The Keeper's Curse

by Diana Harrison

  “I just feel trapped. Like I have to stay here for Mom and for Breckin” – and you, she thought – “and it’s just not fair ... I didn’t do anything wrong.” A second later she realized how insensitive she sounded, remembering he was just as trapped, if not more so, than she was. “And of course I can’t tell Jade about this, and Persephone won’t talk to me.”

  At the mention of Persephone’s name, Cyrus’s eyes came into focus. “Why?”

  Needing to vent, she told him about the guard Breckin had put on her, and why he did it. “I know Breckin’s being ridiculous, but what am I supposed to do? I need him to trust me. It’s the only way I can get him to change his mind. I’m doing it for her.”

  “She’s innocent,” he said emphatically. “You have to know that.”

  “Of course I do! But she won’t let me explain. I wait outside the school every day after classes for her, and when she sees me she goes back inside until I leave.”

  Like she caught him doing so often, he stared at her for a moment, but instead of saying something sarcastic this time, he turned to the crafter she had been fighting.

  “You,” he said to it. “Stand still.” Its body straightened like a toothpick. “Go ahead – hit him. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Her mouth ached trying to suppress a smile. “I can’t hit him. He’s possessed. It would be wrong.”

  “Come on, Rathers, he looks like he’s been put through a shredder anyway. I doubt a punch from you will make him much worse.”

  Emmy eyed him mischievously. “Can I hit you? That’ll make me feel better.”

  “You most certainly cannot! I’m not letting you anywhere near my face.”

  “You’re so vain. I mean, okay, you’re sort of pretty, but –”

  He began choking like an invisible bone was caught in his throat. “Pretty? Did you just call me pretty? Woman, I have had it up to here with you and your –”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry: you’re distinguished. You’re beautiful. Your body resembles that of a Greek god, carved by the great sculptors of our time.” She was laughing now. “And your face is so bright any human being would melt if they looked at it too long.”

  For once his face flashed something other than annoyance. He was pleased with this answer and for some reason, Emmy was proud of that. She felt better.

  They continued on for another hour or so, not running into any more possession victims. With their very short line of five they made their usual trek back to the mansion to lock them up. Emmy noticed Cyrus staring at her again, but she didn’t comment. It seemed to suit him better when she waited for him to talk first, which eventually he did.

  “May I ask you something?”

  “You may.”

  “Are you ever going to tell Crawford how you feel about him?”

  She nearly tripped over a tree root.

  “What?”

  “Since I’ve had to spy on you for so long I’ve seen you two together enough times to know the dynamic. I’m just saying, if you don’t tell him soon your opportunity will pass and he’ll never be able to think about you any other way than his friend.”

  She didn’t know why this upset her so much. Partly because nobody had ever brought up the fact she actually did have feelings for Breckin, but it was something else as well. It seemed wrong to bring up Breckin now. This was her time with Cyrus.

  “He doesn’t think of me that way.” Saying it made her skin prickle, like miniature razor disks digging into her.

  “He’s very fond of you.”

  She found herself squirming in discomfort. Of all the people on earth, he was the last person she wanted to talk to about this, besides Breckin himself. “It’s not like that for him. I remember seeing his little sister in his memories, and how he thinks of her is how he thinks of me.”

  “So you’re saying you’re like a sister to him?”

  Her good humour just a few minutes earlier had been swallowed up completely. “Pretty much, yes. If I said something now, he’d get weird around me.”

  “But ... he’s in your head all the time. It’s so obvious on your face I can’t really grasp the idea of him never noticing, or at least feeling it in your head.”

  “I have more control over the connection than he does. I sort of ... put up a wall, I guess. It’s hard, because I have to block that part of me so subtly he can’t even know I’m doing it.”

  She had hoped, in vain, for some sort of comforting words from Cyrus, but none came. If anything, there was satisfaction in his eyes. This hurt her even more.

  “Why are you such a fils de pute?”

  He grimaced at her harsh tone. “It’s not that. I just think you’re too good for him.”

  She had to laugh, and the sound came out rather cruelly. “Oh, please.”

  “Is that so hard to believe? I know you practically lick the ground he walks on –”

  “Hey!”

  “ – But honestly, why? Because you’re supposed to? Because everyone else does?”

  “He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

  “He’s an idiot. He doesn’t have one original idea in his head, he does everything he’s told by Circlet and the Caelum Union without question, and in case you haven’t noticed: he doesn’t even know your bloody name.”

  “What difference does it make to you?”

  He threw up his arms in defeat. “Unbelievable, you’re as dense as he is.”

  “He isn’t dense and neither am I,” she said with finality, and the two of them didn’t speak another word all the way back to the mansion.

  She was nothing short of furious. They had almost been getting along, and then he had to go and touch her most sensitive nerve for seemingly no reason at all.

  When they were finished putting the victims away, Emmy slammed the door shut as loud as she could then stomped towards the exit.

  “You’re going to meet me tomorrow night, right?” Cyrus asked without shame.

  “Why would I? We have them all now. It’s not like there’ll be another batch, or at least not for a while.”

  “Yes, but there are probably still a few animals left. Those will be harder to catch, so bring a crossbow with you.”

