Once Upon a Haunted Moon (The Keeper Saga) (2 page)

“No, they’ve gone out.”

“Let’s go check it out,” Adam nodded to me, completely forgetting that two minutes before he had been ready to rip me apart and stomp on whatever pieces were left. He looked back to Nikki. “Stay out here, we’ll be back in a few.”

“No way,” she shook her head, sending her curly, blonde hair spiraling around her shoulders, “I’m going with you.”

Adam gave her a long look, then began to say something and thought better of it. He took her hand. I followed them in silence through the old, rambling house, up the stairs, and toward the attic.

Before I became a wolf, I hadn’t ever realized that everything had a scent — even things you wouldn’t normally suspect had any odor at all. For instance, on a nice day, the sun smelled warm and crisp, which was nice, especially if everything was right in the world. But I preferred rain. Rain normally carried wisps of the sky and touches of clouds, as if something greater than you promised to cleanse your very soul if you walked in a storm.

I had walked in a lot of storms lately. And it helped, though I didn’t recommend it for the faint of heart.

But fear — now that was a unique scent. Fear was a scent all its own. And as we walked up the rickety wooden steps to the attic, it got stronger, cloying, and more powerful. I attributed most of this to the fact that Nikki was directly in front of me, and her heart was tripping and skipping beats.

When we reached the top, Nikki looked like she was edged in white, as if someone had just taken a white magic marker and drawn an outline around her. But dust motes swirled all over the place and everything looked weird, so I chalked it up to my being over-imaginative. After all, if Adam hadn’t picked up on his glowing girlfriend, I wasn’t going to point it out. No need in being knocked around twice in one day.

The air was charged with magic and felt surreal, but otherwise, the attic was vacant with the exception of two wolf-guys, and a kinda-glowy girl.

“The wall over there,” Nikki pointed to a corner free of boxes and furniture. A tiny corner of wallpaper was peeled up, and something sparkled below it. Still gripping Adam’s hand, she walked over, reached down and peeled up the paper. “Watch,” she ordered. The paper flipped like a page from an enormous book. The wall looked like blue, glassy water.

Very carefully, she reached out and touched her index finger to the middle of the wall. The blue rippled, just as if she had thrown a pebble into a lake, then it flashed, and suddenly we looked into an exact replica of the downstairs kitchen. An old Formica table with wobbling legs sat in the corner, and ancient wooden cabinets lined the walls. Downstairs there was a sink with a window above it to let in the sun’s evening rays. The kitchen down there and the one in the wall were exactly the same, perfect images of one another with one small exception. In the image up here —

There was a dead woman standing at that sink washing dishes.

Chapter Three
Brian

“For your age, you still haven’t learned manners. I don’t recall hearing you knock,” a stooped, old, Cherokee woman glared at us from the liquid wall.

I stood and gaped at the woman who had been my first neighbor and was Nikki’s great-grandmother. She and her husband were the ones who built the house years and years ago. She was the one who had given my mother the land where our house sat, a half mile from where we were standing. She had been a friend, a kind and considerate neighbor. She’d also been dead for nearly a year.

None of us answered her, because someone else came into view.

“When one’s door is opened, one should have no need to announce her presence, especially amongst friends.” A voice as musical as raindrops echoed in the attic, as Wynter appeared, neon-blue hair shining in bright contrast to the subtle, deep blue of the wall.

“Hmph, friends is it?” Mae Harmon grunted, her sharp, dark eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What is it you want?”

“Your grandson and his family. They have a hand in destiny. You must call them here. Soon.” Wynter looked at the old woman sadly, “Their presence
is
required.”

Adam let out a barely audible growl and I didn’t have to look to tell there was a black mist ebbing around both him and Nikki, who remained glued to his side and clung to his hand.

“I’ll not be calling them here for the likes of you. I don’t owe you anything, and I won’t have you interfering…” the old woman broke off in a cough.

“Your time has nearly come. I could ease the pain, should you only ask.” The offer came with a slight, simple shrug.

“I don’t need you or your magic. Whatever it is you’re wanting, you won’t be getting it from me or my family. We owe you nothing.” Mae straightened, fury etched in the deep lines of her wrinkled face. “Get on out of here.”

