The Keeper's Flame (A Pandoran Novel, #2) (5 page)

I wasn’t sure what came over me, but the next thing I knew, Isla was shoved against a wall by my hand, with a knife at her neck, my knife.

Her satisfaction was so thick I could taste it, and her pencil-thin brow peaked. “Seems I struck a nerve.”

“I’ll strike something else if you don’t shut up.”

“Lady?” said a trembling voice behind me.

Oh, no.

Slowly, I lowered my knife from Isla’s neck and turned around.

Fleck stood there, quivering. His face had drained of color and he looked at me like I’d just killed someone and was on my way to kill him next.

I shoved my dagger in my belt, forgetting the girls, their snickers and my anger, and ran straight to him.

“Lady…you…attacked her.” His voice shook. “And…and…she wasn’t even armed…”

The girls had gone.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I grabbed his hands. “But I wasn’t going to hurt her. She just…”

His eyes brimmed with tears.

I brushed the hair back from his forehead. “Did I scare you?”

He nodded with big wet eyes.

I sighed and pulled him close. I didn’t know the half of his past, all that he’d been through, but I knew finding him trapped in those caves had only been a part of it. Whatever hardships he’d endured, whatever horrors he’d seen, had scarred him and scarred him deeply.

“I’m so sorry, Fleck. I was angry, very angry, but you’re right. It was no excuse, and I shouldn’t have done that.”

He sniffled in my ear and wrapped his little arms around me.

“Will you forgive me?” I whispered.

He nodded into my shoulder and sniffled again. Very slowly, I pulled back and held his gaze. He was so fragile, so delicate. I wondered if this was what Stefan had meant when we were fighting. I just didn’t have those defenses everyone else had—the defenses that made you equals.

“I was on my way to find you,” I continued, trying to cheer him up. “Ready to head to the library and see what adventure we can have today?”

He swallowed and looked at the ground.

“What is it?” I whispered.

He wrung his hands and looked back at me; the flecks in his eyes sparkled like glitter. “I…”

“It’s okay.” I gently squeezed his hand. “You can tell me.”

“There’s…something in my room.”

I searched his pale face. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Master Antoni left, and I started reading the books he gave me while I waited for you to come and get me and…and I heard a noise and…and…I looked up and there was this dark shadow in the corner and…and it started—” I squeezed his hand and he swallowed “—it started coming towards me and I ran, lady. I ran so fast because I didn’t want it to catch me, and I couldn’t find you, and I thought it was following me, and…” A tear slid down his cheek.

I grabbed both his hands tightly. “Fleck, listen to me. I won’t let anything—
anything
—happen to you, do you hear me?”

He nodded as more tears welled in his eyes.

“Here.” I fumbled in my pocket for the little rook—the one Thad had given me what seemed like forever ago—and held it before him. It was still cracked and part of the top had chipped off, but it was intact. “I want you to have this.”

Slowly, he reached out his hand and stared at it with wide eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s a rook from a game of chess. Thad gave it to me, but I want you to keep it.” I placed my hand over his. “Any time you’re scared, any time you think someone wants to hurt you, hold on to this and remember me. I swear on my life that I will never let anything”—I squeezed his hand—“happen to you, do you understand?”

Fleck’s nod was quick, and he continued nodding while he wiped his nose on his sleeve. I pulled my hand away while he studied the little rook before putting it away carefully in his pocket.

“Now, will you take me to your room?”

“But, lady,” Fleck hesitated, “what if it’s still there?”

“Then we’ll make it leave,” I said, matter-of-fact.

He seemed to like that answer. His eyes reduced themselves to a more normal size, and he stood a little taller, his hand resting on his pocket holding the rook. “I’m coming with you.”

Chapter 4

Fleck

“A
re you sure?” I asked. “It’ll only be a moment.”

Fleck nodded.

“All right.” I stood and grabbed his hand in mine. “But I want you to wait at the door, okay?”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

We wound through the halls, climbing stairs, passing people here and there. Most of the ones we passed, I didn’t recognize—which was to be expected. The festival was only a few days away, and people had been traveling from all over Gaia to come here. Many had already arrived, including Isla.

