Keeper vs. Reaper (Graveyard Guardians Book 1)

by Jennifer Malone Wright

  God, she missed him so much already.

  “It was a nice speech.” She heard the familiar voice behind her. “A bit generic, but still a nice one.”

  Lucy’s fingers loosened from their grasp on the coffee mug. It slipped from her hands and fell with tiny clink onto the gravel. She swung around quickly to prove to herself that she wasn’t just hearing things. “Dad?”

  There he was, the blue mist swirled intensely, trying to hold the form of her father’s human body. “It’s me, baby girl.”

  “Dad! What are you doing here? You were supposed to have crossed over.”

  His ghostly form reached up and adjusted the collar of his tacky vacation shirt. “I had business to take care of. Why else would I be here?”

  “But … but I thought that we took care of all that. Dammit Dad, you were supposed to have taken care of it so you didn’t have to be stuck here!”

  “Lucy Mae, don’t you dare raise your voice to me. We have some business to discuss and when it’s all over, then I can cross over.”

  Lucy began to pace back and forth in front of her father. “I can’t fucking believe this.” She shook her head. “Dad, why?” She hadn’t known that she was crying until she reached up in frustration and placed a hand on each side of her face and felt the tears that had escaped the corners of her eyes. “What could be so important that you couldn’t take care of it when you were alive? Holy shit. Fuck.”

  “Lucy Mae, watch your language.”

  “Dad! This makes it so much harder, you have no idea.”

  Greg grinned and shook his head slightly. She remembered him doing the same thing when she was a child and did something naughty but too cute to be punished for. “Honey, we have to talk.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “We should have talked about whatever it is before you died.”

  “I couldn’t tell you then, because then, I was in charge of the Graveyard. I was the Keeper.”

  “We are all Keepers.”

  He reached out to touch her and his transparent hand slid right through her solid one. Lucy turned away and wiped more tears from her cheeks.

  “But now you are in charge, honey. This is your graveyard. Your brothers and sisters will help you. Everyone takes shifts just like always, but this is your turf to protect from the Reapers.”

  She sniffed. “And that’s the information that you thought was so important you had to avoid crossing over to tell me?”

  He shook his head again. “No, it’s not.”

  “Well don’t be so cryptic Dad! Out with it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

  Her father gestured to the bench, “Sit down.”

  “No.”

  “Fine then.” He spread his arms out. “Honey, you are a legend. Up in the attic, in Grandma’s trunk, you will find the proof of what I am about to tell you.”

  Greg paused to let her react, but Lucy simply waited for him to continue his explanation.

  “The legend says that the seventh child, from one of the original seven lines of Keepers, born on the seventh day of the seventh month, is the chosen Keeper who will bring forth an end to the Reapers.”

  Lucy, arms still crossed at her chest, raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Her father said nothing as he allowed her to process the information.

  With a rather large sigh, Lucy bent over to retrieve her mug from the gravel and then sat down on the bench where she lapsed into silence. “So … I’m really not understanding why this was something that you kept from me while you were alive.”

  Greg moved to stand beside where she sat. “What kind of life would you have lived if you had known that you were the Chosen One, knowing your destiny would be something so vital to our world? I wanted you to live a normal life for as long as you could.”

  “We are Keepers for crying out loud!” Lucy blurted. “Our family has always been anything but normal. Unless you think going out to patrol a graveyard and kill Reapers since you were just a little kid is normal.”

  “It was my decision, right or wrong, it was mine to make.”

  Lucy pushed her hair out of her face and looked up at her dad. “You should have told me. You should have made sure this was taken care of and you wouldn’t be stuck here, now who knows how long it will be until you can cross over.”

  Her father’s voice was soft. “I was worried about you.”

  “Well I’m more worried about you now,” she countered.

  The blue mist around him began to shimmer and fade a little bit. “I think it’s time to go. I’m still new to being on this side of things.” Greg gestured to his body and the misty aura it was made up of. “I’m fading out.”

