The Keeper's Curse

by Diana Harrison

  Just as she had feared, he asked her what had happened. She and Teddy locked eyes for half a second and she proceeded to tell a white lie saying Teddy had taken her flying and had looked away for moment. Milo seemed to accept this answer, moving on to administer a painkiller, put a cast on her broken arm, and bandage her scrapes. Thankfully she didn’t have a concussion.

  Teddy offered to take her home, which she accepted, trying not to grimace at the idea of bouncing around on a saddle again.

  When she finally arrived back at The Noir Beanery, she was thrown into the exact situation she had been dreading. Vera had tea and pastries waiting for her when she walked into the living room, guiding her in like it was her leg that broke instead of her arm. Even Gabe asked her if she was alright.

  The real tirade, however, came when Jade was off for her fifteen minute break and bombarded her with the very questions she didn’t want to answer.

  “Rozelyn came by after school and told me what happened!” she exclaimed, sitting down in the seat across from her at the dinner table. She buried her face in her hands dramatically. “I never should have let you go out there with that idiot. I knew better. You could have died.”

  Emmy took a sip of her tea to avoid answering. Inevitably, she swallowed and could only respond with, “It wasn’t exactly Teddy’s fault. I ... got distracted by a ... pretty bird.”

  “It was all Teddy’s fault. She said Breckin offered to take you to the hospital. You should have said yes.”

  She felt something dark form in the pit of her stomach. “Breckin?”

  Jade took a gulp of her drink. “Yeah. Rozelyn said the two of them were out flying when you crashed into her.”

  Emmy irrationally felt a pang of annoyance towards Jade for piquing her curiosity as well as never telling her about these people before.

  “She said you were her cousin. Is the boy your cousin too?”

  Jade chuckled. “No. But Breckin and Rozelyn have been together for over two years now, and since Rozelyn and I are pretty close, I’ve sort of become friends with him too. Plus, he’s Gabe’s best friend.”

  Emmy choked on her tea, scalding the front of her chest. Wonderful. As if she hadn’t already had her share of pain for the day. She took another swig of her drink as an attempt to obliterate the rising cloud of despair in her gut. Both Gabe and Jade, the people she lived with, knew him. She would have to deal with him again. On top of that, she couldn’t even explain to Jade what had happened because it would seem like she was running down her friend.

  Emmy rose from her chair. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

  “It’s seven thirty.”

  “I’m tired,” she said a little too curtly. She turned away from Jade’s bewildered face and slumped her way to the attic, throwing herself in bed, burying her face in the pillow. Just over a week ago she had found out she was a freak, and on top of that, now she was a freak among freaks.

  She thought back to what Willow had told her just that afternoon, that she believed the voice she was hearing now and the one she had heard when she was eleven were connected, and less than an hour later the theory was completely demolished. The boy – Breckin – seemed to only start talking in her head whenever she was near him; the three times she had heard him were at or near Urquhart. Obviously the voice she had heard when she had been eleven couldn’t have been his since she had been in the real world.

  She rolled over and groaned. Somehow, she needed to retrieve that dream journal, assuming it hadn’t already been destroyed or taken away. It was unlikely it would give her any answers at all, but she needed to focus her attention on some way to fix this. Building a life in this strange land was difficult enough without having people thinking you were crazy.

  Chapter 8

  Encounter

  Breckin knew it probably wasn’t appropriate to be in complete boredom while deadly weapons were being thrown at him from all angles, but he was anyway. His perfect senses detected every object whizzing his way; having fun thwarting Oka’s attempts with his fancy moves. He jumped off the ground, away from an oncoming sword, flying several feet in the air, while performing a triple back flip with the grace and deftness of an acrobat. Velvet drapes had shut out any light from the windows, but Breckin’s vision was so spectacular this didn’t pose much more of a challenge.

  In the corner of the circular room he saw Rozelyn pretending to read her copy of Macbeth, her bushy hair peeking up from behind the covers, but he saw a smile inching up the sides of her mouth.

