Keeper(59)

“Come back here, you toadlickers!” the little boy shrieked at them. “I’ll show you slow!”

Then the little boy exploded out of his skin, leaving a large gazelle in its place. I gasped as the gazelle darted into the woods after the other boys.

I glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the boy, but the people in the tent village continued on with business as usual, as if a little boy morphing into a large antelope was hardly out of the norm.

Several feet away, a group of women sat huddled together, knitting blankets. They looked quite normal except for the fact that, aside from holding balls of yarn, they weren’t actually doing anything. Their knitting needles hovered near their heads, carefully creating tiny loops, as though held by invisible hands.

If that wasn’t proof enough that this village wasn’t an ordinary one, there was a girl—she looked about twelve—sitting under the shade of a large oak tree. Her skin had a greenish tint to it. As I watched her, the young girl held out a long piece of dried-out ivy. Brown and brittle, it had clearly been dead a long time. Cradling the plant in her hand, the girl smiled and gently began to blow on the stalk. My mouth dropped open as the plant began to turn green and sprout tiny purple flowers.

Supernaturals, I realized. All different kinds. But what are they all doing here?

We came to a tent in the back, set apart from the others. Josephine was standing in front, tending to the fire. She was wearing a long blue dress, and the emerald amulet hung around her neck. Her long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled in the firelight. This Josephine radiated life.

The dread in my stomach grew heavier.

The living Josephine added several sticks of kindling to the fire and wiped her hands on the thick folds of her skirt. Turning back toward the tent, she walked through the opening flap without saying a word.

When she emerged again, she carried a cast-iron pot. Singing softly, she knelt down next to the fire and began slicing various vegetables from a basket sitting near the kindling. The amulet at her throat sparkled in the light from the flames.

I took a step closer to the young woman by the fire just as a shrill cry sounded in the back of her tent. It startled me, but Josephine just smiled, wiped her hands once more on her skirt, and walked through the flaps of the tent. When she returned, she was holding a tiny bundle wrapped in blankets. The bundle was wriggling and squirming in her arms.

“Oh my God,” I said. “It’s a baby.” I looked back at the other Josephine, whose solemn face was streaked with tears. “Yours and Henry’s.” She nodded.

Josephine was staring down at the tiny face completely enraptured and overjoyed, the way new mothers always look at their children. As she began to coo softly to the baby, a tiny hand reached for her face.

It was in that moment that the ground began to tremble. A pulse of energy shot through the camp and slammed against the walls of the invisible shield surrounding it—some kind of protection ward, I realized.

“No!” Josephine cried, staring at the magical shield disintegrating before her eyes. The air all at once filled with piercing cries. The baby began to wail, and Josephine clutched the amulet at her throat.

People ran in all directions—some toward the conflict and others away from it. Magical energy permeated the air until it was as thick as fog. A large plume of black smoke rose into the distance, and the ground rumbled again as another electrical pulse assaulted the remnants of the protection wards.

Josephine clutched the baby tighter to her chest with one arm, while the other she held in front of her, green lightning dancing around her fingertips.

A young woman with long blonde hair ran toward her, tears streaming down her face. “Jo!”

Josephine reached for her, wrapping an arm around the girl’s trembling shoulders. “Eliza!” she cried, struggling to juggle the infant in one arm and her hysterical friend in the other. “What has happened? Is it them? Have they found us?”

The younger woman nodded before slumping against Josephine’s shoulder, her entire body shaking from fear. She mumbled something under her breath. I couldn’t understand much of what she said, but the two words I did pick up stole my breath: “The Guard.”

Josephine instantly paled. “No,” she whispered against the young woman’s hair. “No!”

She stood still for a moment, as if in disbelief, but then a look of fierce resolve crossed her face and prompted her into action.

Grabbing the woman’s arm, Josephine yanked her upright and stared into her face. “Eliza, listen to me!” she barked, her eyes blazing. “It’s time. You have to take her and run.”

The young woman’s eyes grew wide. “You’re not coming?”

“I’ll hold them off as long as I can.” Josephine looked down at the child in her arms. “You have to get her to safety.”

“But you’re her mother,” the girl argued. “You can’t just . . . I don’t know—”

The rest of her sentence was cut off as Josephine placed the screaming infant in her arms.

“Please,” Josephine urged, staring at Eliza with wild eyes. “Please. I’m begging you.”

She hesitated for a moment, but as the terrible cacophony of sound rose around them, Eliza squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and nodded. “I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”