Once Upon a Haunted Moon (The Keeper Saga)

by Thompson, K. R.

  That did not make me feel any better. I did another quick mental check to try to figure out the reason I had been summoned here. The last time I had skipped a class was a couple of months back, when I found out I turned into a big, hairy wolf, but it was kinda late to be calling me here for that.

  The only other thing I had done since then was commit murder. But that hadn’t been on school grounds…

  I rubbed my sweating hand on my jeans, and twisted the knob…

  “…order another, please.” One pudgy hand waved me in, while the other held the button on the intercom to Ms. Fernandez, “Hickory this time. Inform them the last one was faulty.”

  A happy chirp sounded from the speaker, and then I was the sole focus of Oliver Giles, school principal.

  Mr. Giles was a short, fat man with round eyes that were always ready to bulge out of their sockets. My mom always said he looked “seriously stressed out.”

  As I watched big, red veins pop out on his temples, I thought she was understating the stress part just a little bit. He looked like he was getting ready to have a stroke. He leaned forward, and the enormous desk he sat behind groaned, and for the first time I noticed that it was bowed, and the legs tilted inward. It looked like something had smashed down on top of it. It was getting ready to fall in.

  “Ah, yes, Brian,” he looked down at a paper in the center of the desk, picked it up to get a closer look, then nodded and set it back down, “I just wanted you to know you are cleared on your afternoon periods on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Since it is Monday, you will start today. Your teachers know not to expect you, but if you should have any issues, tell them to come to me.”

  “Huh?” I was completely lost. Somehow I had won the lottery and was managing to get out of school for half the day, no — nearly half the week! “What are you talking about?”

  “Your classes at the reservation, of course! You must keep your heritage alive, after all. You are expected to keep your grades up there as well, naturally,” he waved at me, nonchalantly.

  Oh, heck, no! No way! I’d rather stay in school than spend extra time with Adam, learning about the history of a tribe that I didn’t feel like I belonged to.

  “I’m not going to the reservation.” I said in a low tone, trying to keep calm, as I wondered how he figured out that half of my “heritage” went back to the local Indian tribe. It hadn’t exactly been broadcasted. People knew what happened to my mother all those years ago had resulted in my being born, but only a very few knew who had been responsible.

  I let out a low growl, as I decided to place my bet on either Adam or his old grandpa as the one who had told. My wolf came to the surface to see what was happening, and my skin started to glitter with mist.

  “You…will…” Giles sputtered angrily, his eyes bulged further, then the image of the man behind the broken desk flickered like a bulb about to go out, distorting like a bad picture as it twisted and stretched in weird angles to cover something it didn’t want me to see, “You…WILL GO!”

  I walked backwards until I felt my back smack against the door.

  The air cracked like thunder, and a big thing with grayish-green scales and big, pointed ears sat where the principal had been seconds before. It gripped either side of the desk with pointed claws, then picked the desk up off the ground and slammed it back down again. By some miracle, the wooden desk didn’t cave in. The principal creature glared at me, and a long line of drool ran between the two huge, curling teeth that jutted up from his bottom jaw. Its saliva made a disgusting splat as it landed on the paper in front of him.

  Oh, crap! He’s big, ugly, and his teeth are bigger than mine…

  Another uneasy growl escaped before I could stop it.

  “You…will…GO,” he answered my growl in a deep, gravelly voice, which should have been impossible for his tusk-like teeth. He gripped the edges of the table again as if he were getting ready to throw it at my head if I didn’t agree.

  “No problem, I’ll go!” I somehow found my voice and the doorknob in the same second and twisted, hopping out of the room as a big crash slammed against the door, followed by smaller ones as the desk disintegrated.

  “Wow…” I mumbled under my breath, and turned to see Ms. Fernandez as happy as ever, with the phone receiver to her ear.

  “Yes, we need to order another desk, please…” she bobbed her blonde head in agreement to whatever the other person had said on the phone, then waved at me as I walked to the door, “Yes, hickory this time, please. The other one was faulty. Yes, not strong at all…”

  I ran out the door and jumped down the stairs, plowing directly into Tommy and Michael who just happened to be walking by.

