Once Upon a Haunted Moon (The Keeper Saga)

by Thompson, K. R.

  There was a time, not long ago, when I would have killed for the chance to be alone with her. Weeks ago, if you told me Adam had disappeared, I would have been ecstatic. I’d have been more than ready to convince Nikki that I wanted to be a lot more than just her best friend. She was gorgeous, funny, loyal, amazing, and so full of life; I’d wanted to be around her every second that I could. But I watched her, and I saw how she’d changed. I knew — part of what made her come alive was Adam.

  So I had my chance, but I didn’t take it. I wanted her to be happy. And if there were ever two people who belonged to one another, it was Adam and Nikki.

  I wanted her to smile again, so I decided I’d do anything, even if it included giving up any hope I had to be something more to her. I’d find Adam for her. I’d do it because that’s what it would take to make her whole again.

  Wondering exactly how I was going to do that, I reached into the box and picked up the next clipping. I didn’t get the chance to read it or think of any more when the silence broke.

  “Oh, cool!” Tori exclaimed, coming up to her knees. Her arms stretched up to give an ancient parchment room to unroll in front of her.

  A soft breeze blew through the window in that second, brushing her silky, blue-black hair back behind her. She looked like some kind of ancient Indian princess, kneeling on the dusty floor with her tanned legs folded under her, bare arms stretched toward the sky holding an old scroll, crinkled and yellowed with age.

  She looked over at us and smiled, green eyes sparkling brighter than the corner of the magic wall behind her, “Nikki, I’ve found your ancestors! You’ve gotta come look at this! This thing is old!”

  Tori got up and spread the paper out on a section of clear floor, “Look, here are your names! You and Emily are down here at the bottom.” She pointed out a spot with newer ink at the bottom of the paper. We all leaned forward in anticipation, looking at the parchment as if it held all the secrets of the world. Sure enough, there in a bold scrawl, were the names Nicole and Emily Harmon at the bottom of the page.

  It was a maze of lines and names, and dates. Vertical lines as thin as a spider’s web came up from each person’s name showing their parents’ names and dates of birth and death.

  Other than Nikki, Emily, Brenda and Mae Harmon, the names meant nothing to me, as we searched up the list. It was pretty extensive, going back over two hundred years. Different handwriting and ink showed every few lines, as someone else took over the job of recording another generation’s comings and goings.

  “Look at this,” Nikki pointed to a name, “Every name has a date for their death, except this one near the top. It has her birthday, but a question mark for her death.”

  “Eleanor Georgeanna Brown,” I stared at the name in the faded ink, “Well, I don’t know what happened to her, but both her parents died on October 7th, 1765. It looks like you’re a direct descendant of her family.”

  Nikki’s finger traced the web of lines down the paper, reading each one until she came to her great-grandparents.

  Harold Lee Harmon, December 22, 1930 — June 4, 1996

  Mae Harmon April 14, 1931 —

  Nikki took a pen, finishing the date for her grandmother. September 28, 2012.

  “There, I can do that for her, at least,” she smiled, “I’m going to go look through my box some more.” She went back and started filtering through the old clippings again.

  “I swear, that girl’s name on there just keeps jumping out at me,” Tori mumbled, still staring at Eleanor Georgeanna Brown and the question mark, as if she were waiting for the parchment to jump up and explain why no one knew the date of the girl’s death.

  I sat down beside her, getting ready to help her look over the parchment again when I realized I still held a newspaper clipping in my hand. I unfolded it, and I started to read. It was from the 1960s, announcing the addition of a new library in the local school.

  “For the first time in history, children anticipate their return to school this year due to a generous contribution from the school’s new librarian, who has offered to completely fund the building of a new library on the school’s grounds…”

  The picture was grainy and distorted, but still managed to show the pinched, birdlike features of the young woman responsible for Bland High School’s library. Though now she was older and had more wrinkles, I had known her for years as Mrs. Graham, the school librarian.

  Now I knew her as Spriteblood.

  I let out an uneasy growl and noticed the glowing edge of the wall behind Tori had started to pulse with energy.

