The Keeper

by Natasha Mostert

  JC stumbled through the last few sentences and then the service was over and mourners started filing out one by one. Mia excused herself and disappeared into the Ladies’. Nick looked around in search of Ash but he was nowhere to be seen. Nick made a mental note to call him later. He needed to fill Ash in on his meeting with JC.

  The meeting had been to decide whether Nick’s fight should go ahead.

  ‘I’ll be straight with you, Nick.’ JC’s voice was heavy. ‘You’re not injured. You can make the weight. This is a fight for the Southern Regional belt. If you pull out now, the promoters won’t be able to find a suitable opponent for Burton with little more than a week to go. Also, a large number of tickets have already been sold. Frankly, it is doubtful you will ever be allowed another shot at the title.’

  Nick nodded. ‘I know.’

  ‘But none of this matters. You need to go in there focused. If Okie’s death is going to screw you up, don’t do it, mate. This is a ten-round fight. Lose concentration for one second and Burton will kick your brains in. He’s an aggressive bastard.’

  Nick nodded again.

  ‘So what’s it going to be?’

  ‘I can’t quit now.’ Nick took a deep breath. ‘The fight’s on.’

  ‘There’s another question.’ JC sighed. ‘Who do you want in your corner now that Okie…’

  Nick spoke quickly. ‘Ashton.’

  ‘No.’ JC shook his head. ‘Ash is a great training buddy but he has no ring experience. I’ll ask Dennis. OK with you?’

  ‘Dennis is a good man.’

  ‘Great.’ JC slapped him on the shoulder. ‘And remember: stay focused, Nick. I mean it.’

  Mia was coming towards him. She looked frail, Nick thought. The grey jersey dress she was wearing drained her skin of colour. Only her hair was still a cloud of gold. When she reached him, he noticed her lips were dry and flaky.

  He placed a hand on her elbow. ‘When was the last time you ate?’

  ‘Oh… it doesn’t matter.’ She drew a tired hand across her eyes. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Before I take you home I’m going to feed you.’

  Ignoring her protests, he took her by the hand and started walking. There was a café only a few blocks away, which he had visited once or twice before.

  After they had placed their orders, he looked her straight in the face.

  ‘Mia, what’s wrong? And I’m not just talking about Okie. This started long before. What’s going on?’

  Her eyes welled with tears. ‘I think…’ Her voice shook. ‘I think I’m responsible for Okie’s death.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Nick,’ she touched her lips with trembling fingers, ‘I need to tell you something. But I want you to give me time to finish before you start asking questions or telling me how crazy I am. Just hear me out first. All right?’

  ‘OK.’ He nodded obediently. But as soon as she started talking, he found it difficult to keep his promise. Once or twice he tried to interrupt but she waved his words away. Even when their food was being served and she had to pause, she would not allow him to jump in. ‘Wait. Just wait, Nick. Listen.’

  When she had finished it was quiet between them. And now, suddenly, he could think of nothing to say.

  ‘So?’ She took a deep breath. ‘You’re going to tell me I’ve lost it, right?’

  ‘Let me see if I have this straight. You are a… guardian angel… to a group of fighters.’ She was right. This was insane.

  ‘Three fighters. But only one left now. Okie and Valentine are gone. And if Jeff’s fight hadn’t been cancelled, who knows? He might be dead too.’

  ‘So you believe that because you lost a fight against some Ninja character in your dreams, Okie died.’

  ‘Well, they’re not exactly dreams… but, close enough, yes.’

