The Keeper's Legacy: A Chosen Novel (The Keepers Book 1)

by Meg Anne

  In the midst of her blood-curdling screams, Effie couldn’t find it in herself to care.

  Chapter 2

  It took all three of them to stop her screaming by turning her slight body away from the horrific sight, but nothing could stop the tremors racking her body. Effie didn’t consider herself easily frightened, but then again, she’d never come face-to-face with a skull easily the size of seven grown men.

  A skull whose mouth was wide open as if it were about to swallow her whole.

  This? This is where the Keepers reside? While massive, it hardly looked like it would make suitable living quarters. Not that Effie’s brain was even capable of processing much more than the fact that it was a thrice-damned skull.

  Currently huddled up against the base of a tree with her head bowed between her knees, Effie struggled to catch her breath. The haunting image continued to assault her even though her eyes were squeezed shut.

  Surrounded on the sides by a copse of thick vines and massive trees, the skull had every appearance of a giant breaking through the ground. The early morning darkness emphasized the ghostly white of its surface, making the sinister sentinel all the more terrifying. Its pitted eyes, so like the Triumvirate’s, seemed to stare straight through to the heart of her. Despite the toothy grin, its mouth was nothing short of menacing. If it had lips—or a tongue—Effie was certain the skull would be licking them.

  The massive snake that wound its way through the nostrils and dangled down the back of the throat in a macabre imitation of a uvula wasn’t helping either. If anything, it only made the promise of death more real. If the skull wasn’t going to make a meal of her, the snake certainly would.

  Overall, there was something unholy about the darkness that emanated from within the skull. As if it were a sentient being in its own right and its purpose was to judge her worth. Unfortunately, Effie had the feeling she’d already been found wanting and that if she made the mistake of stepping foot within its endless depths, she’d never make it out again.

  “It is an illusion.”

  “Cast to keep away all unwelcome guests.”

  “There’s no need to be frightened.”

  “You didn’t think to tone it down for those who were welcome? If this is your idea of welcoming, maybe there’s a thing or two I should be teaching you instead.”

  Her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears. It was hard to sound fierce when you couldn’t manage more than a hoarse croak.

  “Once you cross the boundary the illusion will fade.”

  Effie lifted her head and mustered a glare that she hoped conveyed the depths of her growing hatred for them. “The only way I’m setting foot anywhere near that thing is if you drag me in against my will. And the only way you’ll manage that is if you disarm, bind, and gag me. I promise, it won’t be as easy as you’d think.”

  The chittering of leaves swelled around her. Effie’s scowl deepened.

  “If you think I’m kidding, you’re welcome to test the theory. The way this morning’s been going, I’d love the opportunity to blow off steam by shedding some blood.”

  There. Even Ronan would be proud of that threat.

  “What makes you think you could, Daughter?”

  She didn’t know where the bravado came from, only that she couldn’t afford to lose it. If she had any hope of proving that she would not break, she had to make a stand. While her heart may very well be broken, she was not. If anything, her pain had only served to forge her into something new. Something stronger, although perhaps not quite fully formed. At least, not quite yet. Right now, she had an opportunity to define who and what the something new would become.

  Effie pushed herself to her feet, using the trunk of the tree behind her to support the bulk of her weight. The dagger she didn’t recall grabbing glinted dangerously in her hand.

  In answer to their question, she replied in a deadly soft voice she’d heard Ronan and Von use countless times before. “The corpses I’ve left behind me on the battlefield are more than proof enough. Tell me, Father,” she spat the word out with every ounce of vitriol she held for her actual sire, “how many men have you killed?”

  “More than the number of breaths you’ll take in your lifetime, child.”

  Effie couldn’t stop her eyes from flaring wide at the answer. Hoping they didn’t notice, she clenched her teeth and stood her ground.

  The leftmost figure tilted his head. She assumed it was he who spoke as the spectral voice echoed within her mind.

  “Stand down. We are not your enemy.”

  “Really? You could have fooled me.”

  “How so? We’ve done nothing but offer our assistance.”

  A muscle began to spasm in her jaw. Assistance? That’s what these mind games were supposed to be?

  “Since you snuck up on me this morning, you’ve done nothing but ensure I’m off-balance and terrified.”

  “Your terror is your own doing.”

  Effie glanced between the three motionless figures, her ire spiking. It was infuriating trying to fight with someone when you weren’t entirely sure who you were fighting with. Was it only one of them or all three?

  “I strongly disagree. Sneaking up on a girl in the dead of night—”

  “We were waiting for you at the edge of the camp. As promised.”

  “—and then gesturing for her to blindly walk ahead of you without any idea of where she was going—”

  “You knew we were bringing you to the citadel.”

  Effie continued to speak over their mental interruptions. “—not to mention the part where you scare her out of her damn mind with your creepy mind speaking, and then insist on keeping her in the dark with vague half-truths or by not deigning to speak at all—”

  “We provide information when it is necessary.”

  She let her dagger fly, not bothering to check where it landed, knowing it would fly true. “Do better,” she hissed.

