by Shea Berkley
He didn’t say a word as she stood at the threshold, alone and scared. Tears welled in her eyes. “I nearly killed Dylan.” She was no better than the Seven Sisters she had condemned to one hundred years of solitude.
“Nearly is not dead,” the little man said.
His observation, given without pity or even interest, surprised her. Bodog began to shut the door when the stick he leaned on quivered so violently, he almost toppled over. Lifting it to eye level, Faldon’s unhappy face appeared in the dried and crackly bark. “Invite her in, you miasmic mole.”
Bodog grumbled about uninvited guests, but allowed her to come inside. She entered the kitchen and sat at the table. Holding her head in her hands, she wept, feeling her heart breaking in two for what she’d done.
Faldon fussed at the little man and instructed him to lift him higher so he could see Kera better. “What happened?”
“Everything has gone wrong,” she sobbed into her hands.
“Where is Dylan now?”
Kera rubbed at her eyes and lifted her head. “I don’t know. I ran off, and he left.”
“That’s to be expected. Did you not say you tried to kill him?”
Hearing him say it out loud made her want to vomit. “What is happening? I nearly killed the only person I have ever loved. I thought I could control the magic, but it’s controlling me. I don’t know what to do,” she wailed. “I’m turning into…into…” She couldn’t finish her thought. She untied the leather bracelet and let it fall to her lap. There, on her wrist, her flesh was torn, just like one of the Nightmare Men. She couldn’t look. It was too gruesome.
Bodog shook his head, his ears flapping, his jowls jostling.
Faldon’s face receded for a moment as if repulsed by the sight. When he reappeared, his voice held a note of pain. “Dark magic can seduce the purest heart. It can twist a noble idea until there is only a shadow of what was once good.”
“How could I have let this happen?”
“Pure motives are not always enough.”
“I cannot live like this. I’m a danger to everyone.” Kera lifted the necklace from beneath her shirt, unlatched it, and placed it on the table. The amber stone warmed the room with its mellow hue. “Take this. It’s the Salter’s magic Baun needs to defeat the Dark Souls.”
Bodog poked his nose at the necklace, then pulled away, his nose crinkled as if he smelled something bad. “Bodog has more magic than that.”
Kera couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. He couldn’t be right. “If not the Salter’s magic, what is it?”
“A necklace.”
Kera picked it up and stared at the amber stone she believed would kill her. But it didn’t. Not when she had inadvertently used it to pull Dylan’s magic from him. She’d been so scared afterward, she hadn’t stopped to think about what had happened. “When I almost killed Dylan, some of our magic transferred into it.”
“You created a Keeper of Life.”
“A what?”
“It’s what our people used to do in the old days, before we were relegated to this realm. Our power was intense, far more than it is now, and wild. We came to understand how our magic could help as easily as it could hurt. The most powerful of us created Keepers of Life by transferring their magic into an object that can be utilized by the owner in a safer manner, though there is never a perfect solution to any problem.
“The Salter’s magic is one of the most powerful Keepers of Life we know about. But as many things do, the magic fell into the wrong hands. And because it has the distinction of changing its appearance with each new owner, it had a habit of disappearing for centuries.”
“A Keeper of Life…” Kera had heard of the term, though she was hard-pressed to remember much about it. “But magic was their life, wasn’t it?”
“Containing their magic allowed them to have a life with the humans as a human, but when they needed their old life back, they could easily access it.”
Did Faldon know what he had just done? He had given her a way out without giving up her magic completely. Neither Faldon nor Bodog had to tell her what to do. It was time to get her life back, time to draw out the magic that was in her.
Faldon said something, a warning of some sort, but Kera wasn’t listening. She’d already begun the process of creating a Keeper of Life. It wouldn’t take any effort to finish what she had started.
She could do it if she thought of Dylan. Tears welled up and she furiously blinked them away. She clasped the necklace in her hand and closed her eyes. “I can do this. For Dylan.”
“NO!” Faldon’s raspy voice cried.