  Nick tried to focus his scattered thoughts. ‘Did you fight this guy before Valentine’s death?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So Valentine’s death is not connected to Okie’s.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘All right. Let’s take a step back.’ He spoke slowly, picking his words carefully. ‘I need to tell you something as well. I’ve been investigating the deaths of four fighters: they all died a few days after their fights for no apparent reason. I think there’s a connection, but I don’t know what it is. And I think Okie and Valentine’s deaths may form part of the pattern. I spoke to Okie’s GP, who spoke to the coroner on my behalf. What happened to the others also happened to Okie. His heart stopped. Why? They don’t know, but apparently it does happen often enough among athletes—not just boxers—that it doesn’t raise eyebrows too much. And because these deaths are scattered and took place over such a long period of time—five years—no one has picked up on any connection. Personally, I think there’s monkey business involved. Maybe some kind of secret poison or something. But what’s important is that you were not the… Keeper… to any of these other guys, so I really don’t think this has anything to do with you. And I don’t know where Ninja man fits in. If he does.’

  ‘You don’t believe I actually fought him, do you?’

  ‘You weren’t exactly wide awake when it happened, Mia.’

  She rummaged angrily in her bag. ‘Before you make up your mind that I’m insane, I want you to look at this.’ She flipped open the mobile phone. ‘Read that. These are the text messages I received at the fight.’

  WE MET LAST NIGHT AT THE RETREAT, REMEMBER?

  ‘So you see, he knows about the Retreat. How could he know about the Retreat if he wasn’t there himself?’

  Nick stared at the phone, feeling as though he had woken up inside the Twilight Zone.

  ‘Did you try calling this number?’

  ‘Only a few hundred times. No one picks up. And I tried texting as well and get no response either.’

  ‘And you have no idea who it is?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘He says he’s a thief. Not a killer.’

  ‘But a thief of what? Lives?’

  The kitchen door beside them opened with a bang and a waiter narrowly avoided bumping into their table. Nick lifted his hand and gestured for the bill. ‘We can’t talk here. Let’s go to my place. I’ll show you the stuff I’ve collected on the other fighters and you can tell me if any of it looks familiar to you.’

  They were quiet driving to his flat. It was only five in the afternoon, but already the sun was low. Dry leaves skittered across the tarmac.

  When he pushed open the door of his flat, Nick remembered belatedly that the place was not exactly neat.

  ‘Sorry.’ He gestured awkwardly at the scattered newspapers on the sofa, the piles of paper on his desk. ‘I’ve been a bit lax with the housekeeping.’

  She wasn’t paying attention. She was facing the wall, looking at the heavenly map Molly had drawn on the day of his birth: gold-rimmed planets and luminous celestial bodies spinning through a predictable future.

  Mia touched her fingers to the frame. ‘Do you believe our paths are set?’

  He stood behind her and placed his arms round her shoulders. ‘No. I believe we shape our own journeys.’

  She leant back against him and her hair was fragrant. She felt so soft in his arms. He couldn’t help himself: he placed his mouth against her temple and kissed the tendrils of gold that grew there.

  She twisted round and looked up at him with dark eyes. Her eyebrows were slightly raised, her lips parted. She looked poised for flight.

  Carefully he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around so that she faced him fully. He wanted her so badly, but he moved slowly, afraid of startling her. She hadn’t drawn away. She was still staring at him with those wide eyes.

  He lowered his head and softly, but quite deliberately, placed his mouth on hers.

  For a moment her lips lay passively against his, but then she reached out and placed her hand behind his head and leant into his embrace.

  Something broke inside him. He made a
sound and kissed her hard, forcing her mouth to open up underneath his. It was too desperate; he knew it was. Into that kiss went years of pent-up desire and frustration. He was scaring her with this kiss—it was hungry, far too urgent—but he couldn’t help it.

  ‘Wait.’ She placed her hand against his chest.

  He stopped, breathing hard.

  ‘Your fight.’

  ‘To hell with that.’ He leant forward and scooped her up and she wrapped her arms and legs round him. He carried her into his bedroom, where a late-afternoon sun flashed blood-red through the half-closed shutters.

  • • •

  She smelled of flowers and the contours of her collarbone jutted out, startlingly prominent below the soft shadow in the hollow of her throat. He pinned her wrists above her head and the skin on the inside of her arms gleamed like silk. Her breasts were small but beautifully formed. Spread across the pillow, her hair was a tangle of dark gold.

