Unraveling (The Lost Keepers Book 5)

by AR Colbert

  Unraveling

  The Lost Keepers #5

  AR Colbert

  Ramsey Street Books

  Copyright © 2021 AR Colbert

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Previously in The Lost Keepers

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  A DEEPER LOOK

  ABOUT THE SERIES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Previously in The Lost Keepers

  Everly discovers her mother is alive and held behind bars in an enchanted prison located in an unknown Keeper territory. The problem is, Everly can’t enter the Keeper territories without her powers first being activated. And after her Professor failed to interpret the writing on her ancient tablet, she’s back to square one.

  Tate isn’t the only Agarthian interested in Everly’s soul. There may be multiple people working together to see her demise, both on and off-campus. And if it’s possible to ignite her powers with a traumatic event, she wonders if she could find a way to do it on her own.

  She also learns that there may be more fractured souls on campus practicing dark magic. Could this be an alternative way to possibly find and rescue her mother?

  PROLOGUE

  Rossel glanced at the clock hanging on his dingy white wall. The office space he rented in West Harlem left much to be desired, but it was only temporary. He’d had to find a new meeting location after his quick exit from the gallery, and his warehouse in Hunts Point wasn’t suitable for polite conversation.

  Then again, this meeting he was currently awaiting may not end in polite conversation, either. Rossel suspected he knew what the Professor would say. He’d suspected Everly took the tablet ever since he first discovered it missing the night after the explosion. But if the Professor dared to suggest any truth to the rumors surrounding the relic, things could get ugly. Rossel would have no choice but to take action against him.

  A knock on the door sounded the man’s arrival. “You may enter,” Rossel called out.

  Professor Brossard walked into the office and gave a timid bow. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. May I speak candidly here?” He scanned the corners of the room, likely searching for cameras or other recording devices. The Professor was naïve, but he wasn’t a fool. Rossel appreciated that about him.

  “You may.” Rossel gestured toward the empty seat across the desk from him. “This is not the most luxurious building in New York, but it is quite secure. We will not be overheard.”

  “Very good, sir. You see, I’ve come to you about something rather important. It’s… The Prophecy of Deliverance.” He lowered his voice when he mentioned the tablet, despite Rossel’s earlier reassurances. “A student approached me recently. She appears to have a piece of the original relic, and she was inquiring about its text. Have you noticed it missing from your collection?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Oh.” The Professor’s face went slack. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Should I—uh… should I have retrieved it for you?”

  “No, it’s quite alright, Professor. You know the tablet has no true meaning. The prophecy isn’t real, so this student—I’m sorry I didn’t catch a name…”

  “Everly Gordon, sir.”

  A frown tugged at Rossel’s mouth. “Right. This Everly will find it useless. You know I only keep it tucked away to keep the rumors at bay. We don’t want another incident with one becoming obsessed over it again, now do we?”

  “No, sir.” The Professor’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a large swallow.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “About the prophecy? Not a thing.” Professor Brossard shook his head rapidly.

  “Well, of course you told her nothing about the prophecy. As we discussed, it’s all just folklore. But what did you tell her about the tablet?”

  “I told her it was unreadable. I couldn’t make out the symbols and I told her no one else would be able to either.”

  “Did you mention Driskell?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Good.” Rossel drummed his fingers on the desk. “Was there anything else?”

  “No, sir.” The Professor paused. “Well, actually… I touched the relic. As I was inspecting it. You don’t think—” His face crinkled, a sheen of sweat reflecting the fluorescent lighting overhead.

  “That you have been cursed?” Rossel raised a brow. “It’s folklore, Brossard. What happened with Driskell is purely coincidental. He allowed his obsession with the object to get the best of him. Nothing more.”

  “Right. Thank you.” The Professor stood, hesitating as though there was more he wanted to say. “Well, I guess I’ll be on my way then.”

  “Goodbye, Professor.”

  As soon as the man disappeared through the doorway, Rossel extracted a notepad and pen from his desk drawer. He hastily scribbled a message and folded the paper, tucking it into an enchanted envelope that could only be opened by the intended recipient. On the outside, he wrote one word, “Baerius.”

  Two long strides had him at the window, which he struggled with momentarily before the glass finally lifted. He snapped his fingers, but he didn’t have time to wait for the messenger. Instead, he clipped the note to a fastener placed just outside the sill and slammed the window closed.

  He’d just gotten re-situated at his desk again when another knock sounded at the door. Gayla’s voice called out. “Rossel? It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

  He wasn’t sorry she was late. He’d been counting on it. “Enter.” He pinned the girl was a disapproving glare as she dropped her designer bag on the floor beside her chair and plopped down with an annoyed huff of air. “Punctuality is a virtue.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I actually was on time today for once. But I ran into Professor Brossard at the elevator. Was he here to see you?”

  Rossel’s lip pulled up in disgust. “Why would I need to speak with a linguistics Professor?”

