Amuletto Kiss

by Gina LaManna

“I’ve been waiting for this day for years. I wondered who it would be to finally require my help.” His fingers stroked at his chin thoughtfully. “You’re wondering how I knew to give him my address—this address, an address that wasn’t mine to give so many years ago. Let’s suffice to say that as a Keeper, there are certain...powers that are unexplainable. Just as the Master of Magic’s work is pure art, entirely free from normal logic. The Keeper has talents similar in style.”

  Hettie’s eyes widened. “What sort of powers are we talking? I’m into weird powers.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

  The Keeper nobly brushed off her advances. “As Keepers, we are individually no more important to this world than trees—we are not meant to be noticed. We’re merely staples of the magic system as trees are staples of the environment. We Keepers live only to serve and protect. It is our duty, our pleasure, our joy, and our responsibility. We have a relationship to the Master much like the one I see between Gus and yourself.”

  I frowned at the intrusion into my personal life but pushed past it. “That must mean you know where I can find the Master?”

  “You can’t find him,” he said simply. “I can’t do anything for you on that front.”

  “Then why’d you give Frank this address for me?”

  He took a breath and expelled it slowly. “I don’t exactly know.”

  This threw me for a loop. “Excuse me?”

  “I can’t help you find the Master. That’s simply impossible. I’m a retired Keeper, which means I’ve abdicated my duties to another. The next in line. I have no clue where the Master of Magic is located any longer.”

  “That seems harsh,” I said, imagining if Gus left my side and feeling a pang of loss at the thought of losing him. “Weren’t you friends?”

  “This business is no more personal than the way trees exhale oxygen and we breathe it in. The Keeper is a cog in the wheel, a necessity. Sometimes we’re granted beautiful magic, and it’s like autumn then—a short burst of magic, similar to when the leaves change color and shine. They sparkle with glamor and glitz for a short while before they retire back into the useful lives they lead.”

  His words painted beautiful pictures, but my impatience at the task ahead wasn’t muted. “I don’t know why I’m here if you can’t help me.”

  “Perhaps you can explain to me why you’re here, and we’ll go from there.”

  I was hesitant to start and looked at Hettie, not sure if I could trust him. I didn’t even know his name—it felt crass to ask for one, and he hadn’t offered. Hettie merely nodded, gave me the go ahead, and so I began.

  I gave him the cliff notes version of my story. I included my suspicions about The Faction, though I left Liam’s name out of it. I explained about the rest of my searches—from the magical library to The Isle—and the mentions of ancient gods. I included the theory of the demigod assassin for good measure, watching to see if his eyes lighted with surprise at the extent of my knowledge.

  His eyes did light at the end of my explanation. He sat back, again running a finger over his non-existent beard, deep in thought. “Let me ask you this, Lily.” His face held a deep severity to it, as if the following question contained life or death information. “Has anything odd been happening in your life lately?”

  “Odd?” I snorted, surprised by his question. “Mr. Keeper, my life has been odd since the day I arrived on The Isle.”

  “Yes, yes, but anything particularly peculiar? Maybe not exactly in your own personal life, but in the events around you. Surrounding you. Little things maybe, out of the ordinary happenings...”

  The first thought in my head was of the shadow I’d picked up on the mainland—the man who’d followed me through the police station for no apparent reason. Then I remembered the whole mess of the Forgotten Ferns on the island, along with the rest of the petty crimes. On top of that, Zin’s uber private mission weighed heavy on my mind, as did the alley gang who’d cornered me after my meeting with Sammy.

  “Yes,” I said, striving for casual. “I guess you could say that things have been off.”

  “Ah. Then, there’s nothing more that I can do. The Keeper is already in your life. He’ll make the determination if you’re worthy to be seen by the Master.”

  “The assassin,” I said, ignoring the sting of his rejection. “You seemed surprised I knew about it.”

  “Surprised, no,” the Keeper said. “I’m surprised you told me about it.”

  “Why aren’t you more worried about The Faction finding the Master of Magic?” I hesitated. “Do you not trust my sources?”

