Once Upon a Haunted Moon (The Keeper Saga) (6 page)

Adam gave him a withering look, “The Deadland I want to check first is only a few yards on the other side of that creek. It’s not a good idea to show up as wolves at that particular Deadland after what happened last time.”

I had actually heard about the last visit to that Deadland. The Keepers had been searching for lost hikers, when Ed had stepped on a branch which had splintered into his paw. He hadn’t healed as quickly as he should have, and the Deadland soaked up his blood, becoming super-charged with magic — and power. So powerful, in fact, that they hadn’t been able to search it any further. Ed had ended up having to go to Adam’s grandfather to counter the magic so that his hand would heal.

I looked over to Ed; he was flexing his left hand. He seemed to do that a lot. Whether from remembering the Deadland, or because his hand bothered him, I didn’t know. But at that same moment, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Adam, either.

“Are you going to be okay when we get over there?” he asked Ed.

Ed nodded, but the look on his face wasn’t very reassuring.

Adam’s gold eyes narrowed for a second, but then he nodded, “All right.”

Tommy and Michael had been busy navigating the driest route across the creek. They had come across a series of flat stones, and were doing an odd sort of hopscotch across the creek.

“Do you know why it’s called Wolf Creek?” Erik asked me.

“Is it named after the Keepers?”

“Well, in a way, I guess. You know how Nikki is our Seer, right?”

“Yeah.” I stepped on the first flat stone. It wobbled a bit, but I stayed dry. I had heard Nikki had an odd way of being able to see, hear, and feel stuff most people would never be able to do. There was always one Seer for each generation of Keepers and even though Nikki wasn’t part of their tribe, she had somehow ended up with the magic that made her one of them.

“Well, legend has it that our first Seer, named White Wolf, was met by the first Wolf of our people — the same one who gave us the Wolf Stone — and it was at this very creek, though I’m not sure if it was in the spot we’re at right now, or farther downstream,” he said, as his hands came out to steady himself on the wet rock he stood on, “Anyway, they named it Wolf Creek for the first Wolf. The elders still believe The Wolf comes to this creek, but I’ve never heard of anyone who has actually seen him. But we hear a wolf sometimes, one that isn’t us, but it could be just a ‘normal’ wolf. Personally, I think it’s just a myth, he’d have to be like, I dunno, a thousand years old by now!”

***

The Wolf watched five of the boys jump on the stones to cross the creek. He always watched each generation of them from time to time, as he made sure they were still worthy of the gift he had given them. One of the last generations had not been worthy, feeding off the fear of those weaker than himself. The Wolf had nearly taken his gift back and turned his back on the human race as a whole. So much had been done to Mother Nature. She would never truly heal. The never-ending spiral of wrong that had been done to her only worsened every day. Her children had no respect for what had been given to them, and one in particular had no respect of the gift The Wolf personally had bestowed upon them.

He had been on the brink of changing the Keeper not worthy of his wolf, he had been so very close — and then he saw the man’s son. He was a boy with brilliant blue eyes and dark, shaggy hair and a kind heart. The boy made the Wolf wonder if there might not be hope after all.

He decided to let them keep their wolves, but he kept close vigil should they ever stray again.

He watched the last boy, the one with a cream-colored wolf. He was a tall boy with a face made of strange angles, highly intelligent, courageous, with a loyalty to his brothers that had never been shaken. The boy stepped near the water, and the water hissed, popping and bubbling angrily until he took a cautious step back. Twice more he approached, and twice more the Beings in the Water would not let him cross.

The Wolf watched this boy curiously, wondering what they had found in him that they did not like. He knew the Water Beings were gentle and shy, yet fierce when something threatened their creek. They were of the purest magic, and had not been tainted with evil for centuries. They were one of the reasons he loved the creek. He came here for the simple, pure magic they offered, and for the memories of the brave white-haired creature he met so long ago.

He hoped the boys that he saw before him now still had courage and goodness in them. Though he kept his hope for them alive, he still kept careful watch on the boy who couldn’t cross the creek.