  Her legs were sprawling open, and the ache in his groin was urging him on. No. Slow. Slow. He had waited too long for this moment to rush it now.

  He placed his fingers on the inside of her leg. A trailing garland of roses was inked into the pale flesh, starting mid-thigh and reaching all the way up to the crease: soft green tendrils, dusky pink blooms. He brought his head down and his tongue traced their outline. She gasped and her fingers tightened painfully on his shoulders.

  When he covered her body with his, she threw her head back so that her throat formed a white arc. Her mouth was half-open and she looked up at him with heavy eyes. He had known this woman for most of his life, but suddenly she seemed almost like a stranger. The touch of girlishness he associated with her was no longer there. She seemed powerful. Elementally female.

  Such a strange, wonderful combination of strength and fragility, of innocence and knowledge. Slender, muscled arms and strong, shapely legs. A ribcage that felt as brittle as a bird’s. Her skin pale and fair, but on the one side of her body a tattoo: an intriguing shadow. Her eyes were filled with secrets, but her mouth was open and trusting. He entered her, slipping deep, deep inside her, and it felt as warm as the blood pulsing inside his veins; dark as the dusk pressing against the window. She moaned and moved her head on the pillow from side to side.

  He turned her over. The bones of her spine were like pebbles and her delicate shoulder blades pressed like fossilised wings against his chest. He lifted the thick hair to expose the defenceless nape of her neck and placed his lips to her burning skin.

  She moved slowly, deliberately, underneath him, matching his rhythm, holding him in a melting grip, leading him on until she pushed her face deep into the pillow and arched her back. He cried out, shuddering, and his eyes filled with tears. It felt like birth. It felt like death.

  Outside the window, the day finally ended and the sky turned black.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  ‘She’s beautiful.’ Nick ran his finger along the delicate figure in blue ink. The lamp on the bedside table threw a pool of light onto Mia’s skin.

  Mia, propped up on one elbow, looked down at her hip underneath his hand. ‘I’m glad you like her. She’ll grow old with me.’

  ‘What is this symbol in her eye?’

  ‘The eye is the inner eye, which the Keeper uses to visualise the Retreat. The circle represents chi. The three lines symbolise the bridge by which the Keeper gains access to chi.’

  ‘This whole “stepping out” thing—it’s…’ He paused.

  ‘Weird?’

  ‘Strange,’ he amended.

  ‘Did you know that Thomas Edison deliberately induced out-of-body experiences? He’d hold a stone above a bucket while sitting in a chair and letting himself fall asleep. Just before the stone fell and woke him up, he’d have an OBE. He said it helped him to solve problems when working on his inventions. For all we know, the idea of electricity came to him while he was floating outside his body, looking down at himself.’

  ‘That’s creepy.’ Nick shivered.

  ‘Lionheart.’

  Nick grinned. ‘I still can’t believe Okie never told me about you being his Keeper.’

  ‘I asked him not to. He made me a promise.’

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Why did you never offer to be my Keeper?’

  ‘I wanted to.’ She paused. ‘But I knew, if I did, I would close a door.’

  He frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Keepers are not supposed to have intimate relationships with their charges. Once a Keeper takes a fighter into her keep, the dynamics of the relationship between them changes forever. It becomes this formalised thing. When Keepers have broken this rule, it has always led to heartache.’

  ‘We did not have an intimate relationship.’

  ‘I know. But I thought one day we might.’

  ‘You did?’ He smiled, delighted.

  ‘Yes. But I didn’t know if you were up for it.’

  ‘Of course I was up for it.’

  She pushed down on her palms and sat up straight. ‘No, Nick. You don’t understand. Molly and my father had problems because he could never really make peace with the idea that she was a Keeper to these other fighters. He was jealous. Possessive. It created all kinds of trouble between them. I didn’t want that for us.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now I will never be your Keeper. Especially not with this maniac running around. If I placed my mark on you it would be like painting a bull’s-eye on your heart and turning you into a target.’

