The Keeper's Vow (25 page)

It wasn’t just Traci, Tristan and Allison
hounded her daily to meditate, find her core, and harness “the
power.” At least twenty times a day, Tristan told her to
breathe.

“What do you think I do?
Not
Breathe?
” she said in the middle of Field Study. They were
supposed to review independently for a test on vampire defense.
There were two pages of weapons, and she had to know the effect
each one had on a vampire. It took her two days, but she’d
memorized one page already. She scanned the page again. To be
honest it gave her the creeps. “Who knew there were so many ways to
skin a dog.”

“Cat,” Tristan said, taking the paper from
her.

“What?” Katie reached for it back but he
held on tight.

“The phrase is about skinning
cats
not dogs. Anyway, You should practice your meditation now. Forget
this test, you’re going to fail it anyway. You’ve been studying the
wrong list.”

Katie snatched the paper back and groaned.
She’d been studying the one for werewolves—a test they took two
weeks ago.

She couldn’t do anything right. She’d been
trying over the last few weeks, but it was too much. Too much
information about the dramatic history between vampires and
werewolves. The debate on whether ghouls existed and if the fates
really were fairy which meant the existence of fairies were then in
question. Everyone knew those things. Everyone meditated perfectly
and made
Sensei Steve
“bow”—which Katie was sure was more
incorrect than Steve’s Japanese. Everyone, except her, knew what
they were looking for when they meditated. They all understood what
the untouchable power was. “This is so unfair. How am I expected to
do it when most the people in this class can’t?”

Tristan shrugged.

It didn’t make sense. She was being set-up
to fail. And what would happen when she failed? Myrtle made it
clear they’d get rid of her, Guardian style. She’d be enrolled at
the public school down the street and would most likely spend her
days drooling on her desk.

“Just Breathe, “ Tristan said.

“What do you
think
I’m doing?” A few
heads turned in her direction. She scowled.

“You know what I mean. Take deep, slow
breaths, concentrate, and harness the power.”

Concentrate? On what? Her center? She had
yet to
find
her center and she didn’t think she’d be able to
harness anything but a headache. Katie closed her eyes and groaned.
Concentrate on what? The only thing she could think about was
Tristan’s cologne. It didn’t smell bad, it smelled like him; but
because their chairs were so close together, it suffocated her.
Actually, she was starting to feel suffocated by him. Sitting so
close, even though they weren’t touching, felt like they were
confined in a tight space, where neither one could move without
colliding with the other.

It was like that now ever since that night.
He never left. They were together when they weren’t in their
separate houses sleeping. On days practice ran late she’d stay at
Lucinda’s house and they’d sit in the backyard until midnight
meditating. How was she supposed to concentrate when she couldn’t
find her own space? They were
always
in each others
space.

Now, the smell of him alone was permeating
off her own skin.

What?

She opened her eyes finding it hard to
breathe. The room looked strange, like she had moved a seat
over—like she was sitting in Tristan’s seat…

Katie turned her head to the right and
nearly screamed when she saw herself, eyes closed and still. In a
split second she was back in her own chair and falling.

“Are you okay, Katie?” Mr. Carver said,
moving from his desk to help her up.

“I’m fine,” she said, staring at Tristan
from the floor. He looked as confused and as surprised as she
felt.

Katie picked herself up and fixed her chair.
There were some chuckles in the class, but Mr. Carver went on
answering review questions and announcing the homework. “Remember
class, talking blood type with vampires is like talking politics.
You should always know what the most popular type is at the moment.
B positive is on the rise—Michael
B
positive. There is no
D.”

“Tristan,” Katie whispered.

He ignored her. Watching Mr. Carver as if
his words would be on a test. She was in his body. She was
in
his body. How was that possible?

The bell rang.

“Tristan?”

“Katalina, Leave me alone.” He grabbed his
books and led her out of the classroom.

“What just happened? I was—we were—why
aren’t you freaking out?”

“You used to do it when we were kids. You
sort of put yourself in my mind. It’s—annoying.”

