The Keep: The Watchers

by Veronica Wolff

  When he didn’t pounce on me, I slowed. Stopped. And then I stared.

  He was simply standing there, quaking, looking like a shell of the Yas he’d been. He was off his game. So much so, I wondered if I actually might have been able to beat him in a fight.

  It gave me the courage to risk saying more. “This is the last thing…” My throat spasmed, coughs racking me, but I managed to catch my breath and swallow. “She wouldn’t want this.”

  I paused to give my words meaning beyond this one tussle in this particular hallway. She wouldn’t have wanted us to fight here, and more than that, she wouldn’t have wanted this distance between us. We were becoming exactly what the vampires wanted us to become: scared, estranged, suspicious—things that made us need them.

  “We don’t have to do this,” I said. It was a simple statement, and yet to believe it stole just the tiniest bit of power from them. I’d find ways to steal even more.

  I’d convince Yasuo that I wasn’t the enemy. Convince him that I wasn’t the one to attack. If he channeled his anger at the real culprits instead, if we sided together against the vampires, we’d be stronger. Power could be ours for the taking.

  Power, not strength…my new motto.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I was shivering in the bitter January night, trembling, race-walking back to the dorm. Yas had profoundly freaked me out. He was increasingly unstable, and I worried he was losing it, like in a fundamental about-to-snap sort of way.

  I understood his anguish. His anger. But his fury went beyond grief or blame to something deeper. He felt horror, and he blamed me. If I found out what happened to Emma, maybe I could convince him that her death wasn’t my fault. Maybe then he’d forgive me.

  Carden had sensed my distress, and this time, he hadn’t waited. He came right to me, catching up with me on the way back from dinner—right after my tussle with Yasuo. Like, right after.

  He simply appeared beside me on the path, startling me. “Who hurt you?”

  I put a hand to my chest, gasping a breathy half laugh. “Don’t do that.”

  “I caught you unawares.” His eyes hardened. “You must always be on guard. It is a lesson you must learn if you are to survive.” He softened, putting a fingertip beneath my chin. “And I’d prefer it if you survived, aye?”

  “My guard is just fine.” I couldn’t help it—the fight with Yas had been too disturbing—and there was an edge to my voice that didn’t usually come out when I was with Carden. “In case you haven’t noticed, you vampires are a little on the stealthy side.”

  Vampires, and Yasuo was becoming one of them. I put a hand to my throat, feeling the ghost of his arm constricting around my neck. It was like he was still choking me. All those fragile bones ready to snap. And even worse than the physical sensation was the betrayal. That was what strangled me now. My loneliness, suffocating me.

  “Have you been hurt?” He sounded ready to throttle someone. “Are you unwell? Speak to me.”

  I resumed walking, and Carden fell into step. “It’s just…” I reminded myself I wasn’t as alone as I felt. He’d sensed my distress and come to me at once. It should’ve been enough to improve my mood, and yet it was so hard to wrap my mind around. I still didn’t completely trust the feelings between Carden and me. I mean, the guy was a vampire. I dared not tell him my concerns about Yasuo. I still held out hope that Yas and I could mend our friendship, and I didn’t want him to be the one Carden throttled. “Let’s just say the suck factor is particularly high today.”

  Carden was quiet for a moment, then said, “As you wish.” He knew I was holding something back, and to his credit, he didn’t push me on it.

  Though…

  Why didn’t he push me on it? Only someone who had their own secrets wouldn’t demand the full story. As you wish. And didn’t that just sum him up? Carden did as he wished.

  I gave a shake to my head. I couldn’t let myself spin out like this. What I needed was a refuge. A place where I could be safe, just for a little while. “Where do you stay?” I asked abruptly.

  “Close by your side?” He raised a questioning brow, that jaunty grin of his firmly in place. Ever the smooth-talking flirt.

  It was a great way to avoid the question.

  For once, I didn’t take the bait. “No, I mean when you sleep.”

  “I don’t sleep.”