  ‘I take it that means I’ll be going into the ring unadorned.’

  ‘Nick. Please don’t do this fight.’

  ‘JC and I talked about this yesterday. I have to, Mia.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Nicky. Please, please, don’t do it. We don’t know what we’re up against. Please!’

  ‘Listen to me. No, Mia, don’t look away.’ He gently turned her face back to him. ‘Nothing is going to happen to me. I am probably not even on this guy’s radar screen. As you said, I’m not your charge and you’re not my Keeper.’

  ‘Apart from Valentine and Okie, those other fighters weren’t my charges either.’

  ‘Sweetheart, don’t worry. It’s going to work out. I’ll be on my guard against any strangers from now on. All right? And tomorrow I’m flying to Liverpool to meet Amy face to face. I’m still hoping Valentine had told her something of importance and that she can provide the information we need to crack the puzzle. I promise you, I won’t stop looking until I find out what’s going on.’

  ‘Nick…’ Her eyes were wide and held a sheen of tears.

  ‘Shh. It’s going to be fine. Come here, let me hold you.’ He tried to joke. ‘I’m like Rick Cobra. He always beats the bad guy and he always gets the girl.’ Pulling Mia down next to him, he drew her into the curve of his body. He placed his arm round her shoulders and held her close.

  For a long time they stayed like that, with his body enfolding hers. Her breathing was slowing; he could sense she was falling asleep. He continued to lie with his eyes open.

  Should he give in to Mia’s entreaties and bow out? Everything inside him screamed at this idea. It was his first and possibly only shot at a title. He had worked hard for it. He was due. And he wasn’t getting any younger.

  For a moment he thought back to when he was a six-year-old boy, receiving his first pair of gloves: a birthday gift from his uncle. That’s when it had started for him. Over the years, he had had a lot of flak from others who could not understand his compulsion to fight. While living in New York, he had even given in to the wishes of a girlfriend who had insisted he needed therapy. The therapist had been surprisingly sympathetic. A Freudian, the man had murmured the words homo homini lupus—man is a wolf to man—and expounded learnedly on how the ‘restrictions of instinct’ were at the heart of modern man’s depression and feelings of malaise. ‘The imperative of violence and domination is hardwired into our genes, Mr Duffy. You see it in the busi
nessman demolishing his rival; in the teenager playing a violent computer game. But we are told to repress the urge. And so we live vicariously through the fighter’s experience. It is tactile combat. It gratifies the social machinery in our minds definitively.’

  Whether this was true, Nick had no idea. He himself had never felt conflicted about his passion for fighting. If it was a throwback, primitive impulse, so be it. All he knew was that whenever he had tried to ignore it, he had become unhappy. Better, then, to give expression to it within the confines of the ring, where he faced someone of equal stature and skill in a controlled environment.

  Mia mumbled something and moved restlessly in his arms. For a moment he thought she was waking up, but then her breath became even again.

  He closed his own eyes and tried to relax. Things would turn out all right. After all, he and Mia could take on anything that came their way. Together, who could stop them?

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Ashton pointed to the pagoda at the end of the avenue of trees. ‘Run and touch the first step and then jog back. One last sprint, Nick, and then we’re finished. OK? Ready? Go.’

  He waited at the gate and watched as Nick drove forward smoothly and powerfully. Even though he had to say so himself, he had done a good job with him.

  Nick had reached the pagoda and was now jogging back. He saw Nick’s eyes go past him and his face break into a smile.

  He looked over his shoulder. Mia was standing a few paces behind. How long had she been there? And how surprising that he hadn’t sensed her.

  Nick ran past him and swept Mia into his arms. He lifted her off the ground and swung her round in a full circle. She gave a small shriek and laughed.