Do I control the line?
The Keeper has the only true control over the line. All magic in place around the Keeper is untransmutable, cast not by gods or magicals, but by another whose magic is pure and untainted.
I heard Sadie’s voice, and shut the journal, palming the box closed and pushing it aside seconds before Chelsea walked into the room.
“What are you doing?”
“Thinking about Ballard. Why?”
“No reason, but I thought you’d be hanging with Sadie.”
“She had clients, so I’m chilling while she finishes. We have two nights to visit.”
Chelsea looked around the room and spied my backpack. She sat next to it, snooping and not hiding it well. I picked up a book from the coffee table. “Insights in Plain Sight” seemed appropriate, so I cracked it, letting Chelsea snoop, and keeping my brain blank by focusing on the written words.
“Well, I can’t stay, and you two are boring,” Chelsea laughed, and I grinned at her.
“Give us a couple hours.”
“Can’t. Got a task to handle.”
“Girl, you’re missing the fun.”
“Don’t I know it.”
A pop and she vanished, but I read a while longer, feeling for signatures. Other than the low hum I got from Sadie, the house felt empty. Good.
After pulling the box back onto my lap, I reopened the journal, ready with more questions.
If the Vapors created the line’s magic, why did the book shift to my journal when a Vapor took it?
The book aligns with the Keeper. Any effort to remove the book will return it to the Keeper.
Wait, what? My mind darted to the muse in my office, commanding me to leave, then shifted to Poseidon throwing my body and knocking me out. Was there another angle to those incidences? Did the Vapors steal the book to thwart the magicals, to drive the contents into my journal and push them back to me? Was that always their goal?
Eyes wide, I formed the next question.
How do I make a secret entry in the book?
The only audience for entries written in a Keeper’s blood is another Keeper.
Ick. Time to draw some blood, because I planned to record this mess, expose their arrogant crap, and bring this war to a full stop.
“Sadie! Any idea where I can get a vial or three of blood drawn?”
“I know a local nurse. Are you sick?”
“No, but I need my blood and a dipping pen.”
“Well, as long as it’s not anything weird.” Her laugh flowed through the house and I heard her phone beeping.
“Angela, could I ask for a favor? It’s somewhat odd. Um hmm. Yeah. Twenty minutes? Thanks for the help.”
“Patra, we can head over in twenty. I think I have an old quill. Let’s see if it still writes.” Sadie was talking as she rummaged, then stepped into the living room and waved a plume.
I took it, curious if she saw me asking for this, and what that meant in terms of her reading. It goes unvoiced, because if I was being honest, I didn’t care. It’s time to figure out the clues and head down the path. I couldn’t do more than be smart and fearless.
I stood at this crossroads, the culmination of many Keepers. Solid within my destiny. I am the line.
Chapter 27
Three vials of blood tucked into my pocket, Sadie and I returned to her place. According to Angela, I should eat protein and avoid alcohol, but I took the wine Sadie offered and we sat in the courtyard, watching the light soften. The mosquitos would chase us inside in an hour, but for now, it’s pleasant.
“May I see your ring?”
In silence, I passed it and she spun the band, listening, then handed it back.
“While you are moving in the correct direction and it’s less murky,” she murmured. “I still don’t see an outcome. The battle you face is epic. I don’t understand what put you in this position, but what’s in focus shows you are fulfilling your destiny.”
“That comforts, Sadie. I needed to hear that.”
A pop announced Chelsea.
“At last,” I greeted her. “Sit, we brought out a glass for you.”
“Oh, I can’t hang,” she muttered, eyes sliding to the empty glass.
“Stay for one,” Sadie urged. “Whatever it is, it might be easier if you smoothed the edge off your day.”
In silence, Chelsea flopped onto the seat next to me and held out her hand. The wine bottle rose unaided and poured, the glass floated over, and she took a huge swallow.
“You feel frustrated,” Sadie offered. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“No, I’m supposed to find an object designed not to be found by me or anyone else. It’s a fool’s errand, and one I expect punishment for not completing.”
