The Light Keeper Read online

  Bench Guy crouched down to my level, his jeans brushing up against my knees. This close I could see the flecks of copper in his eyes as he scrutinized me. A small scar bowed over the bridge of his nose and there was something wild and fervent as he took me in.

  “You’re up,” he said. “The fates have spoken, the wheel has spun, and now it’s your turn, kid.”

  Huh?

  I could feel the cold stone wall of the community hall behind me, I couldn’t move back any further.

  “Okay, crazy,” the words escaped in a shaky breath. “Back up.”

  Crazy Bench Guy didn’t budge.

  “My friends are inside,” I went on, “they’re probably looking for me right now.”

  “You don’t know…” he murmured, his eyes still searching mine. “You don’t know, do you?”

  I swallowed. “Don’t know what?”

  “You don’t know,” he said again. This time it wasn’t a question.

  I straightened my shoulders and held his gaze.

  We were quiet for a long moment, and then in a husky voice he spoke again, “Your lipstick is really bright.” And on that final note, he rose to his feet and strode away.

  “Like I care what you think!” I called after him, flustered. I waited until I was sure he couldn’t see me before I scrubbed my mouth with the back of my hand. From my where I sat, I watched him cross the glade. But he didn’t head towards the whir of music seeping out from the community hall. Instead he turned away from it, disappearing into the dark depths of the forest.

  What a creep.

  A few hours later, I’d finally made it to midnight. Well, eleven-thirty, but I figured that was acceptable. The party was still going, though most of my friends were long gone, having already stretched their curfews to the limit. I didn’t see Bench Guy again, and our brief encounter began to seem like a bizarre hallucination.

  Hallucination or not, it was still annoying. It had unnerved me. And the more I delved into it, the more unsettled I felt. What did he mean by “Time’s up?” He’d spoken with such conviction it had almost seemed lucid, apart for the fact it had made no sense. Had he mistaken me for someone else? Because for a while it seemed as though he knew me. But surely I would have remembered meeting him? One thing was for sure, I would certainly remember this particular encounter.

  I rubbed my arms to get rid of the goosebumps as I went in search of Marissa. Our one rule—the only rule that seemed to withstand our years of turbulent friendship—was that we never left each other at a party alone. So, true to my oath, I looked for her everywhere. I combed the dance hall, asked everyone I saw, checked the stalls in the restrooms—ladies’ and men’s—but she was nowhere to be found. My last port of call was outside, which, knowing Marissa and her aversion to nature, seemed unlikely. But there was nowhere else to look, so I trooped out and did a lap of the building.

  I trudged across the grass, now boggy with night dew. Since the community hall backed out onto the forest, the back of the building was much darker than the lamp-lit front.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  Even in the grim darkness I could see her. Or, more importantly, I could see my favorite black jacket swallowed by tumbling auburn hair and entwined with arms.

  I froze. Those arms belonged to Ben Collins. Ben, my sort-of boyfriend who played a ball-based game and who had recently achieved the much-coveted cool status, was passionately kissing my best friend Marissa Kay. It took a few seconds before I was able to take a breath. My best friend Marissa, the girl who could get anyone she wanted, had stolen my sort-of Boyfriend Ben while wearing my favorite black jacket.

  That evil witch.

  Evidently my presence had interrupted their private moment, because they turned and looked at me.

  Lost for words, I just stood there, curiously calm and furious at the same time, the pressure building in my chest.

  Ben, at least, had the decency to look sheepish as he tried to wipe the smeared lipstick stains from his mouth. It really was bright, and it looked as ridiculous on him as it had done on me. Marissa, on the other hand, went on the defensive.

  “Listen, Elana,” she began, pulling the hem of her dress down. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but me and Ben are into each other now—”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “—so you need to move on,” Marissa continued as if I’d never spoken. “You and Ben would never have worked. You’re too different.” She hastily combed her fingers through her rumpled hair then jabbed Ben in the ribs, prompting him to confirm the sordid truth.

  He did. “Sorry, babe,” he said to me. There was an awkward pause and a gust of wind rustled through the trees. “We didn’t want you to find out like this, but… Marissa’s the one.” He made goo-goo eyes at her.

  She didn’t return his doting stare. She turned back to me instead. “Elana, don’t look at me like that! We’ve said we’re sorry, what more do you want?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You said you were sorry I found out, not sorry that you did it.”

  She threw up her hands. “You don’t even like him!”

  Ben gasped.

  “That’s not the point!” I yelled at Marissa. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

  “I-I… I didn’t mean to…” she stammered.

  “Just go,” I spat, shocked by the venom in my voice. “Go!”

  With that, her face puckered into a sob and she swept past me with Ben, my sort-of ex-boyfriend, in tow. Her spiky heels sank clumsily into the mud as she went.

  I looked around as if in search of someone to share my fury with, but there was no one. I was standing back behind the stupid community hall, the faint thump of crappy music bleeding through the old brick walls. My best friend was a sort-of-boyfriend stealing jacket thief, and I was completely and utterly alone.

