Labyrinth: The Keeper Chronicles, a prequel (2 page)

His lips crashed against hers, small waves of heat that built in intensity with each touch as his hands pulled her toward him. She moaned in pleasure as he released her lips and traced a line of kisses down her jaw. “Anything she wants,” he answered, nipping her ear with his teeth as he attacked the gentle slope of her neck.

The spice of vodka and something sweet lingered on his tongue, and she pulled his lips back up to hers for another taste. The gentle but insistent tug of his fingers on her back and inner thigh pulled her near, so she straddled him around the hips, her knees digging into the soft sand as the space between them continued to shrink.

Head swirling with drink and emotions, she closed her eyes in ecstasy as his hands explored down the length of her back and over her hips, pulling her even closer.

If he wants me to, I might have sex with him right here. In front of everyone.

Oh, but I shouldn't. That would be a bad decision.

God but I want to.

Jason's tongue licked around the edge of her lips before trailing down her throat. He paused at the tops of her breasts, kissing the crescent moon of visible flesh. He gasped and pulled back just a little, his breath coming in short, quick pants. “Maybe I should get us something to drink?”

Rebekah nodded, trying to catch her breath. “Yeah, that's a good idea.” She licked her lips.

“You're so beautiful,” he exhaled and kissed her again like she was the last drop of water on the planet and he was dying of thirst.

She sat up, startled, as someone applauded.

Rebekah's cheeks lit on fire at the reminder of the audience, and she buried her face against Jason's chest and laughed. Someone started up another song so she stood, the breeze reminding her that she'd been cold only a few moments ago.

“I know a nice little place we can go,” Jason whispered, his voice husky as he took her hand and led her away from the fire. “You'll like it.”

They walked hand in hand down the beach, and he stopped at a few fires to pilfer some more drinks. Her body sung with energy from his kiss, and every so often he'd look over at her like he was surprised to see her there. She finished another beer as they walked, her feet getting soaked by the incoming tide, and they left the rings of light and laughter of the many parties.

Twice in the darkness they passed couples in the throes of passion, faces and forms hidden by the night, but even the waves couldn't hide the sounds they made. Was that what he was bringing her out so far for? Was that why he knew a
special place
because he'd taken so many other girls out here for sex? Did she want to sleep with him?

The beach ended in a pile of boulders, and he led her up, helping her on the longer reaches and steading her with his hand to her back. She was too tipsy to be out on the rocks where one misstep could break her leg or neck. She almost turned around. She almost stopped and turned around.

Then she looked up and saw it.

Golden light beckoned in the distance, reminding her of home. It spun eight times, flashing green on the ninth. She counted it out twice, remembering how her mother had taught her to look for that tell-tale green flash. She said that meant it could be trusted. The lighthouse stood on the bluff above, tall and proud, the soft moonlight glowing against the white paint. Two bold horizontal black stripes broke the tower.

“It's beautiful.” Rebekah leaned back into Jason as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “How did you know I'd like it?”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “I remembered you mentioning that you grew up by a lighthouse. I've wanted to bring you up here ever since. Thought you might enjoy it.”

“Mmm. You're right.” She turned in his arms and stood on her tiptoes, kissing the end of his downward turned nose. “And I've wanted to do that ever since I saw you.”

Thunder growled a distant warning, and she looked over her shoulder to see lightning flash out over the ocean, forking down with white light and stabbing the water. Her parents had always made her stay in the basement during storms—in case the wind blew out one of the windows—and she'd never really been out in one even in college. “It's so beautiful.”

“And deadly.” Jason's arms tightened around her waist. “We should be getting back to the cars. It's a long walk, and you don't want to be caught in the rain.”

“Why not? I'm dressed for it.”

His eyes traced the outline of her bikini in appreciation, but worry still knit his brows down. “What about the lightning? Most strikes happen close to shore.”

She signed and dropped down flat on her feet. “Now you sound like my mother.”

“She must be smart lady.” He kissed her as more thunder rolled to shore. “I'd love to meet her someday.”

No,
Rebekah thought,
you wouldn't. She'd eat you for dinner.
“That'd be nice.”
Like getting run over by a bus.

Jason jumped down to the next rock and held out his hand. “We should get back to your friend. She's probably worried about you.”

