The Light Keeper

by Gabriella Lepore

  It wasn’t a bustling scene—the paved roads and lampposts were the most noteworthy differences—but it was comforting to be in proximity of people again. As I hurried along, peering through the downpour for pedestrians or shops, I caught sight of a red awning.

  Old Pete’s.

  So, I was back in Fallows Edge. I couldn’t say whether I was pleased or devastated. On the one hand it was familiar, which was always a bonus. But on the other hand, well, my life was beginning to feel like a house of horrors, where no matter which direction I headed, I always ended up in the same hellhole.

  Instinctively my eyes shot to the roadside where Jake’s El Camino had been parked.

  It wasn’t there.

  My heart dropped.

  This is a good thing, I reminded myself. Jake’s gone, and I’ve still got my phone card so I can call for help. Evidently my request for a phone had come to pass after all—though it could easily be the product of a lucky coincidence over witchcraft.

  I ran towards the cover of the awning and made a dash for the entrance. Once inside I was hit with the heavenly scent of chicken wings and fries. I shivered as raindrops dripped from my clothes and pooled on the floor around my feet.

  My good friend Cyborg Barbie was at the hostess station.

  Just my luck. She must have been pulling a double shift.

  Cyborg Barbie gave me a once-over, clearly appalled by my disheveled appearance.

  I squelched forward.

  “Hello again,” I said.

  She raised a drawn-on eyebrow at me.

  In an attempt to make myself more presentable I tried to subtly wring out my hair, but the torrent of water hitting the floor tiles gave me away.

  “It’s raining,” I explained.

  “You’re dripping water everywhere.”

  “I know. Do you have a towel I could borrow?”

  She exhaled through gritted teeth, then handed me a singular napkin from her station.

  I patted it against my hair and clothes. It broke away and stuck to my slouchy knit cardigan in soggy bits.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying not to sound as ungrateful as I felt.

  “He’s gone,” she said without my prompting.

  “Oh. I know.” I paused. “Did he say anything?”

  She met my eyes. Her challenge was clear. “He’s not interested in you. Sorry.” Her apology was about as believable as my gratitude.

  “Did he say that?” My voice sounded weak. It was embarrassing to hear.

  “He didn’t have to. It was obvious. He gave me his number.” She retrieved a scrap of paper from her desk and held it between two fingers for me to see. Her expression remained stonily territorial.

  “Oh.” I peeled a strand of wet hair from my cheek. “Okay.” I knew my words sounded pitiful. It was as though my voice refused to leave my throat. “Can I use the phone?”

  “I can’t allow you into the restaurant area unless you’ll be dining with us here at Old Pete’s.”

  I sighed. “Table for one.”

  She was about to say something but I cut her off.

  “Okay, fine, booth for one.”

  She spun on her heel and marched me to a booth, dumping a menu on the table and strutting away without a word.

  I didn’t even sit down this time. I went straight to the payphone as soon as Cyborg Barbie’s back was turned. It was quiet in this part of the diner, which I appreciated. I could hear the rain on the roof as I held the receiver to my ear.

  I inserted the phone card and dialed home.

  It rang, and it rang, and it rang…

  I hung up.

  Great, I thought wretchedly. Astra’s probably out searching for me. And that was just the beginning of my problems. I only knew one other number off by heart, and I really didn’t want to call it.

  But I had to speak to someone, so I dialed.

  “Hello?” came a voice on the other end of the line.

  “It’s me,” I said.

  “Oh, so now you’re talking to me again?” Marissa replied.

  I swallowed my pride. “I need your help.”

  “Ha!” she laughed loudly. “After the way you spoke to me on Saturday night in front of everyone? Forget it.”

  “It wasn’t everyone. It was just Ben. Ben, my sort-of boyfriend type person who you kissed,” I added curtly.

  “Whatever, Elana.”

