The Light Keeper Read online

  THE LIGHT KEEPER

  Gabriella Lepore

  I wish I had my jacket.

  It’s funny, but that’s the thought that kept playing through my mind while I sat with my wrists bound in the passenger seat of the black El Camino, wrestling to free myself.

  The car sped past the You Are Now Leaving Ashwood Hollow signpost. I watched it whizz by and noticed the words Come Back Soon! scrawled in small letters across the bottom.

  I’d never noticed that sign before. I guess I didn’t leave Ashwood Hollow often enough.

  My captor was silent, his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes trained on the desolate road ahead. Thin, spindly trees lined the tarmac, a layer of morning mist clinging to their branches.

  I was cold, and I was scared. And I knew, as I watched the wing mirror and saw the signpost disappear into the distance, that I would not be coming back soon. I would not be coming back, ever.

  ELANA

  Chapter One

  Wishing on Bats

  “What do you think, Elana?”

  I heard my name and looked up.

  “Well?” My friend Marissa stared at me, waiting for a response.

  I must have zoned out again. “Um…Yes,” I replied, hoping that was a sufficient answer to whatever it was she’d asked.

  It seemed to please her, because she beamed and hopped up from the floor where she’d been planted at the foot of my full-length mirror. She skipped to my humble wardrobe and began sifting through the hangers.

  I felt a familiar sinking feeling in my stomach. I had a habit of losing clothes to my friends. And Marissa had a knack for catching me off-guard.

  Expertly fishing through the hangers, Marissa retrieved my favorite black jacket. While I looked on in nothing less than dismay, she shrugged it over her scarlet mini-dress and posed in front of the mirror. The soft black leather molded around her hourglass figure and I caught a glimpse of the silken cherry-red lining as she twisted and twirled, captivated by her own reflection.

  I groaned inwardly. I wouldn’t have given Marissa permission to borrow that jacket had I known it was her intention. With Marissa, borrow always meant mysteriously lose. And mysteriously lose meant keep for herself. Actually, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d tactically selected that perfect moment to ask—the moment when she knew I wasn’t listening. Opportunist.

  Gazing admiringly into the mirror, Marissa puckered her lips. After careful scrutiny, she applied another layer of vampy lipstick and coiffed her auburn tresses. If anyone coiffed, it was Marissa.

  “You ready?” she asked, her eyes not moving from her reflection.

  I glanced down at my own attire. I was wearing black jeans and boots, with a simple cream-colored top. Okay, I wouldn’t stand out like Marissa did, but that suited me just fine. I quickly pulled my hair into a ponytail and fastened some of the wayward brown strands with pins. From the corner of my eye I could see Marissa frowning at me. She made no secret of wishing I’d coif.

  I never coiffed.

  Sometimes I wondered how much longer Marissa and I would tolerate each other’s differences. The simpler days of bike rides and slumber parties were over, and this was becoming more apparent with each passing year. Alas, we were Ashwood Hollow veterans, and in a town as small as ours, you didn’t change friends. You adapted to the ones you had. In my case, however, I wasn’t adapting too well. I was starting to feel like we’d outgrown each other.

  Marissa slipped on a pair of high heels and strutted across the room to where I was sitting on my bed.

  “Put this on.” She dropped her lipstick into my hands.

  I checked the name on the label. Fire Engine Red. I couldn’t imagine any shade with the word fire in it suiting me. Or engine, for that matter.

  “You look too boring,” Marissa said, evidently not bothered about sparing my feelings. “This is meant to be a night out. Come on, hon. Make an effort.”

  “I don’t care if I look boring,” I told her flatly. “Maybe I want to look boring.”

  “Honestly, Elana,” she tutted at me, “sometimes you’re so…vanilla.”

  “What’s wrong with being vanilla?”

  Marissa exhaled in a show of impatience. “Just put the lipstick on, already.”

