by Dee Willson
“It is,” he says. “Even Einstein’s Unified Field theorized that gravity is really a frequency. How do you think all those heavy basalt monoliths got to Easter Island? Nan Madol? Stonehenge?”
I’m too exhausted to comment. My head is no longer working. I wander to the living room and plop onto the couch.
“I should call Grams and Gramps, they’ll want to know what happened here.”
I dig through my purse for my cell. I should’ve called them earlier, but by the time I had the chance it was almost midnight, and I didn’t want to worry them. There wasn’t anything they could do from Florida and Gramps has the flu. When I get their answering machine I leave a message, trying to sound light and breezy, but it comes off fake. I mumble something about Abby being okay then suggest they call me when they have a minute. I dread the thought of hitting them with more bad news.
I’m putting my phone away when the doorbell rings.
“Who the hell is that?” I leap from the couch in a sudden panic.
Bryce closes the space between us in an instant. “Hey, now, relax,” he says, pulling me close. “I ordered breakfast. You mentioned you haven’t eaten since brunch yesterday.”
I deflate like a balloon. He’s right, Abby and I had a late breakfast with Grams and Gramps in Florida and caught a midday flight home. The plan was to grab something to eat on the way from the airport.
Bryce lowers me to the couch to answer the door, returning with a wicker picnic basket.
“I didn’t know the bakery had delivery,” I mumble as Bryce arranges the food on a blanket.
“They don’t.” He smiles, all teeth, the confession of a rogue. He seems totally at ease now, as if there’s nothing left he can’t handle.
I wish I felt the same.
“You will, don’t worry,” he says.
“Stop that.” I cringe. Now that I’m wise to this particular talent, I find it obtrusive.
“Sorry. I’ll try to respect your privacy.” He smiles, cocky. “Now eat.”
Breakfast looks yummy and smells even better. I gulp the tea, burning my tongue in the process, and devour slices of apple and cheese without any recollection as to how they taste. The only sign I’m content is the rumble in my belly when I reach for another croissant.
“When will the caffeine kick in?” I mumble. “I need to get Abby.” I’m holding my face up, elbows planted to support the weight of my head.
“It won’t. I ordered decaf. You don’t drink caffeine.” He flashes another naughty grin. “And Abby is spending the day at Lil’ Monster’s Play House with Sofia and Nanna. You are going to sleep.”
With that, Bryce scoops me from the couch without so much as a catch in his breath and carries me to bed. I don’t have the energy to argue. He carefully lowers me onto my side, sliding me under my oversized duvet, clothes and all. The quilt adopts me in a womb of warmth. My eyelids flutter and my breath slows to a hush, preparing for hibernation. Tender fingertips brush the hair from my face, pausing to caress my cheek.
“I won’t leave the house, so only sweet dreams.”
I follow Bryce’s fading silhouette to the door.
“Hey, you,” I whisper, my vision descending into nothingness.
Like a distant dream Bryce rests his body beside mine, tucking me into his form and wrapping his arm around me.
Serenity rules my every cell.
There is nothing to fear with my white knight by my side.
Revelations
When I wake I have no idea what time it is. The clock reads 2:15, but I doubt it’s correct. I roll over and bump another body in the dark.
“Hey,” says Bryce.
“Hey,” I breathe. “Is it really two o’clock in the afternoon?”
“Actually, it’s two in the morning. You slept the entire day and half the night. I think you were hit with more than you could handle, and your body needed to reboot.”
I can scarcely see his profile. He’s stretched out beside me, his hands folded across his chest like a mummy. The blinds cover the windows and only a tiny bit of moonlight affects the room.
“Are you still tired? Do you want to sleep more?” He’s speaking ever so softly.
I shake my head. I don’t want to get up though. I feel strangely at ease considering what I’ve learned and experienced. It’s Bryce that has me feeling this way, calm. It’s in the way he watches over me, giving me just enough room to think. How he stayed with me, knowing the police would point fingers. The way he’s trusted me with his secrets, his truths. I not only find myself believing his testimony, I’m attracted to him like never before.