  The wall, the newspaper…everything pointed back to Wynter.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ella

  The Village

  October 30, 1774

  It was the first day in such a very long time that she remembered being so happy. The nightmares had been worse than ever the night before. She had awakened and gone out to sit on the stump. Bright Eyes found her there again and sat with her under a blanket, looking up at the night stars as they did night after night.

  “Bright Eyes ask Old Mother for answer,” he smiled, as she sat cuddled up in his arms.

  “For what answer?” Ella asked.

  “Tell Old Mother want to keep White Wolf for own. For always. Ask what Bright Eyes must do, marry White Wolf,” he said softly, watching as she pulled back from him to look into his eyes.

  “What did she say?” Ella’s voice caught as she saw the love in his golden eyes.

  “She say, must ask White Wolf,” he smiled shyly as he took her hand in his, “Will White Wolf marry Bright Eyes?”

  “Yes!” she said, tackling him in a hug that sent them both falling backward off the stump.

  She was even happier the next morning, cheerfully making breakfast, singing as she worked.

  “Old Mother have much work to do,” Old Mother addressed her solemnly, coming slowly through the door of the hut.

  Ella stopped singing and turned to look at the old woman, wondering what work she referred to as she and the other women of the village took care of whatever she needed. Old Mother’s blind eyes scrunched up as she grinned. “Much work,” she repeated, no longer trying to keep her serious tone. “Make feast for White Wolf and Bright Eyes marry!”

  The next days were a flurry of motion as the entire village prepared for a wedding. Old Mother had been right, there was much work. But there was also happiness in every heart of the tribe for the young brave with golden eyes and his white-haired squaw.

  The morning of the feast, Old Mother shooed her out of the hut as she and the other women strung colorful beads on the new buckskin dress she was to soon wear.

  Ella felt so happy she thought her heart might burst. Wanting to contribute something to the people who had given her so much, she grabbed a basket and wandered into the forest to gather fresh berries.

  She walked along the stream, singing happily to herself, and then climbed up a pile of jagged stones to where the blackberry bushes lay. Still singing, she filled the basket, not knowing what stood listening just on the other side.

  The Fire Witch saw the white-haired girl. The only one who had ever escaped her. She snarled.

  Her voice was a low, crackling sound, like thunder, “I have found you once again, it seems! Come let me finish what I started so long ago…” She took a menacing step forward and Ella froze, dropping her basket. The dark berries bounced and rolled over her feet. Those black eyes once again threatened to drag her under just as they had so long before…she was drowning…there was no escape…

  “NO!” The shout brought her out of her trance, and suddenly Bright Eyes was there, his back pressing against her, blocking her from view as he stood covering her completely like a human shield. He was the only guard between her and the thing of Death, who was now glaring at him and his sudden intrusion.

  “Well, I suppose the blood of two is better than that of only one…” she mused to herself in a low voice that should have sounded pretty — like rain
drops falling in a summer rain. But that voice came from a mouth that bared its sharp, pointed teeth and Ella couldn’t help shuddering.

  “Run…” Bright Eyes murmured softly, as his right hand eased up to the bone-handled knife at his belt. He reached behind him with his free hand and gave her a solid push. That one motion catapulted the next string of events.

  Ella stumbled back, and Bright Eyes turned toward her, turning his back on the Fire Witch, and urging Ella to safety, “RUN!”

  He turned back, and leapt toward the Fire Witch with a blood-curdling yell, knife poised to strike the Fire Witch’s throat. What happened next, only took seconds, still it took an eternity.

  Unable to run and leave him, Ella stood planted in the same spot, watching it all unfold in a surreal, slow motion. Bright Eyes’ dark hair streamed back from his face as he floated slowly through the air like an avenging angel, the glossy obsidian blade glinting black in the sunlight.

  As if time had realized its earlier lag and was trying to make up for the mistake, Bright Eyes actions seemed to speed up. The second the knife should have pierced her throat, the Fire Witch’s hand came up to block it. And though the blade did pierce her flesh, it missed its intended mark.