  Lucy stood and locked her eyes on her fathers. “I love you Daddy.”

  He reached out to touch her and once again his body slid through hers. “Promise me you will go find the trunk in the attic.”

  Lucy nodded and felt tears begin to well up in the corner of her eyes again. “I promise.”

  “I love you too, baby girl. I’ll be here when I figure out how to recharge my batteries.” He gave her one final smile and then she watched as her father’s body slowly dissolved and then disappeared.

  Once he was gone she lifted her head to the sky and breathed out some of her frustration. “Just fucking great. Way to go, Dad.”

  On her way back to the house, coffee mug in hand, she wondered how in the hell she was supposed to tell her brothers and sisters that their dad was out there. That their father, the Keeper, was now one of the souls they would have to protect from the Reapers. Furthermore, she had to go tell them all she was some kind of Chosen One from an ancient legend. Wonderful.

  Back at the farmhouse the wake was still in full swing. The mourners stuck around for hours. It simply amazed her how much people could talk and eat and visit at a wake. Didn’t they understand that she just wanted them to go home so she could take the torture devices off of her feet and head up to the attic to look through antique trunks for some info on the legend?

  With a sigh, Lucy mentally kicked herself. These people were here because they loved and missed her father, she should stop being so selfish and have some respect for other people. Although, with the towns people of Summer Hollow, this was more easily said than done.

  Greg Jr. and Ethan saw her enter the house and hurried over. “Where were you?” her brother asked at the same time as Ethan asked her if she was all right.

  She waved them off, trying to get them out of her personal space. “I’m fine, I’m fine … really. I just needed some air and went out to the graveyard for a while.”

  She must have really looked messed up because both Greg and Ethan eyeballed her as if they didn’t believe one word that came out of her mouth.

  “Seriously you guys. I’m fine and I’ll explain later. I just needed some space. Now go away.”

  It was seven p.m. before the house was clear of anyone but the Estmond clan and Ethan. Lucy shut the door softly behind the last mourner to leave and then let out a long, tired sigh of relief. Finally, it was over.

  Ethan swung the kitchen door open and strode across the family room. “Well, it’s over now.”

  Lucy looked up into his piercing blue eyes. “Finally, now I just need to get these shoes off and I’ll be even better.” She bent down and slid the sling back pumps off of her aching feet one at a time and chucked them across the family room. Running shoes or flat soled boots were more her style. Pretty much anything was more comfortable than those freaking alien shoes. God only knew how women wore those things all the time when she could barely get through one day in them.

  Ethan reached for her hand, pulling her away from the door and leading her toward the couch. “You want me to stay with you for patrol tonight?”

  Lucy shook her head. “Nah, I’m pretty sure Greg is staying over. He can help out.” She plopped down onto the couch.

  “Is anyone else staying with you?”

  “Damn, Ethan. I’m not that fragile. I’
m totally fine so stop worrying. And no, everyone else is going back to their houses.”

  The rest of the clan, with the exception of Greg, lived in their own homes in town. Lucy was the one at home, so Lucy inherited the business. That was how it worked, unless you got assigned elsewhere.

  “Lucy!” Olivia called from the Kitchen, “Get in here and help us or we are going home and leaving the mess for you!”

  “Screw off!” Lucy screamed back at her.

  “Get in here!”

  “No. Just leave it and I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

  Ethan shook his head and pulled Lucy of the couch. “We’re coming, Liv.”

  “I hate you so much,” Lucy moaned as Ethan dragged her into the kitchen to help clean up. Once they were in the kitchen, Lucy decided that it was probably the best time to tell them about their father and the legend since they were all together in one place. It was better than having to repeat it over and over again.

  Letting go of Ethan, she wandered to the counter and picked up some paper plates to put in the trash. “So, I saw Dad in the graveyard today.”