  “I trust your sources just as much as you do. I’m not worried because I also trust my sources—the Keeper will never give away the location to someone who isn’t worthy.”

  “Right. But apparently there are ways around that little rule.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you insinuating?”

  “I think my source is onto something. He said The Faction is getting ready to move—that doesn’t make sense if they don’t have a plan. How can they move forward if they don’t know where to go?”

  “Maybe it’s a lie.”

  “I don’t think so. I think The Faction realized the same thing I did. That there’s a way to the Master around the Keeper. Find a demigod and have him do the dirty work. I’m sure for the right price, it could be arranged.”

  “I suppose you’d know better than most, seeing as your relationship with The Faction leader is quite...” The Keeper paused, lowered his voice. “Familial.”

  I leapt to my feet. “How dare you! He’s no more a father to me than you are.”

  “Lily.” Hettie reached a soothing hand to my arm. “Sit. We’re all on the same side here.”

  “I do agree with your grandmother,” the Keeper said, leaning forward, his ears perked to listen. “I am intrigued. There is something about genes, don’t you think, that connect us even when we sever all ties?” He didn’t wait long enough for me to argue. “If you figured out an alternate route, it seems The Faction may have, as well.”

  “It wouldn’t take much for The Faction to locate a demigod.”

  “Surely it would. They’re carefully guarded and protected.”

  “You must have been out of the game for a while,” I snapped, “because the Ghost, their leader, has resources beyond our wildest dreams. I think we need to consider the possibility has come to fruition.”

  “No.” The Keeper shook his head firmly. “The only reason the assassin got through to the Master at all was because I failed my duties as Keeper. I wasn’t there when he needed me.”

  A stony silence filled the room after his admission. It was hard for him to share—that much was obvious. As the truth left his lips, so did his shroud of control. In its place sat a curled, worn old man, quiet and still before us.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed. “I didn’t know.”

  “The past is the past.” He dismissed it with a wave of his shaking hand. “There was a man who tried to accompany the assassin on his mission. The wizard was left behind outside the walls of the city. It was impossible for him to follow through because he had no ancient blood, and he hadn’t been granted access by the Keeper.”

  “What if—”

  “What do you want me to do, Lily?” The Keeper was no longer able to hold back a shudder. “I have no clue where the Master of Magic is, and I cannot grant you access.”

  “What if the Keeper is the key?” I pressed. “Is there some way to speed the process along? If he already knows where I am, what’s the harm in helping things along?”

  “There is one thing...”

  “Yes?”

  “I believe we can catch his attention. There is a spell that will make you irresistible to the Keeper.”

  “Oh, well, I’m not sure about that.”

  The Keeper managed a small smile. “Let me mark you. Once you’re marked, it’ll be impossible for the Keeper to stay away. He’ll be curious as to the magic that’s touched you.”

/>   “What sort of magic?”

  The Keeper raised his hands. “His own Keeper magic. I might no longer be the Keeper, but not all spells vanish with retirement. I have a few left behind.”

  I exhaled. “It won’t hurt? Or affect me in any way?”

  “You won’t even know it’s touched you. But all spells leave traces, and Keeper magic is no different. It’s entirely unique, entirely separate from witch or wizard magic.”

  “What will I have to do after you complete the spell?”

  “Live your life,” he said with a dry smile. “I give you twenty-four hours before he’s in your grasp. After that, it’s up to you not to ruin your chances.”

  “Give me the chance,” I said, “and I won’t blow it.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  I did as he told me, feeling Hettie’s hand clasp mine as the swish of fabric signaled the Keeper’s slow, steady pace across the room. When his footsteps neared me, he raised a hand, sending a slight breeze across my face, and rested his thumb on my forehead.

  I squeezed my eyes shut tighter still.

  The Keeper began to murmur words, an incantation if I had to guess, one in a foreign, ancient language. The melodic sounds flowed from his tongue, drifting into one another with startling ease.