  Her face tightened, “I don’t –”

  “Just one more time. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  “Fine.” She continued down the aisle toward the staircase when one of the victims reached out between the bars and grabbed hold of her hair. She screamed as he pulled her in towards him, ramming her head against the iron bars. She saw its gnarled hand, knuckles bared, and then she noticed something else. There was a mark on its arm, very neat unlike the rest of his cracked and peeled skin.

  Within seconds Cyrus had ordered him off her and she fell to the ground.

  “Are you alright?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she whirled around and pressed herself up against the cage, examining his hand; the mark was still there. She clapped a hand over her mouth; it was the insanity mark Circlet had just shown her that afternoon.

  “Emmy? Are you hurt?”

  Her eyes scoured the whole cell now, seeing the identical mark on every one of the victims’ hand. How could she not have noticed it before?

  “Hey? Keeper, can you hear me?”

  She pulled him over. “Look – do you see them? Those marks on their left arms? Right there, on the skin between the thumb and index finger.”

  Cyrus narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I do. What is it?”

  “It’s the mark of insanity. Mental patients have them. I didn’t know they had them tattooed.”

  “They’re not tattoos,” Cyrus said. “They’re branded. They have that mark for life.”

  Emmy felt sick to her stomach, not only by the barbarity of such a thing, but the pieces falling into place in her head. “Thoreoux was using mental patients.”

  “Extra bodies he could use,” Cyrus said. “People he thought nobody would miss, people he thought were broken.”

  Hi
s voice was grim, and she knew he was as just as disgusted as she was.

  “I hate Thoreoux,” she said, really meaning it for the first time.

  “Come on, I’ll let you out,” Cyrus said, pushing her towards the exit. She didn’t fight him, not wanting to see the bodies anymore.

  Her mind wandered as he let her out, exchanging a goodbye and promising to meet up again tomorrow.

  So whoever did this was someone who had access to the hospital and to the patients, she thought. Someone with authority. Emmy remembered walking through the empty corridor in the mental ward, and now she knew why it was empty.

  She obsessed about it all the way home, as she put on her nightgown, and crawled into bed. Someone who had access to the patients. Circlet had described the intruder who stole the Book as young and tall. Emmy’s mind wandered back to when she herself had been in the hospital, remembering the hospital staff, the majority of who were women, most of them old.

  And then she remembered one doctor who was, in fact, young and tall, and would indeed have had access to the mental patients because – as he had told her – he was not only a doctor, but a mentalist as well.

  She sat up in her bed.

  Milo.

  Chapter 21

  Confessions

  By eight o’ clock the next morning, Emmy found herself once again in Circlet’s apartment. She was not in the least bit pleased to see her. Circlet had clearly just woken up, wearing a silk nightgown with purple half moons under her eyes, uncovered by makeup.

  “I usually don’t let people up in my suite at this hour, so you better have a damn good reason for bothering me. The doorman said you were half-hysterical.”

  Emmy had spent the last several hours attempting to get into see Circlet and she was now an emotional wreck.

  “I know who has the Book. At least, I’m fairly sure. From your description it sounds like it was my doctor, Milo Stockwell.”

  Circlet bit down on her lip, not saying anything for several moments. Her governor face was on – unreadable, impartial, calculating. “That is a very serious accusation.”

  “I’ve been attacked several times now by these people who I’m pretty sure are possessed,” she went on to leave nothing out now. “I saw them up close and they were all branded with that symbol – the one you showed me yesterday. The person with the Book had access to the patients at Mercy Hospital, and also someone with medical equipment – Milo is both a mentalist and doctor. And the person you said who robbed you fits the description.”

  The skin around her eyes tightened. “I’ve met Milo. He came to my apartment when I initially interviewed him for his credentials. He seemed normal enough; he’s worked at the hospital for years.”

  “He came here, to your apartment? That just makes it more possible that he saw the Book here. How many years ago did he come to Methelwood? Was it four?”

  Breckin arrived in Methelwood when he had been twelve, and he was sixteen now. Circlet did the simple math in her head and closed her eyes.

  “I’ll look into it.”

  “Ms. Circlet, please. If it is him, he’s hurting his patients every single day. If we can get the Book away from him and be able to reverse the spell, the patients won’t have to die. The spell is killing them, and the palewraiths doing it. And they’ve been ordered to kill me.”

  Another silence followed. Emmy’s heartbeat was three times as quick as the clock ticking on the wall.

  “I can’t believe this has all gone on under my nose,” she said. Her eyes brimmed over with tears. Emmy waited awkwardly while she pulled herself together and wiped her eyes. “I’ll go get dressed and we’ll head over to the hospital immediately. Wait here.”

  She dashed out of the room, leaving Emmy in the parlour. There was a chaise lounge next to the door Emmy plopped into, feeling she had done her part. She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep all night and it was starting to affect her head. She leaned back against the wall, wondering if Breckin had woken up yet.

  She closed her eyes and immersed herself inside her head, searching for the part of her that was Breckin for any sign of consciousness. He was getting dressed for school.

  Breckin?

  Hi. You sound worried, are you alright?