Taking his hand, she followed him back down the damp rocks and across the beach. From a distance, the fires looked a little sad, their attempt to hold back the encroaching darkness feeble. Even the stars overhead—those that hadn't disappeared behind the storm front—seemed depressed. Her father was like those fires. A lighthouse keeper for the Parks Service, he'd manned their light at Willamook for as long as she could remember, braving the darkness and storms to make sure a light which no one needed anymore was shining bright. He was so proud of his work, too. So confident that his efforts for the Parks Service really made a difference in the world.

Another bolt of lightning struck, this time closer to shore, and Jason rubbed her arms. “It's okay,” he said, kissing the top of her head as they neared the first fire. “I'll make sure you get back safely.”

What an odd thing to say.

Okay, not so odd. Guys always think they need to protect me from something, but most worry about me passing out somewhere or getting attacked or walking into traffic. Jason wants to save me from the terrible lightning.

He draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, and she wrapped her right arm around his waist as they walked.

It does feel kinda nice though.

Rebekah knew something was wrong when they reached the first fire. Instead of dancing or drinking, people huddled around the dying coals and each other, sitting in clusters like kittens piling up for warmth. A soft purr of indistinct voices hung around the group like a cloud.

“Look for your friend,” Jason said, squeezing her hand. “I'm gonna see what happened.”

“Don't go far.”

He turned back around and kissed her softly. “Never. I'll just be a second.”

As a kid, she'd always had a strange feeling whenever something bad was about to happen. Every time some hiker got killed by an animal or sent to the hospital, she'd spent the night before with a sick feeling in her stomach. When she told her mom about the feeling, she had laughed and claimed it was just indigestion and dismissed the sensation.

Rebekah had that feeling now.

Sarah wasn't at the first fire, so Rebekah wandered over to the next but it was abandoned. So was the third. The fourth bonfire was nearly banked it'd fallen so low, and when she peered at the faces huddled around it, she didn't recognize anyone.

“Sarah!” The crash of the incoming tide took her voice and threw it to the ocean. The red and blue swirl of police lights shone from the bluff to her right, enough for two or three cop cars. The sinking feeling in her gut worsened.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Sarah! Where are you?!”

A mob of people surrounded the next bonfire, their presence nearly blocking the light. Rebekah pushed her way through, examining each face.

“Did you see it?” One girl whispered to another. “I've never seen anything like that.”

“...ripped them both to pieces.”

“There wasn't much left.”

“...thought I heard someone mention a bear...”

“They don't come this close to the city.”

Please don't be Sarah. Please don't be Sarah.
Rebekah pushed through the last group of people, one hand holding her stomach. The buzz she'd built up over the course of the night fled in an instant. Police officers stood in groups taking statements. Behind them, something or someone lay in the sand. At least, their foot was. So was a hand.

Dazed, Rebekah walked toward the pieces, unable to stop herself.

One of the feet had bright orange toenails, the same color Sarah had used earlier.
I'm sure lots of girls wear that color. She couldn't have been the only one.

“Sarah...” The word dropped out of her mouth as she saw the edge of a yellow striped sundress. She collapsed to her knees not more than a few feet from the blood-stained sand and hugged herself as she rocked back and forth. “It can't be.”

“Do you know her?” One of the officers turned toward her. “Miss? Do you know this girl?”

Rebekah nodded, unable to speak.

Hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back. Rebekah fought. “Let me go! I have to help her!”

“Shhh,” Jason whispered in her ear. “Shhh, it's going to be all right. Look at me. Can you do that? Can you look at me?”

Trembling, she turned toward the sound of his voice and buried her face in his shirt.

“It's her, isn't it?” Jason held her tighter and she nodded. “Let me get you out of here. You can come back to my apartment.”

She pulled back. “There has to be something I can do. I need to see her.”

His voice said everything. “No, Beks, you don't.”

“Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh God, oh God, oh god!” She ran away from the fire, shoving through whoever was in her way, then fell to her knees. She closed her eyes and held her stomach, breath coming in short, wheezing gasps, then fell forward and emptied her stomach in the sand.

He pulled her hair back out of her face as she heaved. The liquid burned her throat, and several spasms shook through her before it stopped.  Someone handed her a bottle and she took a sip of water, then spat it out to clear the taste from her mouth before taking a second swallow.

“Miss?”

Rebekah turned to see a police officer twist the cap back on his water. She rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand and sand stuck to the side of her face.

“We need to talk to you about what happened tonight. Are you up for talking?”