***

“Ed! What’s up, man? Are you coming or not?” Erik, finished with his history lesson, finally crossed and noticed that Ed hadn’t even started his trek to the other side. If anything, he had actually backed away from the water’s edge.

“I’m going to stay over here and keep watch. It may be easier for you guys to search over there if I stay out of that Deadland. It didn’t like me very well last time,” Ed said, flexing his hand again. He noticed Adam had turned to watch him on the other side of the creek, “Is it all right if I stay over here and wait?”

A weird moment passed as Adam stared at Ed as if he were looking into his soul. I made a mental note to myself that I hoped Adam never looked at me that way. He had a strange way of making you think he knew exactly what went on inside you — that he knew what you thought before you even knew it yourself. It had something to do with his eyes. Yeah, he was a dude, and I wouldn’t say he had pretty eyes. Well, I guessed he actually did, if you were into weird golden eyes, but what I was trying to say is it was just the way he looked at you. My grandma always talked of people who had “old eyes,” the ones who had ancient knowledge or wisdom beyond years in their spirit and that spirit was what you saw in their gaze.

Adam had those eyes, and right then he used them on Ed, searching his soul to find what his friend had not said in words.

Ed’s face started to flush, and his jaw clenched. He didn’t realize it, but he was working his hand again, fingers splaying wide, then back into a fist.

“Ok,” Adam nodded slightly, finally blinking, “We’ll be back soon, wait for us.”

Ed nodded and never looked up.

The five of us left the creek and walked single-file through an opening beside some trees. At first, the branches moved for us. But the farther we went, twigs and limbs started smacking back into place before we had a chance to get through. I ducked one branch only to get slapped in the shoulder by the rest of the tree.

After being nearly beaten to death with the slapping limbs of a dying sassafras, we finally made it into the outer edge of the Deadland.

The Deadland hadn’t realized that it had snowed. The ground was dry, and the skeletal arms of the trees reached toward the sky, begging for rain or snow. It was a dead place, silent but for the wind that blew an eerie cry as it whistled through fallen logs and over dead leaves.

“Everybody stay close! Scent doesn’t work here, so keep your eyes open. Watch for anything that looks out of the ordinary,” Adam instructed in a low tone.

“But it all looks ‘out of the ordinary!’“ Michael hissed back at him, “It’s like
The Nightmare before Christmas
up here!”

Tommy mumbled in agreement.

We came to a dried creek bed, the stones clattered and echoed as we walked across, making the only sound since the wind had died down. There weren’t any signs of life anywhere we looked. No birds, squirrels, or even bugs, much less any creature that resembled a Spriteblood.

I was beginning to think it was a wasted trip and was fervently praying that a deer wouldn’t magically appear to remind Adam about a hunt, when I noticed a huge tree with scaly white bark. The roots had pulled up from the dirt, stretching toward where the creek now lay, as if it had been reaching for water or maybe just for help. I crawled up the side of the bank to take a better look.

“You guys may want to come take a look at this…”

An empty, gaping hole at the base of its trunk looked like something had exploded from within. Inside the dead tree, deep marks furrowed the wood. Something had tried to claw its way to freedom for a very long time — and had recently made it.

I wasn’t going to have to worry about hunting a deer for a while.

A flesh-eating fairy was on the loose.

Chapter Eight
Ella

The Village

September 15, 1774

Many moons passed, each one bringing White Wolf and Bright Eyes closer than the one before. They became inseparable, spending every moment they could by each other’s side. During the day, she rarely thought of how life had been before Bright Eyes. Life was complete with him near her. She was happy.

But at night, the nightmares of her past came to haunt her. Her dreams held the scorching heat of burning wagons, the stench of death, and the fathomless, black eyes of the Fire Witch. She would wake, remembering the eight-year-old girl she had been, the family she once had, and the evil that had taken everything away from her.

On one such night, she woke and made her way quietly around the mounds of furs and sleeping bodies in the hut. She went outside, and walked to the far side of the village, where she sat on an old stump which had become her favorite spot to collect herself. From this perch, she could look up to the hill where The Wolf had left her so many years before. She shuddered as a breeze brushed across her bare arms.

