The Keeper's Curse

by Diana Harrison

  She still hadn’t found a way to thank Cyrus, and it was driving her batty. Some of her questions had gotten legitimate replies, so she had gotten to know him on a surface level, but any attempt to talk to him about anything she truly wanted to know got her a sharp remark or the cold shoulder. Still, it didn’t stop her from trying. Emmy couldn’t help it; he was clever, sarcastic, and she couldn’t figure out why he was so bent on helping her. And she hated not understanding people. Unfortunately for her there was only one person she knew who knew Cyrus, and more than a bit of a bias resided there.

  “What was he like?” Emmy asked Breckin as they walked home from school one day. After the disagreement over Persephone, Emmy asked Breckin if he would walk her home every day to make sure she was alright, an idea Breckin liked very much. Jade always tactfully came up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t come with them, something Emmy was thankful for. It was the only alone time Emmy got with him. “Cyrus, when he was your brother?”

  This took him by surprise; they didn’t talk about Cyrus anymore.

  “When we were kids? Pretty much like he is now. Really arrogant – he thought he was good at everything, and he loved getting a rise out of me. Rhoan would put us in separate wings of the mansion so we couldn’t get to each other, but he’d always come over to my side to rile me up. Then I’d beat him up.”

  An involuntary image passed through Breckin’s mind of him pounding on Cyrus. Breckin got caught by Rhoan, and as a punishment he was thrown into the closet. Right before the door closed, Emmy saw a twelve-year-old Cyrus smirk.

  Dislike for him burned through Emmy again. “He deserved the beatings.”

  “Of course he did, and he knew I’d do it. I used to get mad easily. I wasn’t very good at controlling myself back then.”

  Emmy, despite her disgust of the situation, began to laugh.

  “What?”

  The idea of you having self control.

  The side of his mouth curled up and he nudged her with his right shoulder.

  “Hey, I can be nonchalant when I need to be,” he said, and Emmy laughed harder. “I can! I’ve been trained by the top charm teachers in the world.”

  “If you say so,” she chuckled as they reached The Noir Beanery, the “OPEN” sign flashing bright yellow.

  “Hey, um, Lana?”

  “Yes?”

  His slipped his hands into his pockets and his body shrunk inwards. “Would you like to come over to my place? To meet my uncle? I’ve been telling him about you and he’d love to see you.”

  “Of course! Why didn’t you ask me before?”

  She jumped back to his side and continued the walk to the living complex. He talked the whole way there about these supposed charm teachers in intense detail when Emmy suggested he made them up. She didn’t mind this; she loved watching him talk. His dark green eyes brightened as if there was a light behind them and waved his arms with such sweeping gestures they were comical.

  “He usually doesn’t talk much,” Jade had told her the other day. “He never talks as much or as loudly as he does with you. He’s usually so quiet.”

  Emmy liked the sound of that very much. She invested so much in him it was nice to know that he gave a piece of himself to her too. She could hurt him, she realized, and it would be a very easy thing to hurt Breckin, even if she never would. She would never want to be the one who took away that sweet smile from his face.

  Security reacted very differently to Breckin than Emmy, greeting him and waving to him, which he returned in kind. He took her to the fourth floor, sixth door on the left and knocked. Emmy heard shuffling coming from inside the room, and a few minutes later a man opened it, out of breath.

  Emmy vaguely remembered him from the experience of seeing through Breckin’s eyes. He resembled a stereotypical “mad professor” type; he wore a loose flannel shirt and dark trousers, and his sandy-brown hair, peppered with silver, was sticking up in every direction. An eye patch was wrapped around his head and covered his left eye.

  “Hey Noah,” Breckin said, twirling a hand to his right where Emmy stood. “This is her.” He said it with pride.

  The one eye Emmy could see widened at her. “Ah, you’re this Lana-who-is-actually-named-Emmy he keeps talking about! Come on in, my dear, would you like some tea?”

  “She lives at The Noir Beanery, Uncle, she’s probably sick to death of tea.”