  Before he knew it the session ended, and after half an hour of jumping, twirling and running, he had barely even broken a sweat. Oka clapped, and the drapes pulled back into their corners, casting polygonal light all across the floor.

  Breckin glanced over at his surly but brilliant mentor, hoping for a sign on his face declaring how impressed he was with his performance. Instead Oka simply looked irritated.

  “What?” Breckin said. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, that’s the problem,” Oka said. “You’ve gotten to the point where these exercises are useless to you. You’re becoming cocky.”

  Over to the side, Breckin heard Rozelyn chuckle softly behind her book. “What do you mean?”

  “I would prefer if your girlfriend didn’t watch us anymore,” Oka said, narrowing his eyes in her direction. “You’re showing off on purpose for her, and I don’t like it.”

  “He’s fine, Oka,” Rozelyn said, scribbling in the corner of her page. “If anything, because he’s showing off, he’s performing even more complicated moves than he normally does.”

  “It’s not about complexity, it’s about brevity,” Oka said, enunciating the last word like she was deaf. “Getting to the point. I think the lady doth protest too much.”

  Rozelyn looked at the front of her book, back at Oka, and rolled her eyes. “That’s from Hamlet, Oka. Nice try.”

  “Whatever. All those plays are the same. Misunderstandings. Pointless love triangles. Gratuitous deaths. Just sex and violence all around, really. I’d rather hear about brevity.”

  Rozelyn beamed. “‘Brevity is the soul of wit.’ Hamlet again.”

  “I’m going to kill her, Crawford.”

  Breckin smiled to himself, putting his equipment into his bag. He secretly knew Rozelyn and Oka both thought literature was useless, but if there was anything Rozelyn found more annoying than books, it was Oka.

  “Anyway Crawford, I’m getting rather tired of your superfluous antics.”

  Breckin snorted. “‘Superfluous’? With all due respect sir, you threw a mace at me.”

  He may have gotten another laugh out of Rozelyn, but Oka was not amused. “Good job, Crawford. You’re now going to run a lap around Methelwood after class.” He turned on his heel and headed towards the exit, his cobalt-blue robe fluttering at the hem. At the gilded doorway, he stopped without turning around. “I’ll prepare some new activities for you by Monday.”

  “Of course sir,” Breckin said, just as Oka exited the room, his long, black braid swaying back and forth behind him.

  Behind him, Rozelyn slammed her book shut with a clap. Her coquettish expression was directed right at him, making something jump in his stomach.

  “He’s right, you know,” she said, walking over to him. “You really are too good now to be let into the regular peacekeeping classes. It’s not fair to everyone else.”

  “What, you mean not fair to you?” he said, grinning.

  She was glowering but smiling at the same time. “That’s not the point!” She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. “You’re getting all stir crazy. You need a real challenge, something that’ll make you squirm. Something that’s a real workout.”

  Instead of answering her, he dropped his bag, put his hands around her waist, and picked her up off the ground, twirling her and making her squeal. Without putting her down, he lifted his face to hers and kissed her, something she responded warmly to. He both felt and heard her heart beating in
her little body, which had always been more effective at working him up than any training Oka had ever given him. Just as she began curling her fingers into his hair he heard a loud throat-clearing noise coming from the end of the room, and they jumped away from each other.

  Breckin jerked his head to where the noise had come from, looking at the doorway expecting Oka to chide him. It was definitely not Oka.

  “I could challenge him,” the person said.

  Breckin inched toward the door to get a clearer view of the silhouette. There was something hauntingly familiar about that voice, like something he had heard out of an unpleasant dream. He inched closer still, until he could see his face.

  “Don’t you recognize me, Golden Boy?”

  Breckin’s eyes widened in horror. No. It couldn’t be. But it was.

  He could see the similarities now, but it was odd seeing him as a sixteen-year-old like himself, when the last time he had seen him he had been twelve. He was tall now, over six feet, and his face had become angular, with shadows under his eyes which were still that same dark gray color they had always been. His demeanour was even more arrogant and self-assured than it had been four years ago, jet-black hair framing his condescending expression.

