Wild Keepers

by Dee Bridgnorth

  She smiled. “That sounds great.”

  Maya turned and walked into the rehearsal room. She turned back to look at him, but he had already disappeared.

  She frowned, slightly. Where had he gone?

  ***

  Evan walked into the basement, cornering Ernie, the caretaker of the building.

  “Hey,” he said.

  The old man stared at him, frowning. There were so many wrinkles on his face they seemed to crisscross his flesh like the roads on a street directory. His dull grey eyes were questioning.

  “Yes?” he said, his voice tremulous. “How can I help you?”

  Evan held out his hand. “Evan Watts,” he said. “I’m new to the security team here. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?”

  The old man continued staring at him, but nodded his head a fraction. “What about?”

  Evan smiled, wondering how he was going to approach this. When he had finally gotten home last night, he had lain in bed after talking with Thad, unable to sleep. At the start, all he could think about was Maya. But then, the unexplained puzzle of what was happening in this building started filtering into his mind. The ghost stories, and the mysterious fire that had happened here all those years ago. Who could he question about it that might know a bit more, or at least have a different perspective on it?

  And that was when Ernie, the caretaker, had come into his mind. He had noticed him rambling the building, of course, but hadn’t taken much notice of him before. Someone had told him that Ernie had been working there forever, and he suddenly realised that the caretaker might know something, or have seen something. He might just well be the eyes and ears of this theatre.

  “I’ve heard the stories about this place,” Evan smiled. “It’s a colourful building, isn’t it?”

  Ernie nodded, jangling keys in his hand. “That it is,” he said slowly. “I’ve been here for forty years now, and I’ve seen a few things in my time.” He hesitated. “It’s an odd place. I sometimes walk these back corridors and feel like something is watching me.”

  Evan nodded. “Yes, it has a strange energy, doesn’t it? I sometimes feel like I’m being watched, too.”

  He didn’t mention the strange object that he had found in the costume room. Thad had confirmed his fears about it. He had shown the alpha leader his photos of it before going to bed last night, and Thad had said that it was a Vilgath ill-wish. An object imbued with the demon’s power that centred the evil there. But he hadn’t known, of course, why it would be placed in that particular room, or what the demon’s intentions with it were.

  Ernie frowned, glancing up and down the corridor. “There’s been some mighty strange happenings in this theatre. And they started long before the previous director was found dead.”

  Evan stared at him. “Like what?”

  “Like the fire.” The caretaker’s eyes darted around as he spoke. “It was over a hundred years ago, but the caretaker before me told me all about it. As the caretaker before him told him.”

  “A fire.” Evan nodded. “Yes, I vaguely remember reading something about it. It started in the costume room, didn’t it, and an unidentified man died?”

  Ernie stared at him. “It started in the costume room,” he said slowly. “You have that right. But the caretaker before me knew who the man who died in it was.”

  Evan frowned. “I don’t understand. The article I read said that the man was never identified and was buried in an unmarked grave.”

  Ernie smiled slowly. “His name was never given to the police at the time,” he said. “The caretaker told me that they were all running scared and didn’t want to get involved. Wary. They didn’t want to tell the police who he was, for fear of the same thing happening to them.”

  Evan’s blood ran cold. “The same thing?” He stared at the old man. “So, what was the man’s name?”

  “Horace Watts,” said the caretaker slowly. He stared at Evan. “Same last name as yours.”

  Evan gasped, trying to stop himself from swaying slightly. He felt like he had just been hit in the stomach with a fist.

  Horace Watts was the name of his great-great-grandfather.

  The first of his forefathers, apparently, who had been cursed to die young.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Mr. Watts? Are you alright?”

  Evan could hear the old man’s voice as if from a long distance away. He pinched himself, trying to get himself back together.

  “Yes,” he said hesitantly. “Sorry. Tell me more about this mysterious fire.”