She shook her head no.

“She's still in shock,” Jason stepped in, putting himself between her and the officer. “Do you have to do this tonight? That was her best friend.”

“No. But we'll need to do it tomorrow. You both are from the university?”

Jason nodded.

“Does she have someone who can stay with her tonight? A friend or relative.”

“I can.”

“And you are?”

“Jason Riggs. Her...boyfriend. I hope.”

The officer chuckled. “Isn't that always the case?”

“You think this is funny?” Rebekah shouted, stepping past Jason and shoving the officer. “That's my
friend
over there!”

“Beks, calm down, okay?” Jason pulled her away from the cop, restraining her as she tried to break his grip.

She kicked his legs, but he didn't let up as he pulled her away from the crowd of students and the greedy eyes of the bonfire.

“I know you're hurting right now,” he said when he finally let her go, “and you're angry, but getting yourself arrested won't help your friend.”

But she couldn't stop herself and she couldn't calm down. “It's my fault. My fault she died,” Rebekah said between sobs as she paced in the sand. “I shouldn't have let her go off by herself or…”

“Or what?” Jason grabbed her arm and stopped her. With both hands, he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You could have saved her? No. That's not how it works, Beks. You might be dead, too.”

She turned away from him, then looked back toward the fire, then looked back toward him. “Maybe that'd be better?” She hugged herself, voice falling to a murmur. “Then I wouldn't feel like this.”

Something changed in his voice. “That's it. Time to sleep.”

Rebekah flinched as he blew sand in her face. “What was…” She rubbed her eyes, but her eyelids were too heavy to keep up. He caught her as she collapsed.

“…have a choice, Keeper Lorek. She talked about wanting to die. I had to get her out of there.”

“And you thought she'd be safest here. In your apartment?”

“Where else…?”

Rebekah pulled the blanket over her head and rolled over. Sleep. She just needed to sleep. Everything would be better if she slept.

“…don't like this and I plan to take it up to your Elder. You were asked to watch out for her, not sleep with her.”

“I didn't…”

“Don't bother. I can smell her all over you.”

“Have you had any luck finding the demon responsible?”

“Not yet. Likely it's water-based. Maybe a second-order. The police have the beach shut down for now, but they can only keep people away for so long.”

“What do you want me to do?”

A pause. “Join the hunt. Portland is in charge, so I'm not here officially. I do, however, expect to be kept up to date. It's what we pay you for.”

“Of course. Keeper. By your leave.”

Rebekah rubbed her eyes and sat up, pushing a blanket down to her waist. For a moment she stared at her hands, a memory trying to push its way to the surface. Something about hands had been important. Something from last night.

“Hey, you're awake,” a voice said from across the small living room. “How are you feeling?”

“Mom?” Rebekah yawned and stretched. “What are you doing here? Where am I?”

“Your friend let me in. I think his name was Jason. Anyway, your at his apartment.” Rebekah's mom crossed the room with two steaming cups of coffee in her hand and passed one to Rebekah. Dressed in blue jeans and a simple black t-shirt, her mom still looked young with her dark hair flowing in curls down her back and only a hint of wrinkles around her warm brown eyes. She didn't look like a woman in her fifties should. “When I saw the news, I came right away. Your father and I were so worried you had been hurt.”

Last night. Hands. Sarah's hands. The hot cup trembled in her hands, spilling burning liquid over the sides. “Sarah? That wasn't a dream? Oh god.”

The cup disappeared from her hands almost as quickly as she'd received it. Her mom set it on the small wooden end table and then cleaned Rebekah's hands off with a towel. “It's okay, sweetie. You're safe.”

“She was...There were just...” Rebekah fumbled to find the right words. Hands and feet. That's all that had been left. Strewn across the beach. And blood. Lots of blood. She pulled her legs to her chest and sat back on the couch. “What happened?”

Her mom leaned back and wrapped an arm around Rebekah's shoulders. “They haven't said much on the news. Some police officer stopped by earlier this morning and I told him I'd bring you down when you were ready.” She hesitated. “I've called the local Parks office and talked to some of your dad's counterparts. They didn't tell me much, but they're thinking maybe some kind of animal? Maybe they'd gone swimming and got attacked by a shark?”

She tried to picture a shark inflicting that kind of damage and shuddered.
Don't be sick. Don't be sick.

