The Keeper's Heart

by Catherine Stovall

  Amara stepped behind Cronus, hiding herself from Corinthia’s rage. His broad back provided the perfect shield, and his taunting words only played into her hands further.

  “Don’t be such a siren, Cor. We were once friends, you and I. Perhaps I can offer you that again. I could restore you to your former glory, and you can stand by my side. After all, young Amara will need a woman’s wisdom.”

  “The only time I’ll stand beside you is to spit in your graves,” Corinthia took a measured step forward, something wild in her eyes.

  “Don’t you want your heart stone? She has it, you know? Think about it. We could be the most powerful trio ever known. Just tell us how to find the hidden ones,” his voice was the same calming, fatherly tone he had used with Amara before.

  Impatience tugged at Amara’s mind, causing her hand to twitch. Whispering to Cronus, she reminded him, “Remember your promise to protect me.”

  His laughter rang out through the mists, its roaring sound enough to silence even Corinthia’s keening. “Amara, you have nothing to fear. This pathetic creature has no more ability to harm you than one of the shades in Sheol.”

  His words were the final push for Corinthia, sending her lunging toward him with her claws bared. Amara stepped closer to Cronus, keeping his body between her and the insane spirit. Over his shoulder, she held up the heart stone, mocking the mad woman.

  Corinthia’s hand shot out, aiming for Cronus’s heart with deadly accuracy. Her voice was no longer feminine or filled with tears. It became the guttural growl of a wild animal, “Give it to me!”

  Cronus laughed as he looked down to see her fist penetrate his body, obviously unimpressed by her harmless attack. The familiar smirk filled his features as he ordered, “Get away from me, you dismal creature.”

  Corinthia leaned in, placing her phantom lips close to his ear, she whispered, “Die.”

  He tried to step backward, but Amara’s hands pushed him forward, burying Corinthia’s arm farther inside his chest. Dropping the small gem into Corinthia’s hand, Amara stepped away, awaiting the worst.

  A blissful and victorious expression painted itself across Corinthia’s face as her fist closed around her heart stone. In one swift jerk, she ripped her arm away, leaving a gaping, bloody hole where it had penetrated her enemy’s body.

  Cronus’s face turned white in painful surprise, and a dark stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Blood and flesh exploded from his front and back as the arm piercing his chest solidified. His body quaked and his head twisted to the side, wide eyes staring in desperate hatred into Amara’s.

  Despite the carnage, or rather because of it, Corinthia looked at peace with blood smearing her arms and splattered in her bobbed hair.

  Amara clutched Cronus’s hand to hold her in the mist, afraid of where she might end up if she let go. Frozen in shock and relief, she watched Cronus’s body crumble and decay near her feet—the constant smile still curving his cracking lips. Just as the Reaper had, his physical form disintegrated into an ashy dust. The gentle winds quickly carried away the particles, and she began to panic. Her hands plunged into the quickly dissipating remains, discovering Cronu’s death had left behind a heart stone bigger than she had ever seen before.

  Her mind went crazy with paranoid thoughts. Too easy. Too simple. It’s a trick. Has to be. He was so powerful.

  The plan had worked perfectly, and despite her threats to kill her, Corinthia was so overjoyed to be alive, she was dancing frantically. Amara just couldn’t grasp that she had managed to destroy Cronus, with so little struggle.

  To many late night movies watching bad guys give three hour monologues and the good guy doing dumb things instead of just killing off their enemies with one shot, her reasonable brain insisted.

  Corinthia finally stopped dancing, and her words interrupted Amara’s thoughts. “Take it.”

  Amara looked at her in confusion.

  “Take his heart stone. It holds the power of ten Keepers within it. Those others cannot be restored without hunting down their Reapers and killing them one by one. Drain it, use its power to restore your own, or hide it away. There is no wrong choice, you have destroyed a monster and have earned the reward. Not to mention, you have freed me from my own personal torment. Thank you, Amara.”

  “I couldn’t. I can’t take their power, it would be wrong. I’ve only done this to save Anthony and Desiree, and Marcus as well. I don’t want power. I never wanted to take your stone. I was only looking for answers. What will you do now, Corinthia?”

