The Blood Keeper (The Blood Journals)

by Gratton, Tessa

  “I just lay there. You did all the work.”

  “It’s my job.” I lifted a hand up and skimmed a finger along the bottom of a low-drooping leaf. “And I can gather energy back up to me from the land.”

  Will’s eyes opened, and he looked at me, craning his neck a bit. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What else can you do?”

  I smiled secretively. “Anything.”

  “Walk on water?”

  “Oh.” I pursed my lips. “I’ve never tried, but I bet Arthur might’ve.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Was he your dad?”

  “No.” I hugged my knees together.

  “How’d you end up here?”

  “The way all the magic does. Someone brought me. My mother did, when I was almost two years old. Old enough she decided I didn’t need her all the time, she said.”

  Will’s smile died. “That sucks.”

  “Oh, it was true, though. I had Arthur, and Granny Lyn, and several frequent … cousins, I suppose you’d call them. When I was younger, there was a boy named Justin here, and for five years a couple lived with us named Faith and Eli, and they had two children. Mother came and went, and when she was here she loved me fiercely.” I shrugged. “I haven’t felt neglected or abandoned, if that’s what you’re thinking. My family is here.”

  “Non-trad, huh? I guess normal isn’t really something that applies to many families these days.”

  I nodded. “And now I have Donna. She’s been here since I was eleven, just longer than my mother’s been gone. Her son, Nick, treats me like a stepsister most of the time.” I thought of Silla. I wasn’t sure what she was to me. What she wanted to be. I’d have liked to call her sister. Sister-in-magic, perhaps.

  I glanced up at the crows roosting overhead. “And them,” I said.

  “The crows?”

  “They’re my family, too.” I looked back at Will. He was watching me instead of the crows. “I was up here, you know, when they first came. I was tying a charm into the branches.” I twisted my body and pointed up. “That one, the little wooden bear. I was on my tiptoes, and the ribbon kept slipping because it was stiff and new. And then a crow landed right on the limb, put his claw against my knot, and held it in place while I looped the bows. I said, ‘Thank you, sir,’ and he bobbed a little bow for me. I was so delighted, I plucked a few hairs from my head and braided them together.” My eyes drifted closed as I remembered. “I offered the braid to him, and he took it delicately in his beak as if it were more precious than gold.”

  “You talk like they’re human.”

  I blinked. “Oh, well. They were.”

  “What?” He sat up.

  “They’re a boy named Reese. He lived in Missouri, and just before he died he threw his spirit into one of the crows, so that he wouldn’t be dead. Possessed them. And he lives on, flying and free, and he’s here with me and safe. We’re friends.” I smiled up at the nearest crow. He ruffled his neck feathers.

  “That’s amazing. Like being immortal, and being able to fly.” Will sounded wistful, half dreaming and full of faith. He understood.

  I crawled the handful of feet to where he sat, and when he glanced down at me, I touched his chest. Slowly, I flattened my palm against it, near his shoulder, where on the first day we met I’d left a bloody handprint. Will’s breath brushed against my temple, ruffling my hair. Shifting even nearer, I tilted my head and touched my lips to his cheek.

  One of his hands lifted to my jaw, and his fingers caressed just under my ear. Neither of us moved otherwise for several shaking moments, until Will turned and kissed me.

  It was his lips on mine, unmoving, only resting together so that if we held still enough we’d melt into one.

  I leaned my chin away, to breathe him in, all my blood atingle, and it put my face even nearer to his, so that when I blinked, my lashes swept along his cheek.

  “Mab,” he whispered.

  Smiling, I looked into his acorn eyes, at the glints of red like broken glass. There was a line of magic between us, and it hummed.

  FORTY-FOUR

  You wanted your oldest friends to meet me, to come to our wedding, and for me to have a chance to know them. So many weren’t available by telephone or even mail—you had to leave and track them down. Your old apprentice Philip Osborn, who’d vanished into the Rocky Mountains after the Second World War; the German twins; and Earnest Harleigh in particular. Gabriel said, “Go, man, I’ll make sure no dragons devour your princess.” I said I was dragon enough to fight back myself, and Gabriel tugged my braid like a ten-year-old boy, and you were comforted that we’d be all right.

