The Keeper's Curse

by Diana Harrison

  She was so sad, which was the first thing he noticed. She missed her home, and he could relate to her that way. All these distractions with Crawford, the dream downloader. and the Book of Curses were a blessing for her – it got her mind off her misery, and at the same time, gave her time to adjust to her new life.

  Then he had crossed over from pitying her into liking her. When she had come over to his house that day, he had not expected her to actually believe him – this left him stunned. She hadn’t changed of course; it was how he thought of her that changed. Her stubbornness became bravery, her snoopiness became intelligent curiosity, her blindness, loyalty.

  His perception of her appearance changed also. He used to think she looked like an insect with those protuberant eyes, pointed chin and skinny body. Now she looked more like a feline, her sly movements and mane of pale gold hair making her look like a lion –

  Tap, tap, tap.

  He sat up in bed to see an owl at his window, staring at him with yellow eyes.

  Might as well get this over with, Cyrus thought, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He trudged over to the window. He lifted the latch, letting in a gust of frigid white air.

  The owl opened its beak, and Thoreoux’s voice came out of it.

  “Cyrus ... I have been hearing some rather peculiar rumours about you this morning.”

  He doesn’t control you anymore. “You should know better than to believe rumours.”

  “You know what they say – rumours always have a seed of truth in them. I witnessed the regrettable accident of my dear friend Milo this morning. It’s a pity he had to go that way, but he died protecting me and my cause. I can’t say the same thing about you.”

  “I’m not going to kill myself, if that’s what you want.”

  “No, I’m giving you one last chance out of respect to Rhoan, who would already be disgraced by you, to fix this. Are you aware how far I’ll go to get that girl? Who I will sacrifice? Kill her now, and I’ll forgive you. Only her blood will be spilt, no more.”

  Cyrus set his chin and replied in a lucid voice, “No.”

  The hard expression on the owl’s face was eerily similar to Thoreoux’s face right before he had someone killed.

  “Do you think I’m bluffing? Do you not believe I’ll risk everything to make sure the Eldoir will not come to power? I’m trying to prevent a monarchist rule. You’re clever Cyrus. You’re capable of understanding that one girl’s life is more than a fair payment for everyone.”

  “As if you care about ‘everyone.’ There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll risk everything, Thoreoux. But it’s out in the open now. By tonight Methelwood will be infested with Ministrialians looking for that portal Stockwell placed.”

  “They won’t find it quickly enough.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  The owl closed its mouth. “I’m sorry things had to end this way between us,” Thoreoux said in his normal charismatic voice - as if Cyrus had merely told him they disagreed over beverage choices. “I genuinely did want you by my side. You were a really good liar.”

  “I didn’t have a choice, did I?” Cyrus said, taking one step closer to the owl. He was in arm’s reach of it now. “Thoreoux – this is for threatening my brother.” With lightning speed Cyrus grabbed the owl’s head with both hands, jerked it to the left and broke its neck instantly. Its brown body dropped to the floor with a thud.

  Cyrus stood still for several moments to regain composure – he had done the right thing. He hoped. He turned on his heel and headed downstairs, just praying the right thing was the wise thing.

  Chapter 24

  The Blossom Ball

  “Cyrus asked you out?” Jade exclaimed.

  “Did I leave out the part about the stolen mental patients being possessed by a long lost spell book and being forced into trying to kill me by an insane anarchist?” Emmy said with exaggerated patience.

  Jade was propped on the edge of Emmy’s bed with Emmy herself underneath the covers. When she came home from Cyrus’s she went straight to her room and subsequently slept for six hours, and would have slept longer if Jade could have waited longer. But she couldn’t contain herself, wanting to know everything that had happened. Emmy was informed the situation that morning was all anybody was talking about now. Persephone sat in her room as well, cross-legged on the floor and leaning against her bureau. She had not said a word for the past half hour as Emmy explained everything that had happened. Emmy figured Persephone’s plan was to have visited her while she was asleep without actually having to talk to her.