“I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about this now.” Rebekah's mom stood, her tone chipper. “Why don't I make you some breakfast? How about omelets? They're your favorite.”

Rebekah nodded, more to get her mom away than because she thought she could eat anything. She needed time to think. Time to figure out what she was going to say to police. “I'll be right back.”

Jason's apartment was tidy and orderly, with used but serviceable furniture and few accessories. The closest thing he had to decorations was a wall-mounted weapons rack with some plain looking weapons—not the replica kind you’d find in a flea market but the plain, serious kind you might buy if you intended to use them. She ran her finger along the smooth handle of an ax. Little divots in the wood were black around the edges like someone had splashed little bits of acid on it. The head was scratched and dented, the blade sharp.

Was he a firefighter?
She shrugged, continuing on back to the bathroom as her mom rooted around in the refrigerator. She pictured him wearing a fireman's uniform, his jacket stained with soot from rushing into a building to save an old lady's cat.
Yum.
Sarah's going to die when I tell her.

Sarah.

Tears flooded her eyes, and she ran into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Rebekah slid down to the floor, burying her face in her hands as sobs wracked her body.
I'll never be able to tell her anything anymore. Or hear her conquest stories. Or sneak out just before the cafeteria closes to get ice-cream.

The wave of grief slowly subsided, and she stood up.
Pull yourself together. No one wants to see you cry. They need you to be strong.
Rebekah pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail and rubbed the sleep out of the corner of her eyes. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot and bits of sand were still stuck in her hair.

She opened the door. “I'm going to take a quick shower.”

“Okay.”

His bathroom was as austere as the rest of the apartment with simple white walls, red towels, and the usual shaving accouterments. There wasn't a speck of dirt or soap or mess anywhere. Maybe he hired maid service. Or his mom came by to clean. Guys were never this…tidy. At least, not the ones she met. Clean towels were neatly folded in the cabinet above the toilet and she took one, breathing in the scent. Hopefully he wouldn't mind, and if he did, she wasn't sure she cared.

Rebekah lingered in the shower, the hot water loosening her tense muscles. Closing her eyes, she let the water run over her face for a while. Sarah was dead. Sarah was dead.
No. I need to say it out loud. If I can't do it here where no one can hear me, then I'll never make it through the interview at the police station.

“Sarah is…” Rebekah gulped and wiped the water off her face. “Sarah is gone. Sarah isn't here.”

Come on. Sarah is dead. Just spit it out.

She took a deep breath. “Sarah is dead.” She licked her lips, then turned around to dampen her black hair. “Sarah is dead.”

The only shampoo he had was some generic, but she squeezed some onto her hand and started lathering her hair. “Sarah is dead.”
Hey, that time I didn't start crying. I'd call that progress.

Rebekah's mom yelled from the kitchen. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I'll be out in a minute.”

No more hiding then. It had to end sometime. She finished rinsing the shampoo out of her hair and washed up using the bar soap on the side of the tub. Not using body wash felt strange, but it was better than going back to her dorm. Anything was better than that. She dried off with his blue towel, getting as much moisture out of her hair as she could without using her hairdryer. It wasn't easy with long hair. Maybe she should get it cut.

The scent of sautéed onions and peppers drew her from the bathroom and back to the kitchen where she sat on a barstool. “Smells good.”

“I made your favorite.” She held a plate upside down over the sauté pan, flipped the omelet on top of it, then slid it back into the pan to brown the other side. “The toast just came up. Butter yourself a slice if you want.”

Rebekah grabbed a slice and pulled it to her napkin, cutting a square of butter from the stick and rubbing it around the toasted bread more out of a desire to do something normal than any real hunger. As a girl growing up in a bed-n-breakfast, she'd learned there's no real point to trying to spread natural butter the same way as the fake margarine some guests demanded. Real butter was meant to melt, not be scraped roughly around a perfectly browned piece of bread like some a logger sawing at a tree trunk with one of those old hand-held saws. Instead, the butter should guide around the toast as it melted, settling into the nooks naturally.

“What am I supposed to tell the police today?” Rebekah didn’t look up from the golden glob on her bread.

“The truth, princess. Of course.” Her mom set the plate down in front of Rebekah and then leaned on the counter, head resting on the palm of her right hand. “Want to talk about what you saw?”

She cut into the fluffy, perfectly folded egg and pushed it around her plate. “No.”