  “What is Mr. Giles?!” I demanded of the rather startled-looking cousins.

  “The principal,” Tommy answered cautiously as if wondering if I had lost my mind.

  “…and a Woodsburl.” Michael added helpfully. At this point, I really must have looked confused, so he continued, “You know — a Woodsburl. A forest gremlin. They like to hang out in trees a lot. They’re not bad normally. They just have really nasty tempers. I don’t think he’s cut out to be principal, though. He’d be good as a coach or something, I think. I know one thing though, he’s lucky he’s got Ms. Fernandez as his secretary. She’s as human as they come and just thinks he’s rough on furniture.”

  Another loud crash reverberated down the stairs behind us making me wonder what he had thrown next, since I was sure his desk had died upon my exit.

  “As long as he takes out his frustration on that desk, you’ll be fine,” Michael added conversationally, “It’s when you’re around more than one Woodsburl that you need to worry, they tend to get irate really fast then. Hey! Check it out! It’s snowing!” he ran over to the window, “How cool is that!”

  “Yeah, really cool,” I muttered, “Catch you guys later.”

  “Later!” they called back in unison, mesmerized by the snowfall outside the window.

  It was still snowing at noon. Giles apparently had sent word to my biology teacher who shooed me out, promptly at the end of the period, reminding me of my “other classes.”

  “It’s October,” I grumbled, trudging through a snow-covered parking lot, “It never snows in October!”

  I slammed the door of my old truck, and a sheet of snow fell from the window in a great splat as if to say, “Yes, it does so snow in October!” It was lunchtime, and instead of piling through the cafeteria line with all the other “normal” kids, I had a soggy-looking sandwich wrapped in cellophane lying on the seat next to me to munch on while on my way to the reservation for my “special classes.” Disgusted with both lunch and life, I picked up the sandwich and slung it at the passenger floorboard, where the plastic broke, and a long line of mayonnaise smeared across the vinyl floor mat. I jammed my key into the ignition and for the very first time ever, I prayed the truck wouldn’t start, that it would just stay in the school’s parking lot looking like a giant hulking snowball, forever buried, complete with the soggy sandwich — and me — until spring. But, unwilling to cooperate, it groaned to life. Wipers cleared the rest of the snow from the glass, and it rumbled down the road as if it had memorized every curve, and the slick road just wasn’t an issue, and it truly didn’t care what I wanted.

  A few minutes later, it delivered me, unfortunately in one piece, to the reservation.

  I parked behind Adam’s Jeep and scowled, slamming the door again.

  “Hey,” Adam came up from behind me, “We’re meeting the others at the edge of the woods.” He nodded toward the other side of the village.

  I nodded, and we walked in silence for a few moments, then he turned to me, fixing his weird gold stare on me. “I want you to know that I love Nikki,” he said, then frowned, “I don’t know why, but it feels like it’s something I need to tell you now,” he took a deep breath, “I’ll die to protect her.” The way he said it didn’t exactly sound like a threat, but more like a strange omen that he had deci
ded to share with me.

  Well, alrighty then. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just gave him a slight nod, and waited for a definite uncomfortable silence to follow. Luckily, it didn’t last long when we came upon an old-fashioned hut that had smoke billowing out the top.

  An old Indian burst out of the canvas flap that served as a door, completely naked but for a cloth tied to cover his important front parts. Lean muscle bunched beneath the wrinkled skin of his legs, as he tried to keep his bare feet from sliding in the snow. He caught sight of us momentarily as he regained his balance, and straightened, standing proudly and as straight as a ramrod.

  Adam’s grandpa looked down his long nose at us, then turned his gaze completely to me as he registered that my mouth was hanging open in amazement.

  “First lesson,” he said in a clear, strong voice, “Respect your elders.” Then he nodded curtly, as if his job were done, and looked down at the watch on his otherwise bare arm, and then ran off in a flurry of bare limbs and snow.