  The central figure’s hood dipped as he glanced down to eye the dagger that was still vibrating with the force of her throw. All that was visible was the soft glint of its dark hilt against the scarlet of the Keeper’s robe. The blade sunk clean through the damp earth.

  Effie allowed herself a small gratified smile when the Keeper tried to tug his robe back. She’d managed to pin it—and him—to the floor.

  The leaves rustled, lifting the hair on her arms. Effie’s smile faded as the Keeper jerked the cloth once again. The resulting tear should have filled her with satisfaction, but somehow all she felt was childish. Guilt began to eat at her, making her cheeks burn.

  Somewhere in the middle of trying to establish her worth, she’d ended up throwing a tantrum.

  Things were definitely not going as planned.

  In one fluid move, the Keeper bent and pulled her dagger from the ground. Silently he held it out to her.

  She eyed the blade and then the hooded figure. Sighing, she stepped forward and reached for the weapon. As her fist closed around the hilt, the Keeper jerked the blade toward his body and pulled Effie forward.

  “I will let your unfounded accusations go unpunished this once, because you are scared, and you do not yet know the rules. Be warned, Daughter, that I will not do so again. The measure of a person is defined by the level of respect they are granted by others. You have just lost mine. It will take much for you to earn it back.”

  He let go of the blade and dropped his arm, further throwing Effie off-balance.

  “Moreover, you will step inside the citadel without further comment. If you do not, I will arrange for someone to come get you, and I’m sure they’ll simply toss you over their shoulder if you continue to resist. I’d prefer not to have to treat you as a child, although you seem to insist on behaving like one. Every action has a consequence, Daughter. It would serve you well to remember that in the future.”

  Effie’s jaw was hanging at the end of his speech. It was the first time any of the Triumvirate had ever referred to themselves as an individual, and ce
rtainly the longest speech she’d ever heard one utter. Even the deep echo of his spectral voice in her mind had altered as he’d spoken. As if it had not been the shared consciousness of the Triumvirate he’d used, but a different, personal timbre. While trying to classify the distinction of the tone, an image of smoke curling up from a blazing fire flared to life in her mind.

  Effie took great pride in learning to stay out of sight and not draw any attention to herself. Somehow, in a mere handful of minutes, the Triumvirate had gotten under her skin to the extent that she’d managed to throw away a lifetime of careful habits. That, combined with his damning words, was more than enough to have her mouth slamming closed. She was not surprised he lashed out. She’d earned the rebuke with her impetuous actions. What did surprise her, however, was how deeply his words cut.

  Before she could apologize, he spoke again.

  “Consider that your first lesson.”

  Without another word, the trio turned and strode toward the skull. Effie shuddered as she warily eyed the monstrosity, no less averse to it now than she’d been initially. There was no getting around it. She was going to have to step into that gaping mouth and its perfect darkness.

  “Mother’s heaving tits,” she muttered.

  A soft breeze blew a few loose curls in her face and Effie distractedly pushed them away with the back of her hand, her conflicted emotions still swirling within her. Fear of the unknown. Fear of failure. Fear of these creatures she’d just placed her trust in. Fear wasn’t the only emotion that had taken residence in her heart. There was a bubbling anger and endless pool of heartache that had lodged itself deep within her when Darrin died, and it only swelled in size after her grandmother’s meaningless death.

  It was no wonder her scattered thoughts were all over the place.

  Effie’s eyes fell closed and she let out a soft sigh.

  If this was who she was now, then so be it.

  Not eager to test whether the Keeper really would send someone to throw her over a shoulder, Effie hurried after their retreating backs, the scarlet of their cloaks already getting lost in the black of the cavernous mouth. If there was the slightest chance she would run into any of the others whose gift she now shared, Effie would really rather not do it arse first.

  Chapter 3

  The darkness faded between one step and the next. One moment Effie was staring down the face of death, and the next she was blinded, blinking rapidly to adjust as she was bathed in a pool of golden light. Effie had heard whispers of the Keeper’s Catacombs hidden somewhere in the middle of Bael, but that’s all she knew: whispers and fragments. The reality was . . . breathtaking.

  It wasn’t a catacomb at all; no underground lair hidden beneath miles of earth and rock, or cave littered with rotting bones. It was a city, and the biggest one she’d ever seen at that. Granted, that wasn’t saying much seeing as how she’d barely stepped foot outside of the Holbrooke Estate before a few months ago.

  How is this possible? Weren’t we just in the middle of the jungle? No remnants of the thick roping vines or humid air was to be found.

  Mouth gaping, Effie’s eyes hungrily drank in the sight of the sprawling buildings illuminated by hundreds of floating orbs under a dusky lavender, predawn sky. She’d been so sure she’d be greeted by spiderwebs and the putrid stench of death, and instead there was only beauty.

  The Corruptor’s war had clearly not touched this place. Effie had no doubt that if the impostor-queen, Rowena, knew such a place existed, she would have already tried to lay claim to it.

  Towering stone buildings of the palest gray surrounded her. She didn’t recognize the stone, but if mist had a solid form, that would certainly be it. At first glance, there was no rhyme or reason to the structures’ placement. They simply seemed to crawl out of the city’s center—where Effie currently stood—with swerving roads disappearing between them.

