pointed down the street. “Maybe she does.”

  Chapter 7

  Mysterious Mabel

  The very short and slightly plump woman strolled toward them as if she didn’t have a care in the world, looking like something straight out of the fifties. Her old fashioned black dress had a wide, white collar and puffy, pleated skirt that hung just below the knee. She even wore the matching pillbox hat, short gloves, and low, sensible heels—all in white.

  As the four of them joined together in the middle of the street, trying to decide if they were going to have to fight again or if they should run, the strange woman strolled up. With a large smile on her face, showing perfect white teeth behind her lavish red lips, she introduced herself.

  “Hello there, dears. I’m Mabel. I believe,” she nodded to Marcus, “as you so eloquently put it, I’m what the hell is going on here.”

  There was a long pause, their confusion written all over their faces. Finally, Marcus came around. Sticking his hand out in an offer of a handshake he attempted to return her introduction.

  The woman’s chocolate-brown eyes widened, and her gloved hands instantly began to pat her tightly curled hair. “Oh, oh, my dear. Let’s skip the pleasantries. I know who each of you are. Well, now, don’t look so shocked. You are quite famous among t
he other worldly people. Amara, the brave Keeper who learned to love. Desiree, the spunky human girl with a fierce heart. Anthony, the brash human boy with a quick wit and a smart mouth. And you, Marcus, the grandson of a Keeper and a seer in his own right.”

  Suspicion crawled up Amara’s spine. “Who sent you here, what do you mean we are famous, and what do you want? We are kind of in the middle of something here.”

  Mabel wasn’t fazed by the barrage of questions. Holding up her hand, palm out, she admonished Amara as if she were the child she appeared to be. “Tut tut. Let’s mind our manners, young lady. I understand that you are a little…uptight, shall we say. You are in quite a pickle here. As far as who sent me and why, let’s suffice to say that I am a friend of a concerned person in power, and they wished to give you a bit of an advantage, since you have been transformed to this unfortunate state.” Giving the two, pure humans a quick glance, she added, “No offense, my darlings. Surely you understand.”

  Anthony and Desiree remained silent, giving slight nods in response to the woman. Desiree seemed far more concerned with trying to nurse Anthony’s wounds than listening to yet another stranger talk about things she didn’t understand. When Mabel handed her a lacy, white handkerchief, it finally elicited a quietly murmured thank you.

  “Now, as far as you being famous, well, news travels fast in our worlds. There are more than just the Parcae, the Keepers, and the Apollumi out there. We are all watching, and most are rooting for you. There is much more than you know on the line.”

  Amara opened her mouth to demand more answers, but Mabel held up her hand once more. “No, don’t ask.” Making a childish gesture of locking her lips and tossing away the key, she added, “My lips are sealed, and I have spent too much time being Chatty Cathy already. So, what shall we do about this mess that you children have made?”