  I popped open the tube and stared down at the bold makeup. Definitely not my color of choice, but I applied a layer anyway, if only for the sake of appeasing my persistent friend.

  It didn’t appease her.

  “Nobody else will be in jeans,” Marissa continued. She strolled to my wardrobe and selected the dress on the nearest hanger. “Wear this.” She launched a sky blue smock at me.

  It landed at the foot of my bed. I kicked it away and it slithered off the edge, sinking gracefully to the floor.

  “I’m not changing,” I told her, returning the cap to the lipstick and tossing it onto the carpet. “I’m not dressing up like a disco ball to go to some lame school dance in the community hall.”

  Marissa’s jaw dropped, mortally affronted by such slander. The community hall was the town’s crowning glory. It was a multi-purpose venue, used for everything from dances to weddings to funeral wakes. Throw a couple of decorations up and it was magically transformed. Supposedly.

  Anyway, tonight it was hosting our high school dance. And high school dances were a big deal around here. They were hyped up for months beforehand and talked about for months after. Years after, in some cases. Even I had been guilty of dance-hype in the past. But that was exactly it, for me—it was in the past. And yet here I was, in the present, still going.

  “Whatever, Elana,” Marissa muttered, returning her attention to the mirror. “I think you’re making a mistake,” she added. “Do you even care about how Ben will feel if you don’t make any effort? He’s got a reputation to uphold, you know.”

  I snorted. People seemed to have selective amnesia; Ben Collins had spent his early teens as a quiet, bookish kid—a quality that I had always found sort of endearing. Then he’d hit sixteen and bulked up, and now he spent his time playing some ball-based game and hanging out with the other jocks on the varsity teams. Ergo, he had legitimately achieved cool status. Of course, Marissa didn’t deem him cool enough for herself. But for me, he was a catch—her words, not mine. She’d spent the past six months forcing us out on dates and drumming it into our heads that we were perfect for each other. Apparently we were a couple now.

  “At least take your hair down.” Marissa clasped her hands together pleadingly. “You have good hair.”

  When dealing with Marissa Kay it was usually in my best interests to bend on some of her requests—if only to keep the peace—so I let my dark waves fall loosely over my shoulders and tucked my hair-tie into my pocket for later.

  “There,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Happy?”

  She nodded in approval. “Much better. Well, a little better, anyway.” She glanced at my bedside clock and sucked in a breath. “It’s nearly seven-thirty.”

  Tottering across my room, she retrieved her lipstick from the floor. She slid it safely into her clutch bag, then sashayed out of my bedroom and into the hallway. I rose to my feet and reluctantly followed. Condemned woman walking.

  In convoy, we maneuvered our way through the usual array of Chambers household clutter—clothes strewn across the floor, potted plants everywhere, various unidentified objects discarded on the staircase. It was hard to believe there were only two of us living here. I was the only child spawned by my hippy mother, Astra. FYI, she’d started her life as Anne, but she’d changed her name by Deed Poll in the late seventies. As for my father, he had been a whirlwind romance that happened a little over seventeen years ago. They’d met at an environmentalism sit-in and fallen madly in love—for about a week
and a half. All I knew about him was that he was a free spirit who couldn’t be tamed—my mother’s words, not mine—and that his name was Moon. Or Moonbeam, according to my birth certificate. Deed Poll again, I guessed.

  “Astra?” I called once we’d made it to the bottom of the stairs. My mother preferred me to call her by her first name. Something to do with equality.

  “Is that you, Elana?” she called back from her tranquillity room. Or the living room, as it was known to the rest of the world. But Astra always argued that every room is a “living” room. Another equality issue.

  “No, it’s the voices in your head,” I replied. “Really, Astra, who else would it be?”

  I heard her chuckle to herself.

  “I’m going to the dance now. Marissa is with me.”

  “Oh, there’s a dance tonight?” Astra’s floaty voice came back to me. “Okay, have a good time, girls.”