And now, now I only want to listen to his voice, the smooth cadence of his European accent.
“Your Grams and Gramps called. I told them about the break in and they insisted on coming home. Their flight got in this evening and they came straight here but you were sound asleep and they didn’t want to wake you. I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone and convinced them to take Abby home to get some rest. They’ll be back this morning. I called a maid service. They finished cleaning so the house is safe for Abby’s eyes. And your insurance adjuster called, he’ll drop in this afternoon.”
Bryce attempts to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt, to no avail. He sighs and continues with his summary.
“I apologize for taking the liberty, but I ordered groceries online. They were delivered last night, so the fridge and cupboards are stocked enough to offer a few days’ respite. Nanna baked you an apple pie, which is in the fridge. Thomas came to see you. He wasn’t pleased with me being here and things got a little out of hand until Grams suggested Thomas leave and call you later. Your cell has been ringing. A lot. Oh, and I talked to Karen. She’s not happy with me either. I didn’t want her coming to the house to check Maxi before the police arrived, so I lied, convincing her you’d agreed to have Maxi come stay at my place with me.” He groans. “She expects you to call her when you wake.”
“Wow, thank you. Like, seriously.” Words can’t describe my gratitude. “I can’t believe I slept through all that.”
I feel Bryce shrug in the dark. “No problem.”
“Bryce.” I pause, worried I’m about to ruin the relaxed atmosphere. “How do you know . . . everything you know? I get that you’re an old soul, an ancient soul, but I am too, and I can’t do the things you can.”
He rolls closer and I see the strong lines of his face in the glow of his eyes. The sight takes my breath away when I realize this is something only I see, the silver sparks in his eyes. It makes me feel unique, special, connected to Bryce in a way I can’t explain.
Bryce hesitates, but only for a second. “I was born and raised, just like you.” He reaches for my hand then freezes when I entwine my fingers with his.
“You thought I’d flinch at your touch, didn’t you?”
“Freak, actually.” He falls quiet for a moment, taking in the sensation of my caress. “I figured when exhaustion wore off you would . . . I was pretty sure you’d be . . .” Firecrackers explode in his eyes. “You’re not afraid of me.”
“Should I be?”
“No. I’d give my life for yours.”
I chuckle at the scope of his declaration then stop when I notice he’s serious.
“Will he, the lost soul . . . will he return?”
Bryce stares into the dark, troubled, then shakes his head as if dislodging an image.
“It won’t help you to worry. I’m here. And few lost souls will disrespect a Keeper.”
“A what?”
He leans in close. “I am a Keeper.”
I’m lost already.
“A Keeper. As in, ‘that one’s a keeper!’” I pretend to hold an imaginary fishing rod taut with a sizable fish.
“I can see this is going to be difficult,” he says, deadpan.
I’ll bite.
“What’s a Keeper?”
“Keepers are the guardians of sacred mythology and the oldest of souls. The soul of a Keeper carries memor
ies as far back as time itself, and can recall the knowledge with the dawn of each new life. We are born knowing our ancestral history, the powers of the ancients, and we use this information to do amazing things. We are the scholars and teachers of every lifetime, guarding the history and knowledge of the human race for eternity.”
Holy crap.
“That’s . . . epic. I was expecting . . .” What was I expecting? I think I was leaning toward superhero status, like Superman, or mythical like Hercules. “You’re an old soul who remembers past lives.”
“Yes. I am a Keeper, a Librarian of Lemuria.”
“Librarian of Lemuria,” I repeat, letting the words sink in. “Lemuria, the ancient civilization. What’s all the hocus pocus for if you’re a teacher and librarian?”
Bryce shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I don’t mean librarian in the literal sense. I’m talking about my mind. I was born carrying knowledge of the entire human race in my head. Every catastrophe this planet has experienced since the dawn of man, every civilization to inhabit the Earth. All these experiences are filed in my mind. I hold the answers to questions that baffle man like, where do we come from? This information is within us, guarded by the Keepers.”