  A long line of black-tinted blood welled from her chin, dribbling and dripping in a stream down the skin of her throat that remained whole. In a matter of seconds, the cut knitted itself back together, leaving a slightly raised white scar on her chin. The blood dotted along her skin like black rubies, glistening and shimmering with each breath the Fire Witch took.

  Bright Eyes came down several yards away on top of the pile of jagged stones, and was inching toward his knife that had landed a few feet from where he landed. He pulled himself along the rocks at an odd angle, determination outweighing the pain of his broken legs and his bruised, cut body.

  “‘Tis my turn now,” the Fire Witch said in a deadly low voice as she swooped down and took the knife just as Bright Eyes’ fingers brushed the end of the handle, “I don’t believe I shall make the death I had planned for you nearly as quick…nor as painless…” She reached down with her other hand and jerked Bright Eyes from the ground by his long black hair, twisting it like a thick rope around her palm. Black crows landed in a tree behind them, cawing in anticipation.

  “Nooo!” Ella screamed, somehow finding her voice and her feet as she charged toward them, not knowing what she was going to do once she reached them. She only knew that she had to save Bright Eyes — or die with him.

  Her vision edged in white as she ran, and she felt herself go from running on two feet — to four. Then she suddenly felt the minds of the Keepers as they came up behind the animal she had become. She knew she had finally become worthy of the name they had given her so long ago. Ella had become White Wolf.

  The Fire Witch snarled as the pack of wolves approached. She jerked Bright Eyes’ head back so that it seemed his back should break. “This one has no magic. Let me have him, and the one of white who belonged to me long before. I have no need for the rest of thee. Leave and spare thy own lives.”

  White Wolf felt the brother of Bright Eyes come up beside her. Running Wolf bared his teeth and growled at the Fire Witch as he stamped his front feet in the dirt and made it well known that he had no intention of striking any deal with her.

  “Ah, well, then,” the Fire Witch said rather noncommittally, shrugging one shoulder, “Have it your way, then.”

  She shoved the sharp knife through Bright Eyes’ back, where it made a sickening crunch. White Wolf’s heart fell as she watched him slump to the hard ground.

  Running Wolf roared and lunged at the Fire Witch’s throat, but she knocked him away easily. The other five wolves circled and snapped at the Fire Witch, herding her away from White Wolf, and toward the river as they tried to find an opening to kill. Vaguely, she registered sharp yips of pain as the Fire Witch struck back at them, but White Wolf’s eyes were only for Bright Eyes.

  She didn’t know how she did it, but when she reached him, the wolf had left her and she was a girl once more. She struggled, finally pulling the knife from his back and throwing it to the ground, then gathered him close to her. She knew he was dying, his breaths were ragged and shallow, and she felt the warmth of his blood that covered her with every beat of his heart. His eyes were still bright as he looked up at her and tried to smile.

  “…knew…White Wolf,” he whispered so low she could barely hear him. His breath caught in a gasp, “…brothers…protect now…” his eyes fluttered, then closed.

  Tears streamed down Ella’s cheeks to land on Bright Eyes’s face as she begged, “Stay with me. Please. Don’t leave me alone…”

  “Never alone,” he said softly, opening his golden eyes one final time. His hand shook as it reached to brush away a tear that trailed down her face, “Bright Eyes and White Wolf…share same soul…never alone…” he shuddered with his last breath, “love…always…” and went still.

  She felt his spirit brush softly by her as it left his body. Ella threw her head back and screamed, filling the air with a chilling, heartbroken howl.

  That anguished cry momentarily distracted the Fire Witch, and one of the wolves took the opportunity to clamp his teeth into her shoulder. The Fire Witch screeched a sound full of fury and anger that brought White Wolf back. She left the body of Bright Eyes, and came for her revenge, her white fur soaked with the blood of her love.

  She joined the pack of wolves circling the Fire Witch. With the seven of them now, she thought victory would surely be theirs in a matter of seconds, but the Fire Witch turned to and fro, deftly warding off each attack, flinging wolves away from her in every direction.

  It was a deadly dance that seemed would never end. The wolves’ only accomplishment was to ward the thing of Death off, closer to the creek, and away from their village. The Fire Witch hadn’t tired and seemed oblivious to any wound they managed to inflict, healing before any wolf who had managed to bite, had hardly the chance to let go.