  “Okay, rest. Where do you stay at night?” Was it in the keep? Did he know the secret horrors of the island? Was he behind it, with the other vampires? The rapid-fire thoughts had me freaking out.

  “It’s no secret, dove.” His features grew quiet, like he only now realized he was dealing with little miss crazypants. And how I hated the feeling that I was pulling the clichéd psycho girlfriend thing. But he tipped his head, looking off to the right, and gently said, “Northeast of here, there’s an old hunting bothy. I use it when I need to come in from the light.”

  “Will you take me there?”

  He paused. “Not tonight. But soon. Soon I will show you.”

  “Why don’t you stay in the keep with the other vampires?”

  “I avoid Hugo’s lair at all costs, and I’d have you do the same.”

  “What goes on in there?” I needed to know the secret of that castle.

  “Why the sudden interest?”

  I couldn’t stop now. Carden and I were close. If he truly cared about me, he wouldn’t keep secrets. “If Emma was alive when they took her to the castle, what would’ve happened to her there?”

  “This, I don’t know.” For once, he looked taken aback. This hadn’t been the direction he’d expected our little chat to take.

  “You don’t know,” I repeated flatly. But there was something in his eyes. Something distracted that told me he might have some idea. “You must know something. If not about Emma, then how about the other girls. You know, the ones who disappear all the time. You’re a vampire. You say you’re not one of them—”

  “I’m not one of Alcántara’s lackeys,” he interrupted with a growl.

  “Fine. Still, you must have some clue.”

  A heavy silence hung between us for a moment. “Your anger is misdirected. Trust me on this. Trust me, too, when I say I cannot tell you what occurs inside their keep.”

  “So you do know.” Suddenly I was so tired. So sick of all these secrets. “Why won’t you tell me more?”

  “For your own safety.” His answer was quick and sharp. “I know not what happened to your friend. Do I think she’s dead? Yes. Do I know of dark doings at Alcántara’s hand? Aye, this island is full of darkness. Would you have me secret you inside the castle, tour you around, introduce you to the one truth? I cannot, because there isn’t one. There is no lone truth, no single secret revelation. Will I tell you more than this? Can I risk telling you everything? Take the risk that Alcántara might one day perceive the knowledge in your eyes? Can I give him any suspicions of any kind? No, and no, and no again.”

  “Sorry, Carden, but that’s just ridiculous. It’s dangerous enough just being here. Wouldn’t knowing the Directorate’s secrets be a good thing? Like, forewarned is forearmed?”

  “There is some knowledge that is difficult even for me to bear. I would guard you against it. Against them.” He had such a pained look on his face as he said it, like he truly did want to protect me, from everything, even the bad thoughts. “If there was one truth to share that would help you, one thing I could say that would safeguard you, believe me, I would enlighten you. I wouldn’t hesitate; I would risk my existence to arm you with that knowledge. But there are only secrets and horrors in that castle, and I beg you to stay away.”

  “Then why don’t you leave?”

  “I’m bound to you,” he said with a quick smile. But then he paused and looked blindly into the distance. “Aye, we could flee this island together, but…other things hold me here. Other allegiances. Too dangerous for you,” he added before I could interrupt. “And there is no running from those. Some truths you cannot esca
pe.”

  I understood a little something about allegiances. And he was right. Alcántara and his cronies were powerful—there would be no disappearing where they were concerned, only death. “I guess we could run, but we’ll never be able to hide, huh?”

  His eyes met mine again, and their light had returned once more. “Something like that.”

  He was so old-fashioned. I believed he truly did earnestly wish to guard me. It made it hard to be angry. I studied him for a moment, my seventeenth-century sort-of boyfriend. “Protecting me from the bad guys—is that you being chivalrous?”

  A grin threatened along the hard line of his mouth. I’d surprised him. “That is one word for it.”

  I smiled then. “And I’d thought chivalry was dead.”

  “You cannot blame me if I wish to keep you safe,” he said, growing serious again. “When I can.”

  “You do realize I’ve done a pretty decent job of protecting myself, right?”