  The chatter stopped, the air went static and she felt every head in the room turn her way. For a full minute the silence enveloped the room. Then, abruptly, it started again. Everyone asking the same questions that she had asked her father and Lucy doing her best to answer them.

  “It gets even better you guys.”

  Greg raised an eyebrow. “I’m dying to hear this.”

  Lucy leaned on the counter, facing her family. “So, apparently Dad couldn’t cross over because he had to tell me that I’m the Chosen One to bring an end to the Reapers. It’s some kind of legend.”

  James snorted. “What! Of all the awesomeness in this family you are the one who got chosen. Seriously?”

  Olivia glared at James and responded. “That’s all you got from what she just told us?”

  “Well, it’s true,” he mumbled.

  Lucy shook her head and looked to her siblings who appeared skeptical. “Dad says there is proof in the attic in Grandma’s trunk.”

  Ethan sat down in a kitchen chair. “Well isn’t that original, the old family legend is hidden in the trunk of an ancestor in the attic of the really old house.”

  Steph laughed. “My God, that’s so true!”

  Greg caught Lucy’s eye. “Well, let’s go up to the attic then.”

  “You guys go on,” Olivia waved them on, “we are going to stay down here and clean up. You can bring it all down when you find it since we won’t all fit up there anyway. The ceiling would probably cave in with all the weight.”

  Daniel, who was lounging against the counter, drained his flask and stuck it back inside his trench coat. “Well, I’m not hanging around to find out how special any of you are. Catch y’all later.”

  “Dan,” Lucy reached out and grasped the sleeve of his coat, “don’t go. You can’t drive like this.”

  He yanked his arm from her grip. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.” Dan reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys and tossed them on the table. “It’s not worth fighting with you guys,” he sneered. “I’ll fucking walk.” With that, Lucy and the rest of her family watched him stagger out the back door and into the darkness.

  Lucy shook her head in frustration and worry. Dan was becoming progressively worse since their dad died. “I can’t go up there right now. I have to go patrol in a little while.”

  James waved at her. “Steph and I can go patrol while you’re up there. You can take over whenever you’re done.”

  Lucy looked to Greg and he shrugged. “We should probably go now, while we’re all here.”

  “Yeah, that seems most logical.”

  Ethan stood up and moved to her side. “I’m coming up with you.”

  Looking from her brother to Ethan, Lucy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right then, let’s go see what kind of legend I am supposed to be.”

  Jack sat on the mountain until nightfall. He had lounged on the hood of his truck and watched the sun go down in a glorious picture of orange, red and pink. It was perfect, but was all too soon replaced with darkness as the curtain of night drew itself over the earth.

  It was lonely as fuck.

  Reluctantly he began his trip back over the mountain. After about ten minutes, he figured he should probably get the call to his mother over with before she started with the harassing phone calls.

  He plugged his Bluetooth into his ear and poked at the image of his mother on the front of his phone. The phone rang so long he thought for a moment that it would dump into voice mail and he would have to leave her a message about the Keepers.

  Eventually she answered. “Jackson.”

  “Hey Mom.”

  “Is it done?”

  “That’s actually why I called. I can’t take care of it tonight.”

  A long sigh from his mother and he could just see her sitting in her uncomfortable fucking straight back chair she loved so much, shaking her head in disgust at her incompetent son. Surrounded by all the delicate perfection that their home was made of, he knew she was wondering how in the hell their son turned out so imperfect.

  “And why exactly would that be?” she questioned.

  “The old man Keeper, his funeral was today. The whole town is crawling with Keepers.” He paused, waiting for a response from her. When she said nothing, he continued. “It would be a suicide mission to attempt it tonight.”

  Finally she answered him, her voice cold and unfeeling. “Very well, tomorrow then.”

  God, this woman was exasperating. “Mom, trust me. I’ll get the job done, but I will take care of it when I feel the time is right to do it.”