  I looked over at Adam whose lips were pursed and his face was as red as a tomato in an effort not to laugh. He watched his grandfather run across the vacant lot to his house, screen door slamming against his leathery buttocks as he hurried inside and flipped the television on.

  Adam started laughing so hard he doubled over, then looked up at me, caught my shocked expression, and laughed even harder.

  “First…lesson…” he wheezed between choking laughs, “Respect…elders…”

  I grinned, “He does realize it’s a bit cold to run around with no clothes, right?”

  Adam wiped his face with the back of his hand, and returned my grin, “Yeah, he knows.” He gestured to the hut where another old Indian had stuck his head out the flap to see what the commotion was and said in a low voice, “The old men believe in the sweat-lodge when the weather is cold. It’s kind of like a sauna. It opens the pores on your skin, and releases toxins. It’s supposed to improve your health. But between us, I think it’s more of a social gathering than anything. They just enjoy each other’s company, and the snow gives them an excuse to get together,” then he looked toward the hut and said loudly, “They never catch cold though. The sweat-lodge works. They are always in good health!”

  The gray head in the flap nodded his agreement of the loud statement and disappeared. “Evan will be sorry he left so soon to watch his Jeopardy marathon,” we heard one voice tell others in the hut as we walked by, “I was just getting ready to tell him the best way to go about fixing his riding lawn mower…”

  Soon, we came up on four wolves that stood beneath a big tree on the edge of the village waiting for us.

  “The actual first lesson,” Adam smiled, nodding at them, “is not to be seen.”

  As if on command, the four disappeared into the brush behind the tree, melting into the woods like ghosts.

  “For those that do not have magic, we would be seen as a threat. We stay off the main trails, especially the Appalachian Trail, as it’s the most used.” he instructed, “Today we search another Deadland for any evidence of a Spriteblood, and then, depending on how that goes, we might go on a hunt.”

  As we both shifted to wolves, I wondered if the “hunt” meant we were actually going to eat a fairy, or if he had some other game in mind.

  The big, black wolf turned his yellow stare on me, and I was immediately rewarded with a picture of a deer running through the trees, its tail up like a white flag to follow.

  Ah, ok, I thought. I always wondered how wolves communicated to one another. Apparently, we send each other picture messages. I had just sent one of us eating a magical fairy and Adam corrected me by sending a rather strong message to say, “No, we are eating a deer!” My stomach revolted at the thought of raw meat and I was very glad I hadn’t eaten that sandwich, but it still growled loud enough for Adam to mistake it for hunger. I got another definite image of a deer, which made my stomach growl even louder.

  I had the insane urge to eat some grass.

  Ed, Erik, Tommy, and Michael materialized out of thin air behind us. The other wolves never made a sound, but I sounded like a thrashing machine as I stepped on dry branches and twigs that snapped with every step.

  Erik’s gray wolf came up beside me and placed a rather deliberate paw on the dead branch I had just stepped on and it cracked under his weight. Then he stepped on a patch of snow-covered moss, which spread out magically around him, then he took another step in a nearby cluster of green ivy, which flattened itself out as he put his weight on it, then sprung back afterwards as if it had a mind of it’s own and hadn’t minded in the least that he had just walked on it.

  He turned around and his brown eyes met mine as he sent me a picture of a television screen, with the words printed, “Second lesson — Where there is life, there is Magic. Every living thing has a Magic all its own. Respect nature, and in return, it will respect you.”

  Someone on the far side of us gave a sharp yelp. Standing behind Tommy, stood a smallish hairy monster who looked like a similar version of Cousin It, only it had a definite head, arms, and legs, and two beady little black eyes. It had a hold of Tommy’s tail and was playfully swinging it back and forth. Tommy’s gray ears were pinned back and he looked like he wanted to growl, but strained to remain silent.

  Erik sent another television screen, this time with a big smiley face on it, “Respect nature, and most of the time it will respect you.”