“The night is cold. Too cold for dreams to chase White Wolf,” Bright Eyes laid a blanket across her shoulders, sitting close to her on the stump.

“The dreams held fire, the air cools them,” she said quietly, smiling at the welcoming warmth as she snuggled into the blanket, “How do you always know when I’m here?”

His eyes sparkled gold in the moonlight as he reached to take her hand, “White Wolf and Bright Eyes share same soul. Bright Eyes always know when bad spirits come to chase White Wolf.”

She believed his words. Countless nights she had come to this same spot, and each time he had come and stayed with her until the first rays of daybreak streamed across the mountains, the darkness dissipated, and the memories from the little girl she had once been, faded with the night.

This night, however, was not like any other.

The harvest moon was full and high, casting an eerie, magical light on the couple huddled on the old stump. A wolf howled in the distance, and the moon seemed to shine even brighter.

“He miss her,” Bright Eyes nodded thoughtfully as he listened to the wolf’s haunting cry again, “Want hear story?”

She nodded. He put an arm around her and drew her closer.

“Many moon ago, brave name Swift Foot fall in love with young squaw, name Shining Star. Both love each other much — more than own life. Soon marry. Start big feast.

On feast day, Shining Star go woods, get wood for fire. Find angry bear that chase. Shining Star run from bear. Swift Foot hear scream, come to find Shining Star. She scare and run fast, no see where go, and fall long way. Swift Foot find, but Shining Star spirit already gone. He bring body back to village, and stay, but not let anyone touch. No eat, no drink many day.

Great Spirit come. Tell Swift Foot must eat and drink. Must live. Great Spirit take Shining Star from Swift Foot, put high in sky. Make her Moon, so Swift Foot can always see.

Swift Foot angry at Great Spirit, want Shining Star back! Swift Foot leave village, and climb to highest mountain. Tell Great Spirit if not give back, put Swift Foot in sky with Shining Star.

Great Spirit say no — so Swift Foot jump and take own life.

Great Spirit angry, not put Swift Foot in the sky. Make wolf. That why wolf cry at Moon. Always see…but never touch again.”

“That’s so sad,” White Wolf linked her fingers into Bright Eyes’s even tighter, “Do you think the Great Spirit will ever put him up in the sky with her?”

“Not know.” He gazed at the top of the white head that was snuggled in the crook of his shoulder, and was overcome with a sudden feeling of sadness, as though the wolf’s loss was his own and his chance with his own love lay in the balance of the story he had told. He gathered her closer and held her tight, “Bright Eyes hope so.”

***

The Wolf watched them from the hill, as the two young lovers sat wrapped in each other’s arms. He wished them a happy ending to their own story, much happier than his own had been, and then turned his gaze up to his own love, so high and out of reach in the black, black sky…

Chapter Nine
Brian

“Arghhh!” It was followed by some words that were less than nice as I accidentally clonked my knuckles against the underside of my old truck, and the wrench I had been holding went clattering end over end across the gravel to land a few feet away (naturally out of reach) as it finally landed beside my lower half which wasn’t burrowed under the wreck that I called transportation.

At about the same second I reached for the wrench, a huge glob of grease and rust decided to drop and splat directly into my eye. Instinctively, I jumped and tried to sit, and whacked my forehead, which threw me straight back into the gravel, which dug into my back with the force of my landing.

“Crap!” Anger flared through me as I lay there, rubbing the gunk out of my eye, feeling it smear across my cheek. A low growl reverberated from deep inside me in frustration, and I was almost at the point of watching the glittering mist of black and white that would cover my body and make me wolf — when I stopped and went completely silent.

I felt her before I saw her. No, not like physically felt her. It was more like the feeling you get when you know someone is watching you, even though you don’t see anyone there. I took a deep breath, and caught the faint scent of some kind of sweet perfume over the smells of car grease and dirt. It smelled like flowers. Normally, I would have been ready to shift into wolf and be ready for whoever was out there, especially since we had found the spot where the Spriteblood had been trapped — but for some reason I wasn’t worried about whoever it was in my driveway. It felt like she should be a friend.