The Keeper's Curse

Home > Other > The Keeper's Curse > Page 6
The Keeper's Curse Page 6

by Diana Harrison


  “You idiot!” Jade shouted at the strapper. One blow ended the duel, Jade victorious. She turned to Emmy, apologetic. “Sorry, I tried.”

  “It’s fine,” Emmy said, secretly relieved she could just sit and watch the rest of the class. It was very educational, seeing Jade fight so many students in so many ways. Some students she could destroy in one move, others took her five to ten minutes to beat. It was only near the end of the class when she finally failed to a boy, momentarily distracted by his taunting.

  Persephone was also mesmerizing, but in a different way. Jade fought more conventionally, while Persephone was more creative. The shapes she created with the palewraiths – felines, dragons, butterflies – were works of art, consuming her rivals whole. She also used the resources around her, not above ripping a tree right out of the ground to throw at her opponent, or (her personal favourite) having an opponent chase her onto a lake with weak ice blanketed by snow, ending with the opponent falling in the water.

  “Want a lift back?” Jade asked when the whistle blew.

  They were back much sooner than most of the class. Jade quivered with exhilaration. Emmy was so tired her legs nearly buckled beneath her.

  Jade threw her arm around her. “Wasn’t that great?” Before Emmy opened her mouth, Jade answered, “I knew you’d like it.”

  Chapter 5

  Cyrus Crow

  Meanwhile, in another orb, unbeknownst to Emmy, someone was watching her.

  This orb, unlike most, did not have a name, as very few people knew of its existence. The select few that did know of it did not dare to leave, but tonight was different. For the first time in years someone was going to get out.

  Cyrus Crow stood outside what had been his home for almost four years now. He knew he should have felt something - relief, sorrow, nostalgia – anything. Instead he felt nothing at all. It mattered little how he felt about it. He was leaving, it was a fact, and that was all there was to it.

  Nightfall had hidden the mansion almost completely, the black marble walls blending in with the darkness. Several men milled around the entrance, not knowing exactly what to do, waiting for their master to show.

  “Can’t we go now, Cyrus?” asked a little voice at his side.

  His eight-year-old brother Brynn was looking up at him with a crease between his eyes that no one his age should ever have. Cyrus leaned down to his level.

  “Yes, any minute now. Thoreoux just wants to say his final goodbyes, and it wouldn’t be wise to go without his blessing.”

  “Are we really going to get to see Mother? We’re really getting out of here?”

  “Of course we are. Thoreoux has never lied to us, has he?”

  Brynn didn’t look convinced, and Cyrus couldn’t blame him. Intellectually he knew that he was leaving too, yet he didn’t want to get his hopes up yet either. Until he landed in Methelwood, he wasn’t going to let himself feel anything. It was bad enough Brynn had to suffer the uncertainty.

  In his peripheral vision he saw someone coming swiftly towards them. His heart contracted in hopes it was his master, but the man came closer, revealing himself to be only Rathbone coming to say goodbye. In a composed stride he made his way to Cyrus and embraced him like his father never had. Cyrus awkwardly put his arms around the older man, trying to hide his distaste.

  “I wish you the best of luck,” Rathbone whispered in his ear. He pulled him back to look in Cyrus’s eyes. “You have no idea how proud I am of you.”

  Cyrus smirked. Rathbone was only half sincere. There was another person – another Rathbone wished had gotten this task. But she was not here.

  He placed an arm on Cyrus’s shoulder. “I wish you were my son. It is my biggest regret.”

  “That’s hardly your fault,” Cyrus said dryly, pulling away from him.

  Rathbone turned his attention to the little boy beside him. “You have been a marvellous apprentice, Brynn. Don’t ever forget us. Don’t forget our ideals.”

  Brynn glared at him and ran behind Cyrus’s legs. He would have apologized on his brother’s behalf if he hadn’t been so proud of him.