  “If they will have me, I will go to ground with the other ones of my time. The world still isn’t safe for us, no matter that Cronus is gone now. There will always be someone else bent on doing the same.” Dipping down to scoop up the heart stone from Amara’s hand, Corinthia tore away a piece of her skirt and wrapped the gem inside, as Amara clung to her in order to remain.

  With her bobbed hair tickling Amara’s cheek, she wished her well, “Go get your children. Go save the love of your life. The road ahead will not be easy, but you have the strength, the will, and the power if you chose.”

  Corinthia faded away into the mist, leaving Amara alone.

  Chapter 22

  Playing Impostor

  Amara’s plan had not gone beyond the death of Cronus. In her heart of hearts, she had thought she would not survive the trip into the mists. In a loss, she sat down and breathed in the smoky wisps that hugged her close like a long lost friend.

  How can I face Marcus, Desiree, or Anthony again? After what I said and did, they must hate me. Kicking up a puff of fog with the heel of her boot, she sighed. Even if I tell them it was all part of the plan, they won’t believe me. I guess it will be better this way. You don’t have to say goodbye to people who don’t care anymore.

  She could feel the Keepers’ power within the heart she held. Because like always called to like, the blood from her kin pushed the gem’s magic into her. As Corinthia’s heart had allowed her to travel into the mists, Cronus’s much stronger heart began making her numb to the sorrow of losing those she cared about most. In a way, Amara hated the loss of that pain, because she wanted to believe she truly did love them. Yet, the detachment helped to heal the wounds enough to clear her head and form a new plan.

  She willed herself back to Sheol from the calm mists. Popping into the room where she had been kept prisoner, she set to work at creating the ultimate ruse. Amara found the discarded face mask and cowl that matched the Apollumi uniform she still wore. Standing in front of the full length mirror, she tucked her hair into the cowl so not a strand showed and donned the metal grill over the lower half of her face.

  Finally shaking off her own visual obsession with the mirror, she crossed the room to where she had casually tossed Cronus’s heart stone. Though it remained still wrapped in the torn cloth from Corinthia’s dress, the vibrant red jewel caught the light seeping through the thin fabric, amplifying it into a crimson glow. Looking around the room she searched for something to make a decent pouch with. She couldn’t very well go running through Sheol with the damn thing in her hand, shining like a beacon to every shade, creature, and guard.

  Finally, after what felt like ages of searching, Amara found a small pouch under the bed. She wanted to laugh when she dumped out the contents and saw it was filled with potpourri. The comical TV ad running in her head did not make things less funny. She ended up giggling as she imagined the announcer’s voice saying, “Come stay at the luxurious Sheol Hotel, where the rooms are decorated in the French bordello style and scented with fire, brimstone, and potpourri.”

  Okay, I don’t have a career in human marketing, she thought. At least I have some stupid reason to laugh right now. Still snickering at her silly joke, Amara wrapped the torn fabric tightly around the heart stone and tucked it inside the flowery scented bag. Pulling the draw string ribbons tight, she knotted them at the top of the bag, before running her belt through the loops. As long as the ribbons held, the heart would be
safe.

  With the first order of business taken care of, Amara prepared to finish the task she had set out to do: rescue her friends and weave them all a new destiny. Covering the jewel did nothing to diminish the power it fed her. She felt strong and prepared as she willed herself to transcend to the stairway leading to the dungeon.

  Standing around the corner of the last bend on the spiral staircase, she listened closely. Holding her breath, she strained her ears for any sound of the guards. She knew there would be at least one, and she hoped they would be unprepared. Without a weapon, or even decent fighting skills, she would have to depend on her wits alone. Minotaurs were not known to be the brightest creatures, but if she raised their ire or suspicion, their deadly rage could cost more than just her life.

  Unable to tell what she would be facing from the occasional grunt and snort, Amara’s patience ran out. With a deep breath, she gave herself a mental pep talk. Confidence. Walk in there like you know exactly what you are doing and like you have every right to be doing it. Get them free and get them the hell out of there. Once you’ve got that accomplished, the rest is just a matter of dealing with the hidden Keepers.