  “Right! Of course, that’s the most important part,” Jade said. She punched Emmy in the arm. “You should have said something before. I’m hurt you didn’t tell us about all this.”

  “There was nothing you could have done besides worry. I’m just so glad this is over.”

  “You’re going to have legendary status at school, you know,” Jade said. “I mean, everyone already knew who you were because of the half human thing but now it’s out in the open that you’re carrying around Breckin Crawford’s soul. And the fact that you solved the missing patient mystery that’s been going on for months? People are going to love you.”

  “All I’m worried about is how Cyrus is going to be portrayed in all this.”

  Jade waved the comment away. “There’ll be a few that’ll be impressed, but really, he’s Rhoan Crow’s kid. I recognized the last name, but it’s a very common name! I had no idea. Neither Breckin or Cyrus ever mentioned being related.”

  “That’s hardly fair,” Emmy sighed. “That everyone’s going to hate him because of what his father did.”

  She shrugged. “It’s how it is here. Last names are important. I don’t think you understand just how bad Rhoan Crow was – his name was almost as feared as the current right hand man, Grayson Rathbone.”

  Emmy leaned back against the wooden headboard, still exhausted. She lolled her head to the side to face Persephone staring off in the distance. She was fidgeting with a pendant around her neck.

  “You’re awfully quiet, is everything okay?” Emmy had hoped the whole situation would have gotten Persephone to forgive her, but they hadn’t even talked about it yet.

  Persephone was not nearly as pleased as Jade was with this situation. “They better find that portal, and very soon.” The deep passion in her voice fazed Emmy.

  “They will. Don’t worry Persy, nothing is going to happen to me, or Breckin, or anyone.”

  “Yes, and in the meantime,” Jade grabbed hold of Emmy’s arm, “we need to find you a last-minute dress.”

  ***

  Up until this point Emmy hadn’t been all that nervous, but when Jade began to apply her makeup, the butterflies in her stomach took flight. There had been so much in her head that a ball was the last thing on her mind, but it was here now.

  After Emmy showered, Jade handed her the dress she was to wear (Emmy simply asked to borrow an old dress of Jade’s) and slipped it over her head. The next half hour Jade did her makeup and hair while humming contentedly. When Jade finished, she smacked her lips together and took Emmy’s hand, dragging her into her room where the only body-length mirror in the house resided.

  Emmy gasped in delight. True to her word, Jade’s gown really was the exact blue shade of Emmy’s eyes, and due to Jade’s thin strapper body, the material hugged her tight, making her waist appear close to nonexistent. The dress flounced out in layers over crinoline, the delicate hem just brushing the floor. Emmy placed her hands on her tummy, her fingers tracing the embroidered flowers threaded in gold on the bodice. Jade had outdone herself with her hair as well; silver butterfly clips held her hair in a twist, letting only a few haphazard curls fall to halo her face.

  Emmy decided in that moment maybe not all girly stuff was bad.

  “Tell Cyrus I said ‘you’re welcome’,” Jade smirked.

  He will like it, Emmy decided. As Jade had reminded her, Cyrus was rich, and rich people noticed things like clot
hes. Emmy stood on her tiptoes and twirled around, letting the heavy skirt fly outwards.

  “You’re talented,” Emmy said. “Really.”

  “I know. So, that took less time than I thought, so I have more than enough time to set up.”

  “Am I finally going to hear you sing?” Emmy asked, clasping on a teardrop shaped necklace.

  “You will, and it will be marvellous! I even wrote a song dedicated to Alex. Promise me you’ll dance to it.”

  Emmy was glad Jade had wandered off to slip on her own gown so she couldn’t see her face fall. Oh dear. “I highly doubt I’ll be able to convince Cyrus, but I’ll make an attempt.”

  Emmy watched her friend get ready, trying to memorize everything she did for next time. It was a skill, in her opinion, to turn someone from cute to beautiful in half an hour. When Jade strutted out in her amber dress and waved hair, she looked better than Emmy did. Emmy only got in one compliment before Jade dashed out of the room in her heels, guitar in hand, leaving Emmy to her thoughts.