  The old man squinted his eyes suspiciously. “Why do you want to know anyway? It’s long gone. That man that died has been dead for over a hundred years, and the section of the theatre that was burnt in the fire was rebuilt.”

  Evan forced a smile onto his face. “My mother used to take me to this theatre when I was little,” he lied. “I’ve always loved it, and I’m a bit of a history buff, as well. It fascinates me.”

  Ernie continued staring at him. “Only young people are interested in the past,” he muttered. “Us old folk know that there’s no point staring backwards. Today could be your last.”

  Evan nodded. He knew exactly what the caretaker meant, but he wasn’t about to tell him that.

  “So,” he said slowly. “This Horace Watts, who died in the fire. Do you know who he was, and what he was doing there?”

  Ernie scratched his head. “The story was that he was the music conductor,” he said. “And he was relatively new to the place.” He lowered his voice slightly. “He had an affair with one of the dancers here, and it ended badly. Screaming matches in the back rooms. The dancer became obsessed, following him.”

  “What happened then?” Evan stared at the old man.

  Ernie shrugged. “Who knows? But he died in that fire. And people were scared enough that they refused to say who he was. Or maybe they had been threatened not to?” The caretaker sighed. “It all happened a very long time ago, and I’m only repeating what my predecessor told me. Maybe the details of the story have become lost, or changed, over time.”

  Evan nodded. “Okay. I can see that could happen.” He frowned, thinking. “What about the ghost stories? Do you think they have anything to do with it?”

  Ernie smiled. “Of course,” he said slowly. “The man with the wolf is Horace, haunting the theatre. Although why he is accompanied by a wolf is beyond me. And the story of the lady is the dancer who was obsessed with Horace, walking the corridors with a candelabra, searching for him.”

  Evan smiled too. “It fits perfectly,” he said. Then he looked at Ernie. “You’ve spent a hell of a lot of time in this building. Have you ever seen them?”

  The old caretaker paled, and his eyes started darting around again. “Perhaps,” he whispered. “But I try to tell myself that it’s all nonsense. But sometimes…”

  “Yes?” prompted Evan.

  “Sometimes, I feel her. As if she’s standing right behind me. As if she is breathing down my neck. I always turn around quickly, but there’s never anything there.” Ernie took a deep breath. “Other people have seen her. In a white gown.”

  Evan nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to know what this dancer’s name was, by any chance?”

  Ernie shook his head slowly. “I was never told that, just the man’s name.”

  Evan nodded again. He could always check the historical records, see what the names of the dancers were at the time of the fire. But it would probably yield nothing of interest. Why would any name jump out at him? Still, it was worth a look.

  “I’ve seen the man.” Ernie stared at him, saucer-eyed. “In one of the theatre boxes, a few years ago. They were doing a dress rehearsal for the same ballet they are doing now. I looked up, and there he was, gazing down at the dancers as if he belonged there.” He took another deep breath. “You probably don’t believe me, but I know what I saw.”

  “I believe you,” said Evan. “I believe in ghosts. What did the man look like?”

 
; Ernie sighed. “Hard to tell. He wasn’t…fully formed. He was kind of shimmering; you could see clearly that he wasn’t a person. But I remember his height, and that he had dark hair, with one of those old-fashioned handlebar moustaches.”

  Evan nodded. Would any of his relatives have an old photograph of Horace Watts? It was a long shot, but if he could locate it, perhaps he could show it to Ernie. He might be able to get a positive identification that the ghost haunting this theatre was his great-great-grandfather.

  He paused, thinking. But then what? What would it matter? It had all happened so long ago. Even if it was his great-great-grandfather who had died in that fire, was it even relevant to this case?

  Evan squared his shoulders. It did matter. Even if that mysterious fire had nothing to do with what was happening now, he needed to know. For his own reasons. Horace had been the first of his forefathers to be cursed, and he passed it on to all the sons of his family. But it suddenly occurred to him—why had he been cursed?