  It lasted for so long I began to twitch with nerves. When the Keeper finally stepped back, murmuring for me to open my eyes, a sudden sense of peace fell over my shoulders. A contentedness.

  “I feel...fine,” I said to Hettie’s searching eyes. “If anything, I’m calmer than before.”

  The Keeper smiled. “That’s a very good sign. The spell took, then. I believe that was my duty to you. I, too, am content, and my work here is done.”

  That felt like a dismissal, a surprisingly quick one, but I realized that he was right. “Come on.” I grasped Hettie’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “We have work to do on the island and no time to waste.”

  “But, my Gerbil Geraniums,” Hettie pouted. “Tiger will be so angry with me if I don’t pick some up.”

  “He’s a cat.”

  “He’s got an attitude.”

  The Keeper stood, walked to his windowsill, and returned with a bright blue box of flowers in a rainbow of colors. “Here, take mine. I’ve tended them for years, and I believe they are also ready to take their leave from me.”

  Hettie grinned like a banshee, clutching them to her chest. “Mr. Keeper, thank you! How can I repay you?”

  His eyes leveled first on me, then on Hettie. “Guide our young Lily, here. She’ll need help.”

  Hettie’s arm snaked around me. “She’ll be safe with me.”

  “Yes,” the Keeper said after a long pause. “I do think so.”

  “Where’s the nearest Senior Slide?” Hettie asked. “I can tell our girl is getting antsy to get home.”

  “Miss Hettie, you are standing in the senior center. There’s a Senior Slide on the bottom level. Safe travels to you both.”

  “What’d you make of him?” I asked once Hettie and I were safely out of earshot and on our way to locating the Senior Spellpass portal. “What strange magic.”

  “Strange magic is right,” Hettie said. “But I think he’s right. I think the road ahead of you will be a long and difficult one, and you’ll need help. I’m here for you, Lily.”

  “I know, Hettie. You always have been...”

  Before I could finish, Hettie gave me a nod, a yank, and we were off, hurtling toward The Isle without a backward glance. We arrived safely, one could say, though I felt as if I’d been battered against a wall of rocks by a raging ocean.

  “Oh, my poor geraniums,” Hettie said, patting them down. “They’re a little windblown.”

  “Yeah,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. We’d arrived back in the small garden with the silver bench. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a small pond beside me and squeaked in surprise. My hair stood up on all ends as if it’d become frightened of my head. “Me too.”

  We set off for home from our location near the Lower Bridge. Hettie accompanied me as far as the turnoff to the bungalow where we stopped to say our goodbyes.

  “I have to get these flowers home for Tiger,” she said. “Will you be okay on your own for a bit?”

  “Yes, Hettie—thank you for everything.” I forced a crooked smile, still feeling off-kilter from the awful transportation system. “Thank you for showing me Wicked.”

  “Thank you for getting engaged,” she said with a sly wink. “Congratulations, honey. I won’t say anything yet, I promise—but I have to tell you that I cannot wait to go dress shopping! Please tell me you’ll let me come with you.”

  “So long as we don’t take the Senior Slide,” I said with a grimace. “That is non-negotiable.”

  She laughed, agreed, and then we parted ways—her heading further north to The Twist while I veered along the beachfront path. I took my time on the walk, inhaling the fresh, sea-salt air as I attempted to regain control of my stomach.

  “How was the trip?” Gus asked nonchalantly, as I stepped into the storeroom not ten minutes later. “Any news?”

  I grimly set my jaw. “Not much. Now, we wait.”

  “Great,” Gus said, too distracted to pry further. “I’m glad you have time to kill because there’s something you need to see.”

  Chapter 19

  “IT’S IN HERE SOMEWHERE,” Gus muttered. “Ah, here we are.”

  I took a seat at the storeroom table next to Gus and tried to wait patiently as he ran his fingers over the stack of books before him. Eventually, he popped one off the stack I’d brought back from the library. The particular manuscript he’d selected was dusty and old, and at first, I didn’t recognize it.

  Then I looked closer, and it dawned on me. Instinctively, I clutched at my necklace, remembering the pain that had drawn me toward this very manuscript.

