The Marked Son (Keepers of Life) (15 page)

Kera moves to my side. “There’s nothing we can do but wait for him to wake up.” She holds out her trap. “Take heart. I caught one!”

Behind the twisted twigs, a light flutters. It glows brightly for a moment as it struggles to be free, but soon, it dims and grows still.

“One?” I’m feeling defeated. At this rate we’ll never get them all.

“Don’t fret. We’ll find the rest.”

“I can’t leave Leo here. Not like this. What if he gets hold of some poisonous plants, or walks off and falls into a ditch and breaks his leg?”

She shakes her head. “You worry so often, I’m surprised you’re not covered in warts. Worry is a human trait.”

What does she expect? I live in a human world. She’d worry, too, if she’d never had a solid sense of identity or a real home. Until Grandma and Grandpa, if I’d disappeared, no one would’ve noticed I’d gone, or cared if I’d ever lived at all.

“Let me ease your mind,” she says. That strange glowing-hand-thing begins, and in moments, the sound of something big and dangerous fills the night. Out of the forest leaps a massive gray wolf. I jump back as it swings its head back and forth, lifting his nose to sniff the air. Kera goes to him and scratches his ears, whispering strange words. When she backs away, the wolf circles Leo, and like a dog chasing its tail, he twirls about before sinking to the ground beside my friend.

“There,” Kera says. “Safe ’til morning.”

“I know this fairy tale,” I say, not even trying to keep the worry from my voice. “The wolf eats the little girl in the red cape.”

“Leo isn’t a girl.”

She obviously wasn’t raised with Grimm’s stories whispered in the dark, the more gruesome the better.

“Never mind. Are you sure it won’t, you know, maul him, bite him, eat his intestines for breakfast? The usual wolf thing?”

The wolf lifts its head and growls. I cringe and take a big step back. Leo struggles to sit up, and the wolf forces him back down by laying its big head across his torso. “Why do I get the feeling Leo’s not going to thank me if he wakes up before we get back?”

The trees creak and sigh, and from out of the darkness, Jason appears, passed from tree to tree, until he’s suspended high in the branches over Leo, still asleep.

Kera pats the tree and smiles at the wolf. “That’s better. Take care of them until we return.” She motions me forward. “Under their care, your friends will be safe until all the
pux
are caught.”

A sharp bark of disbelief escapes me as I reluctantly follow her. “Sure, ’cause this is all totally normal.”

She must be serious about these
pux
, because before I can say another word, she’s way ahead of me. I catch up to her and say, “They’re gone, and we’ve only managed to catch one. Not good odds. How are we going to find them, now?”

She holds up the trap. “We have someone who can find them for us.”

I step close to examine our prisoner. Since it’s no longer glowing bright enough to burn my retinas, I can clearly see it’s a female, perfectly proportioned, with long, tousled blond hair and black eyes. Translucent wings snap back and forth like a bee as she saws uselessly at the trap with a jagged, crystal blade.

Her clothes are wispy and light and full of color, and I can’t help but think of
The Borrowers
or
The Indian in the Cupboard
, books I used to read when I was younger.

“She’s like a tiny person.” Her looking so human is something I didn’t expect. “Gross. I just smooshed a bunch of tiny people.”

“Not exactly. She’s a form of sídhe,” Kera says in a matter-of-fact voice, “and much too unruly to trust.”

That’s what people always thought about me. I suddenly feel an affinity to the tiny girl. “Poor little thing.”

I raise my hand to touch the trap, and when I do, she bares her teeth, lifts her tiny blade, and glows so bright, I’m shocked I don’t go blind.

I snatch my hand away. “She doesn’t look like she’ll help us.”

Kera holds the trap in front of her. “
Pux
can’t stand being separated from the group. Come on,” she says, jiggling the cage and frowning at her prisoner. “Find your friends.”

The little
pux
stiffens and leans forward, sniffing the air. Her attention immediately sharpens toward the south, and she glows brighter.

A wide grin spreads across Kera’s face. “We go that way.”

“Huh. She’s like a bloodhound, only not.”

We let our captive guide us, and it doesn’t take me long to realize where we’re headed. A barn rises past the line of trees, and a few yards behind it is Leo’s house. Muffled shouts come from inside.

As Kera hangs the trap on a nearby branch, I race toward the house.

Pop barrels out of the front door, his eyes wide with horror as a cluster of lights swirl around him, pulling at his hair and nipping at his skin like nasty bugs. His fear-filled gaze lands on me, and then his eyes roll back, just before he crashes like a dead man onto the porch.

“Pop!”

Kera appears behind me, and on seeing her, the
pux
dart away. She drops to her knees and checks Pop’s pulse. “He’s asleep.”

Relieved, I step around a collection of fishing poles and a few fishing nets left out on the porch, and open the front door. When I enter, a hiss of anger rolls through the
pux
. A book immediately zips past my head and slams into the wall, followed by a dog collar and a tea kettle. I duck into the melee, dodge the
pux
as they bounce off the walls, open cabinets, knock over dishes, scatter paper, and torment the old dog huddled in the corner. I pick up a rolled newspaper and smack my palm with it. The sound makes the
pux
draw back.

