The Keeper's Curse

by Diana Harrison

  “And you think it was Persephone?”

  “I don’t know! Probably not, but it’s possible.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t entire blame him for his suspicions – Persephone still hadn’t told her how she knew about the Keeper’s Curse, and she was being awfully defensive. But then again, so was Breckin.

  She heard Rozelyn’s words ringing in her head, about Breckin’s mistrust – borderline paranoia – of people.

  “I know we don’t know each other that well,” Emmy said softly. “But we have to have some common ground here. I know Persephone. She let herself get caught up in my problems to make sure Jade didn’t get hurt, and she helped me too. Can you please trust me on this?”

  Emmy was fairly certain he wasn’t used to people demanding things from him (or at least people who weren’t his superiors), but she waited in patience for an answer while he choked on his words.

  “Lana, I can’t.” His face crumpled at disappointing her. “This is too important.”

  Emmy put on a blank mask, trying to control her anger. She couldn’t say Rozelyn hadn’t warned her, but still. She knew she needed to try another tactic with him; all those counselling books said the same thing. You needed to build trust with a patient, and sometimes that took a very long time. If telling Breckin wasn’t going to get him to see, she would have to show him she could be trusted.

  “Fine,” she said. “Keep the guard on her.” Emmy tried not to look too upset in front of him, knowing that until she got him to change his mind, Persephone would no longer be her friend. And changing Breckin’s mind wasn’t something that would happen overnight.

  The two of them made their way off Urquhart grounds, down the lane into the forest, falling into an easy pace beside each other.

  “There’s still one more thing I don’t get,” Breckin said, trying to steer the conversation away from Persephone. “I guess it’s safe to say whoever is here working for Thoreoux is the one possessing those creatures to kill you, and I know what you’re thinking – that possession is a curse.”

  “Persy told me Thoreoux had the Book of Curses.”

  “The thing is my mother took the Book of Curses when she became a fugitive. I don’t see how they could have gotten the Book back.”

  “Is it possible that it wasn’t the Book of Curses?” Emmy asked. “There are thirteen of those books, aren’t there? If Thoreoux was able to find one he could find another one.”

  “I doubt it. Those books have been lost for ages. Hundreds of years.”

  Emmy chewed on her lip. It was incredibly frustrating not to know anything about these enigmatic spell books, how they came to be, or where they were. She couldn’t help but be slightly impressed Thoreoux had been able to find one and reverse his own spell that should have killed him.

  She shook herself, trying to focus on what Breckin was saying.

  “... besides, did you see how those people attacked you looked? Like they were being jerked around by someone? It seemed like they were possessed, and it could have been the palewraiths trying to resist, which they do when anyone tampers with the spell books.”

  “Then maybe your mother didn’t take the Book with her,” Emmy suggested. “I mean, not for good. She’s on the run, Breckin, think about it. Maybe she didn’t want to carry something around that important. If she got caught, they’d get the Book.”

  He blanched, stopping in his tracks. “So you think Mom gave it to someone here, to someone she trusted, and they ended up working for Thoreoux?”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. That, or maybe someone stole it.” The chances of that were slim, but his shoulders seemed to relax at the thought.

  “I hope so,” he said, beginning his pace again. “I guess that’s it, then. We’ll have to find out who has the Book.”

  “Do you think we can?”

  “We don’t have a choice, do we?”

  ***

  The air and sky were clear that night. The near-constant veil of cloud in Methelwood lifted, revealing the moon, which was bright enough to use as a lamp. Emmy wasn’t sure yet if this would be a good or bad thing – it would give Thoreoux more opportunity to see her, but she would be able to see better as well.

  Pulling her scarf to her face, she made herself trudge towards the Urquhart stable to meet Cyrus. She glimpsed around for any signs of someone following her, which snowballed her paranoia since she knew creatures were everywhere in the forest. Emmy climbed easily over the low granite wall into Urquhart, heading out onto the grounds behind the school.

  Cyrus was waiting for her, just like he had said he would. He wore an outerwear cloak, the hood pulled over his head to hide his face. Seeing him there, confirming they were on the same side, was a strange sort of relief for her. She had questioned and questioned until it had driven her crazy, just needing an answer – any answer – and now he was here.

  “You look shocked I came,” he said. “I’m hurt.”

  Emmy pulled the front of her fur cap farther down her face. “Were you seen?”

  “No. I set up a crossbow trap directed at the owl that’s been following me around the past few weeks. The trap should go off on its own so Thoreoux won’t see I did it.”

  “Good. Now where are we going?”

  He gestured toward the peacekeeping practice grounds. “The animals will be harder to catch and locate, but the crafters are in the tunnels.” Without saying another word he began his pace towards the woods.

  “How do you know?” Emmy asked, having to sprint to keep up with him.

  “They’re possessed, but they’re still alive,” Cyrus said. “They need some sort of warmth and shelter, and it’s not like they can just sashay into a complex.”

  Despite her several layers of clothing, Emmy shivered. “We’re not going to – you know – kill them, are we?”