  Chapter Two

  To Save the World

  Sunday came and went. As I probably could have predicted, Marissa did not appear on my doorstep to make amends. Or to return my jacket, for that matter. In protest, I switched my phone to silent mode and planned to ignore her calls and those of any of the other gossip mongers working on her behalf.

  I still checked my phone sporadically throughout the day, half expecting to see a missed call or, at the very least, a text. But there was nothing. Later that evening I got a message from Amy, asking if I’d done the Bio revision. I replied No and tossed my phone into my washing hamper, determined not to check it again for the rest of the night.

  Did our friendship really mean that little to Marissa? Why was I stuck at home feeling lousy, while she was probably out flaunting her new romance to the world? Forget them, I decided. I was better off without them—both of them.

  In my comfy jeans and slouchy cardigan, I flopped onto my bed and began half-heartedly leafing through my dog-eared biology textbook. We had a test scheduled for first period on Monday, and I was nowhere near prepared.

  Okay. I geared myself up. You’ve got to rally. Biology. Photosynthesis, et cetera, et cetera.

  I began reading the text aloud, “Photosynthesis is the process used by plants and organisms to convert light energy, usually from the sun, into chemical energy…” My thoughts began to wander back to Marissa. How could she do this to me? We’d been friends forever, and now…Well, now I could legitimately hate her. Good.

  I frowned at the open textbook.

  “Elana.”

  I looked up at the sound of my name. “Yeah, Astra?” I answered, chewing on my pen lid.

  “What’s up, chick?” her voice returned to me from somewhere else inside the house.

  “I’m reading!” I yelled. “What do you want?”

  “Nothing. What do you want?”

  “Nothing! You called me,” I reminded her impatiently.

  There was a pause. “When?”

  “Just now!”

  “No… I don’t think so.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you did!”

  “Heavy,”
she said dreamily. “I don’t remember calling you… I must have spaced out.”

  I sighed to myself and pulled my biology book closer. Whatever.

  “Elana.”

  I sat bolt upright. It had happened again. Someone had called my name. Only, it wasn’t my mother’s voice, exactly. And it hadn’t come from inside the house.

  I glanced to the open window. My drapes were gently swaying in the night breeze.

  A shiver ran down my spine. I slid off the bed and tiptoed to the window, peeking out into the lamp lit street. It was deserted and quiet, as it usually was at this time of night.

  I scanned the pavement and dark hedges enclosing my neighbors’ homes.

  Nothing.

  It was probably Marissa’s idea of a good prank. I yanked the window shut and pulled the latch across. She could sit outside all night for all I cared. Maybe she’d catch hypothermia, if her cold heart didn’t freeze her first.

  I returned to the bed. Pushing aside thoughts of the traitor, I sprawled out across my duvet and prepared for some serious science.

  I’m pretty sure I made it to the second Plants and Flowers subheading before I fell asleep.

  I awoke who-knows-how-long later with my cheek stuck to the glossy pages of the open textbook.

  “Elana.”

  I sat up quickly, the pages peeling from my cheek with a snap. The room was plunged into darkness, save a streak of moonlight creeping in through the open window.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  The open window.

  I’d closed that window. I’d locked it.

  “Elana.” The voice was like a wind chime, calling my name through the murmurs of the breeze.

  Clutching my cardigan to my chest, I scrambled off the bed and groped for the light switch. I found it and quickly flipped it upwards. A surge of bright light flooded from the bulb, spots dancing in my eyes, speckling my vision.

  With my fingers still resting on the switch, I drew in a sharp breath. There was someone behind me. I knew it, deep down like instinct.

  I was grabbed from behind. One hand fastened around my waist, while the other slipped over my mouth, stifling my screams.

  “Shh, shh,” he murmured into my ear. “Don’t be scared.”

  His hand lowered from my mouth and I managed to turn my head just enough to catch a glimpse of his eyes; two deep brown pools...

  Him. Crazy Bench Guy from outside the dance.

  “What are you doing here?” I choked.

  “Sorry,” he breathed, “but I have to do this.” Without missing a beat, he tipped a small tube of liquid into my mouth.

  I coughed and spluttered as bitterness trickled into my throat.

  He relaxed his hold on me, and I wriggled free. But before I could run, his arm slipped around my back.

  “Goodnight,” he whispered.

  The carpet beneath my feet began to blur and the room started to spin. He pulled me back into his chest as my body gave way. I felt a sudden and very real rush of fear pulse through my veins, and then…

  Nothing.

  When I awoke, I was sitting upright, belted into the leather upholstered passenger seat of a car. Roadside trees whizzed past my window, and Crazy Bench Guy was in the driver’s seat, concentrating on the road. Dazed, I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. The ochre light of dawn stung my bleary eyes.

  “What did you do to me?” I murmured.

  He glanced at me. “Good morning.”

  I went to move, then realized that my ankles and wrists had been tied with thick rope.

  “What is this?” I began kicking my bound feet against the dashboard, rattling the compartment. “Untie my hands!” I grappled awkwardly with the car door handle, attempting to jimmy it open as we sped through the remote outskirts of Ashwood Hollow.

  A bolt of fear shot through me as I realized the doors were child-locked. I was trapped inside the car with this psycho, heading god-only-knows where.