  “Water?”

  “Sure.”

  Breckin lead her into his home. The only other apartment Emmy had been in so far was Persephone’s and she had begun to imagine all the apartments looked like hers, so she was shocked. Being the Eldoir, Emmy had expected Breckin to be given exceptional living quarters, but he didn’t get such luck. The living room was modestly furnished with ratty couches and a simple pine coffee table littered with newspapers. A little fire crackled in the grate in the sitting area Breckin led her to.

  While she waited for her beverage, she glanced around the room, noticing the walls which were filled with photos. A lot of them had Breckin in them, whether it was a class photo, photos with a group of friends or with Rozelyn, or with what appeared to be important business people. There was only one family photo, of Breckin, his mother and his sister, but Emmy noticed his father wasn’t in it.

  “So, how come I haven’t gotten to meet you yet?” Noah asked, handing her the drink. “Trying to get away from my nephew here? Is he smothering you? If he is, feel free to tell him off, he smothers me too. A bit of a worrywart, this one.”

  Breckin gurgled. “I am not smothering her!”

  Emmy gave him a sideway’s smile. “He isn’t, Mr. Crawford,” she half-lied. “He was just too shy to ask me to come over.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, feel free to boss him around. I guess you can do anything you want with him, eh? Only one who can. It’s a good thing, too – he needs someone to tell him what to do since his mother isn’t around.”

  “Noah,” Breckin warned.

  “Do you want me to show you some embarrassing pictures of him?”

  Emmy had a feeling her and this man and she would get along swimmingly. “Yes! I’d love to see them.”

  Noah’s face broke into a roguish grin. “Excellent. Breckin, go get your old photo book.”

  “What? No!”

  “Do it or I’ll teach this lovely young lady how she can take full control of your body. A Keeper can do that, you know.”

  Muttering something inaudible, Breckin got up from beside Emmy and made his way towards the staircase to his room. Noah craned his neck as his nephew went up the stairs, not saying anything until he was gone, and then he turned back to Emmy. His smile waned, but didn’t disappear completely.

  “You’re a remarkable girl,” he said, his voice lowering. Emmy had a suspicion it was so Breckin couldn’t hear. “You were about to leave, but you stayed.”

  She was taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanour. She spluttered rather ineloquently. “Well, my mother, she’s in –”

  “Prison, yes. I know you didn’t stay for him, but it was still brave to stay. Has anything changed since you decided to stay? Between you and him?”

  Emmy swished her water around, lowering her eyes. “I ... I really want to stay in Methelwood. Even if my mother gets out of prison.”

  “Do you care about him?”

  Emmy felt her face redden. “Yes.”

  “How much?”

  Despite the color of her face, she raised it to look at Noah, whose one visible eye pierced into her. Breckin must have gotten that unnerving gaze from him, Emmy thought.

  “I’m asking because I want you to know what you’re getting into,” he said. He leaned closer to her from the opposite couch. He pointed to his eye patch. “This is what happens when you’re in his life. One of Thoreoux’s assassins did it, coming to kill him before they knew he couldn’t be killed. It was maybe a month after I adopted him.”

  She felt like a coward, but the fear came anyway. A fire danced in her stomach, ma
king her want to get up and run away, just like the day she found out she was his Keeper.

  “I’m not saying I don’t love him,” Noah went on. “My brother might be scum for leaving him, but I’m willing to risk my life for his wellbeing. I’m glad you’re getting to know him now instead of when I first took him in; he was so scared and so damaged it took all my patience to get him to where he is now. He needs a father. But you’re just a girl. As much as I care about him, I can’t not tell you what comes along with being in his life. People don’t want an Eldoir. There will always be someone trying to kill him – to kill you.”

  This was not what Emmy expected the conversation to be like when she came over. She had just wanted to meet Breckin’s guardian, and here he was, making her question her decision all over again. She thought again about running away and what would happen. She would have to leave the Woodworkers, Persephone, her new friends, Breckin and – she surprised herself for thinking of this – she would betray Cyrus. Her mother would be put on trial, and she would be vulnerable, always on the run.