  Other than the stone, there were no discernable similarities between the buildings. It was as if countless generations of people had found their way to this place and left a little piece of their history by crafting a unique building to stand for all of time. It should have been chaotic, all of the competing styles, but the differences only underscored the beauty of the city as a whole.

  Effie spun in a slow circle, her brain desperately trying to relate what she was seeing with what she’d been expecting. She was stunned to find no hint of the darkness they’d left behind. Not so much as a doorway to indicate how they’d arrived here.

  “Portal,” one of the Keepers said, perhaps in response to the unspoken question on her face.

  So, they really had walked into another world. Just like that, everything Effie knew to be true fell away.

  “Come.” The rightmost figure gestured up ahead to where a circular tower practically disappeared into the clouds.

  “Oh,” she breathed.

  While not demarcated in any notable way, the structure they were leading her to was clearly the city’s heart—the citadel.

  Shallow steps curved along the front of the building and led to a walkway that wrapped around the outside. Pillars were evenly spaced along the outer rim of the walkway with a half wall that linked them together. It would make a lovely place to curl up with a book on a warm day.

  It wasn’t until she’d almost walked past the outer wall that she noticed the mosaic along its surface. The tiny tiles were shimmering shades of silver and pearl, all of which blended into the stone seamlessly. Once the sun rose and hit the tiles, the building would glitter. Effie’s fingers itched to trace the design in the smooth surface.

  Fighting the impulse, she moved up the stairs, stepping out of the soft glow and beneath the arched ceiling that covered the walkway. Glancing up, she noted more mosaic scenes along its length. It was too dim to make out the images, but she was looking forward to returning later.

  Her head twisted back to the Triumvirate as the air rippled around her. Two doors, the same deep red as their cloaks, swung open inwardly without a sound. A quick glance at the trio’s arms confirmed they were still at rest by their respective sides, which meant that not one of them had done something as obvious as turn a knob. So, how did they open the doors?

  Before her mind could chase yet another question, light spilled out of the citadel and down the stairs. Effie lifted a hand to shield her eyes, not prepared for blinding luminescence.

  Not waiting to see if she was still following, the trio stepped over the threshold and into the brightly lit room, leaving her with no choice but to hustle after them or get left behind.

  Thick scarlet rugs muffled the sounds of her footsteps, giving the room a hushed, reverent feel. It was opulent; bookcases filled with every color tome encircling its walls. In the rare case a shelf was not filled with books, intricate artifacts stood in their place. In the center of the room there was a huge, round table. Its surface was currently empty, but Effie could easily picture a dozen people sitting around with books and parchment scattered before them. She could only imagine what secrets the room held, both within the pages of the books, as well as the walls themselves.

  Eyes still bouncing around drinking in every detail, it was a moment before Effie noticed that they weren’t alone. Had it been any other day, maybe she would have known better, but in that moment the man with golden hair and piercing green eyes stole the breath from her lungs with more force than a blow to the chest.

  Harsh buzzing filled her ears and her surroundings took on a hazy cast. Transfixed, all Effie could see was the man who had been dead for the better part of a year. Her hand lifted, her fingers attempting to touch him even from a distance.

  Heart pounding, she struggled to breathe.

  “Darrin . . .” The name fell from numb lips as the memory of his charred and bloody corpse superimposed itself over the very alive male standing before her.

  “I’m afraid not,” a deep, cultured accent replied.

  The unfamiliar voice jarred her from her reverie. Disappointment filled her, tastin
g like ash in her mouth as the man came into focus. She knew it was impossible. Darrin was dead, and had been for a while, but for that split second . . .

  The hope hurt almost more than the reality. Heart aching with a wave of fresh grief, Effie shoved the memory of Darrin away.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice croaking around the sudden emotion.

  The stranger peeled away from the entryway in which he was standing, allowing her to finally notice the details her distracted mind had initially missed.

  “No need to apologize.”

  He was blond, yes, but where Darrin was sunshine, this man was a deep molten gold that bordered on bronze. While green, his eyes were nothing like the grassy fields she’d always associated with the man who had stolen her heart with his boyish smile. The stranger’s eyes were darker, more of a deep sage she’d never seen before, and fringed with dark lashes that further enhanced their unusual color. Full lips, a square jaw, and high cheekbones gave the man a distinctly aristocratic air. But if he was here, then he must be a Keeper, which meant his past station held no relevance.

  A knowing smile stretched across his handsome face as she studied him. He walked toward her with slow, prowling steps. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Effie.”

  She flinched at his use of her name. Tracking the movement, his eyes and mouth tightened almost imperceptibly before the emotion cleared and she wondered if she might have imagined it altogether.

  Lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug, he explained, “It’s a hazard of our position to forget that not everyone knows as much as we do.”

  It took a moment for her to understand. “Oh, right. The visions.”

  “Indeed.”

  Silence swelled between them as he stared at her with an expectancy she didn’t understand. Suddenly uncomfortable, she shifted, looking around for the Triumvirate who had stepped back at this man’s appearance. Shouldn’t they introduce us or something? What are they waiting for?