  “I said very well, do not disappoint me, Jackson.”

  For fucks sake.

  “Love you too mom. I’ll talk to you later.” He punched the end call button and ripped the Blue-tooth out of his ear. His mom was a bitch. His dad was a dick. And they wondered why he was such a fuck up … um, kettle...black. Yeah.

  The rest of the drive was spent speeding over the mountain, taking the corners way too fast and not giving a shit if he flipped his truck and died a horrendous, bloody death.

  Later, the truck tires crunched over the loose gravel driveway leading to his little house and he wished that there were some kind of light illuminating it. He had also left all the house and porch lights off, so the whole place was completely enveloped in darkness. He set the truck into park and sat there for a few minutes staring at the dark shadow of a house and then, in a spur of the moment decision, he shifted to reverse. “Fuck this,” he muttered and carefully backed out of the driveway.

  The streets of town were pretty crowded because it was a Saturday night and everyone except the church goers could sleep in the next day. There were no spaces at the curb in front of the bar, so he drove around back and found a spot in the dirt lot that was located on the backside of Knight’s Bar.

  He parked, locked the truck with the little button on his key chain and headed inside. He chose to walk around to the front even though he could have gone in the back door. Before he even reached the door he could hear AC/DC hollering about dirty deeds done dirt cheap and people yelling to be heard over the music. He pushed open the swinging metal door and found that the bar was packed pretty close to what he imagined legal capacity was for the little hole in the wall.

  The bar was your typical hick town bar. Nothing fancy. The bar itself was scratched and dull. There were only about six tables in the whole joint, and the walls were covered in historical pictures of the town.

  He maneuvered through the initial crowd by the door and then squeezed into a place at the bar between a large man and a skinny guy who looked like a junkie. Looking behind the bar he finally spotted the bartender and signaled to her.

  The curvy brunette caught his gaze and nodded to him. She finished pouring some shots of tequila for a group of giggling housewives at the end of the bar and then hurried over to
him. “You again? You want to stick with MGD?”

  Jack propped his elbows against the bar and leaned forward so he could hear her better. “Like I have any other choice,” he responded.

  Reese, the bartender, straightened her shoulders and took a pint beer glass out from beneath the bar. “Well, you know what we have so suck it up, buttercup.” She held the glass under the tap, filled it up and then handed it to him.

  “Yeah, I’ll live, but drinking this shit is just asking for a hangover.”

  “What kind of beer do you prefer, Mr. Fancy Pants?”

  Jack examined the light golden liquid underneath the thin layer of foam and then looked back up at Reese. “Dark, very dark. I’m more of a Guinness man.”

  She shrugged. “Why don’t you have whiskey instead, the good stuff is better than cheap beer.”

  Jack shook his head. “I’m trying to stay away from hard alcohol.” Truth of the matter was that he had to stay away from the hard stuff or lose what little control he actually had over himself. The last time he’d gone on a bender he almost killed some chick after fucking her in the back seat of his truck. Soul reaping from the living was a very delicate matter and that situation was one that he did not want to re-live anytime soon.

  “Suit yourself.” Reese threw her dark curls over her shoulder. “You know you could get your own beer at the grocery store, right?”

  Jack took a long pull from his glass. “But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your company, now would I?”

  His wit was rewarded with an eye roll that clearly said, “Not a chance, asshole.”

  “What’s it take to get a fucking beer over here?” some jerk shouted from the end of the bar opposite of the gaggle of housewives.

  “Shut your trap, Larry! I’m coming!” She sighed with exasperation, then turned and yanked open the large fridge behind her. Without even really looking, she reached in and extracted a bottle of Bud Light. After popping off the cap, she headed over to give Larry the loudmouth his beer.

  Jack smiled. He liked Reese. He had met her the night before when he had picked up Janet, or Janice, whatever her name was. Reese owned the bar. She was pretty cool and probably awesome in the sack, but something inside him told him not to go there.