The Keeper's Curse (29 page)

“
Do you think we can?”

“
We don’t have a choice, do we?”

***

The air
and sky were clear that night. The near-constant veil of cloud in
Methelwood lifted, revealing the moon, which was bright enough to
use as a lamp. Emmy wasn’t sure yet if this would be a good or bad
thing – it would give Thoreoux more opportunity to see her, but she
would be able to see better as well.

Pulling
her scarf to her face, she made herself trudge towards the Urquhart
stable to meet Cyrus. She glimpsed around for any signs of someone
following her, which snowballed her paranoia since she knew
creatures were everywhere in the forest. Emmy climbed easily over
the low granite wall into Urquhart, heading out onto the grounds
behind the school.

Cyrus was
waiting for her, just like he had said he would. He wore an
outerwear cloak, the hood pulled over his head to hide his face.
Seeing him there, confirming they were on the same side, was a
strange sort of relief for her. She had questioned and questioned
until it had driven her crazy, just needing an answer – any answer
– and now he was here.

“
You look shocked I came,” he said. “I’m hurt.”

Emmy
pulled the front of her fur cap farther down her face. “Were you
seen?”

“
No. I set up a crossbow trap directed at the owl that’s been
following me around the past few weeks. The trap should go off on
its own so Thoreoux won’t see I did it.”

“
Good. Now where are we going?”

He
gestured toward the peacekeeping practice grounds. “The animals
will be harder to catch and locate, but the crafters are in the
tunnels.” Without saying another word he began his pace towards the
woods.

“
How do you know?” Emmy asked, having to sprint to keep up
with him.

“
They’re possessed, but they’re still alive,” Cyrus said.
“They need some sort of warmth and shelter, and it’s not like they
can just sashay into a complex.”

Despite
her several layers of clothing, Emmy shivered. “We’re not going to
– you know – kill them, are we?”

Even
though she couldn’t see his face she knew Cyrus was rolling his
eyes. “What choice do we have? They’ll kill you if we don’t kill
them.”

“
But it’s not their fault!”

Emmy
mentally kicked herself; she should have known better than to trust
Cyrus. If she had been just marginally braver she would have
grabbed hold of him, but that proved to be unnecessary. He came to
a halt and she slammed into his back.

“
We don’t know if there’s anything left of them,” Cyrus said
as he turned to face her, his eyes flashing with anger in the dark.
“This possession spell will eventually kill them, so who knows what
it’ll do to their minds. They’re probably in anguish – we’ll be
doing them a favour.”

“
Please, Cyrus – Breckin and I were talking this afternoon
about the Book of Curses and we think someone here in Methelwood
has it. Can you give us a little while? If we can find it and
reverse the spell, nobody has to die. I know you don’t want anyone
killed, either. It’s why you’re helping me in the first place,
isn’t it?”

It should
have bothered her, the way he always looked at her like she was an
interesting but repugnant specimen, but her fear of him was
dwindling quickly. She had no problem setting her chin instead of
cowering from him now that she knew he wouldn’t hurt
her.

Although
the annoyance was clear on his face, he at least didn’t throw her
against an object this time. He just continued walking
on.

“
What exactly are we supposed to do with them in the meantime
then?” he grumbled. “We can’t just let them roam, or they’ll come
for you again.”

“
Can’t we lock them up?”

“
Where?”

“
I don’t know, you live in a castle for crying out loud! Don’t
you have a dungeon or something?”

Out of
the corner of her eye Emmy could have sworn she saw the side of his
mouth twitch. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“
I’ll help you put them in.”

He halted
to turn and stare at her again. His pale face was a smudge in his
hood, but she could see enough to know he wasn’t angry anymore. His
brows were raised slightly, still curious, but another look flashed
across so quickly Emmy could have imagined it. Respect. Respect for
her.

“
I don’t want anyone dying because of me,” she
murmured.

“
Whatever. We’ll do it your way, then.”

She
didn’t have a chance to so much as smile before he began walking
again. She stomped on her exasperation knowing there were more
important things to attend to.

They
traveled through the woods in silence, doing their best to be as
soundless as possible. With every crunch their feet made in the ice
Emmy winced, but nothing came after them. By the time they reached
the trapdoor that led them into the tunnels, her teeth were
chattering.

“
Do you have a weapon with you?” Cyrus asked, flinging open
the door. Emmy whipped out her knife. “Excellent. Now, as you know,
I’m a driver. These things are still alive so I
can
order them around, but
considering I can only do one at a time, and I have no idea how
many of them are there, I need you to keep them away from me as
long as possible.” He crouched over to the edge, ready to jump
down.

Emmy
nodded, tightening her grip on the weapon. “I won’t let them hurt
you.”

“
That’s adorable. You sounded just like Crawford
then.”

Without
thinking, she kicked him lightly on the back, and he tumbled into
the tunnel. With satisfaction she heard him land with a muffled
“umph!”

“
Is it safe?” she asked playfully.

“
Are you a stupid bint?”

Emmy
jumped in after him. She raised her palm, summoning a palewraith
for light, and Cyrus did the same. In theory it should have been
freezing underground, but Emmy couldn’t even see her
breath.

“
They must be setting fires down here,” Cyrus voiced her
thoughts. Sure enough, after a few minutes of searching they came
across remnants of twigs and ash in a little cluster in an open
area.

“
I can’t believe they were right underneath us all this time,”
Emmy murmured. “People come through these – what if someone had
seen them? They would have been killed.”