Okay. That’s big.
“Us, there are more of you?”
“Twelve.”
“A dozen Keepers,” I mutter in shock.
“Yes.”
I pegged him for a one-off, a stranded breed from some alien planet, or a genetic quirk. I’ve tossed around the idea of an entire race of extraterrestrials that live among us or some sort of covert government project gone awry. Not one of my speculations were even close to the mark.
“Let me get this straight. There are twelve people wandering around who know everything.”
“Twelve men.”
“Seriously, all men?” There has got to be a joke in there.
Bryce rolls his eyes. “Our purpose is to enlighten, to teach. We help souls, new souls, old souls, lost souls, people of every race, every culture, from every geographical region on this planet. Keepers speak in private conferences, we teach at special schools, and we contribute to writings of historical relevance. We help scientists, scholars, archaeologists, and historians discover the truth in digestible doses. We wander, as you say, helping old souls understand our world, or as usually is the case with lost souls, find the way to inner peace.”
“All twelve of you.”
“You seem to have difficulty with this number. It’s not really relevant at the moment.”
“How do you know the exact number? What happens when one of you dies or reproduces? Can you make babies? And if you guys are all over the world, how do you keep track of each other? Do you mean that there are twelve of you right now?” I’m animated, hands flying this way and that.
Bryce chuckles, adjusting his position. He smells like soap and apples. It’s distracting.
“I’m trying to tell you what we do, and you’re hung up on quantity. There are twelve Keepers. There have been twelve of us since the dawn of man, and there will be twelve of us tomorrow, the day after, and a million years from now. We stay in touch like everyone else does. We don’t just die, and yes,” he stops to catch his breath, “we reproduce.”
“You can make babies.” I have no clue why I grab hold of this tidbit of info.
Bryce flashes two rows of brilliant white teeth. “We quite enjoy it, actually.”
My throat runs dry. For the first time since waking I register the close proximity of our bodies and that we are in my bed. In the dark. Alone. The ceiling fan softly swishes, giving rise to stray hairs but offering nothing to buffer the heat radiating from his skin, warming me like a fire. I kick off the covers, piling the duvet between us. He spies my wall of down, my defense, a rue smile on his lips. I swallow the lump in my throat and change the subject.
“You said you’re immortal—”
“No, I said ‘we don’t just die.’ Our soul returns to experience another lifetime in another form.”
Something awful occurs to me. “So, this lost soul, he could hurt you, kill you, the physical you?”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose? What does that mean? You either die or you don’t.”
Bryce rights the blanket wall I’ve flattened. “If you held a gun to my chest and I let you pull the trigger, the bullet would pierce my heart, leaving me to bleed faster than I could heal.”
“So, you can die.”
“If I choose,” he says, shrugging.
I growl, frustrated with talking in circles. “What do you mean, ‘if you choose’?”
“I’m strong, fast, and smart. If you stood before me with a gun, I’d have many options. I could run, actually disappear from your line of vision. I could remove you from my presence, physically. Or I could convince you to turn the gun on yourself, with or without the use of my voice.”
“Shit. What the hell happened to free will?” I mutter.
“Lost souls aren’t the only ones who can manipulate a person’s right of choice. It’s an option we use out of desperation, one we don’t take lightly, and it comes with consequences.”
I think about this for a moment. “How do you die then?”
“Old age. Most of us wish to grow old and die when our current bodies have lived enough. Occasionally we die by accident.”
“All those super powers and you can be killed in an accident?”
“We’re not perfect. We can be caught off guard and not react quickly enough. It doesn’t happen often, but history has examples. A few Keepers have voluntarily ended a lifetime due to an overwhelming loss. Again, it’s rare, but it happens.”
