The Keeper's Heart Page 9

  “It could have been much worse. I don’t know what Mabel did, or how that stuff she put on you works, but most people lose a limb or die from rattlesnake bites if they don’t get help.”

  The deep concern etched across his handsome face made Amara shiver. “Seriously? In this day and age, people still die from the same things they did the first time I was human. Seems there would be more cures out there.” The vague memories of her own past fluttered toward the surface of her mind, but remained shadowy and distant.

  “They have anti-venom, but it doesn’t always come in time.” Marcus rubbed his thumb in circles on her palm as he talked, his eyes moving up from the wound to her face. “I don’t know if we could have made it without Mabel. When she grabbed you, the Apollumi and the church people both went after her. Luckily they forgot all about the rest us for just long enough.”

  “I wonder what the Apollumi did with Peggy and her psycho worshippers.” Amara felt no real concern, merely idle curiosity.

  “They are gone. I went back last night while you were sleeping, just to check. They must have gone back to the main land. The house was dark and seemed empty, though I didn’t get too close. I thought, when you felt better, we could go back and try to find whatever it was we came here for.”

  Before Amara could respond, she heard Desiree’s sleepy mumble coming from across the room. “Hey, Amara is awake.” The girl had been lying with her head in Anthony’s lap as he sat propped up in the corner sleeping, but as she noticed Amara and Marcus she sat up, giving her boyfriend a gentle shake.

  With a quick peck to Anthony’s cheek in way of a good morning, Desiree scampered the short distance and sat next to Amara. “Wow! That looks a lot better. I hope Mabel doesn’t have to use that awful medicine again. It was terrible seeing you like that.”

  Amara smiled, hating that she also feared the return of the pain, and shrugged. “It will be okay. Got to stay alive so I can get you guys out of this mess, right?”

  Desiree laughed, but it was a joyless sound. “Right.”

  Anthony, looking worse for the wear, ran his hands through his already messy hair, and looked around the room. “Where is Mabel, anyway?”

  The four of them searched the room, realizing their kind benefactor had once again vanished. Several vials, neat piles of clothes, boots, and a small bag sat on the table with a piece of white paper stuck between them, and Anthony made his way over to investigate.

  “Looks, like she left us a note.”

  “Well, read it or hand it over,” Desiree insisted as she held out her hand.

  Anthony scooped up the bag, vials, and note, carrying them over to Marcus and the girls. They all leaned in to scan the words as Desiree read aloud.

  Dear Amara and Children,

  Please accept my sincerest apologies for leaving you so soon, my dears. I am tempting things as it is by helping as much as I have. Amara must take this medicine in order to complete her healing and prevent the poison from harming her human form. Simply drink one vial when you wake and one at mid-day. I’ve left you some food and clothing. I know it’s not much, but my resources on this island of debauchery are so limited. Time is short, as always, you must hurry to find what you have come here for. Do not give up, children. You have many friends hidden among the enemies.

  Sincerely Yours,

  M

  The guys took no time opening the food bag, quickly dividing the bread, cheese, and apples up into equal parts for the four of them. As the others began to nibble on their meager breakfasts, Amara stared at the vials of yellow liquid. She rolled the bottles over her palm, fearing the side effects and pain that might follow ingestion.

  Unsure if she could handle the sickness if it came again, she wondered what might happen if she didn’t follow Mabel’s instructions. How bad could it be? The wound is almost healed. There is only a little swelling. What if I just skipped this part? I don’t think I’d die, in fact, I think I’d rather die than go through that again.

  Marcus leaned in, nudging her gently with his shoulder. “Why don’t you eat first, and then take the meds after. That way you at least get your belly full if things go…well if the reaction is unpleasant.”

  Amara took his advice, forcing herself to eat slowly, savoring the small amount of nourishment even as she fought off nausea. In a fit of exasperation, she asked, “Fear, nerves, stress, pain, exhaustion, and sickness. What the hell is there to like about being mortal? How do people survive living like this for decades?”