  “Call it my weakness, but the need to defend you is strong.” Then he quickly added, “As you need it, of course.” His expression grew panicked, scrambling to express his true thoughts to the modern girl. “That is, if you allow it.”

  His fear of making a conversational gaffe with me was the most endearing thing I’d ever seen. I leaned in to him, nudging him with my shoulder as we walked. “You’re such an antique.”

  He laughed then, loudly, and his burst of good humor was irresistible. It broke the tension for good. “A man could do worse than to be your knight.”

  It was full dark, and I looked up, studying his strong profile. The white moonlight etched a line along his jaw, and his smile seemed to glow in the darkness. He was all-powerful and yet he was there, with me, walking me back to my dorm, ever the gentleman, while he could’ve been…what? Ravaging helpless villagers? Drinking the blood of innocents? Who knew what they did in the keep. All I knew was that Carden McCloud wasn’t in there doing it with them.

  So who was he really? I fantasized about taking down the Vampire Directorate, but maybe he did, too. “Why aren’t you like them?”

  “To be Vampire…it should not demand that one be evil.”

  Evil. Was it possible to require blood to survive and not be evil? I couldn’t help but think of myself. Me, who now craved the blood of vampires.

  It stayed on my mind all night and all through the next afternoon. I was still contemplating the meaning of it all, sitting there on the beach, waiting for Ronan’s arrival.

  I checked the time on my watch—it was a fugly digital model well suited to geeks and Navy SEALs everywhere. Thursday. 13:47. Getting close to Primitive Skills time…aka Ronan’s wilderness camp.

  Unlike the academic subjects, many of these survival classes were girls only. I supposed it was because the guys were going Vampire, and if you were a vamp, why learn to survive off the land when you could survive off the landowners, right?

  Shudder.

  How would Ronan act when he saw me? I’d headed over early, wanting to get our initial interaction over with before the other girls showed up. He’d been so kind the other night in the dining hall. The fact that I might’ve looked so sad, so raw, as to make Ronan feel sorry for me made me feel pathetic. And, frankly, a little embarrassed, too.

  I wanted him to think I was okay. I wanted to say hi, to exchange a meaningful look that said I’m cool; it’s all good before the start of his class. Usually he showed up early to prepare, but he still hadn’t arrived.

  Unfortunately, many of my classmates had. They trickled in, wearing parkas and boots over their navy blue catsuits, managing to look like they were slinking down a catwalk instead of simply walking across the cold, damp sand.

  Did I look like that? Was I that graceful and just didn’t realize it? I’d had a year of brutal physical training by now. It was possible.

  “Imagine that you’re alone,” Ronan said, startling me from behind. He’d strolled up and was diving right in to his lecture. So much for my meaningful look. “You find yourself on a beach such as this. You’re hungry. Growing weaker.” He walked to the water’s edge, and we hopped into step behind him. The waves were calm today, a rhythmic crash and whoosh along the shore. “What do you eat? How do you quench your burning thirst?”

  One girl volunteered, “I’d have water in my pack.”

  He brushed that off. “Your water is long gone.”

  An auburn-haired Initiate named Isabella rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that why we’re taking this class? So you can tell us what to do?”

  “Nice,” I muttered, giving her a critical eye. She’d never survive her first mission.

  It made me want to do better. To excel. I forgot Yasuo and the nature of evil, and for the moment, I even forgot Carden. I wanted to be the one with the answers. “There are shells,” I said. “For food, I mean.”

  Isabella chuffed a bitchy little laugh. “A little crunchy, don’t you think?”

  I gave her my best side-eye. “Where there’re shells, there’re shellfish.”

  “Very good,” Ronan said with a firm nod. He gave me a pleased look, and Isabella looked like her head might explode. “Acari Drew is absolutely correct.”

  He walked to the water’s edge. The tide pulsed and swirled around his combat boots, slowly soaking the cuffs of his black cargo pants. Even though it couldn’t have been much past two thirty, the sky was a flat gray, the sun already threatening to dip below the horizon. A cloud shifted, shooting a beam of weak sunlight wavering and glimmering along the packed sand. Ronan squatted, peering closer.