  “I’ll be back by midnight,” I told her, more for Marissa’s benefit than my mother’s. I wanted to nail down an exit strategy for the evening.

  “Oh, Elana,” my mother called in a sing-song voice, “you know I don’t believe in the shackles of curfews.”

  On that note, I ushered Marissa through the front door and out into the street. It was already dark, and the lampposts shed small pools of light on the pavement, mapping out our path. The community hall was only a short walk away, so we set off on foot.

  “You’re so lucky you don’t have a curfew,” Marissa said, her breath fogging the night air as she spoke.

  I choked out a laugh. “Oh, come on. It’s not as though you ever stick to your curfew, anyway.”

  Marissa let out a wounded sigh. “But if I get caught, I get grounded. Your mom wouldn’t care if you stayed out all night.” She tapped her index finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll tell my mom I’m sleeping over at yours and—”

  “I told Astra I’d be back by midnight,” I said, vetoing the idea before she could concoct a solid plan. I really didn’t want to commit to loitering outside the community hall until dawn. “She’ll be expecting me.”

  Marissa rolled her heavily made-up eyes. “Snooze, Elana.” She stalked on ahead of me, her high heels clopping on the pavement with each step.

  I made a half-hearted attempt to catch up with her.

  “Next time,” I suggested.

  She thawed and threw me a reluctant smile. “That’s what you always say, vanilla.”

  “I know, fire engine. I like being vanilla.”

  As we walked, Marissa gossiped about which guys would be there, and which of our friends she liked best. I ambled along the pavement beside her, tuning in and out of the conversation. My gaze drifted upwards as I watched the bats fluttering overhead. Every so often, one or two of them would dart in the path of the lustrous moon. As they crossed in front of the glowing sphere like tiny black shooting stars, I wished on them. Silly wishes like, I wish I was watching TV, or I wish I could find a briefcase full of money…like, right now. No luck. I only made one semi-serious wish. I wish for something better to do.

  Then Marissa’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Amy’s hair is so flat, she needs to get it medically treated or something.”

  I rolled my eyes in the darkness and turned my attention back to the pavement. It wasn’t even worth indulging her. I was determined to have a drama-free night and get this dance over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. And if that meant keeping my mouth shut, then that’s exactly what I’d do.

  When we neared the community hall, a hive of life became apparent. People milled around outside and the buzz of music and chatter filled the air. A couple of guys from school were joking around on the patch of grass outside the main entrance, laughing and sloshing smuggled beer over the edges of their disposable cups.

  Marissa picked up her pace, making a beeline for them, wiggling her fingers in a flirtatious wave.

  So, I thought as I hovered awkwardly in Marissa’s wake. Now what?

  With Marissa otherwise preoccupied, I retreated into the community hall and was met by the bright fluorescent lights of the lobby. When my eyes adjusted, all I could see was a mass of bare legs and high heels. Suddenly my casual clothing seemed like the most conspicuous apparel of all.

  I handed over my ticket stub to the woman at the ticket table and followed the crowd into the main hall. It was as it always was at these kinds of events: dark, with flashing neon lights and booming wordless music. And tonight it was markedly humid from the overspill of bodies.

  I weaved through the throng of people until I found my friends. They were huddled in a mass of teased hair and pointy shoes, their faces flushed with exhilaration.

  “Hey,” I greeted them as I squeezed myself in next to Amy.

  I’m pretty sure my voice was swallowed by the bass pumping through the speakers, but Amy gave a high-pitched squeal all the same. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and began shouting words into my ear through her cupped hands. Despite her best efforts, I couldn’t hear anything above the music. Luckily, a smile and an enthused face seemed to please her, and she nodded encouragingly.

  I stayed with the group for a while as we all tried to signal to each other above the music. Some of the girls danced, some went in search of their boyfriends, or prospective boyfriends, or girlfriends. I resisted the urge to check the time on my phone as everyone else seemed to be using their phones to stealthily reapply touch-ups in the glow of their camera flip-screens.