  She shrugged. “I dunno. I was just surprised to see him here. Anyway, let’s get this rolling. I have a date tonight and I don’t want to be late.”

  A scuffling sound came from the window. Rossel glanced through the corner of his eye in time to see a large brown owl retrieve the note and take off into flight. Satisfied that he’d done all he could for the time being, he turned his attention back to the disrespectful seer before him.

  “Have you managed any other visions since our last meeting?”

  Gayla paused. “No.”

  She was lying, and she wasn’t particularly good at it. But what was she afraid of revealing to him? He’d wager it was about Everly.

  “Are you quite sure?”

  Another pause. “Yes.”

  He’d have to speak with Baerius about putting a stop to her fledgling visions for the time being, at least until they were able to remove Everly from the equation. That girl was dangerous, and they couldn’t risk Gayla seeing something incriminating.

  “Very well, then. L
et’s begin with today’s practice.”

  CHAPTER 1

  My mother taught me a trick to falling asleep when I was younger. She said to lay perfectly still and concentrate only on my toes. I would stop my wiggles and concentrate on holding them perfectly still. When the muscles had fully relaxed, I would move up my feet to my ankles, calves, knees, thighs, and so on, until every inch of my body had fully succumbed to peaceful rest. I made it to my elbows once. Otherwise, I would always doze off long before reaching my mind.

  Not tonight though.

  Tonight I’d gone from toes to head twenty times over. I counted sheep, whispered lullabies, and flipped my pillow over to the cold side countless times. My belly was a bundle of nerves, and there was just no use trying to sleep.

  I checked my phone again. It was 2:22 A.M. With only eight minutes until my alarm would go off, I decided to quit pretending to rest and just get up. My socked feet hit the floor without a sound, and I tiptoed to my dresser where a bundle of rosemary, water hyssop, and pennywort awaited me. I slipped a robe over my shoulders, dropped my phone into my pocket, and eased open my door.

  Gayla’s room was on the opposite side of our apartment. I’d waited until I knew she would be tucked into bed, fast asleep before sneaking out of my room. I’d grown worried earlier in the evening. Gayla had a date with some Agarthian sophomore, and she didn’t get in until well after midnight. But that was nearly two hours ago. I knew she would be sleeping by now. It was time to act.

  I’d pored over the words in the dream waltzing pamphlet earlier that evening, though I already knew them by heart. And despite my best efforts, I hadn’t located many other works on the topic, aside from a senior thesis written about twenty-five years ago. Evidently, the technique wasn’t commonly practiced anymore. The modern telephone had eliminated the need to communicate through dreams in a sleeping state. Now it was only used for nefarious purposes, and therefore no longer encouraged or taught in the Keeper curriculum.

  But my reason for attempting it was good. My mother was still locked away in some unknown Keeper prison, being held captive by some anonymous villain for who-knows-what. I couldn’t just call her up, so I’d try to reach her by going directly to the source instead. I would visit her in her dreams.

  The only problem was that I still didn’t have any powers of my own. I relied instead on the hopes that something magical stirred deep down inside—even if it was just a fracture of a powerful soul. When combined with the herbs and the spell I’d memorized from my pamphlet, I hoped it would be enough to accomplish a successful dream waltz. And call it what they may, dream waltzing with my mother was in no way “dark magic,” even if it was technically classified as such.

  Practicing on Gayla without her expressed permission on the other hand… I would worry about that another day. Surely Gayla would understand. Between my two roommates, she was definitely my best option. Mama Dom would certainly disapprove, and I suspected her mind would be harder to crack. Plus, if she caught me, there would be no hiding my thoughts from my telepathic friend. Nope. It had to be Gayla.

  I twisted the knob to her bedroom door and silently padded across her lush fuzzy area rug toward her bed. She lay there deep in what appeared to be a peaceful slumber. That was good. The deeper into sleep she was, the better my odds were of successfully entering her mind. I’d already planned how it would go. I would make it appear to her like a dream. I had the conversation already memorized—nothing special, just your standard oh my goodness we’re going to be late for our finals kind of dream. Every student had them.

  With the bundle of dried herbs in hand, I raised my arms over my friend and rubbed the leaves back and forth between my palms, grinding them together. Small flakes of the dried plants fell upon her sleeping form, gently dusting her over like a witchy confetti.

  I silently mouthed the spell from the pamphlet, “almacansia, descansan, nitardariel.” And I imagined myself entering her mind, searching through the darkness for some semblance of life. Nothing happened.

  I repeated the spell, a little louder this time but still not more than a whisper, and I rested the herbs on her chest. With my eyes closed, I focused on the earthy green scent that had filled her room, matched my breathing to hers, and tried once again to find Gayla’s thoughts swirling around somewhere within my own mind.

  Silence. Either Gayla’s brain was completely empty, or I was doing this wrong. But my pronunciation was accurate—I’d done the research. My herbs were of high quality, taken directly from Millie’s storeroom at the apothecary. And Gayla was definitely deep in sleep, as evidenced by her soft snores.