  The first few days passed as normally as ever, though I missed your touch, especially first thing in the mornings. Gabriel slid back into farm life, taking up the slack you left, and being, I must say, more appreciative of my baking than you ever were. As the sun set on the third day, he brought me tea as I watched the sky change from pale blue to purple from the front porch. He claimed it was a tea he’d found in New York, from a tiny yellow flower we didn’t have on the prairie. I took it and drank it. The cloying flavor was covered with mint, and overall quite delicious.

  But it was not merely tea. It was poison.

  FORTY-FIVE

  MAB

  Because it was getting to be evening time, I took Will back to the barn for his clothes, then we circled around to the car. As much as I wished for him to stay, we climbed into the station wagon and headed into town. Halfway to his neighborhood, Will got out his cell phone and texted his parents, then put a hand on my wrist and said, “I don’t want to go home yet. How do you feel about concretes?”

  I hadn’t the first idea what he was talking about until he directed me onto an appallingly commercial road with fast food every five feet and giant superstores. We pulled around a drive-through at a building with cartoon cows painted on all the awnings, and Will ordered a strawberry ice cream for himself. After peering at me for a moment, he asked for another, flavored mint chocolate chip. I tried to pay with a couple of hastily transformed leaves from the glove compartment, but Will snatched the fake money from my hands and dug his wallet out of his jeans. As we drove back toward the real world, Will balanced the two Styrofoam cups between his legs and popped open the glove compartment. He pulled out every last leaf and tossed them all out the window. They floated in our wake. A couple of crows dropped down from the sky to catch at them.

  Content to follow Will’s directions, I turned us into the parking lot at his high school. There weren’t many others near at this hour. I supposed most of their after-school activities were just finishing up, and students trickled through the cars. We got out at the far corner, near the football stadium. Holding the cold, hard ice cream in my hand, I climbed up the concrete bleachers. It was like an ancient coliseum, all stone and cement surrounding the green playing field. The white stripes were freshly painted against the grass, like runes, and a ring of bright pink track surrounded it. “It’s like a giant magical circle,” I teased. And Will said, “This is my silo, Mab,” with a smile.

  It entirely made up for being trapped in town, without the comfort of dirt under my feet.

  Overhead, the clouds had vanished along with most of the humidity, leaving the sky a solid blue. I sat beside Will, the setting sun shining on us from low above the trees, and curled my legs up under me. The crows landed around us, bobbing around as they hunted for old crumbs and bits of trash.

  “I don’t think this is real food.” I pushed the plastic spoon into the chunk of frozen dessert.

  “It’s custard.” Will offered me his spoon. “Taste the strawberry?”

  I considered the rock-hard ice cream in his hand. “The only food that should be that pink is steak.”

  “You’re staring at that like you want to turn it into a frog,” Will said with a full mouth.

  I tasted mine. The mint was surprisingly refreshing, and I let it melt over my tongue, leaving the little flake of choc
olate behind.

  “I knew you’d like it.”

  He was half finished with his, and I gave in, digging into the custard. We didn’t have ice cream very often, and I’d never had this flavor. I ate about half, too fast, and when a burning cold headache bit into my forehead I gasped and pushed it away. As Will tried to muffle his laughter, I lay down and put my cheek to the hot concrete step. The heat radiated up into my whole body.

  Will sat on the row below me, his back against the vertical stair, so that his shoulder rested a few inches from my nose. I opened my eyes and stared at the scatter of freckles drifting down from his hairline to vanish under the collar of his T-shirt.

  Reaching out, I skimmed my fingers there. Will jerked in surprise but settled back again. I set my hand on his shoulder, just where it met his neck. His skin was warm from the sun, and his shoulders rose and fell as he breathed. “Is this where you play soccer?” I asked.