  “It’s safer here,” she finally said. “I’m surrounded by the only people in the orbs that’ll protect me. Whether I like it or not, Breckin is my responsibility.” She paused. “But it’s not a burden, really. I’m not friends with him only out of obligation.”

  Noah examined her for a moment, took it in, and then sat back in his seat looking satisfied. “I had a feeling you’d be like that. He’s lucky you’re his girl.”

  Emmy couldn’t help herself beaming. His girl.

  They chatted a few more minutes before Breckin came downstairs, holding an old tattered photo album, looking petulant. They spent the next twenty minutes flipping through the photo album which Emmy got many laughs out of. Breckin was very recognizable, his child face not changing much, and he always seemed to be with a round-faced girl in brown pigtails which turned out to be his little sister, Becca. Breckin would say her name like his voice was embracing it the way one would embrace a baby, similarly to the way he said Emmy’s name.

  Unlike a traditional album where people got older, Noah seemed to order it in the reverse; the people in the photos seemed to get younger and younger, until they were not looking at pictures of Breckin and Becca anymore, but of his parents. His dark haired mother – Clara – was beautiful. Emmy could see Breckin got his fine bone structure and slenderness from her. His coloring he got from his father, with his red hair, green eyes and translucent skin. For everyone’s sake, Emmy only focused on the similarities to his mother.

  They kept going backwards, until Clara was a teenager. She was quite the athlete, with aspirations of being on a professional rugby team. She had loads of friends, faces Emmy didn’t recognize, when she suddenly saw a familiar pair of blue eyes staring back at her. Emmy sucked in a breath.

  “Who’s that?” Emmy asked, pointing to the girl with blue eyes Clara had an arm wrapped around.

  “That’s Evelyn Circlet, our governor,” Noah said. “Impressive that you recognized her.”

  “Huh,” Breckin said. “I didn’t know Mom was friends with Circlet.”

  “I thought my mom was the one who was friends with Circlet,” Emmy said.

  Noah nodded. “Annalise and she were on decent terms, but of course it faded when Annalise left. Clara and Evelyn on the other hand were best friends.”

  Breckin looked unconvinced. “Mom never mentioned her before.”

  “Why do you think Circlet’s always watching out for you?” Noah asked. “It’s her responsibility to some extent, but she does it for Clara. They were friends throughout high school and university, and only split ways when she married Rhoan.”

  Emmy felt her mind begin to race. “So they were close?”

  “Quite close, yes. Enough so that Ministrial had Circlet investigated quite thoroughly after she killed Rhoan to see if she knew Clara’s whereabouts. Why?”

  Breckin’s thoughts flooded into her head and they locked eyes.

  Do you think your mom might’ve given the Book to Circlet?

  She might’ve! She’s a governor; she could protect it better than anybody.

  “What is it?” Noah asked out loud.

  Breckin bounded to his feet, Emmy on his tail. “I’ll be back in time for supper, there’s something the two of us have to do.”

  Noah’s eye narrowed. “Nothing dangerous, I hope?”

  “’Course not,” Breckin said as if that were absurd.

  The two of them rushed out of the apartment in a few quick seconds, both of their hearts pounding.

  Chapter 20

  Mark of the Moon

  They were in Ministrial in no time. Breckin was too impatient to wait for a pod, so he picked Emmy up, threw her on his back, and ran to the Governor’s Living Complex. The doorman recognized Breckin instantly.

  “Please, is Circlet here?” Breckin asked, every plane of his body jittering with energy. “It’s urgent.”

  Breckin’s presence was always helpful, Emmy couldn’t help but notice. People were always polite to him, but more importantly, they seemed to fear him and tried to appease him as if he would have them killed when he became Eldoir if they didn’t do what he said. The habit was both ridiculous and hilarious at the same time.

  Still, it was useful. In a very short amount of time Circlet had let them in and just like last time, led them to her living room for tea. Breckin looked like he was about to explode having to go through the formalities.