  I frowned and decided to try one more time. This time I leaned in close, rested my hands softly upon her shoulders, and spoke the words of the spell aloud, my voice a soft hum. “almacansia, descan—”

  BEEP BEEP BEEP. My hand flew to the pocket of my robe to silence the alarm that obnoxiously rang out through the room. Shoot. I thought I turned that off!

  Gayla snapped up into a sitting position, eyes as wide as saucers. I froze, then slowly backed up toward her dresser and squatted down, hoping to blend in with her furniture like a chameleon.

  “Everly?” Her brows twisted. Then, glancing down at the pile of broken, crunchy leaves on her pajamas, her nose crinkled. “What is going on?”

  “You’re dreaming.” I nodded and gestured around the room. “And it’s a pretty bizarre dream. You should go back to sleep. I’m sure everything will be back to normal when you wake up.”

  She just stared at me for the longest time. I moved into a thinking position, resting my chin on my fist as though pretending to be a statue might help me convince her that this was all a dream. Gayla burst into a fit of giggles.

  “I see what you’re doing here.” She brushed the debris off of her shirt and onto the floor. “You’re paying me back for the Dylan thing, aren’t you? Look—he was begging me to give him your number. He said you were the prettiest mortal he ever laid eyes on. How was I supposed to say no to that?” She shrugged, innocently.

  “Dylan,” I nodded. “Yep. This is payback.” I had no idea what she was talking about. “Maybe you’ll think twice before doing something like that again.” I stood and wagged my finger at her, then moved to the door, my heart still racing from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

  Gayla laughed. “Touché.” Then she shook her head and flicked a dried rosemary leaf off of her sheet. “But this was a strange prank. Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, you do something to keep me guessing again.” She pulled the covers back up to her chin and rested on her pillow. “Goodnight, weirdo!”

  “‘Night, Gayla.”

  I closed her bedroom door behind me and leaned against the wall. Clearly, this dark magic business wasn’t going to work for me until I manifested some semblance of Keeper powers on my own. My options were dwindling. I’d have to find some other fractured soul to help me, or possibly meet with this Rasputin guy myself. If anyone could help me discover my powers outside of the Keeper laws, it would be the man responsible for training all the other fractured souls in dark magic for the last hundred years.

  It was time to locate Rasputin.

  CHAPTER 2

  Sean met me outside of my apartment the next morning. I focused entirely on my schoolwork during the week—well, that and reading up on dark magic—but I agreed to continue helping my aunt Millie at her apothecary on the weekends. And thankfully, my relationship with Sean had gotten back to normal since the whole Clayton catastrophe. It made the long walk to her shop much easier.

  I’d accepted that I probably needed some kind of guardian to watch my back, and he’d accepted that I may be a little harder than average to keep track of. But I helped him with his girl problems and he helped me with my Agarthian problems, so we were both fine with it. It was a symbiotic relationship.

  “You coming inside?” I asked as we reached the door. The last time we’d walked over to the apothecary together, Sean sprinted off into the sunse
t the moment he saw Abby.

  He took a breath. “Yeah,” he said through the air rushing out of his mouth. “I called Abby the other night, and I think we’re good. I’m good.”

  “You’re good, she’s good, I’m good. Sound like it’s all good then. Let’s go.” I patted my friend on the back and pulled open the glass door, gesturing for him to go first.

  “How chivalrous of you,” he teased.

  “I try.”

  Abby and my aunt Millie both looked up from a catalog they’d been browsing together on the counter. “Hey, guys!” Millie called out.

  Abby’s cheeks flushed at the sight of Sean. He ducked his chin and gave her a stiff smile, which resulted in her withering in place. I nudged a covert elbow into his side, and he perked back up, joining them at the counter.

  “I can’t stay long,” Sean said. “I’m meeting a friend for some basketball here in a bit, but I wanted to come and tell you ladies good morning.” He held Abby’s gaze for a few lingering moments and her smile returned.

  “Good morning to you, too,” Abby said.

  Sean tapped the countertop and then turned back to me. “You still want me to swing back by around four?”

  I glanced to my aunt for confirmation. “Yep, four should be great. Go slam some goals or whatever.”

  Sean laughed and headed for the exit. Abby’s eyes remained glued to his back until he disappeared past the front windows.

  “You look like you need a cold drink,” Millie said to her.

  “Or a cold shower.” I wiggled my brows at her, but Abby just sighed.

  “I’ll get him one of these days. Just you wait and see.”

  Millie and I exchanged a brief glance but said nothing. Poor Abby. If only she knew the truth.

  The door chimed and a tall man with russet-colored, casually mussed hair and faded, slim-fitting jeans swaggered into the shop. His face was scruffy with a five o’clock shadow that framed his strong jawline. He owned that rugged cowboy kind of look, and if he didn’t appear to be twice my age, I might’ve even been into it. He reminded me of those laid-back ranchers from back home who loved to crack dry jokes with a straight face and slip in compliments when you least expected it. Only this rancher was kind of hot.