  Breckin choked out the name. “Cyrus?”

  He heard a gasp from behind him. Rozelyn. “You mean, Cyrus–Cyrus?”

  Cyrus turned his attention to her, raising an eyebrow. “He’s told you about me?”

  Rozelyn shot daggers at him with her eyes. “He told me everything about you. What the hell are you doing here?”

  Breckin slipped his fingers into Rozelyn’s, to keep her from moving forward and attacking him. “Don’t talk to her. And I want to know too. Why are you here? How did you get here?”

  His attention turned back to Breckin and he smiled, the way paper ribbon curled as it burned. “Why is any teenager in Methelwood here, Breckin? The schooling. They say the best education in all the orbs is here, right? I want to get into any university of my choosing.”

  Breckin tried controlling his temper, but he was shaking so badly he couldn’t see clearly in front of him. “Circlet would never let you live here. Never. You don’t think I don’t know where you’ve been the past four years?”

  “I already have citizenship. I’ve already started school. Don’t you know my mother lives on the outskirts of the complexes?”

  “Yes, but –”

  “She’s thrilled we’re back.”

  “We?”

  “Brynn and myself.”

  Brynn. He hadn’t heard that name in such a long time. “Circlet knows where you’ve been. As do I. Don’t get too comfortable here.”

  “Really? Well, Circlet is having a rather hard time tracking my whereabouts, as I’ve been traveling so much the past few years. Although, strangely enough, she was able to find a wealthy family in Delvynmore that vouches we’ve been living there ever since my father died. Isn’t that wonderful? They have my records, my school progress reports – everything. Brynn as well. They’re a reserved lot, they don’t like the public too much, which is why they’ve kept us hidden.”

  The insincere joy hiding his relish in Breckin’s fury was too much. He let go of Rozelyn’s hand, grabbed Cyrus’s black collar on either side and pushed him up against the wall. He became even angrier when he saw Cyrus’s expression was as composed as ever.

  “You can’t kill me,” Breckin growled. “You know you can’t.”

  “I never suggested I wanted to.”

  “I will find where you’ve been,” Breckin promised. “I will get you thrown in prison, you liar. I swear I will. I know where you’ve been.”

  Cyrus’s expression didn’t change, but he leaned in, his face so close to Breckin’s they were only a couple inches apart. The smells of mint, metal and spice emanated from him, just as they had when they had been children. Memories came flooding back into Breckin’s mind, making him nauseous. Memories of blood and fear and pain and confinement.

  “Prove it,” Cyrus challenged him.

  He felt Rozelyn’s warm hand on his shoulder. “Just let go of him. We’ll deal with this later.”

  He obeyed, prying his fingers off of Cyrus’s suede coat. Cyrus adjusted it as if nothing had happened. “I just wanted to drop by and say hello. I’ll see you at school.”

  Breckin could hear his shoes clacking down the hallway even after he was out of sight, the sound resonating in his head. Panic, fury and misery flowed through him, fresh in his mind like he hadn’t felt in years. Cyrus had represented everything he hated, and now he was here, perhaps forever.

  Rozelyn squeezed his shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. He’ll do something stupid sooner or later and he’ll be gone. He can’t kill you, Breckin.”

  He shook his head and turned to face her. “Just because he can’t kill me doesn’t mean he can’t torture me, or kill someone else. What if he goes after Gabe, or Noah? Or you? Rozelyn, I –”

  She pulled him near her into a tight embrace. “Don’t worry yet, okay? We don’t know why he’s here.”

  He returned her hug, but his thoughts were drifting farther from her by the second. He was in shock, but that didn’t stop his mind from racing, planning all the ways he could get Cyrus out of Methelwood, away from everyone he loved. He didn’t care what a piece of paper said, or what a family from Delvynmore had told Circlet – he had to go talk to the governor himself.

