The Keeper's Heart

by Catherine Stovall

  “If you want to save the children, you must find the old Keepers. There are rumors that they lay hidden, deep underground, away from the world they used to watch over. Once you find them, you must weave a new destiny, and then, not even the Parcae can stop you. I am telling you this because I don’t want to see you hurt, Amara. You have always been like a daughter to me.”

  “I don’t know how to weave. How can I create a new destiny if I can’t work the tools?” Amara grew impatient, though her wards would not notice her prolonged absence as she lingered in timeless mists. When she returned to the human world, she would arrive at the same moment she had left. Her anxiousness was only a reflection of her lack of knowledge, and her distrust of her mentor.

  Reaching out to touch Amara’s forehead, Morta spoke gently, “The knowledge is here.” Lowering her hand she tapped Amara’s chest. “The will to do so is in here.”

  “Thank you, Morta. The children will be so grateful. I never expected you, of all the Parcae, to help me.”

  In a flash, Morta’s boney fingers gripped her arm. Her nails dug into the flesh with no remorse, and her voice was dark as she whispered close to Amara’s ear, “Don’t thank me yet, child. I am not done. You have tampered with time, and that is unforgivable. I am giving you something you do not deserve, the knowledge to save yourself, because I love you. However, it is clear that you, the heartless one, never cared for me or your sisters of the hourglass. For that, I give you something else. If you love the humans so much, then you can be one of them while you try to save your lives.”

  Amara weakened as Morta drained her powers. Knees buckling, she crumpled to the ground. Her skin burned, her head spun, and her heart beat faster than she thought possible. She felt the end of her life loom up out of the darkness of the abyss between the human world and the mists, and she feared she would die.

  Seconds before Amara thought her heart would explode, Morta’s voice came again, “I am risking myself to protect you. I have given and taken all that I can. Go now, child. Go be with the ones who you most adore.”

  The old Keeper vanished, and Amara was alone in the parking lot. Feeling the heaviness of her human form as she stood in the foggy realm, Amara wished she had curbed her temper. She had underestimated Morta’s capability to care, and her own callousness left her hollow inside. Still feeling weak and sick, she returned to the human world.

  The Fairlane sat unmolested in the parking lot of the garage. The midnight satin paint made the car seem alien amidst the sun washed surroundings. Something about the gleaming chrome and sleek lines aroused a need in Amara that she could not recognize—she wanted to possess the magnificent machine.

  Sliding behind the wheel, she belatedly remembered she knew the mechanisms, but had never attempted to drive. Her heart skittered and her palms began to sweat. The constant influx of human feelings unnerved her as she slipped the key into the ignition. Nearly jumping through the roof at the sound of the four twenty-seven engine firing to life, Amara cursed.

  She eased the car from the lot and turned onto the street where the alley ended. Accidentally pushing the gas a little harder than she thought, the sound of rubber squealing against hot pavement covered her surprised yelp. Before she could reach the place where she had left the others, Anthony came running toward her.

  Amara slammed on the brakes and yelled at him from the open window, “What the hell are you doing? I told you to stay put.”

  Anthony raked his hand through his black hair in frustration as he growled, “Just get out of my car.”

  She slid over as he yanked open the door and jumped in without bothering to look at her as he gripped the wheel with white knuckles. The motor purred like a happy jungle cat as they eased up to where Desiree waited. The impertinent look on her face told Amara and Anthony that she was extremely unhappy about her boyfriend leaving her alone in the alley in order to rescue his car from the inexperienced driver.

  Anthony jumped out of the car as she ran to the driver’s side and slid into the middle of the seat. Soon, the three of them were riding down the side roads as fast as they could without gaining notice. The Bluffs were just on the outside of town, a ten minute drive that stretched out into an awkward silence.

  Amara had expected questions, but there were none. The only interruption in the silence was the sound of the antique AM/FM radio croaking out the rockabilly sound of The Blacktop Rambler’s latest hit, Devil Doll. The thrumming base and fifties type crooning had overcome the barriers between past and present to enlighten the modern teens to a genre that had spanned decades. Amara tapped her foot to the beat, loving the sound, as they turned down the twisting road that led to the Bluffs.

