Keeper(62)

As I watched, Eliza put a comforting arm around the young woman and told her about her mother, about what had really happened to Josephine. The pain etched across Lily’s face was so familiar I felt a pang in my chest.

After Eliza left, Lily took a deep breath and squeezed the amulet in her hand. “I won’t let you down, Mother,” she whispered, her face set with resolve. She whispered something, and the amulet began to glow and change. Pale pink strands of light wrapped around the necklace, covering it in a rosy glow. It was so bright I had to look away, but Lily stood strong, her head held high as the magic flowed through her.

When the light faded away, the amulet was no longer an emerald stone but a small pendent in the shape of tiny pink rose. Lily smiled and pinned the pendent across her heart.

The colors began to swirl again, and the image that appeared caused my throat to tighten. Lily was locked in a battle with three guardsmen. Electric pink lightning flew from her fingertips, but she was outnumbered. Her neck was bare. The amulet was gone. Her scream as they moved to overcome her was a knife in my chest.

The scene changed again. A new face this time: a young woman with a warm smile and long blonde hair piled on top of her head. Though there were less similar features, her wide green eyes were unmistakably DuCarmont. In her hands was a thick, leather-bound book: the Grimoire. The woman ran her hands across the book, whispering words under her breath. The book began to glow, streams of crystal blue light enveloping it. When the spell was complete, a blue-jeweled bracelet rested in place of the book. The woman secured the bracelet to her wrist and moved from the room.

I sank to my knees as the colors transformed again. The blonde woman was lying in a pool of crimson blood, her eyes open and unblinking. A young girl with fiery red hair knelt beside her, tears streaming down her face. “Good-bye, Mama,” she whispered, ripping away the bracelet.

Another scene materialized. A woman with chestnut brown hair moved into view and transfigured the Grimoire into a ruby brooch. Her eyes—the same unmistakable pair of green eyes—were the confirmation of what I’d begun to suspect.

This is my family. All the Keepers who came before me.

In between scenes of the Keepers were horrific flashes of the Master and the Guard—of their hunt for the Keepers. Every single pair of green eyes—the green eyes I now possessed—closed in death at the Master’s hand.

The tragedy of my heritage rolled before me like a filmstrip, and my entire body shook from the kaleidoscope of emotions swirling inside me.

Then, at last, came an image that nearly stopped my heart.

It was my mother.

She was holding the Grimoire in her hand, her forehead scrunched as if she were thinking hard about something. Then with a little shrug and a half smile, she muttered an incantation and the book began to glow. When the light faded, the emerald amulet sat in her palm, pulsing as if it were happy to be in its original form again. A fresh batch of tears rolled down my cheeks.

The final face I saw was gaunt and severe. A tall member of the Guard with blood staining his uniform walked toward the Master, his face triumphant. In his hands was the amulet. “It is done, my lord,” he said. “The witch is dead.”

I crumpled in on myself, losing the tiny scrap of control I still clung to. Everything faded away as my sobs grew louder. My heart was utterly broken for the family who had tried so hard, yet ultimately failed to keep the Master from getting the book. They sacrificed so much, only to fail in the end. It shattered me.

I cried even harder as I thought of my mother. The mother I’d never gotten a chance to know. I didn’t fight it when the colors began to swirl away and the darkness enveloped me again.



“Lainey? Can you hear me?”

I flinched away from the sound—the image of Henry stabbing Josephine was burned into my eyelids. The faces of the other Keepers. My mother. I clenched my fists together and fought the urge to scream.

I became aware of a warm pressure on my arm, the voice from before murmuring in my ear. As my eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the sights around me, it took several minutes for my brain to register where I was.

The tall pine trees were gone, replaced by pale yellow walls and white linen curtains. The smell of gunpowder and smoke had vanished, leaving in its place the delicate scent of clean laundry. Josephine, Henry, and the Guard were nowhere to be seen, but a single face hovered over mine with wide eyes. Gareth. I was back at home in my bedroom.

“Gareth?” I whispered, relief flooding over me. Sitting up so fast it made me dizzy, I launched myself into Gareth’s arms.

“Lainey, are you okay?” he asked, holding me against his chest. The anxiety in his voice was clear. “What happened?”

I shook my head, not yet ready to relive the horrible moments in the tent village, nor the flashes in the dark room.

“I was so worried,” Gareth whispered against my hair. “One minute you’re talking to the wall, and the next minute you’re unresponsive on the floor.”

Taking a deep breath, I pulled myself out of Gareth’s embrace and brushed the hair out of my face. “I wasn’t talking to the wall. I was talking to her. To Josephine.”

Gareth’s eyebrows rose.

“She showed me the rest of the story, what happened to her,” I continued. “You were right. The Master hunted her down; he wanted the Grimoire.” I took a deep breath. “He . . . he killed her.” I felt a lump rising in my throat, and I gulped.