  Unsure of whether or not the ancient Keepers would help her, or if they would simply take Cronus’s heart and destroy her, Amara tried not to think about what would come when she faced them. For a moment, she missed Mabel. The saucy woman would have been able to march right in and have the others free within seconds. Since she wasn’t going to get that kind of help a third time, Amara made sure her face mask was snugly in place and descended the stairs.

  The Minotaur’s head popped up, its deadly sharp horns glistening in the torch light and its long snout breathing out a heavy puff of air. The creature stood from where it had been leaning against the wall and crossed its arms over its massive chest.

  Amara gave him a slight nod and strode to the last cell with her back straight. Feeling the monster’s bloodshot eyes on her back, she tried not to walk too quickly or swing her arms. Pretending to be a military style assassin of Sheol was harder than she thought.

  Reaching the last cell, she looked in to see Marcus lying with his back to her, unmoving on the thin scattering of loose straw. She prayed to the Creator, Please let him be alive. Please don’t tell me I’m too late.

  To her relief, he shifted in his sleep, just a slight move of his shoulders. No matter how insignificant, the movement meant he was alive and Amara nearly cried with joy. Realizing she was lingering, she spun on her heel and crossed the brick path to the opposite side.

  Gesturing to the Minotaur she shouted, “Cronus wants the three new ones brought upstairs. Drag them out of here.”

  With a grunt and a jangle of keys, he lumbered toward her, carrying the lantern. Amara tried hard to calm her pounding heart, fearing the beast would hear its hammering when he came to stand before the cell. To her relief, the creature unlocked the door, stepped inside, lit the lantern, and began working on freeing Desiree.

  “Leave them alone, you bitch.” The voice was hoarse and dry like ice cracking under pressure.

  Amara turned her head toward the sound, and her heart broke in a million pieces. His face was scraped raw, a large cut had caused his upper lip to swell, and his eyes—his beautiful sapphire orbs—were dead inside. Even his hands, which hung through the bars just as they had earlier that day, were bloodied.

  Swallowing the agony she felt for him, Amara ordered, “That one looks like more trouble than he’s worth. Make sure to shackle him well.”

  “I know who you are. You’re not fooling anyone.”

  His words cut her like a knife, opening angry wounds in her heart. That had been the one thing Amara hadn’t thought out. She had never guessed one of them would recognize her voice. The guard looked back at her, suspicion in his eyes, and Amara knew she had to do something to shut Marcus up. Without a moment’s hesitation between thought and action, she approached the minotaur, lifted his heavy mace from his belt, and strode to Marcus’s cage.

  She tried to make herself sound menacing and filled with hate. “Shut up, or I’m going to make you wish you’d tangled with old beasty over there instead of me.” With a double wink, she slammed the metal, spike covered ball against the iron bars. “You got it, human?”

  Marcus said nothing, and Amara couldn’t be sure if he had caught the secret wink or if he simply did not have the energy for more than a few sentences full of loathing. She thought she had seen his eyes widen in the brief second before she’d turned away. She could have sworn she saw an understanding in their endless blue depths. However, she couldn’t be sure.

  Amara left the minotaur to do her bidding, her fingers itched to work on the bonds and free her wards quicker, but she knew an Apollumi would not act that way. Though, as foot soldiers, they held no real worth in the scheme of things, the warriors were arrogant and proud. She took up the only chair in the room and proceeded to use her sleeve to polish her boots out of feigned boredom.

  Finally, the guard emerged, dragging Desiree and Anthony behind him by a set of chains like half-dead animals. Amara watched with a hooded expression as the two stumbled and faltered, their limbs rendered nearly useless by hours spent in bondage. She didn’t want to approach them; she feared watching Marcus be dragged from his cell. There was no doubt in her mind, the young man would fight. Yet, she forced herself forward.