  “Listen, Marissa, I’ve got more important things on my mind,” I snapped. It surprised me that she clearly hadn’t been informed of my mysterious absence. “I’m in trouble, and I need someone to come get me. I’ve tried to call Astra, but there’s no answer at the house.”

  There was a pause. A long one.

  “What kind of trouble?” she finally asked. Her voice had softened a little, but I could tell that she was still guarded.

  I took a breath. “You know that new guy we’ve been seeing around town lately?”

  Referencing a stranger in Ashwood Hollow was like commenting on a celebrity—I knew she’d immediately know who I was talking about.

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, he broke into my house and kidnapped me in the middle of the night—”

  “Yeah, right. I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true! He’s trying to take me to the Hidden Mountains.”

  “What, like, on a trip? No way. I don’t believe you.”

  I bashed the receiver against the wall a couple of times in sheer frustration. “Why would I lie about this?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re trying to make me jealous. You’re angry about me and Ben, and this is your way of getting back at me.”

  “Oh, right.” I rolled my eyes. “So I’m trying to make you jealous by telling you I’ve been kidnapped by a deranged psycho.”

  “He’s hot.”

  “Marissa!” I practically yelled. “Just tell my mom, okay?”

  “I can’t. She’s away.”

  “What? Where?”

  “She went out of town for a peace rally.”

  My jaw dropped in disbelief. “How do you know?”

  “Well, after you ditched school on Monday, I passed by your house to bring your jacket back and tell you how petty you were being, and your mom said you were out. She said she was going to an anti-war protest in some city and she told me let you know when I saw you.”

  “Oh, perfect,” I grumbled. “How long will she be gone?”

  “I don’t know. She’s your mom, not mine.”

  “Did she leave a number I could call her on?”

  “No, Elana. I’m not your secretary.”

  “Do you know anything else, Marissa?” I urged. “Think.”

  She took a breath. “She said she was going with Larry, or something.”

  “Harry?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Harry Brooks had been a friend of my mother’s for a few years and they were often running off to demonstrations together, protesting one thing or another. I liked Harry. He was a good influence on my mom—in comparison to her other associates anyway. Trouble was, without Harry’s phone number, the information wasn’t much use.

  “Now what should I do?” I muttered, more to myself than to Marissa.

  “Call the police,” she suggested.

  “Do you think I should?”

  “Duh, yeah. If you’ve really been kidnapped, that is. Where’s your kidnapper right now?” She was testing me.

  “He’s gone.”

  I heard her muffle a giggled. “Your kidnapper ditched you?”

  “Actually, I left him.”

  Another giggle.

  She was insufferable.

  “Why would he kidnap you, anyway?” she pressed. Obviously she was having a hard time believing that I would be of any value to a supposedly hot guy, even a psycho one.

  “He thinks I’m destined for some big…destiny.” I expected her to laugh. She didn’t. “He thinks I can save the world. And he thinks I’m a…witch.” Pause. “Are you still there?” />
  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “So, what do you think? Crazy, right?”

  “Not really. You are a total witch sometimes,” she mused.

  I clicked my tongue to the roof of my mouth. “You’re not helping.”

  “Joking, Elana. Okay, so it’s a little crazy,” she accepted. “But it’s not like you’ve got anything better going on.”

  I stared at the receiver in disbelief. “Marissa,” I gasped, returning the phone to my ear. “How can you say that?”

  “What?” Her tone was guiltless. “It’s true! All you do is sit around your house being boring, anyway. Do something reckless for once. Or pass him on to me.”

  I was officially ready to hang up.

  “Bye, Marissa,” I said hotly.

  “Bye, Elana,” she replied, mirroring my tone.

  I stopped just short of replacing the receiver. Then, a little more sentimentally, I said again, “Bye, Marissa.”

  A pause, and more softly “Bye, Elana.”

  And I hung up.

  After a long moment I withdrew my card. It still had a few minutes in credit. I was left with one clear option: phone the police.

  My throat went dry; I was suddenly unbearably thirsty. I knew I should be calling the police…so why wasn’t I?