“That sucks,” I agreed. “Getting strung up for another’s pride bites.”
Chelsea’s eyes cut to me, and she settled back in her seat.
“Well, you would know,” her tone was soft.
“Yeah. Free will is a thing, though. It lets you change outcomes.”
She looked embarrassed, but nodded. “This is true.”
“Not every task is worthy,” Sadie offered. “That’s also part of free will. The call of purpose is the truth, the rest dressed in the falsity of vanity and manipulation.”
“Hmm. That’s dire,” Chelsea laughed.
“Oh, I’ve spent time in a lot of minds,” Sadie shrugged. “The number of them that never get past petty desires is staggering. True adherence to purpose is a clean light, the evolved soul. Those spirits are the forgers of beauty and truth. I’m sitting with two of them now.”
Chelsea blew out a long sigh. “To be honest, I feel diverted, that this situation wrested away control of my path.”
“Free will remains until vanquished by death,” Sadie’s gaze was steady. “You are never beyond change. What you struggle with is the planted perception that they locked you into this choice.”
“Shit,” Chelsea muttered. “Fear of demise is a strong motivator.”
“A controlled and corrupted life isn’t much of a future, and you have a long road ahead.”
The sense of decision fills the courtyard, a fork to choose growing wide in the waning light.
Chelsea waved at the wine and it refilled her glass. “Damn, I wish I could be this forever.”
Sadie looked surprised. “When did you relinquish your life to another?”
“I’m corrupted by a secret.”
“Your own secret?”
“No.”
“Then you aren’t corrupt. Co-opted, perhaps, but you can also choose not to own the secret, and to be free.” Sadie opened the second bottle, refilled her glass and mine, then slapped her leg. “The mosquitos have arrived. Ladies, let’s head inside and continue this bottle unmolested.”
“I may return,” Chelsea muttered, draining her glass. “But, I have something to handle.”
Sadie leaned over and gave Chelsea a long hug. “Please come back to us, my friend.”
I pulled Chelsea in and hugged her hard. “Thanks for stopping me from flinging into nothing. I’m here for you. Be careful.”
With a pop, she vanished. Sadie grabbed the bottle, and slapping, we trotted toward the back stairs and up into the house.
She messed around in the kitchen while I set up the first vial of my blood and began the entry.
I, Cleopatra, Keeper of the line, write this entry to preserve the truth in the face of deception, a willful endeavor to use the line to salve ego at the cost of an entire race.
I write, knowing the following seven truths:
One: The space between wasn’t created to house a murderous race, but designed to avoid granting earned freedom to the Vapors by Zeus.
Two: Zeus reneged on his promise after receiving the peace between the races, engineered by the Vapors, a deal made in good faith. His betrayal opened a rift between the magical and human worlds.
Three: The Vapors created the role of the Keeper by creating
a symbiotic relationship with Ezekial Kane and established the line’s record.
Four: A succession of Keepers, also in symbiotic relationships, continued to ferret out the truth and the book records that learning.
Five: This collection of knowledge allows truth to rise and inform each successive Keeper.
Six: At the correct time, a Keeper will see the entire revelation and elect to release the line, freeing the Vapors in accordance with their original bargain, and restore the balance between the human and magical worlds.
Seven: I am that Keeper, and the time is now.
My hope is that this entry proves unnecessary, that no other Keeper must divine the truth to make this stand, but if I fall, the record is intact, ready to inform another when the next Keeper is chosen.
The blood faded to nothing, and I cleaned the pen, setting the remaining full vial and the half empty one into the box, along with Sadie’s quill and the journal. As I palmed it closed, a sense of peace tingled across my skin. Another step taken along the path.
“Sadie, what’s for dinner? I’m starving!”
“I made shrimp alfredo. It’ll stick to your ribs.”
“Good thought.” I rummaged in her fridge and pulled out a half a bag of pecans. “May I take this? We should pack something for the ride whenever that starts.”