  “Circlet, please, this is important –”

  “Crawford, if you’re going to bother me about the Crow boy again I’ll escort you out.” Her voice was steel. “Unless you’ve brought me proof.”

  “It’s not that, exactly – look, I’m about to ask you something you’ll want to lie to me about, but I promise I won’t get you in trouble if you tell me the truth. I have to know: did my mom give you the Book of Curses right before she went on the run?”

  Several expressions flitted through Circlet’s face in a matter of seconds – shock, fury, defensiveness, fear, and finally acceptance. In an exaggerated slow manner she put her fingers to her eyelids and sighed.

  “She gave it to me,” she said. “But I don’t have it anymore. Someone stole it a few years back.”

  The hope inside Emmy plummeted.

  “Do you know who took it?” Breckin asked.

  Circlet glared at him, insulted. “Yes Crawford, because if I had, I would have done nothing about it, and would’ve let him keep one of the powerful books in the world.”

  “You said ‘him’?”

  “He came in the middle of the night. I heard someone creeping downstairs and came to take a look and sure enough, there he was in the dark. It was the only thing he stole.”

  “What did the silhouette look like?”

  She shrugged. “Tall, young, medium build. He dropped a pin of some sort.”

  Before Breckin could even ask to see it, she headed over to a bureau in the corner of the room, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a round black object. She placed it in Breckin’s palm. It certainly looked like a pin, or possibly a badge, and it had an intricate swirl design that circled a depiction the moon in the middle.

  “It’s our official symbol of insanity,” Circlet said. “It’s what we use to mark mental patients in hospitals. Patients who are so far gone there is no cure for them. So, what, a mental patient stole the Book? It’s highly unlikely.”

  “You didn’t report this to the authorities, did you?” Breckin said, already knowing the answer.

  “Those books don’t belong to anyone,” Circlet hissed. I would’ve lost my position and imprisoned for keeping it for myself. Not that there’s any proof,” she added with a warning.

  “I’m not going to say anything,” Breckin assured her. “But whoever has it is still in Methelwood and we think we know what he’s doing with it.”

  Circlet paled to the color of her hair before burying her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Crawford. I took an oath to protect
this orb.”

  Breckin had that look boys always got when they grew terrified of a woman’s tears. “It’s not your fault. All we need to do is find the Book.”

  “It’s been lost for years.”

  “We’ll find it,” Breckin said fiercely. “First thing tomorrow I’m going to the hospital and looking around the mental ward.”

  She looked up, revealing her face to them, looking several years older. “You won’t do this alone. I’ll have investigators all over that place, and we will find the Book.”

  Breckin nodded, thanking her and telling her they needed to head back. They were half way out the door when Circlet decided to say one more thing.

  “Clara didn’t trust me completely, you know. I remember sifting through that book a thousand times trying to decipher it, and I couldn’t help but notice that there was a page torn out.” She chuckled. “I don’t need to be able to read the language to know it was the Keeper’s Curse. She’s either burned the page she or still has it with her, my bet on the former. She wouldn’t even risk me trying to reverse what she did to you two. You really are in this together.”

  They didn’t say anything more, leaving the room with her words ringing in Emmy’s brain.

  ***

  That night, while Emmy and Cyrus were hunting for the possessed crafters, Emmy became noticeably irritable. Noah’s and Circlet’s words floated back into her head and the urge to run away overwhelmed her. She took it out on the people trying to attack her rather violently, and Cyrus eventually caught on.

  “What’s got your knickers in a knot?” he said.

  Emmy sighed, lowering her knife. “I don’t want to die.”

  “Well, that’s a rather broad statement. Care to be more specific?”

  “What do you care?” she snapped, throwing her knife on the ground.

  “It’s affecting your performance. Don’t get tetchy with me.”

  She glowered at him. He wasn’t being fair – if she asked questions about him he would be rude to her, but he expected her to answer his questions. It made her very uncomfortable thinking about spilling her problems to Cyrus, but ...