  I scanned the restaurant. My waitress was at the hostess station, greeting a group of stocky guys in workmen’s clothes. She seemed pleased by their arrival, and had clearly forgotten all about the unkempt girl leaving pools of water wherever she went. Charmed, I’m sure. I was basically a regular now; hadn’t she ever heard of good customer service?

  Anyway, I needed help, but not her kind of help. At the rate I was going, only divine intervention would do.

  “I need a sign,” I muttered piteously.

  With that, the bell above the entrance chimed as strong gust of wind blew the door open. The squall swept across the hostess desk and the waitress grappled to hold onto the fluttering menus.

  Watching the scene from across the room, I saw a small scrap of paper lift from the desk. I followed it with my eyes as the breeze carried it across the busy dining area, eventually dropping it at my feet.

  The breeze disappeared as suddenly as it came.

  What the…?

  After quickly double-checking that I wasn’t being watched, I snatched the scrap of paper from the floor.

  I recognized the slant of Jake’s handwriting from the paper in his glove box.

  The words ‘Call me’ were followed by a series of digits scrawled in blue ink.

  My heart skipped a beat. Was this my sign?

  I stared down at Jake’s phone number.

  Another coincidence?

  What I was about to do would prove to be either the smartest or the dumbest thing I’d ever done. The jury was still out.

  I dialed Jake’s number.

  It rang once, then I heard a low breath on the other end of the line. He didn’t answer with the traditional Hello greeting I’d been expecting—that is, if it was even Jake at all.

  “Is that you?” I said into the receiver.

  “Your new arrangement didn’t work out for you, then?”

  It was Jake.

  “No,” I mumbled, staring down at my feet. “She tried to kill me.”

  “I could have told you that,” he breathed sharply. “In fact, I think I did. I distinctly remember telling you that anyone around here would be out for your blood if you’re stupid enough to tell them who you are—”

  “I didn’t. She overheard you talking about it.”

  “Weren’t you at all suspicious when a total stranger offered you a lift in their car on the pretence of…what, exactly? Helping you out?”

  “Pot calling the kettle black,” I reminded him. “That’s exactly what you did. You forced me into your car on the very same pretence!”

  There was a sigh across the phone line. “Yes, but I’m legit. That lady wasn’t.”

  “Well, obviously I thought she was. She was old.” That seemed like a good defence.

  “So naive,” he tutted in disapproval. “The old ones are the worst.”

  I frowned at the cold burgundy wall in front of me.

  “I’m surprised you called, actually,” Jake went on. “I thought you’d be dead by now.” There was an echo of a smile in his voice.

  “I’m not.” I wrapped the phone cord around my finger, unsure of where to go from there. To be truthful, I didn’t know what I wanted—from Jake or from myself.

  “I didn’t expect that you’d make it back to the diner, anyway.” His tone was lighter now, not as clipped as it had been a moment ago.

  My brow furrowed. “How do you know I’m at the diner?”

  “Because you’re calling me, so I assume you got my message.”

  Now I was really confused. “What message?”

  “I left my number with the waitress,” he hinted, as if trying to jog my memory. “I told her to get you to call me if you came back.”

  As his words sunk in, I felt a wave of anger towards Cyborg Barbie. “She lied to me! She told me you left the number for her.”

  “Why would I do that?” Jake asked. “You’re the one I want.”

  I couldn’t supress the tiny smile that formed on my lips. The statement was open to interpretation, and he probably hadn’t intended it in the way I’d heard it, but it made me smile all the same.

  “So, now what?” he continued. “You want me to come back for you?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

  “Then why are you calling?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He sighed. “I’m coming back. If you’re planning on bolting again, make sure you’ve got a good head start.”

  The line went dead.

  I walked back into the diner, numb. Was I really waiting here for Jake? And if I was, surely that meant I was submitting to him and all this witchcraft crap? I bit my lip. I didn’t like the sound of that. Of course, there was always the other option. I could run again.