  Even though she couldn’t see his face she knew Cyrus was rolling his eyes. “What choice do we have? They’ll kill you if we don’t kill them.”

  “But it’s not their fault!”

  Emmy mentally kicked herself; she should have known better than to trust Cyrus. If she had been just marginally braver she would have grabbed hold of him, but that proved to be unnecessary. He came to a halt and she slammed into his back.

  “We don’t know if there’s anything left of them,” Cyrus said as he turned to face her, his eyes flashing with anger in the dark. “This possession spell will eventually kill them, so who knows what it’ll do to their minds. They’re probably in anguish – we’ll be doing them a favour.”

  “Please, Cyrus – Breckin and I were talking this afternoon about the Book of Curses and we think someone here in Methelwood has it. Can you give us a little while? If we can find it and reverse the spell, nobody has to die. I know you don’t want anyone killed, either. It’s why you’re helping me in the first place, isn’t it?”

  It should have bothered her, the way he always looked at her like she was an interesting but repugnant specimen, but her fear of him was dwindling quickly. She had no problem setting her chin instead of cowering from him now that she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Although the annoyance was clear on his face, he at least didn’t throw her against an object this time. He just continued walking on.

  “What exactly are we supposed to do with them in the meantime then?” he grumbled. “We can’t just let them roam, or they’ll come for you again.”

  “Can’t we lock them up?”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know, you live in a castle for crying out loud! Don’t you have a dungeon or something?”

  Out of the corner of her eye Emmy could have sworn she saw the side of his mouth twitch. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “I’ll help you put them in.”

  He halted to turn and stare at her again. His pale face was a smudge in his hood, but she could see enough to know he wasn’t angry anymore. His brows were raised slightly, still curious, but another look flashed
across so quickly Emmy could have imagined it. Respect. Respect for her.

  “I don’t want anyone dying because of me,” she murmured.

  “Whatever. We’ll do it your way, then.”

  She didn’t have a chance to so much as smile before he began walking again. She stomped on her exasperation knowing there were more important things to attend to.

  They traveled through the woods in silence, doing their best to be as soundless as possible. With every crunch their feet made in the ice Emmy winced, but nothing came after them. By the time they reached the trapdoor that led them into the tunnels, her teeth were chattering.

  “Do you have a weapon with you?” Cyrus asked, flinging open the door. Emmy whipped out her knife. “Excellent. Now, as you know, I’m a driver. These things are still alive so I can order them around, but considering I can only do one at a time, and I have no idea how many of them are there, I need you to keep them away from me as long as possible.” He crouched over to the edge, ready to jump down.

  Emmy nodded, tightening her grip on the weapon. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

  “That’s adorable. You sounded just like Crawford then.”

  Without thinking, she kicked him lightly on the back, and he tumbled into the tunnel. With satisfaction she heard him land with a muffled “umph!”

  “Is it safe?” she asked playfully.

  “Are you a stupid bint?”

  Emmy jumped in after him. She raised her palm, summoning a palewraith for light, and Cyrus did the same. In theory it should have been freezing underground, but Emmy couldn’t even see her breath.

  “They must be setting fires down here,” Cyrus voiced her thoughts. Sure enough, after a few minutes of searching they came across remnants of twigs and ash in a little cluster in an open area.

  “I can’t believe they were right underneath us all this time,” Emmy murmured. “People come through these – what if someone had seen them? They would have been killed.”

  “Believe it or not,” Cyrus said, stepping over the ash. “Thoreoux doesn’t enjoy murdering people. I mean, yes, he is a deranged lunatic who thinks he’s doing us all a favour by trying to kill us all, but still, he has his guidelines.” When Emmy raised her eyebrows he said, “He was only willing to kill you when he knew for sure you were the Keeper.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Cyrus was probably about to throw her a retort when they heard a tumbling noise in the distance, like the sound of an oncoming avalanche. Emmy felt her heart jump in her throat as the sound of feet padding on the dirt rose in volume.

  “Go distract them,” Cyrus said, brandishing a sword from inside his cloak. With some trepidation, she headed in the direction of the possessed humans, her knife in front of her. “And good God, be careful.”

  She inched forward, summoning several palewraiths at once, needing all the light she could muster.

  And suddenly, there they were, in a hoard coming towards her. At first she froze in horror at seeing them again. They were even uglier than last time, their skin even thinner, their eyes dimmer, and any body fat that had been on them was gone. But along with their ugliness came weakness, and were moving at a sluggish, lethargic pace. They were dying.

  Emmy’s task proved to be a lot easier than expected because of this. Their reflexes were slow and she was easily able to take them down without too much effort, only having to injure a couple of them with her knife. Cyrus spoke so quickly Emmy barely understood him, but the gist of his commands for them was always the same: form a row, get to the Crow mansion, and lock yourself in the dungeons.

  “They can’t be allowed to see where we’re going!” Emmy said while ducking a fist from an elderly man. “Tell them to close their eyes!”

  Cyrus did as she said.

  After twenty minutes or so, Cyrus had formed a consecutive line of the possessed crafters, and they were walking in a zombie-like fashion towards the trapdoor. Emmy was tackling the last one when Cyrus commanded it to get off her and get in the line.

