The Water Queens (Keeper of the Water) (3 page)

His back arches in pain as my own shoulder begins to burn icily. The pain is familiar, a tearing sensation as my skin and flesh and muscle heals. The water has saved my life several times during the last century but the resulting pain of healing isn’t so explosive or immediate this time. It’s slowly creeping up on me, growing worse by the second. I need to hurry if I’m going to help the others.

I rush through the waist-high water until I reach the boat, breathless. With one shoulder out of commission, it’s a struggle to pull myself aboard. I nearly land atop Amelia, whose eyes are closed and chest barely moves. I put my ear to her mouth, relieved to feel a slight hint of breathing. I lean over the side of the airboat and try scooping handfuls of water but too much of it slips between my fingers. Amelia needs a lot of help and she needs it fast. I wrap my good arm around her waist and drag over overboard.

Splashdown sends another painful jolt through me. But I’m able to get plenty of water down her throat and position her better to help. Once she swallows enough water, she begins to stir. I pull the arrow out of her and she unleashes a guttural scream – at least she still has enough life left to make that loud of a noise. Her eyes flutter a few moments but she passes out again. I repeat the same time-consuming healing process with her as I did for John. By the time I reach dry land with Amelia, I barely summon the strength to pull her from the water. A combination of exhaustion and pain threatens my consciousness. I want nothing more than to pass out on the ground between my boyfriend and recruit. But even though my mother wasn’t shot in a spot as critical as John or Amelia, I know she’s still in bad shape.

Had it been anyone else, I don’t think I could’ve stayed awake. By my mother – my granddaughter – is the only real family I have left. I stumble several times making my way back a second time. Coldness creeps through me and I should feel better knowing that my shoulder is healing; unfortunately, that comes with more pain. I circle to the side of the boat where I see my mother propped up, head tilted to the side. I try to climb back in but keep falling over, ending up beneath the water each time. I realize I won’t be able to do this on my own.

“Mom, I need you to help me,” I say. “We’ve reached the good water, the stuff that’ll save us.”

Another wave of pain crashes through me and I fight the urge to groan. I clench my teeth for a few seconds while holding my breath. The worst of the pain finally eases. The brighter blue water begins to dull as blackness creeps into my vision. I wait for a response from my mom but she doesn’t budge.

“Please, Mom, I need you to roll overboard,” I beg her. “I’ll catch you and do the rest.”

She still doesn’t respond so I rock the boat, hoping to wake her. But she only leans more to the side. If she falls all the way over in her seat, I’ll never be able to get to her. With my strength waning, I jump and wrap
both
arms around her, holding tightly despite feeling my shoulder tearing again. The weight of my falling body is enough to pull her over the side, though I feel the arrow in her side snag against the boat and snap in half.

My mother’s body lands on top of me and forces me underwater, our limbs tangled together. I flail weakly beneath her and barely have the energy to push her aside to get myself free. When I was made Keeper two decades ago, part of the ceremony involved holding my head in the special water, where I’d been surprised to find I could still breathe. Now, I
wish
that was the case, I
wish
I wasn’t drowning in three feet of water. Once we’re untangled, I grab hold of her and pull us both above the surface.

I suck air into my lungs but it doesn’t stop my vision from fading. I cradle my mother as she floats on the water’s surface. She’s still not moving and I don’t have time to check her vital signs. I’m losing consciousness quickly. My feet somehow listen to my brain’s command to move but the twenty feet to dry land looks more like twenty miles. Amelia and John are still knocked out so my waning seconds of awareness are my mother’s only chance of survival.

Her mouth hangs open and blue water enters; I don’t try to stop it and hope she swallows plenty of it. The arrow lodged in her side snapped during our fall so it makes it hard for me to grab hold of it. I finally yank part of it out but I don’t think I got it all. Splinters jab into my fingers but no pain could be worse than what I already experience. The only good thing is that my mother’s wound doesn’t seem to bleed, even once the arrow is out.

While dragging her to land, I try to sprinkle water onto her wound but I can barely see well enough to know if it’s working.

“Come on, Katina, open your eyes,” I whisper to her. “Please, Mom.”

But the last thing I see before darkness enshrouds my vision is my mom’s eyes still closed, her face peaceful. I stumble in the shallow water and feel the slight rise of the dirt embankment. When I fall, my head hits dry land and with my last bit of energy before passing out, I drag my mother atop my own body…

CHAPTER THREE

My eyes flicker open but consciousness fails to last more than a few seconds each time…

I don’t know how many minutes or hours pass but I have a quick glimpses of the sky each time, which changes colors as I see the sun in different spots…

My mind is in a fog, dazed, unable to comprehend where I am or what’s happening to me. When I finally stay awake more than a few seconds, I feel incredible heat and hear the buzzing of insects. It’s not unlike the experience of waking up in the middle of the Amazon jungle.

But this time most of my body is covered with water and I feel like I weigh a million pounds. Something heavy is pressing down on my body but I don’t have the strength to move my head and see what it is. I try to shake free from the weight but the effort drains me and I pass out…

The next time my eyes open, I’m more cognizant of my surroundings. The water is up to my neck and I recognize swamp trees swaying in the warm breeze. Most of my pain has eased, turning into a heavy covering of weariness that’s enveloped every part of me. I struggle to sit up. John and Amelia are still unconscious farther up the embankment. Both seem to be breathing, which is a big relief.