  While Circlet changed her clothes and made some calls for enforcement, Emmy summarized the update to Breckin. She flashed him an image of Milo.

  He was my doctor. I let him touch me.

  We don’t know that it’s him yet. But I’ll go to the hospital right now in case he tries anything.

  Don’t, Breckin, it’ll give him a chance to get away. Circlet and I are heading over there right now with enforcements.

  Then at least let me go with you. Hang on, I’ll be there in a minute.

  Circlet came out of her bedroom just then, dressed in black with her hair tied back, which amplified the lines on her face. She gestured Emmy to follow her and the two girls made their way through Ministrial to the House of Law, meeting up with seven large men in black.

  “Blast Methelwood for not having the pod system,” Circlet muttered when they arrived in the living complex. Breckin was already there in the orb room. “Oh, you. Ah yes, of course, I suppose Rathers told you.”

  They continued down the way to the front of the complex, signed out the horses, and galloped the rest of the way. Emmy’s hands were clammy on the reigns, slipping on the leather. This could be it, the end of all this. She would be safe, Breckin would be safe, and Cyrus wouldn’t have to worry about Brynn anymore. They would be free.

  They received a slew of furtive glances from people on the side of the road, heading to work or school. Methelwood’s militant atmosphere made it certain that the people were hardly ever in trouble with the law. Seeing Circlet with such a menacing party clearly interested the civilians.

  Circlet dismounted her horse first when they reached the grounds of the hospital. The grand white building shone like rose quartz in the early morning light, looming shadows falling against all their faces. The ten of them continued on into the lobby. Circlet asked where Milo’s office was when she saw him standing there, a quizzical look on his face and a clipboard clasped limply in his hands.

  “May I help you?” he asked, noticing the sound of his name.

  “Yes, Mr Stockwell, I need to take you into questioning.”

  The lines in his face deepened. “May I ask what this is about?”

  “It’s about the recent disappearance of mental patients. We need to ask you a few questions.”

  He stood there without moving, laughing nervously at the group of Ministrialians behind Circlet. When Circlet didn’t smile back, the blood seeped out of his handsome face, he dropped the clipboard, and broke into a run. The guards were on him so quickly they were a blur.

  “You can’t arrest me without some proof!” he shouted at Circlet, suddenly looking very small between the two Ministrialians.

  “I didn’t say I was arresting you, but it’s funny you came to that conclusion,” Circlet said, cool as ice. “Take him outside, I want to talk to him. He’s making a scene and I don’t want him upsetting the patients.”

  Emmy looked around and saw it to be true; the majority of the people gathered in the lobby were either glancing nervously at them or full-on staring.

  The guards did as Circlet said, Emmy and Breckin trailing behind. Once they were outside again on the front grounds he turned around to face Circlet.

  “I demand a lawyer now!” he nearly shrieked at her, wriggling in the guards’ grasp.

  “Once again, Mr Stockwell, you seem to be under the delusion I’m arresting you. What we’re simply asking for are some answers to some questions, and we are requesting to search your house.”

  “Oh please,” he spat. “If you wanted to ask me questions you would have come along without your entourage and him.” He glared daggers at Breckin.

  Breckin did not react to this well; he sped to Milo’s side, glaring into his face. “You are going to answer everything I ask,” Bre
ckin said in the weirdly flat driver voice.

  “Crawford don’t,” Circlet said. “It’d be better to wait until we get him to Ministrial and have written documentation –”

  “Who do you work for?” Breckin interjected.

  “James Edward Thoreoux,” Milo said without hesitation, his face burning bright red trying to stop himself.

  “How did you get into Methelwood?”

  “Thoreoux had a portal that led directly here, the one you confiscated. He recruited me when I had already finished medical school, so all I did was request a job in Methelwood.”

  “I don’t understand ... if you didn’t grow up with him, why do you work for him?”

  “I was brought up to respect the Eldoir. The true Eldoir, mind you, which is Thoreoux, and if he gives me a job to do, I will do it. He needed someone like me – someone with a respectable background, someone with a keen interest in politics, and someone loyal.”

  “Do you have the Book of Curses, stolen from Evelyn Circlet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you trying to murder Evangeline Rathers for being my Keeper?”

  “No, that was Cyrus Crow’s job.”

  Breckin jerked his head and glowered at Circlet. “I told you.” His focus went back to Milo. “So if your job wasn’t to kill Lana, what was it?”

  “Thoreoux wanted to have eyes in Methelwood, so I stole the Book of Curses from Circlet and used high security mental patients to perform the Possession Curse on them. I replaced myself, the spell caster, as the eyes of the curse for Thoreoux. He told me to watch the Keeper,” he turned to Emmy with a look of such blinding hatred Emmy shrank away, “to make absolutely sure who she was before Cyrus did the job.”

  Circlet shifted, knowing that nobody was supposed to know about Emmy’s identity, the one now being exposed to all of these people. Breckin was too concentrated on Milo to notice.

  “Did you hurt her when you treated her?”

  “Not really. I was her doctor – if I poisoned her or injured her I would be the first one in questioning. I did, however, give her drugs to try and suppress her bond with you. Whatever she was feeling should have been twice as powerful.”