“That-a girl,” I murmured, smiling at the strong defiance on the face I’d known since childhood. Then I heard a faint, ghostlike laugh echo in the air around us and the fairy turned, her giant blue eyes stared directly at me through the wall.

“She has come before, she will come again, and I cannot stop her. There is only one who can. I hope she makes haste.” She took a step closer, as if getting ready to step through the wall and into the attic with us, then spoke slowly, “Answers found in pages past, listen always true. For Death comes; she surely will. Next, she comes for you.”

The wall fizzled, and went blank, and then the paper flipped itself back into its original place. The three of us stood gaping at the yellowed, sixties-style wallpaper with a small glowing corner.

“That’s what it did last time. The exact same scene, except that last little bit,” Nikki’s voice sounded stronger than it had before, though it still shook a little, “But I think I ran out of the attic before she got that far. What do you guys think?”

“I think I don’t know what to think,” I answered, and shook my head, “But for the record, I’m glad your grandma didn’t take any help. She was strong to the end.”

“I’m wondering who Wynter was talking about when she said, ‘she will come again.’ Whoever it is, she seems afraid, and that’s really weird. Wynter isn’t afraid of anyone, and for some reason she wants you here,” Adam stared down at Nikki who was biting her lip as she watched the wall. “And the Death part doesn’t make me happy at all.”

“I wonder what happens if one of us flips the page?” I mumbled under my breath as I stepped forward to grab the glowing corner.

Just as my finger touched, it sparked, and an electrical jolt sent me flying backward into a stack of boxes.

“You all right?” Adam pushed a trunk out of the way as I crawled out of the fallen heap.

“Yeah, but I guess the house doesn’t like anyone but Nikki messing with it,” I looked over at the wall, and then grinned at him, “You want to give it a try?”

“Nope,” he smiled, “I like to learn from other people’s mistakes.”

“So what’s the plan, then?” I asked, knowing Adam always had a plan. And as always, as dependable as ever, he didn’t disappoint.

“We go to the Res and get the rest of the guys, and see if my grandfather knows of anything that can help. Then we confront Wynter, see who she’s so afraid of, and why she wants Nikki here.”

***

Zue

Round Mountain Forest

She sat atop a huge stone that jutted out from the mountain. It came out so far it defied gravity, hovering in the air like a giant, gray angel — and on the very tip she sat, swinging her legs back and forth. From far away, she looked like an adventurer — one who would climb to the highest peak of the mountain to crawl out on the edge to admire the breathtaking view below of the small, sleepy town nestled in the midst of the forest.

Well, adventurer, she surely was, though not one to amuse herself with such folly as simply climbing a mountain to say she could. She thought of the three boys she found so conveniently nearby just a short while earlier. She smiled, amused with her day thus far. Her razor-sharp teeth gleamed red in the mid-day sun as she thought of the things she had done. She pushed her shoulder-length hair back, a habit she’d had for centuries, and it fell in thick, cascading waves, sparkling as red as blood in the sunlight.

A soft wind brushed her face, as her fathomless, black eyes kept their search of the town below. Behind her, several pairs of beating wings interrupted her concentration. She turned, watching as the crows landed a few feet behind her in a dead oak, squawking their arrival. One flew to the ground where a dead, crumpled rabbit lay. It pecked at the small, lifeless body. She stood, shooed the bird away, and picked up the carcass. The crow squawked in protest.

“Be still,” she said quietly in a soft, musical voice as she sat back on the rock and turned her attention back to the town. She absently stroked the mangled fur of the rabbit, mumbling to it and the village, as much as to herself, “Come now. Show me thy dead.”

A few moments passed as she and the flock of crows sat in near silence, but for the swinging rhythm of her bare feet bumping against the rock. She smiled again — a ferocious, pointed smile, and the giant, black birds beat their wings.

“There you are,” she said happily, setting down the rabbit which had begun to twitch. She got to her feet and brushed the loose bits of stone from her ragged, brown dress. Where her hands touched the ancient fabric, the holes shifted and rearranged, leaving small patches of opal-white skin gleaming in contrast. A black, moldy fog twisted around her, giving her a look of being shrouded in rot. She stood aloof — tall and straight, staring one last time down on the small, unassuming town nestled between the mountains, and smiled a very sharp, very vicious smile. A smile that looked forward to her revenge.