  Finally Thoreoux walked through the front door. He was in his best clothes with his arms folded at the sleeves like a frail old man, despite being only in his thirties. His walk to Cyrus was slow and deliberate, never taking his eyes off him. Cyrus had lived with Thoreoux for years now, and still, whenever he saw him, the hair on his neck stood up as if he were preparing to run.

  When Thoreoux reached him, he embraced him, but far more formally than Rathbone had. Cyrus respectfully responded.

  “May I speak with you a moment before you go?” Thoreoux asked. He didn’t wait for a response; it wasn’t like Cyrus was going to provoke him now, not when he was so close to being free. So close to finally having some peace.

  Cyrus whispered assuring words to Brynn, prying his fingers off of his trousers as Thoreoux followed him out into the front yard.

  “This isn’t a holiday,” Thoreoux said, his voice like a knot drawn taut. “This isn’t your chance to escape.”

  “I know,” Cyrus said, trying not to sound exasperated by this reiteration. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, all right? We’re not even sure if it’s her yet.”

  “No, but she’s from the real world,” Thoreoux said, raising his voice in excitement like he did every time he brought this subject up. “She’s Annalise Livingston’s daughter, for another. You should have seen Livingston’s face when Circlet insisted she had to stay in Methelwood. And Cyrus, she admitted to hearing voices in her head.”

  “Sounds more like she went mad from shock,” Cyrus said.

  “This is the best chance we have,” Thoreoux said, ignoring Cyrus’s tone. “I just want you to find out if she’s what we’re looking for. If she is, you are free to kill her. I want updates, however. You make sure to let us into Methelwood the moment you find out.”

  “We don’t know anything for sure yet,” Cyrus repeated. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to kill her without going through all this trouble?”

  “I’m not going to kill a little girl without merit, Cyrus. What kind of person do you take me for?”

  Cyrus burst out laughing, the cruel sound splitting through the air like the midnight frost.

  “It’s clear you’re not listening anymore, so I might as well say goodbye.” He said this with no fondness, just obligation. He put his arm on his shoulder, which Cyrus had the urge to remove. “Cyrus, there’s a reason I chose you for this. Not only are you extraordinarily intelligent, you’re focused, you have keen self-preservation instincts, and you have a single-minded determination. Like a rat.”

  “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Sir.”

  “Furthermore, you’re the only one I would trust for something like this. If you succeed, and we finally terminate this problem, I swear on my principles –”

  “But not your morals?”

  “ – I will replace Rathbone and make you my right hand. I have no mind that you’re less than half his age. You are infuriating at times, but you think for yourself. You don’t do everything I tell you to, but do what’s in your best interest. It’s my favourite quality about you.”

  Cyrus bowed his head. “May I go now?”

  “Yes, you may go.”

  Cyrus turned on his heel and made his way back over to his brother.

  “Oh, and Cyrus?” called Thoreoux from behind him.

  Cyrus didn’t turn around, but he stopped.

  “I can see you everywhere. If you do anything you ought not be doing, you know what I’ll do.”

  Cyrus didn’t react in any way besides darting his eyes in Brynn’s direction. He knew Thoreoux well enough to know he was looking at Brynn at the exact moment he was.

  The rest of the men waiting outside said their “goodbyes” and “good-lucks” that were at best mechanical, and at worst, taunting.

  Taking Brynn’s hand, the two brothers walked around the mansion to the back where the p
ortal was, glowing in the dark like a massive firefly. Usually Thoreoux hid it somewhere in the manor so nobody would ever be tempted by it; after Cyrus and Brynn left, the portal would be put back in its secret place. He could feel Brynn’s hand in his jittering with excitement.

  Cyrus had never said it out loud, but he wondered if Brynn actually remembered their mother or if he made up some picture of her in his head from what Cyrus had told him. He prayed seeing her wouldn’t crush his brother’s expectations.

  As they got closer, Cyrus himself wondered how she would take seeing Brynn. Because they were isolated from the orb network, they couldn’t even send letters, so she had no idea they were coming. If anything, she would be in tears at the sight of Brynn, who had been literally ripped out of her arms.