  The minotaur grunted at her seemingly leisurely pace, so Amara quickened her step and took hold of Desiree and Anthony’s leads. Forcing herself to turn away as she heard the keys clang into the lock, she ordered, “Move it humans. Clear the way.” To the guard she added, “Let me get these two out of the way in case that one decides to act up.”

  She waited for the sound of a scuffle, for Marcus’s harsh voice to curse, for anything other than the rough nudge at her back from the guard. She turned; astonished that Marcus had come along without a fight. He had even allowed the beast to put both hand and leg shackles on him without a fuss.

  To prove she was in control of her prisoners and tough enough to manage the three without a hitch, Amara yanked hard on the thick length of iron chain attached to the double manacles. She hated the brief look of pain on Marcus’s face, but her remorse faded when he returned the double wink she had given him earlier.

  Repressing a sigh of relief and the desire to embrace all of them at once, she drove them forward as if they were a team of slaves. Rushing them felt like hurting them, since their bodies had experienced so much agony, but she ordered them to climb the stairs quicker.

  The opening loomed ahead, a promise of escape from the dungeons and another danger to conquer. She wondered if they had all recognized her, and if so, would Desiree and Anthony be able to hold the ruse if they encountered someone asking questions. Emerging out of the stairwell, Amara steered them to the right, barking orders as any soldier would do.

  The room she had been kept in was too far away and using the mists to transport all four of them would be slow and unpredictable. The safest place to lead three chained prisoners would be Cronus’s apartment, or at least that is what she hoped. Turning right, she herded Desire, Anthony, and Marcus up the staircase.

  Amara sighed, Safety is only a few more steps away.

  Following the same path she and Cronus had taken before, Amara struggled to maintain her heartless composure, until they finally stood at the door. Her hand reached for the knob, ready to run inside. Just as her fingers brushed the bronze knob, her stomach twisted with fear. Terrified the door would open and Cronus would be waiting inside, Amara stepped back quick enough that her back slammed into Anthony’s chest. Adrenaline rushed through her system, clearing her vision until the red and yellow flickering of the pits danced in her peripheral.

  The voices rose up in her head, making her dizzy with the force of them. The hidden Keepers brayed, demanding she enter. She was risking the others’ safety and her own, hesitating like a child at the door of somewhere forbidden, and she knew it. Somehow, even though she had wat
ched him die, Cronus still frightened her.

  Her inner voice wasn’t too happy about it either. Get it together, stupid. You freeze now and you’re all dead.

  Forcing herself to grab the doorknob, Amara burst into the room as if she expected the devil to be waiting on the other side, ready to kill. Ignoring the grunts and whimpers of protest from the heavy iron cutting into soft flesh as the others stumbled in behind her, she slammed the door closed and locked it.

  Without thinking, she threw herself onto Marcus, Desiree, and Anthony, hugging them fiercely. Desiree was too shocked to respond, but Anthony shoved her away. The hard impact of his hands on her shoulders knocked Amara backward, causing her to stumble into Marcus.

  “Hey! Knock it off!” she cried out. Whipping the metal grill and the black cowl from her face, she glowered at Anthony.

  “Stay away from me!” he growled, looking meaner than the rattlesnake that had bitten her.

  “So, you did know it was me? I thought, wait…don’t be angry. I only pretended to switch sides. I took Cronus to the mists, and I, well Corinthia killed him. Look I have his heart stone.” As she protested, Amara undid the ribbons on the small bag and pulled the crimson gem from it.

  “Really, Amara? Tell us what deal you struck to be healed, healthy, and obviously changed while we were tortured?” Desiree’s voice was harsh. No longer a child, the girl had grown into a woman under the strain of her short, but fiercely hard time, as a captive.

  “Listen, you have to believe, me,” Amara shoved the heart stone forward. “I let Cronus believe that, for the sake of my own vanity, I would sell you out. I’m sorry.” She looked directly into Marcus’s eyes as she spoke, “I know I hurt you, I know you mistrust me, but I swear, I only did what I had to do to get rid of Cronus and get back here to save you all.”

  She pushed away the secret part of her mind that whispered, You chose to age for more reasons than that. You wanted to be old enough for Marcus to love in the human world.