  There was no sign of my sort-of-boyfriend Ben, and I couldn’t tell if I was disappointed or not. Sure, I wanted to gush over him like the other girls did with their significant others, but I could barely muster a smile when he came up in conversation. Sometimes I wondered if there was something fundamentally wrong with me. Ben was a great catch. He was popular and good-looking, with blond hair and blue eyes that turned more than a few heads in the cafeteria. And being one of the star players on whatever-team-he-was-on didn’t hurt, either. On paper Ben was every girl’s dream guy.

  On paper.

  Anyway, after doing a lap of the room in search of him, I lingered for a while before sneaking out to get some air. By that time the dance was in full swing, so I wasn’t surprised when I stepped out the doorway and found myself alone.

  Well, almost alone.

  I spotted a guy perched on the back of a bench, his feet resting on the seat. He gave me a sideways glance as I stood there, my hand still holding open one of the doors, disturbing the quiet night with the sudden blast of music. I let the door fall shut behind me, stifling the noise once more, trapping it inside where it belonged. I offered him an apologetic smile, then walked a few yards to a patch of grass and sat down. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes for a moment, lacing my fingers through the cool blades of grass.

  “You taking a break?” Bench Guy called to me.

  The sound of his voice made me jump.

  “Uh, yeah,” I replied. “Something like that.” I recognized him, but not as a local. I’d seen him around in recent weeks, but couldn’t place where. He looked a year or two older than me, with warm brown hair and a kind of restless dark gaze that made you want to look twice.

  “What about you?” I asked, tugging at the blades of grass as he met my eyes in the streetlamp’s light. “What are you doing out here?”

  He threw me a playful smile, but said nothing.

  Silence resumed, and I racked my brain for something remotely cool or witty to say. But I drew a blank. After an uncomfortably long pause, I turned my attention to the shadowed forest that surrounded the community hall and watched the wind stir through the trees.

  “You’re out alone,” Bench Guy began again. “You know it’s nearly a full moon?”

  I frowned at him. “So?”

  “You’re not scared of the full moon?”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

  He laughed. “Good luck.”

  Good luck? “What
’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” He paused. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that the bad guys come out on a full moon?”

  I raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Are you a bad guy?”

  The evening breeze moved through his hair, mussing it. “No,” he said with a wry grin. “Not yet.”

  This time I made sure he saw me roll my eyes. Okay, bye, Bench Guy. I ended the conversation by pretending to be absorbed in a particularly long blade of grass.

  At least I thought I’d ended the conversation.

  “You’re just a girl,” he muttered.

  My attention snapped up and I glared at him. “Excuse you. Haven’t you ever heard of equality?” Whoa. Did I just channel my mother? “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” Okay so I couldn’t keep my favorite leather jacket on its hanger, but I was fairly sure I was capable of something.

  Bench Guy held up his palms. “Hey, I’m all about equality. I bet you could KO that boyfriend of yours.” His grin turned wicked. “My money’s on you, anyway.”

  I could only assume he was talking about my sort-of boyfriend Ben. Though I had no idea how he could have known about my sort-of relationship status.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “He’s… yeah.” Okay, so it wasn’t the most cogent reasoning. I felt a blush creeping into my cheeks. Damn it. I cleared my throat. “What are you doing in Ashwood Hollow, anyway?” My voice came out sharp in the still night. “Are you going to school here or something?”

  “Or something,” he said. For a long moment he picked me apart with his eyes. Then, at last, he said, “Time’s up.”

  My brow furrowed. “What?”

  “It’s your turn,” he elaborated.

  All I could do was stare blankly back at him. “My turn…?”

  To my surprise, he jumped down from the bench and sauntered across the grass until he was virtually standing over me.

  I shrank back against the wall, looking up at him from where I sat. I caught a rush of a firey scent lingering on his jacket.