  His gaze remained fixed on the road. “I had a feeling you’d react this way. That’s why I brought the rope.”

  “Untie me!” I yelled at him.

  “Why, so you can wreck my car?” He fondled the steering wheel lovingly. “This baby’s a classic 1987 El Camino.”

  I kicked the dashboard again.

  “I’ll loosen the ropes if you agree to stay calm and listen.” He threw me a cautious look. Strands of warm brown hair fell just above his eyes. “Okay?”

  I banged my fists against the car window, rattling the pane.

  He sighed. “You don’t seem calm.”

  “Of course I’m not calm!”

  “Alright, alright,” he relented with a sigh. “Give me your hands.”

  I lifted my arms and thrust them towards him. In one fluid motion, he tugged at the frayed rope and it unraveled, falling into my lap.

  I pushed it to the floor and immediately untied the rope binding my feet.

  “There,” he said, as though there was no further issue. “Happy?”

  I gawped in disbelief. “No! What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to stay calm.” With one hand secured on the steering wheel, he raised the other in a peace gesture.

  “Let me out of this car, right now!” I unbuckled my seatbelt and made an attempt at clambering over the leather seat, searching for a plausible escape route.

  “Hey!” He tugged at my elbow as I tried to climb into the back. “What are you doing? We had a deal.”

  “Screw your deal!”

  Damn it. There were no rear doors in this stupid car. Not that they’d have been much use anyway. On the off chance that they weren’t locked, what exactly did I think I was going to do, jump out of a speeding vehicle?

  “Put your seatbelt on. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “Let me out of this car!” I slumped back into my seat and thumped the passenger window again.

  “I can’t let you go. You’re needed.” He cast me another quick glance between the twists and turns of the winding outback road. “If you’d have been forewarned—like you should have been—then this conversation would be going a lot differently. You might even be thanking me—”

  I scoffed at the idea.

  “But you weren’t informed.” He paused, thinking. “If I’d known that I’d be the one stuck with the task of breaking the news to you, I would have excused myself from the job altogether.” He assessed me with his dark stare. “Maybe they thought you’d have more time. I suppose you’re a little younger than they usually are, but…” He shrugged and pushed back a few stray strands of hair. “I was young, too, when they drafted me—much younger than you, actually.”

  My head spun. “Younger than who?”

  “Than you,” he said. “I was younger than you when they called on me.”

  “No, before that. You said I was younger than they usually are. Who are you comparing me to?”

  “Oh. The other Light Keepers.”

  I held up my hands in despair. “Am I supposed to know what one of those is?”

  He let out an easy laugh. “I would hope so! You are one. Anyway, the ones who lived before you, near as I can judge, were all a lot older when they got summoned. They’ve watched over the Hidden Mountains long before my time, though, so don’t take my word for it.”

  I blinked at him, dazed.

  He gestured to the world outside the car window. The sun was just beginning to rise, and beyond the road and green sea of fir trees, three mountains rose high in the distance, almost lacing together as they crept upwards to the frosted grey clouds.

  I stared helplessly. The shadows cast by the mountain’s shape took the form of a huge black spiral, coiling like a snake around all three peaks like it was binding them together.

  “You know about the Hidden Mountains, though, right?” he asked.

  A knot of fear formed in my stomach. “Yes.”

  Of course I knew about the Hidden Mountains—and not just because, contrary to their name, they were huge
and would have been pretty hard to miss. I’d had a sort of morbid fascination with them when I was a kid. Some days I could see them clearly from my house, bold and distinct, then a day later, they’d completely vanish into the mist. They were creepy, to say the least. Every child for miles around had probably been told a ghost story about them.

  “Good,” he said. “Finally we’re making progress.”

  “Are we?” I spluttered.

  “Well, you know about the mountains. That’s a start. That’s where we’re going. Or where you’re going, anyway.”

  I blinked at him again. “Okay, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have no idea what it is that you want from me, but I have no money—”

  “What exactly do you know about the mountains?” he asked, rubbing his jaw.

  I stared at his profile, not sure if I should answer.

  “Have you ever been warned about them? Heard rumors or anything like that?”

  I tried to organize my racing thoughts. I remembered hearing stories on the news about hikers mysteriously disappearing up there.

  “I know that people go missing there sometimes…” A terrifying thought suddenly occured to me. Am I going to go missing up there? I eyed the interior door handle and wondered how I could go about disarming the childproof locks.

  “Right,” he agreed, continuing. “It’s a dark place. But lucky for the rest of the world, all that bad is contained.” He tilted his head while he mused over his wording. “Think of the mountains as a sort of purgatory. Everything that exists within those boundaries stays within the boundaries—just so long as it’s in lockdown. Know what I mean?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t, would you. You don’t get any of it over here.” He gestured at the town around us. “And you know why?” He stared pointedly at me for a moment, obviously waiting for me to answer.

  “No.”

  His eyes glinted. “Because someone’s up there, making sure everything stays where it belongs.”

  “What, like, a god?”

  He snorted with laughter. “No, not up there,” he said, pointing skyward—well, to the roof of the car, at least. “Up there.” His index finger turned upon the faraway mountains. “And from now on, that person’s going to be you.”