  “The light will fade quickly now.” His voice was low, making him sound deep in his own thoughts. He raked his fingers along the wet sand, and for a moment, I lost myself to the image of it. That hand was strong, a man’s hand, with close-clipped nails and skin that was lightly tanned from his time outside, doing things like surfing and teaching us how to survive. He traced his fingers along the shoreline, and it was a slow, languorous movement, almost dreamy, like he was stroking the long hair of a woman.

  I gave a sharp shake to my head. What the hell had that thought been? I reminded myself it was that very hand and its hypnotic touch that’d tricked me onto this island in the first place.

  “Simply use your senses,” he said. “Even in the moonlight, you can find shells. You can see, and if you can’t see, you can feel the irregularities in the sand. See there.” He pointed to a spot I hadn’t noticed before, where the sand dimpled. He used his fingers to dig a well around it, revealing the tip of a shell. “Razor shells are common in this part of the world. If you had salt, you could sprinkle it and the shell would pop right up. But”—he dug deeper, till he could snag it with his fingertips and jiggle it free—“you’re clever girls. You need only to pry it up.”

  He held up the shell. It looked like a long, golden-brown fingernail. “There’s meat in here. Not much. But I know from experience—if you’re hungry, it’ll seem a meal, right enough.” He whipped it back into the water, lobbing it past the breakers, where it landed with a hollow plunk.

  He wandered again, scanning the shoreline. Each wave left behind a delicate ruffle of foam and a patchwork of shells and rocks and seaweed. “There is also the limpet,” he said, and it took him no time to find and pluck one of the bumpy gray shells from the sand. “These are even more plentiful. You can’t take two steps on these beaches without stepping on one.”

  He handed it around. It resembled a tiny conical hat and fit nicely in my palm. Whatever creature had lived inside was long gone, and shards of broken white barnacles covered the surface.

  “Technically, the limpet is a snail,” he said. “A bit chewy for my taste.” He’d added the last comment with a shrug and a half smile, briefly catching my eye as he did so. I had the strange—and probably incorrect—thought that he’d said it for my benefit.

  “Now it’s your turn,” he said. “You walk the beach, imagining yourself hungry and alone. Search for items you think could give you sustenance. You might be surpri
sed at what you find.”

  A couple of the girls—mostly Isabella and her friends—began complaining at once. “I can hardly see,” one of them griped.

  I didn’t bother to check who’d spoken. I just walked away, anxious for a little space to prove myself even further, finding my own selection of awesome foodstuffs.

  “Why does this class have to be now?” Isabella asked, closer to me than I’d realized. She’d probably decided to follow me in the hopes that I knew what was going on.

  “Yeah, wouldn’t it be better, like, in daylight?” one of her friends said.

  “We can hardly see.”

  Ronan spoke as if to a child. “If you are alone, stranded, on a mission, if you’ve risked coming out of hiding, chances are it’s because night has fallen. You must prepare for the worst of circumstances. Were it in my power, I’d hold class in the raining pitch-darkness to make it even more difficult for you.”

  We split up, wandering our separate ways along the beach. I turned my focus to the plentiful and varied detritus that’d been spat from the sea. There were tons of shells, mostly broken, but I managed to scavenge a couple whole ones from ankle-deep in the breakers.

  I thought of survival scenarios. If I were weak, starving, and unarmed, how on earth was I supposed to crack these suckers open? It was a good question, but I’d become very competitive and wasn’t about to risk being overheard. You never knew when something like opening a shell bare-handed would be the skill that saved you over someone else. I made a note to ask Ronan later.

  I heard girls’ splashing footsteps near me. “Drew’s finding shells,” Isabella said. All her friends but one had wandered off, so it was just her and a tall, skinny, brown-haired girl whose gangly legs made me think of a spider. Her name always escaped me—it was something that sounded wealthy, Tiffany or Whitney maybe—but I just thought of her as some variation of Spidergirl in my head. “Hey,” Izzy told her, “help me look here.”

  I smirked. Fine. They could have the breakers. I had a better idea.