“So, I wasn’t imagining that? I was actually
in
your head?” Katie said, pacing by the wall of lockers.
They only had five-minutes before their next class, Practical
Application. Steve Sensei planed for them to do floor exercises. No
time for talking there. She needed answers now.

“Just stay out. I didn’t like it when we
were kids. I don’t like it now.”

“Are you serious? You do the same thing to
me!”

“It’s not the same. I’ve never gone into
your head, I just hear and feel everything you bombard me
with.”

“So it’s
my
fault you easedrop on
my
private thoughts?” She laughed at the idiocy.

“With the way you shout at me, I’d hardly
call it easedropping. What you used to do, and what you just did,
is an invasion of privacy,” Tristan said.

Katie laughed at his terrorized expression.
It was nice to know she had—even for a short time—unnerved him.

She owed it to him to invade his privacy. He
kept a wall between them, hiding all of his thoughts behind it
while rummaging through hers. She was afraid of any idle thought,
wondering if he’d heard it or if he could hear her wondering if he
was wondering. It was madness.

But this….

This was payback.

Over the next two days she concentrated on
him. She’d even move her chair closer to him smelling him,
memorizing his facial features—the way his top lip was a darker
shade of pink than his lower. Every time, he’d shift in his chair
aware of what she was doing; each time she’d feel that closed-space
feeling, he’d cringe and she’d feel herself being shoved away.

Each attempt was in vain, but the way he’d
reach over and pinch her arm in warning made it worth it. She was
breaking through his wall and evening the playing-field…not by
much, but it was a start.

They sat on the floor for yet another day in
Field Study. Today was a special day though, it was Meditation
Friday. Katie resumed operation: Torture Tristan. She thought about
the the way his body moved naturally in and out of punches and
blocks, the way his hair was never combed and how his eyebrows
always arched when he made funny faces. She felt how close she was
to touching him, how they always sat that close together. How he
always sat that close to her, no matter where they were….

She lost control of her breathing, it was
faster than it should have been. She opened her eyes and saw
herself siting in her chair looking still and calm.

Her eyes closed against her will. She was in
his body, but she had no control. It was
his
lungs she felt
taking in too many breaths, his heart beating too fast. She didn’t
like it. Where was hers? How was this working? What if she couldn’t
get back…what if her mind stayed hijacked by his body forever?

‘
Calm down
.’ Tristan said to her,
‘
I want to show you something.’

She tired to clear her mind of the panicky
chatter. Is this what Tristan heard from her all day? How did he
keep his own thoughts straight when he could hear hers too?
‘It’s worse with you here,’
he said. She silenced herself
and waited in the blackness of his mind.

As if she had teleported, she was surround
by forest. A wet, sunny day after a short rain. She smelled a
mixture of wet-wood and sun. Aggravation filled her. Though the day
was still early enough for his dad to teach him how to swim, he had
to meet a girl named Annabel instead.

Annabel?
The wet-wood smell and
forest were gone in a flash. She saw black again. ‘
Was that a
memory…your memory?

‘
Just watch, Katalina. I can’t
concentrate when you think,’
Tristan answered. A new memory
surfaced. It was still wet but the sun was setting. There was a
little girl standing a few feet away, and a tall, slender woman
standing by her side.

“This is Katalina and her daughter Annabel,
Tristan. Go on, introduce yourself,” a woman with a silky voice
said, standing next to him. She had beautiful black hair and a
smile that made him feel genuinely happy.

He walked over to the woman and said hello.
She shook his hand and he turned his attention to the girl. She was
supposed to be like him.

She wasn’t.

She had an ugly rag-doll in one hand and the
other in her mothers. Her brown hair was pulled back into a
pony-tail and she looked moderately slow. “I’m Tristan,” he said,
holding out his hand. Just as he thought, she wouldn’t shake it.
She wasn’t like him at all.

The scene changed, and he was standing in
front of Annabel. She was a little taller, and her brown locks were
flying around her face in the wind. She had a long stick in her
hand, and she held it like a sword.