Sadie nodded and I trotted back, planning to stuff them into my backpack when I sensed a signature. I plunked my butt in the chair instead, pulling a couple nuts out and chewing. The box was still there, so I picked Sadie’s book back up, reading word by word, filling my mind with the sentences and no other thoughts.
The signature didn’t budge. After two pages, I lay the book and the pecans aside and wandered back into the kitchen.
“Supper’s almost ready,” Sadie said. “Will you set the table?”
“I’ve got a song stuck in my head,” I replied, grabbing plates and silverware. “Do you remember this one from ‘The Breakfast Club’?” I whistled a few bars of ‘We are Not Alone’ and Sadie’s eyebrows hit her hairline.
“I do! What a great movie,” she grabbed a platter for the alfredo. “Could you make two salads? There are bagged greens and homegrown heirloom cherry tomatoes a client brought me. Italian dressing is in the door.”
I whipped the salads together and set the bowls on the table. The signature was stronger. Whoever was here was in this room. I breathed, blanking everything except the olfactory, the scent of hot pasta and cream filling my nose.
“That smells amazing, Sadie. Thank you for spoiling me with your incredible cooking.”
Seated, Sadie chattered about locals, sharing who was growing in their gifts and who was coasting. I knew most of these folks, so we stayed mired in mindless gossip and stuffed our faces.
The table cleared, I’m wiping up crumbs when the signature vanished. With a squint, Sadie nodded. She doesn’t tune into magicals the way I do, but whoever was snooping around was pissed off and dialed to ten. My money was on the muse. It could have been all three.
“Shit.”
“No kidding. That was awkward. I’m not a gossip.” Sadie looked mortified.
“Trust me, I forgot everything you shared, but I appreciated how quick your thinking was. Magicals hold a preconceived notion that humans are shallow, and you fed right into it.”
“Chelsea taught me that trick,” Sadie replied. “I never thought I’d need to use...”
A skin-crawling groan of agony interrupted her, and I felt the signature as I ran toward the back door.
“Quick! I had to hide until the bitches left,” Glenna’s face, creased with worry, lifted to mine.
In her arms, Chelsea quaked, terrible burns on her hands, bare feet, and charred scalp. The gagging odor of burnt hair followed as we carried her, laying her on the couch. Chelsea’s long red hair, eyelashes, and eyebrows were nothing but cinders. She appeared electrocuted.
“Muses?”
“Shhhh. Let me work.”
I nodded, backing up as Glenna dumped her waist-sack onto the floor and pushed potions with her fingertips.
“This one first, then you, no, not you, here, now you, where did I, oh, here you are, and you.” Fingers tapped five vials from the group and lined them in a row.
“My child, drink.”
Chelsea’s teeth were black from the electric shocks she’d endured, and she cried piteously as the potion flowed over exposed nerves. Sadie’s arms went around me and we stood together, horrified.
“Now the second. Be strong, daughter.” Glenna tipped the vial into Chelsea’s mouth as her chin jutted in a silent scream.
“You can do this,” Glenna murmured, pouring the third one as Chelsea slumped, knocked out.
“Only temporary. Come hold her down, don’t be squeamish. To survive, she must take it all,” Glenna barked, and we put hands on crispy skin, weeping.
The agony crushed my heart. Sadie’s tears dripped as Chelsea shrieked. Glenna kept tipping in sips, tapping her neck to force the swallow.
“Let me go! Let me die!”
“No,” I told her. “It wasn’t my time before and it’s not yours now. Be stronger than this evil.”
Glenna tilted the last of the fourth potion and Chelsea swallowed. I blinked, watching in amazement as blackened crust flaked away, and healthy pink skin appeared beneath it. Eyelashes poked through burnt hair follicles and grew in, lush and red. Hair and eyebrows too. Sadie caught my eyes in shock.
Chelsea’s hands and feet, where the worst of the burning occurred, began to heal, and she groaned as muscle, sinew, and skin covered exposed finger and toe bones, and nail beds filled with normal nails. With sudden force, she gripped my hand, eyes blazing blue.