  Did it have something to do with this theatre? If it was Horace who had died in that fire, what was he even doing here? He had been a wolf shapeshifter, the same as all the men in his family.

  And then, he realised. If it was Horace, he wasn’t the real music conductor here.

  He would probably have been working on a case, for the Wild Keepers, the same as he was. There would be no other explanation. A case that he had never come home from.

  Ernie had told him that Horace had an affair with the dancer, and that was why she haunted the corridors. But Horace would have had a wife and young family at home. Evan shook his head, thinking deeply. No, the timing was all wrong. Perhaps the Horace Watts that had died in that fire was a different man who simply had the same name as his great-great-grandfather. That would probably make more sense.

  Evan shifted uneasily. Thad always told him not to ignore coincidence when it popped up in cases. Usually, there was no such thing. And then there was the fact that the ghost, or whatever it was, usually appeared with a wolf. Another coincidence?

  He should definitely consider it. But who could he ask about his great-great-grandfather? His own mother wouldn’t know much about her late husband’s side of the family, especially that far back. His father was dead, as was his grandfather.

  Then he remembered his grandfather’s sister. His great aunt Kathryn. He had only met her a few times, and he wasn’t entirely confident she was even alive anymore. But if she was, perhaps she might know some details about her own grandfather, Horace. It was a long shot, but worth a try.

  He turned to Ernie. “The dancer who Horace had an affair with,” he said. “The one who you don’t know the name of. Did your predecessor have any rumours or stories about her that he shared with you?” He stared at the caretaker. “Most specifically, were there any rumours that she was involved in some way with what happened to Horace?”

  Ernie’s eyes widened. “Yes. I thought you would have worked that out by now.” His voice lowered. “They claim that she was the one who lit the fire. She knew that Horace was in that room, or she lured him there. She was responsible for his death.”

  Evan’s blood ran cold. “If everyone knew, why didn’t they tell the police at the time?”

  “Because they were scared.” Ernie blinked quickly. “Just like I said. They were scared to say who the man was, and they feared her. Whoever she was.”

  Evan nodded quickly. “Thanks for the information, Ernie. It’s been…very interesting. Now I know where the ghost stories have come from.”

  Ernie nodded. “Ghost stories always come from somewhere.” He took a deep breath. “And hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” He walked off, down the corridor, jangling his keys.

  Evan stared after him for a moment. He had a lot of work to do. His instinct now was that this story of the fire related to what was happening now. There were too many similarities. Two men had been killed in that costume room. And he couldn’t forget the costume designer, Ariane, either. She had been discovered there, dead, although apparently from natural causes. Where did she fit into the picture?

  He took a deep breath. He had to find out who that dancer was, all those years ago. And he had to find out more about his great-great-grandfather.

  He glanced at his watch. The morning had flown by. It was almost lunch time, and he had said to Maya that he would take her to lunch.

  Maya. His heart leapt at the thought of her. He turned quickly and made his way up the stairs.

  ***

  Leonie smiled at Maya as they walked out of the rehearsal room. “That was brutal!”

  Maya smiled back, glad to see that Leonie was back to her usual self. “They are working us hard, that’s for sure.”

  “Do you want to go to lunch?” Leonie gazed at her. “I forgot to pack a sandwich this morning, and it might be nice to get out of the theatre. We could catch up.”

  Maya hesitated. “I would love to, but I told Evan I would have lunch with him.”

  Leonie’s smile froze slightly. “Evan? I’m surprised he’s still pursuing you. I thought he would have moved on to the next pretty thing.”

  Maya glanced at her. “I don’t think Evan’s like that, Leonie.”

  “Really?” Leonie stared at her. “If I wasn’t mistaken, I would think you were in the first throes of love, Maya!”

  Maya reddened. “It’s too early to say anything like that.”

  “Of course it is.” Leonie’s smile broadened. “But it’s no big deal. We can have lunch any other day. Have fun!”