  “Don’t worry about Breckin, he’ll get over it!” Jade called from downstairs just as she slammed the door shut.

  She knew feeling guilty was ridiculous: she hadn’t actually done anything wrong. It was hardly fair Breckin judged her for the friends she chose when she intensely disliked Rozelyn. Granted, she hadn’t voiced this, but if she did that would lead to a whole new bundle of questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.

  After what felt like an eternity, Vera called her from downstairs. “Emmy dear, there’s a boy waiting for you at the door!”

  She took one last peek at herself in the mirror, inhaled with gusto, and made her way downstairs. Vera was in the living room in a fancier version of her curtain-like dresses, but she was able to pull it off because of that lovable smile. She beamed when she saw Emmy.

  “You look lovely. Is that Jade’s old dress?” Emmy nodded. “Ah. Well don’t tell her I said this, but it looks better on you. So who is the boy?”

  There was no point in hiding it. “Cyrus Crow.”

  Just as she expected, Vera’s eyes bulged. “I – what? Cyrus? Why?”

  “He’s sort of become my friend.”

  Vera did her best to wave this off. “Ah. I just figured that you would be going with – oh well, never mind. Have fun. I’ll see you there in an hour or so.”

  “Thanks Vera,” she said, slipping on the only pair of heels she had. She seized her poncho and headed down the flight of stairs into The Noir Beanery. The coffeehouse was empty, the vacant wooden tables and chairs making the room look a lot bigger than it normally seemed to be. Her eyes trailed towards the door, and there he was, the only other person in the room.

  Cyrus leaned against the door, fastening a gold cufflink on his shirt; he hadn’t seen her yet. Emmy could truly appreciate just how attractive he was now. He was dressed entirely in black (like he usually was), but even Emmy could tell the style and material of his simple suit was very expensive. His hair was even darker than his clothes were, tousled and messy and swept back from his face. His dark thick lashes were lowered, the light leaving long shadowed lines across his face.

  She cleared her throat, jerking him out of whatever he was thinking about. He raised his head to look at her. His eyes traveled from her face downwards until they reached the floor, then back up to her eyes. She felt exposed when he did that, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation.

  “What, no sarcastic quip?” she said, not being able to stand the silence any longer.

  “Oh, um, you …” he waved a hand at her as if this explained everything. “You clean up well.”

  There it was. She felt much more comfortable now. “Really? That’s the best you can do? Please refrain from complimenting me for the rest of the night.”

  “Your shoes don’t match your dress, either.”

  She clacked in her shoes over to him and smacked him on the shoulder. “Let’s go. Maybe you shouldn’t talk at all.”

  She shrugged on her poncho, just about to walk out the door when Cyrus took her hand, whirled her around to face him and said, “In all seriousness, you’re stunning. It hurts to look at you, actually.”

  Emmy bowed her head to stare at her apparently mismatched shoes. “But I don’t look as good as you, do I?” she asked.

  He chuckled low in his throat. “No, but don’t beat yourself up over that. Nobody does.”

  The worst part was it was true.

  He led her to the front of The Noir Beanery where a black shire stallion awaited them. Cyrus mounted the enormous creature first and held out a hand for Emmy.

  “My advice is side saddling in that gown of yours,” he said as he hoisted her up in the stirrup. She obeyed, feeling insecure, and chose to wrap her arms around Cyrus’s waist to make sure she didn’t fall off.

  He spurred the mighty creature into a canter. Only then did it occur to Emmy that she didn’t know where they were going.

  “Is this going to take a while?”

  “We’ll be there within ten minutes. Are you cold?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied, wishing she had brought her fur coat instead of her poncho. The following silence was deafening; Emmy became acutely aware she was alone with Cyrus and her skin tingled where she touched him. The easy, comfortable air between them when they had been collecting the patients didn’t seem to exist anymore. She kept pulling away from him to stop her muscles from tensing up, hating her self-consciousness, only to want to get near him again. It was a very strange feeling – she didn’t think at this point she was even capable of being attracted to somebody else. The tension was killing her, so she said, “Cyrus? Can I ask you something? Something kind of personal?”