“Why don't you give it a try anyway?”

Rebekah sighed and the fork slipped through her feelings to clatter onto her plate. “I didn't see much. Blood mostly. And…body parts.” She rubbed the tears out of her eye. “That's it.”

“Nothing else? Did you see anything on the beach,” her mom turned back to the stove and cracked an egg to make herself an omelet. “Feel anything?”

Rebekah thought back to the night and forced herself to relive everything that led up to finding bits of her friend, but the details were hazy. “No, not really. But Jason seemed a little anxious about getting caught in the lightning.”

The egg mixture sizzled in the pan. “Well, that doesn't seem unusual.”

“Yeah, I'm used to being kept inside during storms.” Rebekah snorted, picked up her fork, and took a bite of eggs. She closed her eyes, relishing in the comfort food. No matter that it was a school day or if she woke up late, her mom always served a hot breakfast every morning growing up. She took a deep breath. “You and dad kinda drilled that into me. I still don't know why.”

“Hundreds of people die every year due to lightning strikes,” her mother said as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. She started to slide the omelet off on a plate, getting the careful fold so both ends were tucked beneath the central piece. “There.” With a flick of her wrist, she turned the gas off on the stove. “All done.”

Rebekah cut another piece of omelet with her fork, placed it on the edge of her toast, and took a bite. “What'd you do to your arm?” she asked, pointing to the small burns spattered across her mother's forearms.

“Cooking accident.” Her mom shrugged and grabbed the second piece of toast from the toaster. “I was making some bacon on the stove when one of the guests called me away. By the time I came back, it was popping like crazy and got me as I tried to salvage the meat.”

“You should be more careful.”

“Yes, mom,” Rebekah's mom said, a wry smile twisting the corners of her mouth. “Speaking of being careful…how long have you and this Jason person been seeing each other?”

Heat warmed Rebekah's face. “Just since last night, really, though we've had classes together for a while and did a lot of studying together.” She pushed some egg around her plate with her fork. “Why? What'd you think of him?”

Her mom was silent for a moment as if considering her answer, absently playing with her gold wedding ring. “Well, we didn't really talk much, but he seems okay. I'm just glad he answered your phone and told me where to find you. Otherwise, I'd be at the police station worrying right now instead of here having brunch with my daughter.” She looked up, gaze sharp as razors and tone falsely light like she always did when trying to hide how much importance she placed on a question. The same tone had accompanied that terrible day when Rebekah learned Spot ran away. “How serious are things between the two of you?”

That was the question, wasn't it? How serious could they really be? She liked him, that much she knew, and he seemed to like her. But he was the reason they'd gone to the beach in the first place. If she hadn't been off with him, Sarah might still be alive.

Or they might both be dead.

Rebekah took a delicate bite of bread and shrugged. “I don't know.”

Her mom relaxed. “Well, you're young. There's plenty of time.”

“Yes, mom.” Rebekah stood and walked to the fridge. “Did you see any juice when you were cooking?”

“Second shelf down.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed the half-gallon jug and set it on the counter, then grabbed a pair of glasses from the cupboard. They were right where she thought they would be. “How's dad enjoying retirement? I thought you guys were going to go on vacation?”

“Thanks,” her mom said, taking a sip from the cup of juice Rebekah had poured. “You know your father. He'll never stop working long enough for a vacation. He still goes down to the light every day to check on things. Stops by the Parks Services and volunteers whenever there's a lost hiker or an animal on the loose.”

She nodded.
Yep. Sounds like him all right.
“I thought he was going to start helping you more around the house.”

“Have you really ever known your father to willingly do the dishes or make a bed?” Her mom winked, dark curls falling around her face. “Besides, keeps him out of my hair and occupied. It'd take twice as long if he helped. Maybe more.”

The harsh ring of her phone startled the words out of her, and she jumped up, looking around the room.

Her mom slid it across the counter. “Here.”

Rebekah looked at the number, frowned, and then hit the green circle to accept the call. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Rebekah Lorek?”

“Speaking. How can I help you?” She looked over at her mom.

“This is Detective Nolan from the Portland PD. We'd like you to come to the station and answer a few questions. You're not in any trouble, we just want to talk.”

Rebekah's mom frowned and crossed her arms as though she could hear the conversation, so Rebekah stood and walked to the other side of the living room. “Can't I just give my statement over the phone? Do I have to come down there?”