“That’s right. Big bad guy wants to play some more baseball.” I’m not about to give them time to form an attack plan. I step forward and start swinging. “Kera!”

The screen door bangs behind Kera when she enters the house. The
pux
sound a collective gasp and fly down the hall. Their loud buzzing grows as I race after them. They dart into the last room and I follow, but stop short when I see a group of
pux
yanking out strands of Reggie’s hair. Kera comes up behind me and whispers, “They need the hair for one of their spells, one that will have him doing all sorts of tasks for them.”

That didn’t sound good.

The
pux
spot us and fly in a hissing mass through the open window. Sticking my head out after them, I search for the little glowing lights, but all I find is Pop, gently snoring on the porch. I pull back into the room and survey the damage. Clothes hang out of dresser drawers and sag off hangers. A bottle of spilled cologne scents the air with its heavy, musky fragrance.

Kera rights the bottle and points out tiny foot prints. “They bathed in it. If they’re not rolling in the dirt, they’re rubbing themselves with flower petals.”

I shake Reggie’s blankets clean and resettle him in bed while Kera searches the house for any remaining
pux.
An eerie quiet permeates the house. Kera meets me in the doorway of another room.

“Are they gone?” I ask.

“Not far, I’m sure.”

Cautiously, we make our way to the front of the house, my rolled newspaper at the ready. The windows are open, and there’s no sign of the
pux
. What we do find is chaos. Not one surface is saved from destruction.

I pause at the kitchen. The refrigerator door hangs open, as well as every cabinet. Broken pottery, jam jars busted and oozing sticky, mushy fruit, and upended milk cartons lie on the floor. I kick the fridge closed, slap each cabinet door shut, and take a dishtowel to the spilled milk. When I’m done, I find Kera in the living area, wading through papers and displaced cushions as she murmurs softly to the dog.

“It’s okay.” She stoops and runs her hands along the dog’s head and quivering back. “It’s all over now. Don’t worry. No one blames you.”

He looks up at her with trusting eyes, and I see him shudder with relief.

“What should we do about Pop and Reggie?”

Kera straightens. “They shouldn’t remember a thing.”

I survey the mess all around us. “I think they’re going to notice something happened.”

Kera nods toward the dog. “He’ll do what he can.”

“You expect me to believe the dog’s going to clean up?” Even as I say it, the dog rises and begins to nudge fallen books aside and replace the couch cushions.
Just accept it and go on
, I tell myself.

Kera searches the yard while I scoop Pop into my arms, carry him inside, and lay him on the couch.

When I straighten, Kera shouts, “Dylan! Hurry!”

The alarm in her voice has me bounding out the front door. I come to a stop when I see her walking toward me with a cluster of bright lights surrounding the trap she’s holding at arms’ length.

“They’re trying to free her. Hurry and slip something over them.”

Glancing about for something to use, I spot the fishing net near the front door. I grab it and race back to Kera. The ball of flickering lights reminds me of how bees cluster around the queen to protect it. They’re so intent on rescuing their friend, none of the
pux
react until the net is over them and I’m twisting it closed. Then, their buzzing becomes deafening.

Kera sighs in relief. “Finally,” she says, and hangs the
pux
in a nearby tree. We stare up at the ball of light dangling like a Chinese lantern. The light casts a golden glow around us.

“Did we get all of them?” I’m not convinced. From prior experience, catching them all at once seems too easy.

“No
pux
will ignore another’s call for help. They’ll risk their own lives for each another. It’s the one honorable thing they do.”

“What’re you going to do with them?”

“Take them back where they belong.” Her gaze lands on mine, and a sense of sadness seeps from her. “I couldn’t have done this alone.”

We stand, gazing at each other beside the netted
pux
, our silhouettes outlined by their pulsing light.

I’d promised to help catch the
pux
so she could take them home, but now that it’s done, a feeling of impending loneliness creeps over me, snagging painfully against my ribs. “So this is it, then?”

“I can’t chance them getting loose.”

“No. You can’t chance that.” With the evidence of one night of their destructive ways behind us, her concern is understandable. I gaze out at the night, judging the time to be close to three in the morning. I’m not tired. I’m hopeful—a condition I’m not used to. “Do you have to go now?”

“I think I must,” she says in a voice so soft, I need to lean forward to hear it. She leans closer. “What about you? Will you come with me? Find out why you were abandoned here? We need you, Dylan.
I
need you.”

“I want to, but I can’t.” The reasons are complex, and ones I need to work out before I decide to do anything. The smell of sorrow, like burnt molasses, invades her summer scent. I take her hand, needing to touch her. “I’m sorry.”

My heart twists, but in a good way. What’s wrong with me? Everything feels different. I feel different. For the first time in my life, I feel free.

It’s her.

If I had always known she was real, known she was out there waiting for me, would I have done things differently?

I memorize each dip and rise of her beautiful face as I finger the gentle roll of her dark hair. I palm her cheek—her skin carries a hint of silkiness—and I wonder at the warm contact. The rightness of her. I would have been a better person.

The air hisses with the unspoken. I lean closer. “Kera. I…”

The glow from the
pux
dims and their buzzing fades. Their curious little faces stare out at us.