  He craned his neck to see her, his face as usual being unreadable. “Sure.”

  “I trust you,” she began. “I have no reason not to, but I just don’t understand. I believed you when you told me that even before we met, you never planned to hurt me.”

  “Which was the truth,” he said.

  “Yes, but you’ve been with people your whole life who told you that crafters are naturally bad, and that non-crafters are good.” She had adopted calling people in the real world “non-crafters”, refusing to believe she wasn’t a human, regardless of being corrected all the time.

  “And I believe it,” Cyrus said. “Thoreoux didn’t make up that mantra – it’s been around ever since the Mallet Upheaval.”

  This bothered her. There was a lot crafters didn’t know about non-crafters – she knew they were not the helpless creatures Methelwoodians made them out to be, and had no way to prove it. But that was not the point of this conversation, so she let it slide.

  “But you still weren’t willing to kill me and Breckin,” she said. “You hate Breckin.”

  “Maybe, but I still don’t want him dead.”

  “The thing is though, it would’ve made sense that you were brainwashed by Thoreoux and your father into believing everything they said. I don’t understand where you got the idea saving our lives would be a good idea.”

  She was forced into staring at the back of his head for a minute before he answered. She was just about to apologize when he spoke, “Because I knew what it meant to murder somebody.” His voice was quiet but strong. “I hate Clara Crawford for killing my father. I know she had to do what she did – it was a matter of survival – but she still took away everything from me and Brynn. I know my father was a bastard, but he was my father. And she didn’t care.”

  Emmy didn’t know what to say to this other than, “I’m sorry.”

  “Anyway, that’s what changed for me. I promised myself I would never do that to somebody else, to take away their life and ruin everyone else’s that had loved them. I can’t forgive Clara, or the Eldoir. He’s the reason my father is dead.”

  She felt the muscles in his back tighten underneath his clothes. Emmy wanted to apologize for asking, but he didn’t seem to be angry. He said it like they were talking about the weather.

  Em
my then noticed something flashing across the sky, averting her attention. She pulled herself further up in the seat to see past Cyrus, and came across a very strange sight. Trails of fire soared through the air in a deliberate crisscross pattern through the sky, a few feet above the trees.

  “We’re here,” Cyrus announced, jerking the horse off to the right where a hitching rail stood. There was very little room with the rail covered in reigns of over thirty horses; it took them a few minutes to find a spot. He helped her off the horse and extended his arm. Tentatively she accepted, wrapping her arm around his. This was so strange.

  “It’s freezing,” she said. “How are we supposed to have a dance here?”

  He didn’t need to answer when they turned the corner behind the hitching rail, exposing her to the fire once again. The crisscross fire pattern extended across a huge clearing in the shape of a bubble, shielding the people inside. From several feet away Emmy could feel the fire. Her body ached for more warmth.

  “Isn’t this dangerous?” Emmy whispered.

  Cyrus led her through the arch-shaped entryway inside the fire bubble.

  “Don’t worry, the last forest fire on account of the Blossom Ball was in the nineteen forties,” Cyrus said. “Ages ago.”

  “How is this controlled?”

  “Salamander elementals,” he said. Emmy’s eyes trailed the lines of fire back to their roots on the ground, and noticed every one of them led to a crafter. Each one held out their hands, fire coming out of them, keeping their flames steady. It certainly worked; everyone inside the bubble was warm, none of them wearing coats.

  In the center of the woodland clearing was a circle of grass that had been trampled on beyond repair, which was where everyone danced. All around the edges were small circular tables covered in cloth, adorned with the bright colors of spring, where people could sit and talk. Beyond the dance floor, where Emmy could barely see, was a small dais of a stage where several people were playing instruments. Emmy narrowed her eyes to see the lead singer, and it wasn’t a tall redhead. Jade’s band hadn’t started playing yet.