  The crows circled around the melee, pecking at eyes and pulling out tufts of fur, as they came to the aid of their master, who hadn’t needed their help in the least.

  White Wolf had just caught one of them out of mid-air as it swooped down, and was in the process of killing it, when a sudden movement on the other side of the creek caught her eye. She broke the bird’s neck, and flung it to the ground then turned her back on the fight to stare at the giant gray wolf who had befriended her years before.

  The Wolf stared at her calmly across the creek. He looked deliberately beside him at the enormous sycamore tree, then back to her, willing her to recall a memory from long ago…

  She remembered. The branch she had used to spear the Fire Witch before her escape into the woods had been from that of a sycamore tree much like the one that stood before her. She had inflicted more pain then, as a small girl, than an entire pack of wolves was able to do now.

  Thank you, Swift Foot, she thought, as The Wolf watched her from across the creek. He stood, bowing his head low as he heard her thought, and acknowledged the truth of his name and his undying love for his Shining Star…the Moon. He turned then, and melted into the trees like a ghost.

  White Wolf became Ella once more as she began a futile search for a loose branch from the tree. Try as she might, she found none. Sharp yips registered again in the back of her mind, and she knew they were losing. If something didn’t change soon, all would be lost forever and Bright Eyes’ sacrifice would have been for nothing… It was then she noticed a deep gash in the side of the tree. She looked closer and discovered it hollow.

  Meanwhile, Running Wolf turned to check on her. She pointed to the hollow tree and back to the Fire Witch who now clearly had the upper hand. He nodded once quickly, and then joined back into the fray with renewed hope that his tiny white-haired sister had a plan to trap the evil that was so close to winning. Within seconds, the wolves backed the Fire Witch into the cold water of the creek.

  One of the first lessons
Ella had learned upon being adopted into the tribe, was that wherever there was life, there was also magic. Nature was full of life. Every tree, every blade of grass, each drop of rain, even the wind had magic. But even though she had heard the tales of spirits of the water, Ella had never before witnessed the full magic of the Water Beings.

  The Water Beings were fairies so tiny they could not be seen. Each one was given charge of a single drop of water from the time it left the clouds and traveled through the sky as a raindrop. Gentle and timid by nature, they were always generally overlooked and forgotten by everyone, except those who enjoyed a walk in the rain.

  But on this day, the Water Beings in the creek did not like the sudden presence of evil that stood amongst them. They became angry.

  As the Fire Witch’s bare feet touched, the water hissed and bubbled away from her, spreading itself thin in an effort to stay away from her and not be touched. Ella watched in amazement as single droplets bounced angrily across the dry ground of their own accord, whipping around the feet of the wolves to stay clear of the Fire Witch. The creek suddenly dammed on either side in small magical walls and The Keepers walked across the dry creek bed, stones clattering under their feet.

  The Keepers backed the unknowing Fire Witch close to the opening of the tree. She snarled in fury, hissing as much at the creek as at the wolves now.

  “Now what do?” Running Wolf murmured, as he came to Ella’s side, “How trap inside tree?”

  “The tree will keep her, we just have to get her inside,” Ella said. She didn’t know how, but she knew the Earth’s own magic would trap the Fire Witch and the tree would hold her if they could only get her to it.

  Running Wolf nodded to her and turned back to his brothers. Two wolves lay crumpled, deep gashes showed red in their sides, matting their fur with blood. They looked up to their U-la-gu, collapsing each time they tried to stand. Their wounds were healing too slowly for them to continue fighting. The three others still were managing to back the Fire Witch toward the tree, though they were doing it slowly and painfully. One cream-colored wolf, named Standing Fox, sprang toward her throat, and the Fire Witch’s sharp nails scraped across his face, taking out one of his eyes. He howled in pain as he hit the ground, blood sprayed as he shook his head back and forth in an effort to see. The blood from the cuts on his face ran into his remaining eye, blinding him completely. But still, he didn’t give up fighting. He stood, staying as close as he dared, and relied completely on scent as he crouched low, snapping at the Fire Witch’s feet.