  Anthony and Marcus stopped mid-chew, looking at Amara as if she had suddenly turned blue, but Desiree knew just what to say. “Love. Loving your family and your friends. Knowing those people love you. Love, Amara. That’s what makes life worth living, even through the hard stuff.”

  Having finished her meal, Amara popped the top off of one bottle of the odorless liquid, and held it up in mock salute. “Well, to love. Hopefully it will save me from the hell that the last bit of medicine the mysterious Mable gave me.”

  In one quick shot, she downed the small tube. Wrinkling her nose and scrunching up her face, Amara stuck out her tongue and made a fake gagging noise. “Oh, that is disgusting!”

  The group laughed, and after realizing she wasn’t going to immediately keel over in horrid pain, Amara laughed too. The shared moment, even in the face of such dire circumstances, lifted her spirits and helped wedge a tiny glimmer of hope into her heart.

  “When you went back to the house last night, you said you didn’t go inside, Marcus?” Amara’s mind had begun to focus back on their task, and she needed to be prepared.

  “No, I didn’t want to get too close. I snuck down to the ridge on the south side and watched it for awhile. No lights, no music, and no one coming or going. Not even a guard left behind.”

  “Good, we need to get back there and get the hell off this island as soon as possible. I’m almost certain we haven’t seen the last of the Apollumi.”

  Dressed in fresh clothing and heavy boots, they stepped out of the old fisherman’s shack, and the four of them shivered in the early dawn. The dew covered world of sunlight seemed a million miles away from the dark night they had experienced. The dazzling scene took Amara’s breath away as she stared out into the glistening forest. With perfect timing, she felt Marcus’s warm hand take hers.

  “This is how we survive being human.”

  His hushed voice sent a different kind of shiver down her spine, and by pure instinct, she leaned into him. “Well, I hope this,” she squeezed his fingers gently for emphasis, “can help us survive everything else we must face.”

  With Desiree casting questioning looks at the two of them, Amara led the way into the forest. A few yards in, they stumbled across what seemed to be an overgrown game trail. The thinner brush and foliage made their journey easier and quicker as they crossed a much greater distance than she had imagined.

  “How in the world did Mabel ever get me so far so fast?” she asked the question aloud, but had meant it more for herself than the others.

  “I was wondering that too.” Anthony stepped up to walk beside her, Desiree not far behind. “I can’t figure out where she came from either. One minute, you were lying on the porch and those Apollumi people showed up, and the next, Mabel had you in her arms and was running for the hills. Just as if you weighed nothing, she threw you over her shoulder and bolted.”

  The conversation delved deeper and deeper as they walked, but the more questions about the strange woman’s timing, talents, and abilities that came up, the fewer answers they had. After watching her freeze time and rescue Amara, they knew she possessed skills that were not of the human variety, but little else.

  “Well, I’ve decided she is not a Keeper or an Oracle. Those would be obvious,” Amara chimed in.

  “Well, no matter what she is or isn’t, I’m thankful for her. Without her, we’d all be dead by now.” Desiree’s voice held a womanly tone of someone who had suddenly aged in a very short time.

  At that moment
, they found the edge of the clearing around the house. The yard still bore the deep scars from the horses’ hooves, and in the bright sunlit morning, the dark red liquid covering the treaded grass was a glaring contrast. A slaughter had taken place during the night, and though there were no bodies, the blood told a tale of an unfair fight.

  Amara cautiously stepped forward, doing her best to avoid the pools and splatters as she picked her way across the lawn. On the porch, more blood seeped into the old wooden boards and the door to the house stood open. Pews lay toppled and the altar had been smashed in half. Snake boxes were scattered in bits and pieces, the beautiful murals destroyed. The creatures which had inhabited them lay haphazardly nearby as if their heads had been smashed by the Apollumi’s boot heels.

  Anthony grabbed her arm before she could move further into the house. “Watch your step. We don’t know if any of the snakes survived.”

  Amara shivered as she mumbled, “Ah, no. Just no.” The pain in her arm had lessened greatly, but the near constant, dull ache was enough to make her take each step vigilantly.