The halls were dark, their windows grey and dull from the clouds outside, and it was cold. It was always cold, here.

We crept up the winding staircase that led to his room and stopped at his door. His little hand shook inside mine.

“Fleck.” I crouched beside him. “It’ll be fine. If there’s anything in there, I’ll make it leave, okay?”

He bit his lip and nodded. I squeezed his hand and pushed his door open with a loud
creeeeeak
.

His room was dark and cold, and snow was just beginning to fall against the window. A pile of books was sprawled on the floor, lying every which way, but other than that his room was empty.

I glanced back at Fleck, who looked like he’d seen a ghost, and his bottom lip had fallen prey to his teeth once again.

“Where did you see it?”

He raised a shaky hand and pointed toward the closet. I took a deep breath, pulled my dagger, and stepped into the room.

The window groaned against the wind as snow piled upon the windowsill.

Stefan had better find something for Fleck soon. He’ll get sick up here.

I reached the closet door and held my dagger tight as I tugged on the knob.

Nothing.

It was as before, just an empty box with two little cloaks…

Goose bumps tingled on my neck.

There were whispers, like the night before. Soft and secretive, blending in with the wind, and it sounded like they were coming from behind the wall.

I pressed against the boards, checking for a sign that one might have been loose. The window rattled against the wind outside, like a spirit trying to break inside, and the room grew a shade darker.

This isn’t working.

“Hey—” I looked back at Fleck, trying to keep my voice strong “—is there a light?”

He ran to his nightstand, grabbed the lantern, lit the flame, and ran it to me, trembling.

“Thanks,” I said, and turned back to his closet.

There wasn’t a door or secret passage or anything…

I glanced up.

Dust and cobwebs filled the corners, but there was a hole, no larger than my thumb, in the joint where the wall ran into the ceiling. “Get me your stool,” I said over my shoulder.

Fleck scurried away and came back, half-carrying, half-dragging the stool. “Is there something up there?” He was so scared.

“I’m not sure.” I took it from him. Climbing to the top, I pressed around on the ceiling. A draft of cool air touched my fingertips, near the hole, and the wind outside suddenly stopped.

Everything was quiet.

It’s just the wind, it’s just the wind…

I pushed against the boards. They creaked, resolute in their place. I set the lantern between my feet, grabbed my dagger, and shoved the end of the blade into the hole, trying to pry the board loose. The stool wobbled as I tugged and pulled until finally, with a sharp jerk, I snapped the board free. I ducked as it fell to the ground with a shower of dust and debris.

The clattering settled and I looked down at Fleck, who’d wrapped his arms around his head. He slowly glanced over his arms, and we both gazed up at the ceiling, now missing a board.

I grabbed the lantern and held it to the hole. There wasn’t a wall on the other side.

“Lady?”

“Here.” I handed him the lantern. “And would you hold the stool steady?”

His face was whiter than a sheet as he set the lantern down and clutched the feet of the stool, using his body to hold it down. “Got it.”

Board by board, I removed the ceiling with my dagger, and with each board came more dust and debris. Once I’d removed enough to squeeze through, I turned back to Fleck. “Lantern.”

He lifted it to me and I held it to the opening. Far above, I could see at least four wooden beams supporting what had to be the turret’s roof. An attic.

I reached my hand through the hole and felt around, and once I was confident the floor was solid, I carefully pushed the lantern through and slid it onto the board.

So far, so good.

“All right, Fleck,” I said. “I’m going to hoist myself up there—”

“But, lady! You can’t go up there all by yourself!” His eyes were so frightened.

I ruffled his hair. “Come on, it’s just an old attic. I’ll be back before you can say ‘lady.’ And who knows…maybe we’ve just discovered an awesome place to hide.” I grinned.

He gulped, looking skeptical, but didn’t say another word.

I clenched my dagger in my teeth, gripped the sides of the boards, jumped up, and hoisted myself through.

With a groan, I pulled my dangling feet through the opening and clambered onto the floor, the lantern burning beside my feet. I dusted my hands on my pants, pulled my dagger from my mouth, and looked around.