  “Naw. Practice sometimes. But soccer needs a wider field. We play over there.” He pointed south. “See the goal nets?”

  I didn’t look, but murmured my assent. He lifted his hand to cover mine, and I was content to soak up heat from the stadium and watch the way his jaw moved when he talked, the way the muscles connected down his neck and the very slight motion of his earlobe.

  Several rows below us, a little gray and brown sparrow landed, only to hop nervously away from the crows that had spread themselves in a wide arc up and down the stone bleachers. The sparrow had a large chunk of bread in its tiny beak. My eyes fluttered closed as the rush of town traffic filled my ears. I smelled the city’s summer cocktail of exhaust, mud, and sweet rotting trash. The heat cooked my skin, and sweat prickled along my spine. But I didn’t want to get up and go. There was something shocking and easy about being under such bright, harsh sun. Anyone could see me, could see all of me, and Will’s hand in mine.

  He asked me, quietly, “What do you want, Mab?”

  I leaned up so that I could look at him. His face was scrunched as he tilted his head at the sun. A slight glint of red still winked at me from the edge of his iris. “Want?”

  “Yeah. You know. From life.”

  “Oh, well. To be what I am, who I am. The Deacon. Magic. Living and breathing the land and its energies. Helping people, binding curses. It’s what I’m meant for.”

  Will’s smile twisted on one side, hinting at bitterness. “That must be nice.”

  I shook my head. “It’s hard.”

  “But at least you know.”

  “You don’t?” I brought his hand into my lap, held it in both of mine. “You told me you want to travel. To visit beautiful places and fly across the ocean.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything, though. It’s just—it’s just running away.” Will stood up, pushed his hands into his eyes. With his back to me, he said, “I only really know what I don’t want. I don’t want to be a Marine. I don’t want to do everything my brothers did and my dad. I don’t want … I don’t want to be what they think I’m supposed to be. Aaron followed that path, and it killed him. For stupid reasons.” He made a strangled noise. “It was like this wake-up call, you know? Telling me that there were other roads, but when I opened my eyes I didn’t see anything.”

  I climbed to my feet, too, and stood on the edge of the step so that my stomach was level with the back of his head. “You saw me,” I said gently.

  Will turned and looked up. “I do see you, which is making it worse, somehow. You know. You’re so sure of everything, and it makes me crazy, but it’s also what I want. To be sure.”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know exactly what to do all the time!” I laughed helplessly, thinking of how I’d only come up with a temporary patch to help Lukas. “I’m still learning.”

  “But you know who you are,” he whispered.

  The despair layering in his voice tugged at me, and I reached out. I pulled him against me until his face was buried in my stomach. His arms went around my hips. “I know who you are, too, Will,” I whispered back. I’d seen and tasted and transformed his blood. It was impossible not to know someone after that. I curled my body down over his, as if I could protect him from the world.

  Will pushed away from me to crane his head up, though his hands stayed firm on my hips, the grip burning through my dress. “Who am I, then?”

  “I can’t just tell you. That would ruin the magic of you discovering it yourself.” I said it with a quirk of my mouth, to show him I only teased.

  He laughed. A soft, high-pitched laugh that sounded more sad than happy. “I can’t believe I’m talking about this. It isn’t something real people talk about, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know that.”

  “That’s probably why it’s happening.” Will tugged me down onto his level, and I slid against him, our bodies pressing completely together. I gasped, catching the breath under my heart.

  “Hey, Will!” yelled someone.

  Will jumped back from me, turning and throwing a hand up to block the sun. “Matt!” he called back.

  I wrapped my fingers into the hem of Will’s T-shirt, in the small of his back. The crows took flight, soaring up to find higher vantages.

  The other boy—Matt—took the bleachers in flying leaps, so that his backpack thumped against him and his flopping hair fell into his face, and every other step he shoved it away.

  “I thought it was you,” he said as he joined us halfway up the side of the stadium, “though supposedly you’ve been grounded.”