The chair she sat in, the table she was near, even the floorboards beneath her, rattled, sending Bodog scurrying into the far corner with Faldon held tightly in his hands as she began the transfer.
Somewhere amid the rumble she heard Faldon’s protest, begging her to stop before it was too late. But this was the only way. Surely he knew that. Her hand glowed and the amber stone warmed. The glow slowly crept up her arm and traveled over her shoulders and spread until her whole body shone.
The power within her dug painfully deep, resisting the transfer. Kera gasped. Her skin lost its glow and the power began to return to her. She concentrated harder until her skin radiated an intense gold. The rafters shook and Bodog wailed, covering his head as parts of the ceiling rained down. Kera ignored the chaos. Ignored the pain. She thought only of Dylan. The house shuttered as if it were being ripped off its foundation. The magic finally ripped free, and in a blazing rush, slid into the amber. A sun-bright flash had her turning away from the light. The stone burned her hand, but she didn’t let go, not even when the room was plunged into an unnatural darkness.
Slowly the early-morning light returned. Kera opened her hand and the stone rolled out, hissing and smoking. Her palm was red and blistered black. She winced and blew on it, but nothing she did eased the burn. Still, it was a small price to pay for the return of her sanity.
Bodog uncurled from the corner and muttered about guests trying to destroy his home. He unceremoniously dumped a supply of tinctures and bandages on the table in front of her.
“That was foolish,” Faldon’s gruff voice lashed out at her. “Ten times more foolish than anything you have ever done.”
He may say she was foolish, but she felt relieved. Free. Kera tended to her hand as Bodog fluttered about the house, room to room, using the stick to poke at the damage even as Faldon spouted dire warnings of death because of what she’d done.
As she bound her hand, she noticed her wrist. It was healed, as was her shoulder. Only two small white scars remained where her flesh had been torn. A pleased smile shaped her lips. “It was the only solution and you know it.” Kera stared at the stone. Its color, shape, and size appeared normal. No magical glint gave it away. After she finished bandaging her hand, she reattached the leather cuff, and tried out a simple command, calling a cup that hung on the wall near the stove to come to her hand. Nothing. She touched the stone and repeated the command. The cup flew off the wall and into her hand. Her pleased smile turned into a confident smirk.
A shriek caught Kera’s attention. Bodog must have found an especially large crack in the wall. A tiny sliver of guilt made her grimace. She hadn’t meant to cause any damage, but honestly, did he need to overdramatize the situation? She could hear him scuffling about in the next room and Faldon trying to calm him down.
The door to the kitchen flew open and Bodog entered, carrying Faldon, who was shedding bark as he quivered violently in Bodog’s hand. The little man waved her to him. “Come. Now. No time.”
She stood and hooked the necklace around her neck. “I’ll fix whatever it is. I promise.”
Her words were barely uttered when Faldon stopped shaking and shouted for her to duck. A fiery ball of inky blackness slammed into the window and tore through the kitchen. Kera dived toward Bodog, and they tumbled into the other room, but it was no better there. Fire engulfed the whole house. Bodog led Kera to the entra
nce of his underground tunnels and urged her down the steep stairs. He slammed the trapdoor shut, but thick dark-gray smoke filtered through the cracks.
“You must fill the space with dirt to keep us safe,” Faldon yelled at Kera.
She nodded and let Bodog pass. Clutching the amber around her neck, she moved the earth, backing down the steps as she did, until the entrance was totally blocked by several feet of dirt.
Coughing, she followed Bodog down the remaining stairs and into his realm of dirt and rocks and moist air. “What happened?”
“Dark Souls.”
Why didn’t she think Navar would search for her? She’d irritated him once too often to have him ignore her now. “I saw Navar. We fought. He must have followed me.”
“You wish to know why I am angry for what you did? This is why. He will know you’ve made a Keeper of Life. He’ll want it. And now that you’ve put all of his and Baun’s magic in there without creating safeguards to keep you and it from evil intentions, he can kill you, which sets the magic free, and then take it.”