“
Believe it or not,” Cyrus said, stepping over the ash.
“Thoreoux doesn’t enjoy murdering people. I mean, yes, he is a
deranged lunatic who thinks he’s doing us all a favour by trying to
kill us all, but still, he has his guidelines.” When Emmy raised
her eyebrows he said, “He was only willing to kill you when he knew
for sure you were the Keeper.”

“
Lucky me.”

Cyrus was
probably about to throw her a retort when they heard a tumbling
noise in the distance, like the sound of an oncoming avalanche.
Emmy felt her heart jump in her throat as the sound of feet padding
on the dirt rose in volume.

“
Go distract them,” Cyrus said, brandishing a sword from
inside his cloak. With some trepidation, she headed in the
direction of the possessed humans, her knife in front of her. “And
good God, be careful.”

She
inched forward, summoning several palewraiths at once, needing all
the light she could muster.

And
suddenly, there they were, in a hoard coming towards her. At first
she froze in horror at seeing them again. They were even uglier
than last time, their skin even thinner, their eyes dimmer, and any
body fat that had been on them was gone. But along with their
ugliness came weakness, and were moving at a sluggish, lethargic
pace. They were dying.

Emmy’s
task proved to be a lot easier than expected because of this. Their
reflexes were slow and she was easily able to take them down
without too much effort, only having to injure a couple of them
with her knife. Cyrus spoke so quickly Emmy barely understood him,
but the gist of his commands for them was always the same: form a
row, get to the Crow mansion, and lock yourself in the
dungeons.

“
They can’t be allowed to see where we’re going!” Emmy said
while ducking a fist from an elderly man. “Tell them to close their
eyes!”

Cyrus did
as she said.

After
twenty minutes or so, Cyrus had formed a consecutive line of the
possessed crafters, and they were walking in a zombie-like fashion
towards the trapdoor. Emmy was tackling the last one when Cyrus
commanded it to get off her and get in the line.

Emmy was
so sore Cyrus had to help her back on her feet. They walked beside
the line as if they were guarding a group of kindergarten children.
Emmy and Cyrus had to help every single one of them out of the
tunnels and into the cold night.

“
You’ve got the most dangerous power in the world, you know,”
Emmy said as they walked beside the line toward the
mansion.

“
Yes, I do.”

“
You can make someone do anything you want,” she said. She
rubbed her hands together, the chilly air keeping her awake. “Can I
ask you a question?”

“
I suppose so.”

“
Why don’t you just command me to trust you?”

“
I should clarify that I can only give a
physical
command.”

“
So you can’t change what people feel?”

“
No. Besides, even if I could, what would be the point? It
wouldn’t be real.”

Emmy
turned to her right to see the poor being beside her. It was a
weird sight, seeing the person so calm, with shut eyes and moving
at a perfect, robotic pace. It was also unnatural.

“
I guess,” she sighed.

“
Don’t feel too bad for me, Keeper. Look at me, look at my
face – you think I need to
make
people do anything?”

He said
it so matter-of-factly Emmy couldn’t help but grin. For a second
she wondered what he would look like with a genuine smile on his
face, knowing she would never get to see it.

They
traveled in silence back to the Crow mansion. Cyrus led them down
the cobblestone path, through the front doors and into the parlour.
There were several torches alight in their sconces, allowing Emmy
and Cyrus to direct the crafters through the long dark
halls.

“
Aren’t you worried somebody will hear us?” she whispered
after several minutes. The hallways seemed to go on
forever.

“
Relax, will you? My mother and brother will be asleep, and
that’s all that matters. If a housekeeper or servant sees anything,
I’ll take him out back and order him to jump off the ridge to his
death like I always do when they see things they
shouldn’t.”

Emmy
opened her mouth in horror when she realized he was kidding. She
exhaled, trying to calm her frayed nerves.

Eventually they reached a pair of double oak doors, which
Cyrus informed Emmy led them into the dungeons.

“
I can’t believe you
actually
have a dungeon,” Emmy said, pushing the first
four crafters into the nearest cell. It looked like a medieval
prison with its lined cells that dripped water. The prison her
mother was in was a five star hotel by comparison.

“
It used to be a torture chamber, get over it.”

She
couldn’t get used to how blasé his tone was when he said things
like that, so she decided to ignore him. They spent the next ten
minutes locking them up, Cyrus ordering them all to sleep while the
two of them padlocked the cells shut. Emmy stared at them all for a
few minutes; their sleep might have been unnatural, but they looked
so peaceful finally getting some real rest.

“
You better get home now,” Cyrus said. “I’ll walk you
out.”

They
avoided each other’s eyes all the way back through the torched
corridors, Cyrus pretending to examine the tapestries on the walls
(which were as violent-looking as the ones at Urquhart), and Emmy
fiddled with her fingers. She wanted to thank him, show him some
appreciation, but she knew anything nice she said would be spat
back at her with vehemence.

“
I think we got the main bunch of them,” Cyrus said when they
reached the front parlour. “But we should probably go back tomorrow
just to make sure. Clean them out, you know?” He paused. “Do you
need me to walk you home?”

“
No, I should be fine, thanks.”

He opened
the door for her. “Well then, take care, Rathers. I’ll see you
tomorrow.”

She
jerked her head in thanks, wrapping her arms around herself as she
headed back into the snow. “Emmy,” she said.

“
What?”

She
turned around to face him. “My name is Emmy. It’s easier to say
than ‘Rathers’ or ‘Keeper’ or ‘stupid bint’, or all those other
nice things you like calling me.”

He
knitted his brows. “Why?”

She
shrugged. “Well, we’re not enemies or anything. Seems socially
acceptable.”