I turn back toward the water and spot several gators swimming back and forth, back and forth, just beyond where the brighter blue turns into murky swamp water. I don’t know what keeps the gators out of our special water but I’m glad the beasts have stayed away from three easy meals.

Wait… there’s
four
of us. My stomach sinks when I realize I’d forgotten my mother, who lies unmoving beside me. She slid farther down the embankment and the water is all the way up to her neck. Had I not woken when I did, she might’ve slipped all the way under.

“Mom, wake up,” I whisper.

She doesn’t budge and when I stare at her chest, I don’t think it’s moving. I pray I’m wrong but I don’t have the strength to check. The simple act of sitting up and glancing around leaves me exhausted. The swamp’s oppressive heat saps me and I’m about to pass out again. I grab her beneath the arms and pull her farther up the dirt though somewhere in the back on my mind, I know it’s too late…

I return to consciousness for several more fleeting moments, though it’s hard to determine what’s real and what’s a dream. At one point, I sense movement around me and hear the shuffle of footsteps. My first worry is that Cassie and her Queen Clan came back to finish us off but I can’t stay awake long enough to defend myself. The next time I stir, I feel my body being dragged onto solid land; I try to open my eyes to see who’s moving me – and see what they plan to do with me – but I slip away before taking a single glance. I think I hear the sound of digging but still can’t tell what’s real…

My eyes suddenly snap open and I’m staring at a dark sky full of stars. Could all of my awakenings been one long dream? Has the sun really not risen since I made it to land? The sweltering heat had seemed so real but the ground beneath me is cool and I’m no longer sweating. In fact, I’m no longer wet at all.

“H – ”

I erupt into a violent coughing fit before I get out a single word. The coughing shakes my entire body but I only feel general soreness instead of explosive pain. My shoulder is healed, at least enough so I’m able to remain conscious. The shadow of a person passes me and splashes in the water nearby. Seconds later, a handful of water is directed into my mouth. I drink greedily, the water cold and refreshing, energizing. I struggle to sit up and a strong hand helps guide me. John kneels beside me and lightly touches my cheek.

“Try to take it easy,” he says.

Before I respond, he turns and walks away. In the darkness, I watch him and Amelia lift a body and place it gently into a hole dug at the highest point of dry land. Without seeing who they carry, I start to cry uncontrollably. My insides feel hollow, my heart broken. I gave up my role to save Katina’s life; now I wish I could trade my life to bring her back. I struggle to my feet and hobble to the freshly dug grave.

“I’m sorry, Mentor,” Amelia says. “I wish we had something more to cover her with. She deserves a better farewell.”

“I didn’t want you to see her like this; you should try to remember her from before,” John says. “We couldn’t just leave her lying here and this was the best burial we could give.”

They’re both out of breath and covered with dirt. If I’m this exhausted
without
having dug a deep hole, I can’t imagine how tired they must be, especially considering their injuries were more serious than mine. The work must’ve been even tougher since there aren’t shovels or other digging tools for them to use. I look into the grave; the moon provides just enough light so I can see her face. She looks peaceful – like she’s merely asleep – and that makes me feel even worse.

I don’t want to accept this. I want to jump into the grave and pull her out, cradle her in my arms and never let go. I’ve suffered many losses in my life – now and in my past life – but I can’t remember feeling this low. Having John and Amelia by my side doesn’t help make me feel anything less than utter despair.

“Why? Why did she die?” I whisper so quietly that I barely hear myself. I clear my throat and wipe away tears before speaking more strongly. “How did we all survive once we reached the water and she didn’t? Our wounds were worse than hers.”

“It must be because we’ve all drank the special water in the past,” Amelia explains. “This place still holds trace amounts of healing effects for
our
bodies. Your mother’s body never felt the true water’s effects so this water wasn’t enough to save her. I was next to her in the boat the entire time – she lost a lot of blood. The three of us may have been shot in worse spots but our bodies were a lot stronger than hers.”

I shake my head in denial, wishing Amelia’s assessment wasn’t true though I know it is. I should’ve realized this before; I allowed myself to be caught up in the moment. Had I been thinking clearly and realized Katina was so hurt, I could’ve focused more on helping her. Instead, my stupidity has killed her.

“There’s nothing you could’ve done to save her,” John says as if reading my mind.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, a gesture he obviously means to be comforting. But I shrug it away; I don’t
want
to feel better, I doubt I ever will. My mind replays the events that led to my mother dying. As far as I’m concerned, there’s plenty of blame to go around. Everybody’s actions led to this tragedy; nobody is innocent. I’m so focused on my mother’s death that I can’t believe I’ve forgotten that she’s not the only tragedy we suffered.

“Has there been any sign of Celeste?” I ask. “Of Cleopatra?”

Amelia frowns and shakes her head. The answer’s not surprising but it doesn’t make the truth hurt any less.

“Nothing,” my recruit says. “But we haven’t been awake much longer than you. Still, I can’t see how she could’ve survived.”