  The little monster was enjoying itself immensely now and tugged Tommy’s tail as if trying to engage him in a game of tug of war. It made a high clicking sound as if trying to sing. Tommy looked at us balefully, and then sent a message of thinking about biting a hairy little arm.

  A rather strong picture of an enormous version of the little hairy monster came across loud and clear from Adam, who was telling everyone in no uncertain terms was anyone to bite the little monster. It apparently had a parent or family member that would not appreciate such an action.

  I remembered Nikki telling me about the Bigfoot she had named “Chewy,” and the baby that she and Adam had saved from a poacher’s trap a couple of months back. I figured that I must be looking at the three-foot tall “baby” who was twirling Tommy’s tail now with such ecstatic glee; it looked like he was considering using it as a jump rope.

  Tommy whined and deliberately took a few steps back to bump into “Little It,” to try to loosen the hold on his tail, which only caused the little monster to lose his balance and fall, which jerked Tommy back a few feet and to the ground, as the hold on his tail hadn’t loosened in the least.

  “Little It” made scolding, clicking sounds at Tommy for making them both fall in the snow, and then scrambled back to its feet.

  Just as I figured we were going to have to pry those hairy fingers off of Tommy’s tail, a louder clicking sound came from the trees behind us, and the little monster turned loose and headed toward the trees, stopping just long enough to turn and make some kind of clicking sound to Tommy. It sounded like it was saying, “Thanks for playing, but I have to go home now.”

  Tommy snorted, making sure it was well known to all, that he had not enjoyed this play date and had no plans for being around for the next one.

  Adam sent a clear picture to us of what I guessed to be a Deadland, clearly urging us to keep moving, lest Little It show back up with a parent in tow.

  I snorted in amusement. I had lived surrounded by this forest my whole life and hadn’t ever seen any of the magic it held, never a Sasquatch — or even a wolf for that matter, though I had heard them from time to time when the moon was round and full.

  Adam started us off in a run, and we followed him, branches from trees moving magically out of the way, as if they wanted to help speed us along on our journey. After a few moments Adam slowed, and we came up on a winding creek. Standing at the edge, his black mist covered him, and he switched back from his wolf and waited for the rest of us to follow him.

  “Wolf Creek, Wolf Creek, how lovely you are tod
ay,” Erik joked, looking up at Adam, “Oh fearless leader, is there a reason you want us to cross the creek the hard way? I could jump this easily if you’d let me stay wolf!”

  Adam gave him a withering look, “The Deadland I want to check first is only a few yards on the other side of that creek. It’s not a good idea to show up as wolves at that particular Deadland after what happened last time.”

  I had actually heard about the last visit to that Deadland. The Keepers had been searching for lost hikers, when Ed had stepped on a branch which had splintered into his paw. He hadn’t healed as quickly as he should have, and the Deadland soaked up his blood, becoming super-charged with magic — and power. So powerful, in fact, that they hadn’t been able to search it any further. Ed had ended up having to go to Adam’s grandfather to counter the magic so that his hand would heal.

  I looked over to Ed; he was flexing his left hand. He seemed to do that a lot. Whether from remembering the Deadland, or because his hand bothered him, I didn’t know. But at that same moment, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Adam, either.

  “Are you going to be okay when we get over there?” he asked Ed.

  Ed nodded, but the look on his face wasn’t very reassuring.

  Adam’s gold eyes narrowed for a second, but then he nodded, “All right.”

  Tommy and Michael had been busy navigating the driest route across the creek. They had come across a series of flat stones, and were doing an odd sort of hopscotch across the creek.

  “Do you know why it’s called Wolf Creek?” Erik asked me.

  “Is it named after the Keepers?”

  “Well, in a way, I guess. You know how Nikki is our Seer, right?”

  “Yeah.” I stepped on the first flat stone. It wobbled a bit, but I stayed dry. I had heard Nikki had an odd way of being able to see, hear, and feel stuff most people would never be able to do. There was always one Seer for each generation of Keepers and even though Nikki wasn’t part of their tribe, she had somehow ended up with the magic that made her one of them.