  “I see you recognize this one,” Gus said, watching me carefully. “I’m not as oblivious as you may believe, Lily. I know that necklace of yours glows more than ever these days, and I know it’s been driving Trinket as mad as a werewolf under a full moon. What happened in the library?”

  “Something in my necklace wanted me to have this book,” I whispered, rubbing a hand over my chest at the ghost ache there. “It hurt—physical pain—until I selected Ceres from the shelf and brought it with me. I have no idea why.”

  “I think I might have an idea.” Gus flipped open the cover to reveal a title page. “Take a look.”

  I leaned over, glancing at the exquisitely illegible script. The second I laid eyes on the familiar title, Ceres, a strange thing happened. The heart around my neck began to glow again, soft and sure, a gentle hum this time, as if content.

  “Why does it do that?” I murmured absently, scanning through the first few pages of the book. They were littered with symbols and drawings. The text was smeared, and the captions were in a foreign language. “What is it trying to tell me?”

  The answer came swift and sure. One second I was turning the pages and flicking my gaze over an ancient language, and then the next, I was staring at a drawing that was the mirror image of my necklace on the parchment beneath my fingertips.

  “How can this be?” I looked up at Gus. “This book is decades old, probably centuries old. Much older than myself, much older than my mother or her mother or her mother’s mother.”

  Gus kept silent, watching from over my shoulder.

  “It’s not possible,” I whispered, leaning forward until the charm around my neck dropped onto the page. It matched, inch for inch. “What does this mean?”

  The locket now glowed light pink, a color I’d never seen it generate before. The metal warmed against me—a pleasant warmth, one vibrating with energy. With urgency and anticipation. Even when Mimsey and Trinket had first presented me the second half of the necklace and both pieces had fused together, it had not reacted with such force.

  Settling in, ignoring the world around me, I focused on reading the passage
before me.

  Ceres

  Roman goddess of agriculture, grain crops, fertility, and motherly relationships.

  Below was the caption for the drawing:

  Amulet of Ceres

  Sealed with a kiss from the goddess’s lips, this piece of fine jewelry, priceless in its worth and abilities, is known as the Mother’s Protector. With only one true amulet ever in existence, it is thought to be passed from one generation to the next, finding its way into the hands of its true owner when one bloodline stops and the next begins.

  The amulet contains incredible healing powers along with the ability to protect its wearer to an insurmountable degree. When Ceres’s ancestors wear this charm, they will be near invincible. However, it is prudent to remember this necklace will not allow its user to escape death. True death, true evil, will never be stopped by a charm. But when used for good, for light, the amulet will guide the seeker to help during the deepest of despairs.

  My fingers found the charm. I played with it lightly, gingerly. “Gus, is this... is this the true amulet? It can’t be. That’s impossible.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s impossible.” Gus raised bushy eyebrows. “There are enough ancestors of Ceres by this time that it’s impossible to trace all of her bloodlines.”

  “But that would mean—”

  “You may very well be a distant descendant of hers,” he said, running a hand over his brow. “No wonder your powers are extraordinary. A Mixologist with ancient blood in her veins? Of course. I should have guessed.”

  “No, no—this can’t be true.”

  “You’re fighting a losing battle, Lily. Face the facts. I know you don’t want to be any more different than you already are, but some things just are. They’re neither good or bad; it’s just the way of life.”

  Gus’s words had a slight sting to them, a sharpness. I frowned. “Look—I didn’t ask for any of this. It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything I’ve been given,” I said coolly. “But that doesn’t make me wrong for feeling like I haven’t earned my gifts.”

  “Did Poppy earn her fangs? Did Zin earn her Shiftling status? Did Hettie earn that horrid sense of style, or was she born with it?” Gus let me consider this for an extended moment. “Actually, forget about the last one. Bad example. My point is you don’t begrudge Poppy or Zin for what they are. Nobody begrudges you for being born a Caucasian female with brown, blond—whatever the hell color hair you have—so my point is to accept what you have and work with it.”