“Not my time either,” she rasped through a ruined windpipe.
“Shhhh. Heal.”
When the body was healthy on the outside, Glenna handed her the final potion.
“For the damage within, daughter.”
Chelsea swallowed it, doubling over as her organs responded.
“Ouch, dammit. Thanks, but... oof. Ow!”
“Beats dying,” Glenna shrugged, packing up her kit.
“It does, Mama. They wanted me dead, too.” Chelsea clutched her gut and curled into a ball on the crust covered sofa, shaking.
“We have a big problem,” Glenna said to me, ignoring her.
“Problem with a capital Z?”
Chapter 28
Sadie offered Chelsea and Glenna the upstairs guest rooms and put me on the downstairs sofa which I considered a perfect arrangement. As the house settled for the night, I mulled, deciding which threads to pull to bring the scenario together.
Tonight was the moment of truth. Should I show them the journal? It’s obvious the muses, if not Zeus himself, tasked Chelsea with finding it, but why? Were they afraid of the connection? Unsure what it revealed? No magical could take the record from me, we’re bound, but maybe the goal was to create separation and stop the flow of information. If that’s the case, it was not beyond the realm of magical normal to lay an elaborate trick, complete with injuries, to force an outcome.
Over the years as Keeper, I believed the focus of this role was writing a record of the intersection of magical and human, defining the differences. But, I was wrong.
Instead I was the protector of the maligned. They chose a weak human to help free them… from the GODS. If that’s not a holy shit moment, nothing qualified.
My training from Billy centered around the set concept of magical superiority; they mete punishments, change outcomes, and tolerate humanity. Much the way Zeus tolerated the Vapors. Billy only knew what they told him. They must have thought the secret was secure and going forward, the balance forever tilted in their favor. But, the Vapors were a third piece, even marginalized.
What if we’re three equal parts of the same whole? Humans embodied love. Well, some are pieces of work, but humanity’s focus was loving. Magicals were wisdom. They subverted physical law to create greater learning. Vapors were
… what?
Until today, I’d only considered them through the context provided by magicals, never considering their purpose. Now I knew the Vapors were conquered, imprisoned, and framed by the victor’s story, a convincing tale of soulless, vengeful warriors, deserving punishment at every turn.
The entries in the book passed through my mind. Vapors agreed to create harmony between the other two sides, to form a sense of wholeness, and bring contentment to the world.
Peace! Oh my god. The Vapors were peace. Locking them up allowed strife to run rampant, created separation and hierarchy, the precise bullshit that fed Zeus’s outsized ego.
Okay, then, here was the question. Did I believe that releasing the Vapors would change the earth in a profound way, either good or bad?
Well, I doubt it’d be noticeable, if I was being honest. Free will was in play. Crappy decisions were still choices, so nope, I didn’t believe I held the key to global harmony or destruction, far from it. Perhaps the outcome was a realignment, restoring the balance so rigorously sought and enforced by the muses.
How would the world be different, for example, if muses fostered and grew art, music, and literature? Instead, Zeus forced them to abandon this passion, operating as a deadly perversion in peace keeping. But, that could change.
Zeus constrained the pathways to balance, knowing the space between was nothing more than a jail. The magicals, at least the ones who knew the entire story, were freaking because I alone held the key. If I employed it, they feared retribution.
Due to the intervening centuries, most no longer knew the history, they drank the myths Zeus poured. The Vapors chose a human because we sought loving connection as our purpose; humans understood in their cores that love had power.
I thought I was onto something, but it’s too risky to consult the book with the witches in the house. As much as I wanted to trust them, it wasn’t the time. The stars twinkled, and a calm laid against my heart. At the deepest level, this read of the situation rang true.
The book was the Keeper’s. The book WAS the Keeper. I understood what I must do. Tomorrow, I take a stand and release the line.
Boogie Beach Page 15