  At the gated entrance, Anthony eased the car off the side of the road, grumbling about getting mud on the tires. He hid the Fairlane behind an old farmer’s shack and they piled out. As the trio hiked across a field of high weeds, Anthony held Desiree’s hand and kept a wary eye on Amara.

  Despite her slight annoyance with her human body and the incident with the car, Amara knew she had made the right choice. Watching the young couple together reassured her that they were worth saving. The two loved each other and were genuine innocents. They deserved a second chance at destiny.

  The caves loomed up above them as they squeezed through the hole in the metal fence. The air near the rocks felt cooler and the dank smell of earthy moisture filled the air. Spray paint covered the openings of the caves, a tribute to the children who played grown up games within. Amara read the writing as the trio followed a narrow path that curved the side of the rocks, made by the soles of tennis shoes and boots over the years. By the time they reached the opening to their hiding place, Amara’s legs shook and her mouth was dry.

  The cavern was a tribute to the art of graffiti masterpieces. The light of the afternoon sun shined through the mouth and lit the place well, revealing a colorful collage of names, portraits, and funny slogans. As Amara studied the walls, the two teens went to retrieve a small bag that had been tucked away in a dark corner behind a large rock.

  Amara eyed the sack questionably as Desiree explained, “Since they put the fence up, hardly anyone comes here. We keep some stuff hidden away for whenever we feel like sneaking in. No one really pokes around much when they do show up.”

  Anthony riffled the contents and tossed a plastic bottled filled with water to Amara.

  She nearly missed, fumbling the bottle for a moment before she murmured, “Thank you.” After a full minute, she was able to navigate the twisty cap and nearly drown herself in the water. Adjusting to doing the things she had watched being done a thousand times was only adding to her frustration.

  Breaking the silence, Desiree finally asked the questions Amara had been waiting for. “What are you, an angel?”

  Chapter 3

  Graffiti Cave

  Amara laughed aloud, something she hadn’t done in a great while. “An angel, no I am not an angel. I am, or was, a Keeper.”

  She found Anthony and Desiree’s confused looks comical and wondered if she was delirious from the harsh realities landing like boulders on her skull.

  Not enthused by Amara’s giggles, Anthony sounded gruff, “What do you mean?”

  Amara explained the Keepers in the simplest terms that she knew how. She even showed them their personal clocks. Their expressions showed appropriate awe and belief, until Amara told them of their predicament. The idea of being hunted by ancient beings deflated their splendor and left them looking sallow.

  “So what you’re saying is we are pretty much screwed? You are going to Hell and we will be terminated.” Anthony’s face turned red and his hands shook.

  “Well, briefly put, yes. Except we call it Sheol, not Hell. Either we find a way to avoid capture, or we all suffer the consequences.” Amara’s lighthearted laughter ceased and a great depressive void began to fill her.

  “That’s not fair. These Keepers sound like ruthless murderers if you ask me. How could you just let people die? It’s
sick. How can they make you a human and then expect you to be able to escape?” Desiree literally pouted and her eyes shined with unshed tears for the lost souls.

  “It’s the natural balance of life for the clocks to stop, and it is the Keepers’ job to observe and preserve. There would be no end to human suffering, no completion of destiny, and life itself would be a pointlessly terrible existence without them.” Amara was protecting them, the ones who would see her condemned and persecuted, but she didn’t quite understand why. “Their laws are harsh, but they are meant to protect our wards and the balance of the universe. Besides, the Keepers aren’t the ones who will be hunting us. The Apollumi will take care of that.”

  Anthony leaned further forward, his concern etched into lines on his young face. “What the hell is an Apollumi?”

  Amara grimaced. “The Apollumi are the guards of Sheol. They are a breed of Keepers. Spirits who have no physical body of their own who are tasked with keeping track of souls too evil to be reborn into the world again or those deemed to have broken the sacred laws of the Keepers­.”