Before Meyer died, I never considered ending my life, even when times were tough. I suppose I didn’t think about it after either. I could never leave Abby. But there were moments I wondered what it would be like to put less effort into breathing.
“You elect to die of old age,” I say. “Does this mean you can choose not to?”
“We can delay the process of cell breakdown, of age, but we can’t stall it indefinitely. There was a time when every old soul could do this, could live for years beyond today’s standard, but the power has been lost to all but the Keepers. A Keeper is born knowing who he is, where he’s from, and what he must do. We are guided by our parents, our fathers, generation after generation, and taught how to use the knowledge and power we are born with. At times this can be an overwhelming burden.” He accidently topples my barricade to sweep the hair from my face. “To help, we are able to slow the learning process, extend time. Coupled with a skewed grasp on maturity and responsibility, we sometimes linger, living off a natural high and relishing in life’s perks.”
This explains Bryce’s promiscuous tendencies. It also reminds me of Thomas’s warnings. I look at Bryce’s hand only an inch from my chest and wonder how it would feel on my bare skin, how I would feel if he were to touch me.
Bryce coughs and rights the covers.
I smile. That’s what you get for intruding on my thoughts.
He ignores me. “Some think it’s for the best. Just because we are capable of suspending time, doesn’t mean we should. In fact, very few Keepers opt for more than one lifetime. I don’t know any willing to experience the loss of more than one generation of loved ones. That and society changes too much to adapt. Most of us do, however, choose to halt the aging process at some point.”
I think of all the folklore surrounding gifts of eternal life: sacred peaches, the fountain of youth, the Holy Grail. I study Bryce’s hands. They are flawless and strong.
“How old are you?”
“I was born to Lina and Renault Waters thirty-four years ago.” He pauses to investigate my expression. “I had a great time in my twenties. How many people can say they celebrated their twenty-first birthday eight times?” He flashes a devilish grin. “Based on appearance, you might think Thomas is my older brother, but he’s actually my little brother by two years. Thomas looks older because he
settled sooner, only staying three extra years in his late teens.”
Even though I comprehend what he’s saying, I’m shocked to hear a personal example. I think of Bryce and what I know of Thomas, and as inconceivable as this is, it actually fits.
“Now I know why your family doesn’t do birthdays.”
Bryce chuckles before an earnest grimace erases his laugh lines. “It’s also why Thomas and I grew apart. As kids we were close, very close, but as we matured we became preoccupied with women and . . . other impulses. It was unheard of for a Keeper to have two sons. This is why Thomas calls himself ‘the one that wasn’t meant to be.’ He thinks he was a mistake, an unwanted anomaly. But my family thinks Thomas is a gift, and I’m the luckiest Keeper of all time. I get a little brother. Thomas became competitive, always vying for the attention of our parents, girls, and eventually women. He’s convinced only one of us can carry the male gene and have a son, so he’s always rushing to beat me to some invisible finish line. It’s foolish. And I’ve always been too busy to be bothered with his antics. But now that I’m older, I realize my mistake. If I hadn’t been lost in selfish desires, maybe I would’ve seen what was happening with my brother. If I’d paid better attention, maybe I could’ve stopped him from making the decisions that plague him now. Maybe I would’ve been there to help him when he . . .” A cloud of guilt shrouds his face. “I moved here to make amends, to make up for lost time, to be the brother I should’ve been all along.”
This blows me away more than his supernatural feats. Bryce moved halfway around the world to be with his niece and brother, in spite of Thomas’s efforts to push him away. I’ve never had a family member give me the time of day. I’m about to ask what Thomas needed help with when I bite my tongue. Thomas is divorced, angry, and obviously experiencing some sort of identity crisis.
“Oh my God. If a Keeper’s son carries a Keeper’s soul, does that make Thomas a Keeper too?” I look to Bryce, in shock. “Can Thomas do what you can?”
“Thomas is my brother, Tess. A Keeper can only have one son, which is why Thomas is so special, but he is an old soul, one of twelve who remembers his past.”