It
was
an attic. A very old, very dusty attic with a hollowed cone for a ceiling, and the air was so cold I felt like I’d stepped into a freezer. There was one small, round window near the top, but aside from that, the only light in the room was from my lantern.

A gust of wind rattled the tiny window and the tower fought back with low and sinister groans.

I shuddered.

On second thought, maybe we wouldn’t use this as a hiding place. It was too dark and the air had an eerie quality to it, malignant and deadly. Like it was a predator, and the shadows its shield, and I had stumbled right in its snare.

I picked up the lantern and moved it around.

You’re freaking yourself out. Calm down. It’s just an old attic.

But as I looked, as I moved the lantern around, fear pricked up my neck and filled me with misgiving.

Strange symbols tattooed the walls like wallpaper. They’d blurred from dust and neglect, running every which way, spanning the ceiling, the walls, the floorboards, all converging at an object in the center of the room, whose silhouette was barely visible in the darkness.

The lantern shook in my hand as I walked toward it, dagger in my other hand. The object was tall and slender, hidden by a black cloth.

With a deep breath, I reached out and tugged the cloth. It slid off and fell to the floor in a black heap, kicking up a cloud of dust.

It was a mirror—a tall, oval mirror propped up by a black iron stand. The glass was mottled and aged, distorting my reflection, and it almost seemed as though it absorbed the light from my lantern.

The window rattled again, and I jumped.

My blood turned to ice.

My reflection…it hadn’t moved.

The image of myself stood there as I had stood seconds ago, my arms at my side. And as I watched, as I stood startled and afraid, a dark form came in to view right behind me.

I stopped breathing and spun around.

Nothing. I was alone.

I looked back in the mirror, but the darkness was still there. It began to morph and change into the shape of a man, one with bronze hair and blue eyes…

He looked just like my dad.

But where my dad’s eyes were kind, his were empty and cruel, and where my dad’s smile was warm, his was curled in mockery as though he’d just played the greatest prank on the world and was watching them suffer for it.

My heart thudded in my ears.

I felt his hate, then, burning like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was a hatred I’d never known—never seen—palpable and noxious, wicked and deadly, and it was completely terrifying.

He began to morph, slow and gradual, until his hair disappeared and his skin became grey like death, and where his cruel eyes had been, two black pits formed.

It was the man from the fields by my home back in Fresno.

I stepped back, away from the mirror, away from him, my legs trembling with each step. But he moved, too.

Toward me.

Out of the glass, sweeping like a fine mist, reaching out his arms straight for me.

I turned to run but tripped over my feet and fell hard on the ground; my lantern shattered beside me.

The room went dark.

An agonizing scream filled my ears and I held up my dagger, waiting for him to strike. Waiting for the pain to come and my life to end. A sharp burst of air slammed into me, and the screaming ceased.

My heavy breathing was the only sound.

I searched the room, but he was gone. His hate, his hostility—just gone.

Shaking, I scrambled back to the hole in the floor and jumped through, down into Fleck’s closet.

He was waiting for me, horrified, as if he had seen everything. “You saw him.” His voice quivered.

I started, grabbed his hand and pulled him out into the hall, closing the door to his bedroom. “You said you saw a shadow.”

He swallowed. “I did, but…I see
him
in…my nightmares.”

I didn’t know how Fleck had seen what I’d seen, but I didn’t like it and I grabbed Fleck’s shoulders. “Have you told Master Antoni?”

Fleck shook his head, biting his bottom lip. “I’m scared, lady. I don’t want the king to find out because…because he’ll think—” he gulped “—he’ll think my powers are showing and he’ll…he’ll…” Tears streamed down his cheeks and he shook so badly I wrapped my arms around him to hold him together.

“Shh,” I said in his ear, stroking his hair. “He’s not going to do anything to you. Remember what I said. I meant it. As long as I’m around, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“He killed—” Fleck sniffled “—my parents.”

Chills ran down my legs and I went still.

No, it couldn’t be. I didn’t like my grandfather, either, but he wasn’t a murderer.