“Many names have I been called. You have named me Fire Witch, but I am Spriteblood!” she announced in voice that cracked like thunder, then stopped and crooned in a voice as soft as raindrops, “I am Zue. And soon…soon you’ll all be mine.”

The rabbit hopped around her feet, one leg dragging behind it at a weird angle. Still moving with a lopsided hop, it headed back into the brush…

…with eyes still dead.

***

Brian

Wighcomocos Reservation

“You smell of burnt flesh,” the old man grumbled, crinkling his long nose as he let a rather large group of us in his back door.

“Sorry, that’s me. I was helping Dad cook out,” Erik apologized, sticking an experimental finger in the smoldering, black hole in his t-shirt as three other boys shuffled past him, and everyone squeezed into the small living room of Evan Black Water, Sr. The old man was chief of his clan, old and wise beyond years. He had once been a Keeper, and was now considered the “go to” guy for all things weird and magical. He was also Adam’s grandfather.

He must have known why we were there, though I never saw him ask Adam or anyone else why his home had suddenly been bombarded with six boys who could turn into wolves, and one girl who was always in the middle of whatever trouble found them.

“You know, white man has come up with an easier and safer way to make fire on grill,” Ed informed Erik solemnly as he tried not to smirk, “White man name magic black rock — ‘charcoal.’“

“Yeah, yeah…” Erik muttered, “…starting it wasn’t the problem…lighter fluid…it’s what happened after that…”

“Quiet, you two,” Adam warned them in a low voice as the old man cleared his throat and sat down in a worn, brown recliner clasping his hands in front of him.

“This story was told to me by my grandfather, now I tell it to all of you,” he nodded first to his grandson, then to the rest of us, “I hope the story ends with you, and will not have to be told to your grandchildren.

“Long ago, began the story of the Fire Witch. It is said she was Death, herself, with eyes as dark as the blackest water, and that she came from the very darkest places on earth. Places no man could ever go. Places where only the oldest Magic lived and the blackest souls were made.”

“She took village after village bringing death to them all, both white man and Indian. One day, she came to our village, and our wolves stopped her, and trapped her with their magic, but she swore to one day be free. The U-la-gu, the leader of the very first Keepers, had eyes the color of sunlight. She bit him with her sharp teeth, turning his eyes as black as her own, and told him one day she would come for her revenge. When his eyes showed their true color once more, she would be free,” the old man gestured to his own eyes, so dark they appeared black, “It has been many years since the U-la-gu trapped the Fire Witch, many generations of his sons came after him, with black in their eyes. Eyes like Black Water. But you, my grandson…” he looked at Adam, whose eyes shone like liquid gold, and nodded gravely, “Your eyes show their true color, and she will come for the blood she thinks she is owed. She will come for us all.”

“What is she and how can I kill her? What do I need to do?” Adam looked at his grandfather, “If they trapped her before, we can do it again.”

“I do not know if she can be killed. The story was never told of how or where she was trapped. The Keepers kept their secret, so that none could find her or set her free,” the old man looked thoughtful, then said slowly, “The only one who would know was the one who came after her. The one who spoke of peace and did not have as black a heart as her sister. You must find her.”

“Wynter.” Nikki whispered in a hushed voice.

The old man nodded gravely.

“They are Spriteblood.”

Chapter Four
Ella

Round Mountain Forest, Virginia

October 8, 1765

Ella ran until she was so tired she stumbled, and then she walked. She walked all day, watching the sun peek through the tree branches. She didn’t stop until she came to a creek, where a giant sycamore tree stood, branches spread toward her in welcome.

She knelt, drinking the water faster than her little, cupped hands could gather it. Her thirst finally quenched, she jumped at the reflection that sparkled in the clear water below her. Hair as white as snow caught at the edges of eyes that she recognized as her own. She stared in wonder at the face that was hers, but not the face she remembered. So engrossed she was in her new reflection, she never heard the pack of wolves approach on the opposite bank, mere feet from where she sat.