“I told you, Annabel. You’re the captive and
I’m
saving you,” Tristan said furious. She was ruining every
thing…
again
.

“No. I’ll save myself. I’m not playing with
you anymore.”

“Why?” he said, losing his patience.

“Because you’re mean,” she frowned “I
know
you don’t like me.”

He stomped his foot. Of course he liked her,
she was his friend. Why couldn’t she be more like him? Why couldn’t
she see she was being stupid again? Her large gray eyes sat just
underneath a furrowed brow. Why was his Annabel so sensitive?

Every thing went black and Tristan was in a
dark room laying on a bed. A loud voice filled his head and he
couldn’t make it stop. He pleaded for Annabel to stop screaming in
his mind, but she continued to cry and babble. She had heard her
mother yelling at her father, and she wouldn’t stop the crying.
Tristan was filled with her terrible emotions and they were ripping
his mind apart. He screamed out thrashing around in his bed.

“I told you he was too young,” his mother
snapped at his father as they came into his room.

“Help me,” Tristan begged, squeezing his
head.

“He’ll learn to block her out,” his father
said pouring dark liquid into a glass.

“Ivan, you took away his life.”

“If the tides were changed, Lawrence would
have done the same for me. I’m done discussing it.” Tristan’s head
was going to crack open.

Katie couldn’t take it anymore, the
screaming and the crying it was becoming to much. She felt a tug
and when she opened her eyes she was back in her body gasping and
relieved the screaming was over.

“I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten how bad that one
is,” Tristan whispered, his eyes searching her for something.

“Was that right after you took the vow?” she
whispered back.

“Yeah. You’re not so bad anymore,” he
smiled. She was still too shaken to return the smile.

“Because you use a wall,” she said.

“To keep
my
thoughts from
you
.”

She didn’t like that he could hide things
from her and yet know everything she wanted to hide. They were
her
thoughts, no matter how stupid or annoying. The mind was
the only personal thing anyone had. But he knew that. It’s why he
used a wall.

“It’s not,” he said, looking up to make sure
Mr. Carver was still in the front of the room shuffling through
papers. He opened his mouth to tell her something but stopped. And
there it was—a prime example of his wall being handy.

“It’s hard to believe we were friends,” she
sighed, looking at his hair. It was too black, like he was too
mean.

A wide crooked smile spread across his face.
“It’s hard to believe you’re still so sensitive.” She had seen that
smile a hundred times, but this time she felt it—a tug catching her
off balance.

The bell rang and they left for Practical
Application.

They spent the first half of every Field
Study class shifting through Tristan’s memories. They’d pretend to
read their books while he showed her every memory he had of her and
her mother. Her mother’s sweet jasmine perfume, her sad
smile—always sad—her loud and heavy laugh. Katie had a mother and
she was more than amazing; she was real. Sometimes, Katie’d pass by
a jasmine tree on the way to school, and she’d remember her, a
small smile, a whisper of a laugh, or the barest touch; it was her.
She was real. She was hers.

After school, they’d con Lucinda out of
practice, using homework as an excuse, and lay on his room floor
shifting through his childhood memories. One memory would trigger a
new one, and he’d stop to explain what had caused him to jump. She
had never seen him smile so much or laugh so hard and long.

Though, at least once a day, he would jump
to something dark and she would feel a deep depression. She’d named
it, The Black Void. He’d throw up his wall between them and turn on
her as if she’d given him those memories, or been in his mind
without his permission.

That, at least, was what happened yesterday
after eating dinner at Lucinda’s. It was late and Lucinda made her
stay the night. So, they spent most of the night shifting through
memories until he kicked her out mentally and physically. He shoved
her out of the room before she even knew what was happening.

She’d woken up the next morning expecting to
go home and spend the day watching Saturday morning cartoons in
front of a bowl of sugar, cereal, and milk. She didn’t expect him
to be in her room after she got out of the shower.