  They halted in front of the orb, taking the sight of it in. Little Methelwood. Stupid, naive little Methelwood. After four years of vilification against it, there was a part of him that wished he could go anywhere else but there. But of course, he obeyed.

  It was so easy – one touch and he would be gone. The way to get back would be much more complicated, but he would worry about that later.

  “Ready?” Cyrus asked.

  “Ready.”

  He squeezed Brynn with his left hand, and cupped Methelwood in his right.

  Chapter 6

  The Fall

  “You’re hearing voices in your head?” Alex demanded.

  “Calm down, I’m not even sure if they’re real or not,” Emmy mumbled on their way to school.

  “That isn’t making me feel any better.”

  “What if it’s just an unusual craft?”

  “None of them can make you hear voices in their head, Emmy. Crafts involve doing physical things, not mental things. I’ve told you.”

  “Maybe it’s not a voice, maybe it’s a real person.”

  “Yeah, that’s better.” He narrowed his eyes down the road. Jade was skipping ahead of them, her fiery red hair a dot in the distance. Emmy wondered if he knew Jade liked him, and whether or not he liked her back. Emmy knew she should probably tell him as a sisterly duty, but she knew there was a possibility Jade might get angry. She figured girls didn’t do those sorts of things to each other.

  “Do you want to visit a school counsellor?” Alex said.

  “No Alex,” she said firmly. “I’m fine.”

  “Do you want to go talk to Mom about it?”

  “No.” Alex had been trying for days convince Emmy to visit Annalise, but Emmy hadn’t budged yet. The thought of her mother still made her shake with fury.

  “Fine, leave me to deal with Mom by myself. All she talks about is you, anyway.” Before Emmy could respond to his harsh tone, Alex said, “I’m not trying to insult you, okay? How about this – if you hear the voice again today, go. If you don’t, don’t go. Trust me, if you let them know they’ll let you skip class.”

  “Any class?”

  “Any class.”

  Emmy grinned. She had a premonition she would fall ill right before her peacekeeping lesson.

  ***

  Not surprisingly, she was right.

  Ms. Spillet was reordering a cluster of forms when Emmy requested to visit a counsellor. In a frantic pace the receptionist exited her desk and rushed to the back to find someone for Emmy to speak with. Emmy tried not to blush, hating that everyone knew her problems, but knowing all the while she had to get over it since there was nothing she could do to change it.

  Ms. Spillet came back with a woman with waist-length silver hair dressed similarly to Vera, with flowered sheer material that looked like it was made from a curtain. Also like Vera, she had a warm smile, lessening the feeling in Emmy’s stomach of being trapped in the lion’s cage that was Methelwood.

  “Hello, Evangeline! My name is Willow Starling. I’ll be your counsellor for this afternoon.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Willow led her through the waiting room to the far back where her office was. It was decorated for comfort, with warm-coloured paintings on the wall, two comfortable plush chairs, and a window with a lovely view. Crystal flasks of all shapes and sizes filled the racks around the room.

  The two of them started chatting on safe topics, like how she was coping with all the new information and her feelings towards her mother. Emmy knew the drill. She had been reading on how to question someone in this manner for years, as unsettling as it was for her to be on the opposite end of it. But as interesting as it would be to talk about her reckless streak, or why her body liked to roam for hours in search of something nonexistent:

  “That’s actually not why I’m here,” Emmy finally said. “Something happened yesterday. Twice. I heard a voice in my head. It was only for a few seconds, both times, but it was definitely inside my head.”

  Willow narrowed her eyes, not writing any notes down. She was trying not to look too concerned, but instead curious. “Has this ever happened before?”

  “No.”

  “Never? You’ve never heard voices in your head before?”

  Emmy shook her head for a moment when suddenly it hit her. There was one other time, a very long time ago. An incident she hadn’t thought about in ages.

  “Actually,” she said slowly. “Yes. There was this one time ... it was on my birthday, when I turned eleven.”