  Cyrus had been with James Thoreoux the past four years. He knew it. Four years of his already cruel mind being twisted, contorted and told flat out lies of propaganda against him. Thoreoux had not attempted anything in four years, so Breckin knew there had to be a reason to send Cyrus, such a precious ally to him, into a warzone. He was going to find out why.

  Chapter 9

  The Dream Downloader

  Before school the next morning, Emmy made her way through the darkened forest by herself to the place she had first arrived in Methelwood where her suitcase supposedly was. Alex had informed her that the place was an apartment complex, one of many in Methelwood scattered throughout the forest which contained the majority of the population. Her blood pressure lowered significantly when she noticed the guards in the lobby were not the same ones her mother had attacked, which would have made the following conversation quite awkward.

  She asked as politely as possible (the whole orb now knew what happened with her mother) if she could have her suitcase back, and the guard, with suspicious derision, said “no”. She couldn’t entirely blame him, but even after assuring him she wasn’t an accomplice of her mother, he didn’t budge. The guards informed her that her suitcase would not be released without a note of permission from a superior with a good reason to do so.

  After several minutes of wheedling, Emmy stomped off, hating Annalise with even more vigour than before. She was starting to wonder if there would ever be an end to the list of reasons she was angry with her mother.

  Noah, we need to talk. Something happened yesterday.

  Emmy came to a halt right in the middle of the woods.

  “Stop it,” she whispered. “Please, I’m begging you, leave me alone.”

  An emotion flared up inside her, the sensation so fervent it took her a moment to recognize what it was. Anger. Fiery, panicky anger. Not like a flame, but like the white sparks bursting from the edges of the fire. More disturbing than that was that she knew they weren’t her own feelings. Were they his?

  “I figured. Why did you come home so late last night?”

  This was not the regular voice she had become used to hearing in her head. She sank deeper and deeper into the anger of The Voice, closing her eyes. Bright, flashing colors like fireworks shifted behind her eyelids, and when they cleared, she was somewhere else. A tattered living room filled her vision. In the center of it a man with an eye patch rested, staring at her, sitting in an old brown chair.

  I went to go visit Circlet in Ministrial. Sorry, I should’ve told you. I sort of forgot.

  “I was worrie
d. You can’t just go off gallivanting through the orbs without letting me know! It would’ve taken you ten seconds to tell me where you were going.”

  The man sitting in the chair was saying the words that had just been spoken, and Emmy realized, with horror, what had happened. She was in The Voice’s head. The eyes she was seeing the world through were almond-shaped with copper lashes that blurred above and below her vision, instead of her regular cornsilk-blonde ones. She felt her body lightening, even though she knew she was planted in the soft earth.

  I know, but listen to this, you’re never going to guess who I ran into today – Cyrus.

  The man sitting across from The Voice raised his eyebrow. “Cyrus? You mean - ?”

  Yes! I couldn’t believe it. He told me he’s going to school at Urquhart now, and apparently Brynn is enrolled in Bernadette’s Primary School.

  “Is Circlet going to let them stay?”

  Yes! And I don’t understand why. She said he has every right to be here, like anyone else. Is she out of her mind? Any idiot knows where he’s been the past few years.

  “You and Circlet haven’t always been on the same page about certain issues, but this is incredibly serious. I can’t imagine Circlet risking Methelwoodians’ lives over a technicality.”

  I don’t get it. I’m going to prove he’s been with Thoreoux, somehow. I know Circlet doesn’t like me very much, but she can’t seriously want Thoreoux’s little prodigy to kill me.

  “He can’t kill you, you know that.”

  Maybe he’s found a way, I dunno. Anyways, be on alert, okay? Don’t let him in the apartment. I said the same thing to Gabe and Rozelyn.

  “What are you going to do?”

  I’m going to do everything in my power to get him out of Methelwood. If Circlet isn’t going to be reasonable, I’ll have to do this on my own.

  He had calmed down enough for Emmy to gain control of herself and push him out of her head. She gasped as she fell back into herself, as if she had been under water.

  She stood still for a few moments, staring at the maple tree in front of her. And then she punched it.