  Will grimaced. “Mab sprung me.”

  “Damn,” Matt eyed me with mingled suspicion and respect, and once again brushed his hair out of his face. “You must have some kind of magic charm to get past his dad.”

  It startled me, but Will immediately laughed and pulled my hand away from his shirt, though he kept it tucked into his own. “She does. She really does,” he said. Turning the smile on me, he introduced Matt as the captain of his soccer team. “And Matt, this, obviously, is Mab Prowd.”

  Wishing there was a thing softer and more natural than concrete under my sandals, I removed my hand from Will’s to offer it for a shake. Matt took it, and I kept my gaze firm, my expression as calm as I could, until it occurred to me that Will would smile. I tried it, and Matt instantly responded, shaking his head slightly as he did. “Nice to meet you finally,” he said.

  “Finally?” I glanced questioningly between the two of them. “It’s hardly been as long as all that we’ve known each other.”

  “Yeah, but”—Matt leaned into me so that our shoulders nearly touched, and turned to face Will, effectively putting him and me on one side and Will on the other—“this jackass got himself in trouble twice over you. So it might not have been long, but obviously it’s been real.”

  “I wasn’t sure, for a while, if it was,” Will admitted, and I felt a little bit lost between them. And so I merely nodded. If only there were wilderness here to bolster me instead of this sterile stadium!

  “Wait,” Will added suddenly. “Twice? What?”

  Matt widened his eyes but failed to appear remotely innocent because of the crooked tilt of his lips. “Shanti only mentioned something about you abandoning them at the farmers’ market.”

  Will’s face scrunched up. “They didn’t even want me there.”

  “Oh, well.” Matt shrugged similarly to the way I’d seen my cousin Justin gesture before, always when talking about women.

  “I should be getting home soon,” I said, unwilling to share my time with this boy, and not just a little sad Will and I had been interrupted.

  Sighing, Will said, “Me too. I’m not totally free.”

  “That’s incredibly stupid.” Matt stepped back from both of us. “You guys should come get dinner. We’ll swing around to grab Shanti.” He nodded to Will. “Like we talked about. I know for a fact she’s dying to hang out with Mab.”

  It filled me with discomfort, around my stomach like hot water, to imagine other people my age, out here in the civilized wo
rld, talking about me or thinking about me at all. I wasn’t for them or their world.

  Will paused, but then he saw me and read the uncertainty I’m sure painted my face. “I can’t. But,” he flicked his eyes at me and back to Matt. “We should. Like, after finals.” The last was said with a tiny uptilt to it and directed mostly at me.

  I firmed my resolve and said yes.

  WILL

  It hadn’t been a lie when I’d said I wasn’t free. I’d texted Mom, but it was good Matt had given us an excuse to head home.

  I directed Mab how to drive to my house. She concentrated on the road. After a couple minutes of silence except for the chug of the engine, I said, “Thanks. For being cool with Matt.”

  A smile flashed on and off her face. “Of course. He’s your friend.”

  “I just don’t want to push you into, ah, anything you don’t want.”

  Mab didn’t say anything until we rolled to a red light. Then she looked at me, and if I wasn’t crazy, she looked shy. “I don’t mind going out with you and your friends.”

  Out the window behind her, the sun was setting. The particular orange light reflected in through the windows and somehow found just her lips.

  All I could do while I watched them was nod.

  She smiled and kept driving. I relaxed back into the cracked bench. Warm air poured in through the slightly open window.

  Mab said, “I was thinking about what you said earlier. About not knowing who you are. And I was wondering who you want to be.”

  I sucked a deep breath. “I don’t know. I should, though. Everybody else does. Doctors or lawyers or marine biologists. Soldiers, writers, accountants. Everybody I know has a plan.”

  “All right. Tell me what you don’t want.”

  To let you drop me off at home and go days without seeing you again. I cleared my throat. “I don’t want to join the military. I don’t want to do anything just because I’m supposed to or it’s expected of me.”