  Willow began sketching notes. “Did you ever find out why this happened to you?”

  “No. I was with my friends, and everyone insisted it wasn’t real.” She leaned back in her chair. “But this is different. I could clearly hear the voice. That other time was unclear. Plus, it was incredibly painful and ...” she closed her eyes, knowing she would regret saying this. “... That time there was visions, too.”

  Willow had no choice but to appear concerned now.

  Emmy was stupefied. Why had she not thought of this before? That day had always been a brief, weird memory she hardly thought about anymore. She had never been able to explain it, but learning that magic existed was an explanation. It had to be related to this world, with these powers she had.

  “It’s not what you think,” Emmy blurted out. “It wasn’t a hallucination. It happened one time, and hasn’t happened since. Schizophrenia usually develops in early adulthood and it happened when I was eleven. Plus, I’m pretty sure my dopamine and serotonin levels are normal, and I have no history of psychosis in my family –”

  “Calm down, calm down,” Willow said. “I wasn’t suggesting you are mentally ill. My goodness, I don’t know what dopamine and serotonin levels are, but I’m interested in this memory of yours.”

  “I don’t remember it at all. I don’t think I ever did.”

  The counsellor chewed on her pen thoughtfully. “Do you ever dream about this experience?”

  This caught her off guard; she had never considered it before. “I have no idea.” She tapped her foot, trying to remember. She kept a dream journal, finding amusement in trying to interpret her dreams but never finding much logic in the discipline. “I might’ve written it down somewhere. You want me to try and remember my dream?”

  “If the dream exists, I may be able to find it for you.”

  “Like hypnosis?”

  “Not quite.” She smiled and took the pen out of her mouth. “There is a method we use that I don’t believe humans utilize. We call it dream downloading.”

  Emmy raised her eyebrows. “No, we definitely don’t have that yet.”

  “With your permission, I’ll try to find this moment in your life for you and we can watch it together. This may help clear up some of this confusion. It must be in a dream, somewhere. We haven’t perfected thought downloading yet, unfortunately – there is such a vast amount of information there.”

  “I have dream journals, but my things were confiscated when I got here. I’ll do my best to try and get them back.”

  “Wonderful,” she said. “I will have to check you for mental disorders, but don’t fret yet. I believe these two instances are connected, although I haven’t the slightest ide
a what could have caused it.”

  “But why do you need proof?”

  “I need something to look for in your head. You dream every night, and I hardly have time to sift through thousands of dreams. If you have even a fragment of what had happened however, it narrows the search down significantly. If something unusual did happen to you that day, I would be willing to bet it would be stored in your subconscious, even if you never clearly saw it.”

  Emmy leaned her head to the side, looking out the window, seeing teenagers laughing and running all over the grounds. She wanted that. She wanted to be normal, and she never would be if she continued hearing these voices. “Okay.”

  “Good, good. I will have the downloader set up in a few days. I’ll send you a note when I can book the next session.” She looked at the golden clock ticking away. “We still have twenty minutes. Is there anything else you would like to talk about?”

  Emmy grinned, wide and toothy. “Yeah, what’s it like being a counsellor?”

  ***

  When she completed her session, she found Teddy waiting for her on the front grounds, still in his peacekeeping uniform. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes clear, waving at her as she came down the steps.

  “Hi?” she said. “Do you need something?”

  “Yeah, remember? I was going to take you flying today.”

  “Right.” She rubbed her hands together and breathed hot air onto them. She had forgotten how cold it was. “But not for too long.”

  His friendly composure made her feel almost as good as Jade had. Emmy had spent her morning classes with Jade again, as well as Persephone and Teddy, now that they weren’t late. He had taken extra consideration to include her and she wished with all her heart she could repay him in some way.

  The two of them headed towards the forest, Emmy falling into silence while Teddy began chatting with her, adding dramatic pantomime with nearly every verb he said. He was incredibly easy to like, Emmy thought. He reminded her of her mischievous but benevolent best friend back home.

 

‹ Prev