Keeper(25)

Maggie waited till he was out of earshot and elbowed me hard in the ribs. “Damn, Styles.” She grinned wickedly. “No wonder you skipped class.”

“God, Mags, can you just not? It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what was it?”

I stopped, the moment in the courtyard so perfectly undefined in my mind—I didn’t want to ruin it by slapping a label on it.

“It was a just a sandwich, Mags. That’s it.”

Maggie scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “A sandwich?”

“Yup.”

With a heavy sigh, Maggie rolled her eyes and started walking in the direction of her next class, one we shared. “Fine, keep all the juicy details to yourself. Just remember, Styles. Friends before food . . . and hot boys.”

I rolled my eyes and followed her, but when I turned the corner, I jolted to a stop.

There she was, staring at me again, the same mournful expression in her eyes.

“Josephine,” I whispered.

I took a step toward her, but inky black spots appeared before my eyes, and the world slipped away.





CHAPTER TEN


JOSEPHINE


The wind outside was deafening as it ripped through the trees, but even louder than the howling gale was the uncontrollable chattering of Josephine’s teeth.

Her skin was layered in gooseflesh, and her icy fingers fumbled with the knot of her shawl, untying it and pulling it even tighter around her shoulders. The threadbare fabric offered little in the way of warmth. She longed to light a fire—to be warm and dry for the first time in days—but the orange glow would be too easily seen. It had been pure luck that she had found shelter at all; to tempt fate further would be unwise.

The single-room shack must have been a logging cabin at one point in time, but it was clear from its state of disrepair that it hadn’t been used in a while. The walls were bare, and the only pieces of furniture, a rickety wooden table and a single chair, were covered an inch deep in dust and cobwebs. Piled in the corner was a small heap of old burlap potato sacks. It was here that Josephine sank to her knees and tried as best she could to settle in for the night. She was weary and desperate for rest, but the hard floor was agony to her aching body, and the cold seemed to seep straight through her skin and resonate deep in her bones. The worst pain, however, was the deep hollow feeling of her stomach. How long had it been since she’d had anything to eat? She couldn’t remember.

The days of running were taking their toll on her.

Tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. No matter what, she couldn’t let herself fall apart. She had to keep going, had to keep running until she was safe.

Until it was safe.

Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she unclasped the amulet from around her neck. She held it in her hand, a few whispered words on her lips. The crackle of energy and a warm green glow filled the small space. In the place of the amulet, Josephine held a large leather-bound book. It looked ordinary enough, with its worn cover and frayed edges, but it hummed with power. Magic tingled in her fingertips as she flipped carefully through the pages.

She knew she was being foolish; opening the book in its raw form would create an energy pulse. She might as well be sending a flare into the sky, signaling her location. Her resolve, however, had weakened, and a terrible grief, like an iron fist clenched around her heart, was threatening to crush her.

She’d lost her entire family. Everyone she loved was gone. The book in her hands was the only connection to them that she had left, and she needed to feel it—even if only for a few precious moments.

You have to protect it, keep it safe, her father had urged her. It must be protected at all costs. Josephine’s fingers dug into the worn binding as she clutched the book. “At all costs, indeed,” she thought bitterly to herself, holding her family’s heritage—their history, their lineage, their magic—in her lap. The fist around her heart clenched even tighter.

She had never felt more alone in her life.

A sob threatened to erupt from her throat, so she bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out; she tasted copper on her tongue. The unbearable weight of the book grew heavier with every passing minute.

Choking back the tears, she held her palm down over the book and began to speak again. Her voice, although no more than a whisper, was confident and strong.

The air in the room shifted as the magic once again took hold. The book vibrated, and a pale green light draped around its edges. Soon, it began to shrink, and its form grew distorted. It twisted in on itself and formed new edges. The transfiguration was almost complete.

Josephine’s cheeks flushed as the magic coursed through her, warming her chilled skin. It took only seconds, and when the green light faded, the book in her lap had been replaced once more with the small but ornate emerald amulet. Its oval face glowed slightly as the magic settled, before finally growing dark.

Her fingers trembling, she refastened the amulet around her neck. It was risky to use magic—stupid, even—but as the amulet came to rest at the base of her throat, right above her heart, the weight of her burden lessened. It was humming and pulsating as if it were alive, as if it had a heartbeat, and in that moment, the loneliness eased.

Yet there was one pain the amulet couldn’t ameliorate.

Henry. Josephine’s heart cracked open at the thought of him, and her mind recalled his face—an image that already seemed to be fading. She closed her eyes, savoring every detail: his unruly blond hair that was too short to be tied back in a tail; his calloused but gentle hands against her skin; the way he always smelled of pine and leather.