  Desiree chewed her bottom lip for a brief moment, and then asked, “If they are spirits, how can they hunt us or hurt us. Ghosts can’t hurt you.”

  “In Sheol, their forms are solid, but in this world they are wraiths. In order to hunt Keepers and humans alike, they use the bodies of a special race of beings called Guardians that were created by the Parcae to interact in this realm. Born and raised to be fighters and champions, they are strong, agile, and fast. They are trained from birth to be the conduit of the Apollumi with special skills in cleaning up and covering up the messes that are sometimes left behind.”

  Anthony grew angry once more. “That’s stupid! They use the Guardians like possessed cattle. They breed their own pod-people!”

  A sudden wash of guilt flooded over her. She had betrayed the Parcae when she’d broken the laws, and by that choice, had brought all those involved into a dark place. Holding her face in her hands, she almost wept.

  “Really, they are not as bad as all that. Anyway, that’s not what is important. We have to find the Weavers’ lair, but I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Who would know, Amara? Has anyone ever defied the Parcae before? Do you know of anyone old enough to remember when they still used the place?” Desiree’s voice was like a soothing salve for her battered mind after Anthony’s harsh condemnations.

  “Sure, let me just call down the very people who are hunting us and ask for directions.” Her words were not as sarcastic as she meant them to be. Instead, they sounded sad and far away. “No one we have any means of contacting knows. I need someone who can see into the world beyond this one.”

  They sat in silence for a long time. Anthony and Desiree looked miserable as they scrunched close together against the dampness of the cave, while Amara fought back the tears that threatened to come. Being human was becoming a disastrous side effect of her decision to save her wards from death. The emotions, the physical exertion, and the sensation of loneliness overwhelmed her.

  Contemplating the fragility of the mortal mind and body, Amara began to understand how one of her previous charges had wasted her life, lost in a haze of chemical enhancements. “Wait! There may be someone. He is an Oracle, which means he is not a Keeper and not bound by our laws, but still possesses some of the skills the Keepers do. If we can find him, we have a chance.”

  Desiree perked up. “Who?”

  “The Parcae sent me to this same region before. The girl I was Keeper for knew a little boy. He had to be around six at the time.” She thought hard, trying to remember how old he would be at present. “My ward, Kira, was the last before I became your Keeper. The boy would be around twenty-three now, I think.”

  Anthony snorted, “You think?”

  Amara ignored him as she drudged up old memories. “I remember his strikingly dark blue eyes and his strange ability. He was one of the humans with the talent to see into the destinies of others and speak with beings beyond the mortal realm. From time to time, children are born of a liaison between a Keeper and a human. Of course, if the Parcae discover the relationship and the resulting child, they deal with all parties swiftly. The child either becomes a Keeper or perishes.”

  Desiree gasped, but Amara continued telling the story, pushing it from her mind so that she could try to wrap her head around the many years that had passed. “The child, Marcus, had constantly blurted out odd premonitions to people. His family thought he was mentally challenged and strangers thought he was simply weird. The boy’s Keeper had obviously known of his abilities, but chose not to report them.”

  “At the time, I was too busy keeping up with Kira’s constant suicide attempts and overdoses to worry about another Keeper’s bastard child. See, we don’t know your exact destinies. We only know that we must care for your time pieces and be there when the time comes for you to pass. Anyway, I was sure the Parcae would punish the Keeper for his tolerance, and after I moved on, I did not wish to involve myself in the ugly politics of law breaking. Perhaps, even then, the weakness that led to this betrayal was growing.”

  Anthony lost his snide tone, the worry and compassion he felt for a stranger trimming away the teenage callousness. “Do you think he survived?”

  “I don’t know. If he still lives, this boy could be the key to our survival. The town he lived in was called, Diehl.” Amara became hopeful.

  Desiree leaped up from her rock. “That’s only a half hour away.”

  “We have to go right now.” Amara stood and headed for the mouth of the cave without checking to see if the others followed.