  Not knowing where to start, she gestured to a door leading out of the large room, thinking anything connected to the Keepers would be hidden, rather than be placed in plain sight of dozens of humans.

  Half-way to their destination, Amara stopped dead in her tracks. Cocking her head to the side, she listened. A noise coming from inside the room had caught her attention, and she tried to discern if the nearly silent keening were human or animal. Putting her finger to her lips, she signaled for the others to be quiet and pointed to where the sound had come from.

  Bryan lay, bleeding and broken, beneath a pew. His back was to them as they approached, and the only clue that he lived was the shaking of his shoulders and soft sobs. He didn’t turn at the sound of their approach, and Amara wondered if he were too far gone or perhaps in shock.

  Carefully, she bent down and touched his shoulder, quietly saying his name.

  Bryan rolled, his grief stricken face turning toward the unexpected touch. His eyes were wide with fear and pain—one almost swollen completely closed. His mouth fell open and the sound that escaped him was the most frightening and heart breaking noise Amara could imagine. She had spent three hundred years watching the hopeless die, yet the terrible moan shook her to her core.

  Just when she thought it could get no worse, Bryan groped for something behind him­—a smallish shape in the shadows. His mouth stretched out his as if he were a stroke victim, an uneven and crooked line. The way he attempted to force a coherent word to pass his lips proved his terrorized mind had broken. Despite his efforts, his movements were slow and awkward. A man blinded by the horrors of a brutal massacre, he was more like a mewling babe.

  The sight of matted gray fur sticking up through his clenched fingers puzzled Amara. The dark liquid clinging to the stringy mess couldn’t be anything else but blood. Tor a moment, she wondered if he had been trying to protect a beloved pet during the battle. It didn’t make sense; she hadn’t seen or heard an animal other than the snakes.

  She leaned closer, trying to soothe the man. “Bryan, calm down. We will get you some help. Whatever that is, let it go, and come out of there.” An image of a fish, a carp to be exact, popped into her head as she watched in pure horror.

  His mouth twitched into a grimace and his eyes darted to the girl he had tried to murder. “Mmm…mmm…ooo…”

  Crouching down, Amara whispered, “Hush. Don’t try to speak.” Tears stung her eyes. Why should I care so much for a man who would’ve let me die, who tried to kill me?

  His arm moved, as he uttered the sound more clearly, “Mmm…oo…ther.”

  In an instant, the mass of what she had thought was fur, was pulled over Bryan’s body. Her inner voice was calm at first, but when the truth set in, even her hardened Keeper soul recoiled. Hair. It’s hair. Hell no, it’s hai—!

  Before the thought could be finished, Peggy’s head bounced off Bryan’s shoulder, landed with a thump, and rolled a few inches to where it bumped against Amara’s shoes. Terror and disgust rushed in simultaneous waves through her, ending in a scream.

  When alive, Peggy Macklin had been old, but full of life. Fire had blazed with religious fervor in her eyes. Despite her homicidal tendencies and wild appearance, she had still been beautiful in a unique way. As a decapitated head, she was none of those things.

  Her eyes seemed dollish, wide and unblinking in mute reflection as they stared up at Amara. Her mouth had stretched into a crooked scream, exposing her yellowed teeth in a frozen expression too horrific to put into words.

  Despite the excess of blood and the dreadfulness, Bryan still stroked the matted hair with love, lost in his own madness.

  Amara had leapt to her feet, nearly falling as she scampered backward and bumped into the others in her haste to escape the dead thing. Despite the warmth of Marcus’s arms encircling her, she felt a deep chill inside. I wished that woman dead, and because of me, she is. Maybe I am the blasphemous devil she claimed me to be.

  Marcus turned her, forcing her to look away. There in the protection of his embrace, Amara felt something beneath the terror, anguish, and disgust. Warmth tickled its way through her, and her heart rushed a little faster.

  Chapter 14

  The Door that Death Opens

  After a moment, Marcus gently pushed her into Desiree and Anthony’s arms. She cried alongside the children she had watched over for so much time. Feeling as helpless as they did, Amara listened to Marcus’s voice.