Now she understood his anger. She’d made a terrible mistake. “How can he use it? He’s dead.”
“He won’t. He’ll give it to someone who can.”
It didn’t take Kera long to figure out who. “Granel.” Saying his name soured her mouth. “Navar will give it to that little snake.”
“Possibly. Does it really matter who? With Navar pulling the strings, the lives of your people will become a nightmare.”
She entered an area more open than the tight tunnels Bodog had created, and she called for Bodog to stop. She began to take the necklace off. “I’ll just transfer it all back into me.”
Bodog shook his head. “You cannot.”
Her hands stilled. “What do you mean?” If he was worried about a cave-in, then she could wait until they went above ground.
Faldon’s face appeared more worried and worn than ever. “You can never regain that magic. It is lost to you in the sense that if you lose the necklace, you lose the magic.”
Now she understood the enormity of what she’d done. Her hand went to the amber stone. “Oh.”
“There are two ways to release the magic. Destroy you, which would release the magic from the stone. Or destroy the stone.”
“Then we should destroy the stone.”
“No! The magic could disappear, or fuse with the nearest person. No one knows. But one thing is for sure. Destroying the stone will destroy you.”
“As in…”
“You will die.”
She sagged against the table. “So either way I am dead. It really does keep my life.”
“You are connected to the stone from now until the day you die.”
The sounds of the house falling apart rolled through the tunnel. Kera scrounged through a pile of junk and brought out a bow and arrows. Slinging them across her back, she said, “We have to see Baun. He won’t be happy, but he should know they are after me.” She touched the amber stone with her fingers. A sinking feeling hit her stomach. “Can Baun retrieve the magic?”
“He is king. He may know a way.”
Her knees felt weak. Getting rid of the magic had helped her, but it had made Baun’s life infinitely more complicated, and he wouldn’t thank her for that.
In the Company of Strangers
“When you said you were coming to Teag, I thought you meant only you.” I glance back at the men, all Grandpa’s neighbors and all packing serious gun power, and then look at Grandpa’s unapologetic face. We’ve been in Teag for less than an hour, but it feels longer. The woods are strangely still, which makes my gut twist. I know he feels it too. “They’re not prepared to face what’s here.”
“They all volunteered.”
“This isn’t like fighting a wildfire. This kind of volunteering can get them seriously killed.”
“A lot you know, son. So can fighting wildfires.”
“Grandpa…”
He’s not taking what I’m saying seriously.
His hand slams onto my shoulder. “They’re in it to win it. These men are here to protect their own.”
“Who’s going to protect them?”
“We are. That’s the name of the game when you’re their leader. You think ahead. You weigh the outcome of every action. You don’t look back. Mistakes happen. We learn from them. We improve so we make fewer mistakes. But most importantly, we keep going.”
Mom, wobbling behind us in her fancy heels, snorts. “Did you learn that in Ranger Danger School?”
Grandpa doesn’t miss a beat. Disgust colors his face. “I learned that while I held a man who bled to death in my arms because I didn’t take time to evaluate a situation. You got a smart-ass comment to go with that?”
“No, sir.” Her voice is contrite, but her adjusted attitude doesn’t last long. She yanks her arm out of Leo’s grasp. “Do you have to hold on to me? It’s creepy.”
He looks from her spiky heels that keep sinking into the dirt, to her face. “You almost fell back there.”
“But I didn’t.”
Leo thrusts his hands in his pockets and scuffs along beside her. “Why do you keep saying I’m creepy?”
“I don’t know. Because you are.”
He rolls his eyes, but I can see the hurt in them. He falls back to where his dad is, and I slow down until she’s beside me. “Stop picking on my friend.”
“Sorry. Most sons would side with their mothers, but not mine.”
Does she really want to play this game? “Most moms are actually nice, unlike you.”
“And nice moms live in little houses, on little streets in little towns with boring husbands and two-point-five kids. I stopped wanting to be nice a long time ago.” Mom suddenly stops. “My feet hurt.”