  Emmy was so sore Cyrus had to help her back on her feet. They walked beside the line as if they were guarding a group of kindergarten children. Emmy and Cyrus had to help every single one of them out of the tunnels and into the cold night.

  “You’ve got the most dangerous power in the world, you know,” Emmy said as they walked beside the line toward the mansion.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You can make someone do anything you want,” she said. She rubbed her hands together, the chilly air keeping her awake. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Why don’t you just command me to trust you?”

  “I should clarify that I can only give a physical command.”

  “So you can’t change what people feel?”

  “No. Besides, even if I could, what would be the point? It wouldn’t be real.”

  Emmy turned to her right to see the poor being beside her. It was a weird sight, seeing the person so calm, with shut eyes and moving at a perfect, robotic pace. It was also unnatural.

  “I guess,” she sighed.

  “Don’t feel too bad for me, Keeper. Look at me, look at my face – you think I need to make people do anything?”

  He said it so matter-of-factly Emmy couldn’t help but grin. For a second she wondered what he would look like with a genuine smile on his face, knowing she would never get to see it.

  They traveled in silence back to the Crow mansion. Cyrus led them down the cobblestone path, through the front doors and into the parlour. There were several torches alight in their sconces, allowing Emmy and Cyrus to direct the crafters through the long dark halls.

  “Aren’t you worried somebody will hear us?” she whispered after several minutes. The hallways seemed to go on forever.

  “Relax, will you? My mother and brother will be asleep, and that’s all that matters. If a housekeeper or servant sees anything, I’ll take him out back and order him to jump off the ridge to his death like I always do when they see things they shouldn’t.”

  Emmy opened her mouth in horror when she realized he was kidding. She exhaled, trying to calm her frayed nerves.

  Eventually they reached a pair of double oak doors, which Cyrus informed Emmy led them into the dungeons.

  “I can’t believe you actually have a dungeon,” Emmy said, pushing the first four crafters into the nearest cell. It looked like a medieval prison with its lined cells that dripped water. The prison her mother was in was a five star hotel by comparison.

  “It used to be a torture chamber, get over it.”

  She couldn’t get used to how blasé his tone was when he said things like that, so she decided to ignore him. They spent the next ten minutes locking them up, Cyrus ordering them all to sleep while the two of them padlocked the cells shut. Emmy stared at them all for a few minutes; their sleep might have been unnatural, but they looked so peaceful finally getting some real rest.

  “You better get home now,” Cyrus said. “I’ll walk you out.”

  They avoided each other’s eyes all the way back through the torched corridors, Cyrus pretending to examine the tapestries on the walls (which were as violent-looking as the ones at Urquhart), and Emmy fiddled with her fingers. She wanted to thank him, show him some appreciation, but she knew anything nice she said would be spat back at her with vehemence.

  “I think we got the main bunch of them,” Cyrus said when they reached the front parlour. “But we should probably go back tomorrow just to make sure. Clean them out, you know?” He paused. “Do you need me to walk you home?”

  “No, I should be fine, thanks.”

  He opened the door for her. “Well then, take care, Rathers. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She jerked her head in thanks, wrapping her arms around herself as she headed back into the snow. “Emmy,” she said.

  “What?”

  She turned around to face him. “My name is Emmy. It’s easier to say than ‘Rathers’ or ‘Keeper’ or ‘stup
id bint’, or all those other nice things you like calling me.”

  He knitted his brows. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Well, we’re not enemies or anything. Seems socially acceptable.”

  She thought he would be pleased but he just looked more confused. “No, I mean why do people call you ‘Emmy’?”

  Why is he asking me this? She was standing outside in the cold, very eager to run home and climb into bed. “When I was born, the plan was to nickname me ‘Evie’ but my brother, who was just learning to talk, couldn’t make the ‘v’ sound and started calling me ‘Emmy’. It just stuck.”

  This seemed to satisfy him. “Right, then. Well goodnight, Emmy.” Then he slammed the door in her face.

  There was a certain amount of risk that Emmy’s eyes were going to be permanently stuck in the back her head due to the excessive eye rolling if she spent too much time with him. She pulled her hood over her head and sprinted home, craving the warmth of her bed. Her walk, she couldn’t help but notice, had a little skip in it, and she wasn’t unhappy. She surprised herself when she realized that she was, in fact, not dreading spending time with Cyrus again.

  Chapter 19

  Photos

  The next week for Emmy was a very, very strange one. She was so exhausted during the day she would often fall asleep in class, which would prompt Jade to ask her if everything was alright. Persephone, as expected, wasn’t speaking to her. Jade informed Emmy Persephone had it set in her mind Emmy had chosen Breckin over her, so there was nothing left to say.

  And then there was Cyrus. He was right to go back into the tunnels to check for extras because there most certainly were some. They spent several nights cleaning out the tunnels, luckily not having to kill anyone. Unfortunately once in a while they did stumble upon a body on the verge of death, and Emmy would have to turn away to hide her horror from Cyrus, knowing she couldn’t help them.