  “Bryan, come with us. Let her go now. We will make sure she is taken care of, but I need you to come with us before the Apollumi come back again.”

  The man tried to speak, but his words were unidentifiable. Struggling, still beneath the pew, he gasped for breath and the sound was a harsh rasp.

  Amara turned, unable to hide her eyes from the ghastly sight any longer. Marcus reached down. Hands poised only inches above the man’s body, he prepared to grab Bryan and hoist him forward. Something moved, the slight shift catching Amara’s eye.

  “Marcus, no! Watch out!” Amara screamed out. She realized the sound she was hearing was not the sound of Bryan rasping, rather it was the sound of a small rattle snake staking its claim.

  Marcus jumped backward, his hands shooting up over his head when he saw the first of the serpents. His quick reaction caused the Reverend’s son to lurch forward, as if begging for help. He shifted, and the left side of the man’s neck and face were revealed. The purple, swollen, and amassed flesh looked as if it were cracking open from the pressure of countless bites.

  Marcus moved forward, shaking with terror, trying to find a way to free Bryan from the snakes, but the rattle grew louder. A fast agitated sound, it rose up from the folds of the torn and bloodied clothing as the cord like bodies of several smaller snakes stirred with their victim’s spasms. Marcus stepped away, tears in his eyes, as he watched a stranger die, unable to prevent it.

  Amara approached slowly, despite her repulsion. Her eyes warily watched the creatures as they coiled around the dead man, fear of the bites teasing at her mind. She pulled Marcus away, trying to offer comfort, even as she felt herself trembling with the weight of what they had witnessed. Unable to focus on what she’d come to do, she led the way further into the house until they found a small sitting room.

  Anthony used the logs next to the marble fire place to build a fire, and in the golden haze of the flames, they sat in silence. Not one of the four dared to speak, unable to rationalize the carnage they had witnessed. Even Amara, who was no stranger to the horrors of death, could not fight away the human vulnerability of something as harsh as the mother and son, dead together.

  Typical to her nature, Desiree was the first to speak. “What do we do now? We can’t leave them that way. I know we have to look for whatever it is we came here for, but, we just can’t.”

  Amara looked up through tear trimmed lashes shielding red rimmed eyes. “She’s right. We should give them some sort o
f burial, some sort of peace. We can’t call the authorities. It’s too dangerous and more than a little hard to explain. We can’t count on Mabel to show up every time we need help.”

  Anthony stared from Desiree to Amara in disbelief. “These assholes tried to kill us! Did you forget that? They weren’t good people, and they were crazy to boot. I say we do what we need to do, find this weaver thing, and then we get out of here. We can torch the house on the way out. By the time the river patrol picks up on the fire, if they do at all, it will be all over.”

  Both the girls shot into upright positions from where they had been slouched onto an overstuffed leather couch. Their words fell out of their mouths in a rush of anger and determination to show Anthony the error in his ways.

  From across the room, near the mantle, Marcus became the voice of sanity. “Stop it! Fighting is not going to solve anything! Despite what they did or did not do, the reverend and her son deserve some sort of final peace and sacrament. However, we find our link to the Weaver’s Lair first. Saving the three of you will come before anything else.”

  The passion in his sapphire eyes as he looked at Amara spoke volumes to the other occupants in the room. Without a word, they nodded their agreement, and set about searching the house. Room by room, they rummage through drawers, books, cabinets, and shelves. Most of the large home had not been used in a great many years, and they choked and coughed on the haze of dust rising due to their efforts.

  Hours passed, and still, Amara froze in fear at every sound. The constant threat of the snakes still roaming free in the house brought the memory of the dead man’s face back to her mind. The ghastly idea of having the venom in her veins again was quickly followed by an even more damning thought. The Apollumi are still out there, somewhere.

  Straining her ears for the sound of hooves, Amara searched the last dresser drawer in the overflowing attic. Her blonde hair was dingy from not being washed and dirt smudged her cheeks. Her arm hurt, and she belatedly remembered it was well passed the time she should have taken her medicine.