  They nearly ran down the rocky path and back through the fence. His dislike for mud on his car forgotten, Anthony sent a spray of grit flying up from the rear tires as they tore onto the road. Sitting cozily together in the front seat, they talked about her job as a Keeper of damned souls. Desiree’s eyes flashed with sadness as Amara told them about Kira’s self-destruction.

  “Her destiny was fulfilled when she digested a dose of bad acid her best friend had given her. If she had made a different choice at any time and changed what she was becoming, perhaps she would have altered her path and I could have moved on to the next case without having to watch her clock shudder to a stop.”

  Twisting a finger through her brown locks, Desiree asked. “I don’t understand. If it is someone’s destiny, then how do they change that?”

  The theory of changing destinies was difficult for humans to understand, and Amara tried to be patient with her answers. “No one is given a bad destiny. Their choices, and the choices that others make, lead them to the finality of a horrific death. Each mortal is destined to fulfill a path of pleasurable existence. It is your decisions in life that change that. If the Creator sees that you will choose the downward path and will never meet your destiny, they assign a Keeper like me to be your overseer.”

  Anthony’s mind was turning much quicker than Desiree’s. “So, what’s our destiny? Or should I say, what was our destiny before I got us into this mess?”

  Amara laughed, “Your destiny is currently undecided. I can’t tell you what it was supposed to be, because we do not know if it still will be. Even though, I intend to weave you the same destiny as before your decision brought you to this place, I cannot taint your actions in life by telling you what would have been or what may be.”

  Desiree was absolutely sure of herself when she looked up at Anthony and said, “Well, I know that my destiny was to always be at your side. Why else would Amara be assigned to us both?”

  Amara feared she had told them too much. She worried she had let idle questions and chatter carve out some path of truth in their minds. Wringing her hands together, she silently contemplated on how she could back pedal out of such a situation. However, Desiree settled the issue quickly.

  Looking at their Keeper, the girl smiled sweetly and patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Amara, I knew that before you came along.” She placed her hand over her ri
ght breast. “I knew it in here.”

  For the first time in all of her years, Amara felt a longing. She wanted to know a love that spoke to her heart. She craved the certainty that she belonged to someone completely. She needed assurance that her heart possessed a love so pure that she would not fear life or death unless it was without the other person by her side. The feeling overwhelmed her, and she wanted to lunge from the car and run back to the land of mists where emotions were of the slightest consequence, if any at all.

  Luckily, they entered the town of Diehl before her psyche could be completely devastated. The situation forced Amara’s mind to focus on remembering the past and not dwelling on the onslaught of the moment. After a few wrong turns and the help of a very nice, elderly gentleman, they found their way to the house that had once belonged to Kira’s family. Rundown and shabbier than she remembered, it seemed the inhabitants had lost their interests in its upkeep.

  In moments, Amara navigated the way to where Marcus had once lived. Her heart hammered as the past blended into the present. The narrow brick house looked exactly the way it had years before, except for the cloud of desperation clinging to its facade. The lawn needed trimming, heavy bars hung over the windows, and a thick layer of dust coated the classic silver Lincoln in the driveway.

  “This is it. Stop the car.” She nearly fell out of the moving vehicle in her hurry to find the boy. Her mind screamed, What if he has moved?

  Pushing back the thoughts, she tried to swallow her worry of how their one chance of survival could fall away. She poked her head in the open car window. “Stay here, I will find out if he is here and talk to him. If he will help us, I will summon you.”

  Anthony snorted, “I am going to be summoned by a twelve year old.”

  She rolled her eyes and hissed, “I am three hundred and sixteen years old. I’d be careful about that smart-ass tone. I could leave you for dead.”

  Stalking away, Amara wished she could turn back around and see his face. She’d bet anything the snide smirk was gone. Instead, she mounted the four concrete steps and knocked on the wooden framed screen door. The whirl of an old ceiling fan buzzed in the front room, and somewhere in the back, she could hear the low sound of a radio. Through the dirty mesh, she tried to survey the interior of the house, but it seemed to be entirely concealed in dark shadows.