“The Keeper –
our
Keeper,” I say to Amelia. “I can’t believe she lived for thousands of years – protected the water for hundreds of years – just to be killed by Cassie.”

Speaking that name is like tasting acid on the tip of my tongue. I can’t say it without scrunching up my nose and wanting to spit.

“It wasn’t
just
her fault,” John says. “ Don’t forget the role Jack played in her death.”

“I never should’ve left Celeste alone with those two. She never had a chance,” I say. My pity party is in full swing; realizing I’d doomed Celeste, too, leaves me feeling more pathetic than before. I harness those feelings and it quickly turns to anger. “Has there been any sign that Jack somehow made it to this water?”

Though I tossed him to the gators earlier, a part of me hopes he lived if only to kill him again, to take out my frustrations. I’m not proud of this sudden burst of blood lust but hey, it is what it is.

“I
did
see him near where we woke up,” Amelia says, sending jolts of angry energy coursing through me. I may still be severely weakened, but I’m ready to hunt Jack down. “Actually, I saw
several
small pieces of him floating around in different spots. Don’t worry, the gators took care of
that
problem.”

I’m disappointed, at least the vengeful part of me. Jack may have led us to this swamp but
he
wasn’t the one who shot the arrow that killed my mother, or Celeste for that matter. Cassie and her clan will join Jack in paying for what they’ve done.

“What do we do now?” I ask.

Our enemies have a big lead on us and we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere with no safe way of getting back to the mainland. I want nothing more than to stop them but my mind is too clouded with thoughts of revenge to think of a way to make that happen. My question was aimed more toward Amelia – who always seems to have a plan to escape any mess – but John is the one who jumps in with an answer.

“We disappear,” he says. “We put all of this behind us, live our lives as normally as possible. We avoid Cassie and the Amazons and the water for the rest of our lives. You and I can just be together, we can just be
us
.”

I have to admit his offer takes me by surprise. But my emotions have already taken a wild rollercoaster ride and John’s words force me to a place I hadn’t expected to go; not even anger or revenge are in the forefront of my thoughts.

“But what about saving the water? And stopping Cassie from using it to take over the world?” I ask. Looking into his eyes – which stare lovingly back at me – causes another spark of anger inside me. “Which was
your
plan, by the way.”

“But it’s not anymore,” he assures me. “We’ve both lost so much because of the water – we almost lost
each other
several times. I don’t want to risk Cassie taking you from me.”

I can tell John is as weak and tired as I am and a part of me knows he’s right. When I begin to think of those I’ve lost – in this life
and
the past – it’s almost too much to bear. The grave in front of me is a clear reminder about that. Katina was the last of my bloodline and I should’ve done more to protect her. With my reign as Keeper over forever and the love of my life by my side, I suddenly experience a new feeling more unexpected than anything else I’ve felt today. It takes me a minute to realize my maternal instinct might be kicking in.

This thought makes me turn to John and look at him in a whole new way. I’ve thought about John in a
lot
of ways but this is the first time I’ve ever wondered what he’d be like as a father. The whole idea is even crazier since the fever that nearly killed me more than a century ago took away my ability to become pregnant.

Still, I can’t help thinking about John’s past with Cassie, can’t help worrying that the end of their story might not yet be written. A part of me even considers going away with him for no other reason than keeping them apart.

“But don’t you think Cassie would come looking for you?” I ask. “To find and kill me?”

John shakes his head. “Cassie already thinks we’re dead or she never would’ve left. Even with control of the water, it won’t be easy for her to take over the world or do whatever it is she’s planning. It’ll take time for her to gather her forces. In that time, you and I can sneak off to a small island in the Mediterranean and hide out, spend the rest of our lives together away from this danger and craziness.”

His words douse the flames of my rage. What he says is tempting, especially since death and suffering seem to follow me – and more importantly those
around
me – whenever I try to help. I turn to Amelia, expecting her to tell me I shouldn’t listen to John, that I should go with her and the other warrior women still trying to keep the world safe. But the famous pilot merely frowns.

“You have completed your time with the Amazons, Mentor,” she says quietly. “You’ve gone well beyond what anyone could’ve expected. I would understand if you wanted to go off and live your own life.”

“Your obligations to that life are over,” John says. “Now your only obligation is to yourself.”

My mind races. This
should
be an easy decision to make; it goes against every fiber of my being to even
consider
walking away. But it’s been so long since I’ve
had
a choice that I barely remember how to think for myself. And before John, I never had a reason to consider another existence. Change is difficult for me, though, and my mind fights off every other possibility.

“I… I can’t,” I say with greater sadness than expected. “I can’t turn my back on Amelia and Harriet and Mary and all the other Amazons that didn’t align with the Queen Clan. I’m sure anyone who stands in Cassie’s way of taking back the water will be in great danger. I refuse to walk away from them in their greatest time of need, especially since
I’m
to blame for not stopping Cassie from remembering who she really was. I
have
to stop her.”

John slowly nods and smiles knowingly. I’m sure he has plenty more arguments for us to escape but he knows me too well.

“I had to try,” he says. “And you mean
we
have to stop her.”