I stare at her in amazement. There isn’t one ounce of shame in her. Not one drop of compassion for others. She’s all about herself and no one else. She’s worse than most firsts who’ve gone over the edge. It’s frightening.
Grandpa sighs as Mom drops to the ground near a fallen tree and stretches out her legs. She notices him staring at her shoes. “Pretty, aren’t they?” A bright smile flashes and she flexes her feet to admire them. “Dylan got them for me in Vegas.”
His eyebrows shoot up like it’s my fault she wore impractical shoes, shakes his head, and moves off to talk to his neighbors.
Mom eyes me. “You’ll get used to the constant disappointed looks. I did. And then one day, I didn’t care anymore.”
“You wore them on purpose.” I know her. She loves doing the exact opposite of what someone wants.
Mischief flashes behind her eyes as her curly hair blows gently in the breeze. Half the men who are with us can’t stop staring at her.
A cute little bunny hops out of hiding and nudges Mom’s hand. She lets out a soft squeal that puts everyone on edge. They relax when the rabbit nuzzles Mom. She strokes its head and rubs its long ears and looks up at me, a genuine smile on her face. “How adorable. Is it someone’s pet?”
“No. Rabbits are weirdly cuddly here.” It’s one of a handful of animals in Teag that won’t go for blood. “Don’t change the subject.” I sit down beside her. “Can you try to get along with him?”
“Can you try to mind your own business?” she asks in an overly sweet voice.
“You are my business. So is he. I want this all to be over and for everyone to go back to whatever they want to do and not worry about dying.”
She picks up the bunny and rubs her nose to its pink one. “Everybody dies, Dylan.”
“Don’t say that.” Wyatt said almost the exact same thing right before he died.
“It’s true.”
I pop to my feet. “I don’t care.” I take two steps and then spin back toward her. “Just…don’t say it again.”
We rest for five more minutes. In that time a hummingbird, a frog, two more bunnies, and a hedgehog visit Mom. She looks like a grown-up fairy-tale princess. Talk about an optical illusion, but it’s enough t
o make even Grandpa soften around the edges. He tells us it’s time to go, and I change Mom’s shoes to more practical hiking boots, assuring her the sandals will be in her room when she gets back home.
She snuggles the bunny one more time, holding it up to Grandpa and asking him if she can keep it. His eyebrows collide over his nose. “No matter how cute, wild animals—”
“—belong in the wild,” Mom finishes with a pout. “And heartless old men never change.” She put the bunny on the ground, not seeing how her words hurt Grandpa. He recovers quickly enough, and we set off toward Ainsbury Cross.
It isn’t long before we smell smoke. I tell everyone to stay put and go ahead to check things out. When I get to the edge of the woods, I see the one thing I don’t want to see. Faldon’s house is burning and Dark Souls swarm the fire like moths. Too bad none of them will burn up.
“What the hell are those?” Grandpa says, nearly scaring me out of my shoes.
He crouches in the bushes beside me, staring at the black forms swirling around the flames. “Dark Souls. They’re the spirits of some very bad people. In Teag, ‘dead’ doesn’t have the same meaning it does back home.”
“And your mother has the magic to get rid of them?”
“I hope so. Nothing else has so far.” I pull back and after one last look at the Dark Souls, Grandpa follows me. “That house was where we were going,” I tell him.
“Plans change. Adapt.”
“You’re not going to like it.”
A humorless smile curves his lips. “I don’t much like any of this, but I’m here.”
Does he know what he just said? No one has ever done what he’s doing. I’ve always been alone, but since I moved here, Grandpa has been at my side, cheering me on. Advising me, and then catching me when I’ve fallen. I blink back a sudden rush of tears, and I give him a bear hug. “Thank you.”
I’ve surprised him and it takes a moment for him to hug me back. “It’s not enough, just me and a few men who don’t know squat and doodle about any of this, but it’s all I’ve got.”