  I slumped into my booth and contemplated a second slice of pie.

  And, true to his word, Jake came back.

  From my seat by the window, I watched the El Camino pull over on the side of the road. I felt the most inexplicable sense of comfort.

  Jake sauntered into Old Pete’s, bypassing the expectant waitress and heading straight for me.

  We smiled when we saw each other, and I saw the reluctance in Jake’s eyes as he realized he was doing so. I’m sure my expression was much the same.

  “You’re soaked,” he observed with his familiar grin, sliding into the seat opposite me.

  “I know.” And I really was. Even after a lengthy stopover in the heated diner, I was still able to squeeze droplets of water from my clothes and hair. My jeans were stiff, my white cotton tee was saturated and mortifyingly see-through, and the wool of my cardigan clung heavily to my clammy skin.

  Jake shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it my way.

  “Thanks.” I shivered as I wriggled free from my wet cardigan, trying clumsily to cover the higher region of my t-shirt while I slipped my arms into his jacket. It was warm and smelled like Jake. It draped over my shoulders, far too big for me but snug all the same.

  “I don’t know if I can do it,” I said, staring down at the tabletop and tracing patterns with my finger. “What you want me to do, to be—I don’t know if I can.”

  “Alright.”

  “You have to understand, this is all so weird to me. I can’t get my head around it. And the parts I can get my head around, I don’t like.”

  “Alright.”

  I looked up to meet his rich chocolate eyes. I saw so much in that one look—trust, honesty, and even something vulnerable that I’d never noticed before. “I may not be able to follow through with this. But…” I paused, taking a slow breath. Then I said the words that changed everything. “I’m ready to hear you out.”

  JAKE

  Chapter Six


  In Case of Emergency

  Rain lashed against the windscreen, too heavy for the wipers to keep up with. It didn’t bother me, though. I’d driven in worse conditions than this. All you needed was good eyesight and quick reflexes. I had both.

  We’d crossed the border into the Hidden Mountains, and the road had become tight with sharp bends and sheer drops. Again, that didn’t bother me. I’d chosen this route deliberately. Out of the three mountains, this one—the western one—was the least populated. In fact, it was almost deserted. That beat the alternative of crossing through the demon-infested mountain in the east. The High Peak rose from the central mountain, but there was no direct road that way; we’d have to cross a bridge when our western route reached its summit.

  Elana sat quietly in the passenger seat, having resigned herself to joining me. Or to hearing me out, as she’d put it.

  And so, for the past few hours, I’d talked and she’d listened. I didn’t linger over the bad parts; I couldn’t risk her bolting again. I was focused now. I had to get her to the Light Keeper’s watchtower. It was the circle of life, and she had a part to play. She was the integral force holding off one hell of a bloodthirsty demonic reign. And I was the delivery guy. I’d told her the basics, the need-to-know facts. And I’d sugar coated them, too—not that it made them any sweeter. The cold, hard truth was that her life ended here. She’d exist up there, sure, but really live? No. She’d stay there, alone, wasting away until the next Light Keeper came to take over. Of course I didn’t tell her that. It wasn’t as though I lied; I just couldn’t find words gentle enough for the truth.

  What I did manage to explain, though, was that once she was up there, she couldn’t leave. Not without unlocking the gateway to the mountain and setting free all the festering evil that was held captive within its boundaries.

  We spoke some more about the air on the High Peak, too. I did the hard-sell on the pros: as long as nothing could breathe on the peak, she’d never have to worry about demon attacks, et cetera, et cetera. Personally I considered that to be a major bonus. But not my Witch. Nope, I don’t think she cared too much about the air quality. Try as I might, I couldn’t distract her from the biggest con: a long lonely life of solitude.

  And I could hardly blame her. She wasn’t like me. She had friends, family, freedom, the whole lot. It took me years to get numb to this way of life. Not only that, it took a boatload of pain and suffering to get me here. But, damn, it was all worthwhile in the end. I was free. Free from pain.