  She walked away quickly. Maya stared after her, frowning slightly. Leonie definitely didn’t want her seeing Evan. But why?

  She took a deep breath. She didn’t have time to think about it. She had to change her ballet slippers and throw a dress over her leotard and stockings. Evan would be looking for her soon. She was surprised he wasn’t already here.

  Evan. At the thought of him her blood started flowing harder through her veins. Last night had been the most wonderful night of her life, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  She didn’t care anymore that they were from different worlds with not much in common. What did any of that matter? It was just superficial stuff. And she had never met a man who was so decent, and so refreshingly down to earth. Not to mention that he was the sexiest man she had ever met. Even thinking about last night made her bones melt again.

  If Leonie had a problem with that, let her. Real friends were happy for you when you found a good guy. They didn’t try to sabotage it. Was Leonie jealous, in some way? Was she resentful that Evan was interested in Maya and not her?

  She ran down to the dressing room, looking around the theatre. No Evan yet. Where was he?

  She quickly changed, then grabbed her bag, waiting. He had told her he would take her to a place that he knew nearby, so it shouldn’t take long to get there. Still, she didn’t have all the time in the world. By the time they ordered and got their meals she would almost have to leave if they didn’t head off soon.

  She stood up, restlessly. Maybe he had been waylaid, again. She would go and find him.

  ***

  Evan was out of breath by the time he got to the top of the stairs. Maya would have already finished her morning rehearsals, and he didn’t want to keep her waiting.

  “Evan?”

  He turned around. A dancer was standing there, smiling at him. What was her name again? That’s right. Rachel. She was one of the girls who Maya lived with, as well. A tall girl, like they all were, with mahogany-coloured hair and hazel eyes. Very pretty but also very remote. She had never spoken to him before.

  He smiled, a bit warily. “Rachel, isn’t it? How can I help you?”

  “I wanted to ask a favour.” She smiled again, looking over her shoulder. “I have a large parcel in my car that I have to get into the theatre. All the girls helped me carry it to my trunk this morning but they have disappeared for lunch, and it’s too heavy for me to carry by myself. Would you help me?”

/>   He hesitated, frowning. Maya was waiting for him, but how could he refuse her? It would be bad manners.

  “Sure,” he said. “Lead the way.”

  Her smile broadened. “Oh, thank you! I’m parked just out the front. I was running late this morning, and I took the first one that I saw.” She laughed. “I’m probably going to have a fine. I usually try to get to the all-day parking lot a few blocks away.”

  Evan nodded, following her out of the building. “Parking is a killer in this city.”

  “Isn’t it?” Rachel turned her head, smiling at him, as they walked along together. “Sometimes it takes me ten minutes of driving around that parking lot before I get one. So when I saw one just out the front of the theatre I couldn’t resist, even though it’s only for two hours.”

  “Have you thought about public transport?” said Evan, as they walked down the stairs at the front of the theatre. “It can be quicker, and then you don’t have to worry about it.”

  “True,” she replied. “But my father just bought me a new car last Christmas, and it’s too sweet not to drive.” She laughed again. “You’ll see.”

  Suddenly, she stumbled on the last step, careering towards him. Evan acted on instinct. He moved forward to break her fall, and she landed in his arms, just inches from the ground.

  Rachel coloured, staring up at him. “Oh, I am so sorry! I can’t believe how clumsy I am.”

  “Not a problem,” he said, trying to move away. But her arms were around his in a vice-like grip, and she didn’t seem to want to move them. He stared down at her, puzzled.

  She smiled, slowly, then reared up towards him, planting her lips on his own. He tried to push her away, but she was amazingly strong, clinging to him like her arms were made of steel.

  Eventually, he managed to break away, and let her fall on the steps. He was breathing heavily.

  “What on earth was that about?” he barked, staring at her.

  Rachel smiled slowly. “I couldn’t resist,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming. “You can’t hold it against a girl for taking the opportunity when you have me in your arms? You are very attractive, Evan.”