Drinking Life (Keeper of the Water Book 1) (20 page)

Heavy footsteps and labored breathing follow me for miles. All three of us run at speeds no normal human could match and I worry how they can be as powerful as me or John. At least their
brain
power isn’t superhuman. They do nothing to split up and try to flank me, nor do they figure out where we’re headed. The only close call I have is when a second arrow is fired in my direction, slamming into a tree a few feet beside my head. They yell more threats, which spurs me to move faster.

My directional instincts remain keen and I reach the next step of my plan once we’re miles away from our vehicles. I push myself even harder, gaining a much bigger lead on the goons. I no longer hear them behind me but can only hope they still follow the trail of breadcrumbs I leave. I reach the point where I must change direction to get to my destination; instead, I go in the opposite direction and make the trail even more obvious. I stomp for a few hundred feet this way before turning around and heading back, this time moving like a ghost.

Before I can disappear in the other direction, I hear the goons getting close. I still think I can handle myself in a fight but I need to distract them instead of hurt them. I find the biggest, fullest tree in the area. Its lowest branch is about twenty feet off the ground but when I jump for it, I have no problem grabbing hold and pulling myself up. I scramble up a few more branches until I’m well-hidden in the shadows of the leaves. I may be invisible from ground level but still have a perfect view of below me. If I had my bow, I could pick them off with no problem. I wish I had more time to look for a weapon—a sharp stick, a pointy rock,
anything
.

Seconds later I spot movement through the trees. My heart pounds as I pray they don’t spot me. On second thought, cornering myself in a tree may have been a bad decision. One of the men breathes so heavy that I can hear him from forty feet above. Having a weakened enemy
should
be a welcome sight but it ends up backfiring on me. Just as I think they’re going to run by, the fatigued goon stops and leans against my tree. His partner also stops and cocks his head to the side, though he soon relaxes.

“There’s no time for rest,” he snaps at the sword-wielding goon.

“My chest feels like it’s going to explode,” the second man says. “I’m way too old for all this running.”

“I’m a year
older
than you so I don’t want to hear it,” his partner says, though he also breathes heavy. “Besides, does age really matter at this point? We’re going to lose her if we stop now.”

“Her trail is easy to follow. I’m sure the girl would disgrace her
kind
. She’s not as good as she thinks. She won’t get away,” he says. As his breathing steadies, the cruelty in his voice becomes much more apparent. “And when I get my hands on her pretty little neck, she won’t live long enough to tell Juan what we did to her.”

My heart races and I’m worried they’ll hear the pounding in my chest. For a moment, my knees go weak and the tree branch I crouch on shakes a little, causing a few leaves to flutter down around them. Luckily, a breeze picks up at the same time so the goons don’t even notice. I knew they weren’t exactly chasing me to go out for coffee or something but to actually hear their intentions to kill me seriously freaks me out.

“He won’t be happy when he finds out we’ve gone against his orders and killed her.”

“Who cares? The girl’s been trouble for us since day one. She may have
him
convinced that she remembers nothing but now we know that’s not true. It’s time we got rid of her once and for all. Let’s go get her.”

The two goons head off on my false trail. I’m happy to see them go, at least until I hear the next part of their conversation fade into the distance.

“Besides, once she’s gone we can move on with the
real
reason we’re here to…”

I strain to listen but the wind picks up again and all I hear is the
rustling
of leaves. Once I’m sure they’re gone, I climb down a few branches before leaping from the tree, landing as quiet as a cat. For a moment I actually consider trailing
them
, if only to eavesdrop on the rest of their conversation. But I value life way too much for that. There’s no telling how long my false trail will keep them fooled and I don’t want to run into them any time soon. I can only hope I’ll learn more about their
other
plans before it’s too late.

For now, I have my own plans and not much time to complete them. I gain my bearings and take off the other way, no longer holding back when I run. My arms and legs pump furiously though I don’t make a single noise as I glide through the forest as gracefully as a doe. I feel a strange disconnect from my body, as I don’t tire or become short of breath. Instead I look at the forest passing me in a blur, my eyes in perfect harmony with my feet, making sure I crash into nothing while moving at incredible speeds. I’ve always been the fastest and strongest girl I’ve known but my abilities have never been like this—or maybe I’ve just never had such a reason to tap into my full potential…

My mind starts to recognize the forest around me and my body reacts accordingly, slowing down as I emerge from the forest near my house. It’s only been an hour since I showed up in this same spot but the situation is a
little
different than before. Needless to say, I’m glad Celeste isn’t here waiting for me again. Instead of slowly sauntering, lost in love, I make a beeline for the trailer and throw the door open, maybe a bit too enthusiastically.

As the door
bangs
against the wall, Mom jumps in her chair, knocking over a stack of paperwork. She might be a little extra jumpy since Cassie is also sitting nearby. Like usual, she’s busy texting her friends instead of working.

I grab the keys to the ‘Adventure Guides’ van.

“Didn’t you already take the Jeep?” Cassie asks snidely.

I hope to avoid any conversations but Mom follows Cassie’s lead. As always, she wears a look of concern.

“What’s wrong, Zannia? Why do you look so flustered?”

“It’s nothing, the Jeep ran out of gas down the road,” I say. “It was stupid. I should’ve stopped earlier to get some.”

Mom nods her head; she and Dad
always
remind me to fill up the tank. This answer seems good enough for her so I rush toward the door. But Cassie is a master manipulator and must be able to tell that I’m lying. She jumps out of her seat and follows me—on second thought, she’s probably just looking for any excuse not to work.

“I’ll drive you to the Jeep so you don’t have to walk,” Cassie says as we walk outside. It’s the first time we’ve spoken in weeks, so I’m immediately wary of her intentions. Still, I resist snapping at her just in case she
is
trying to offer an olive branch.

“Thanks, but I can handle it,” I say. I unlock the door to the van but Cassie puts her hand on it to stop me. There goes the olive branch…

“I know something is going on,” she says. “I drove the Jeep earlier and it had a full tank of gas.”

I don’t have time for arguments so I shrug and open the door. Cassie proceeds to slam it shut.

“This has to do with John, doesn’t it? Are you using the van to stalk him since he’s seen you in the Jeep?”

Our dislike of one another is already out in the open so I see no reason to bite my tongue any longer.

“I left you two alone for a long time but
John
hasn’t left
me
alone,” I snap. “He’s madly in love with me and…” The truth suddenly dawns on me, something I’ve tried to deny for so long but I no longer see the point. “…and I love him, too. He’s done
a lot
to be with me—not that you’d understand what sacrifice and hard work means. But I won’t let you stand in our way any longer.”

For once I’ve shocked Cassie into silence. I force open the door and she doesn’t resist as I climb inside. But I knew she wouldn’t keep quiet forever.

“You’ve gone totally nuts,” Cassie says, though her voice is higher-pitched than usual. I think a part of her knows that I’m right. “You’re delusional.”

I pity her. When I look into her eyes, I can see her usual anger. But I also sense defeat, which makes me feel guilty. As quickly as I slam on the gas, I hit the brakes, skidding to a stop. The thought of John’s ‘uncles’ finding my path home causes worry to explode in the pit of my stomach, especially when I glance back at Cassie. Regardless of how much I might hate her at times, I still have a
need
to keep her safe, a need so strong it nearly causes me to stay behind to protect her. But it’s obvious I’m the goons’ main target so hopefully my family will remain safe. I stick my head out the window and call back to her.

“Go find your mom and hide some place safe. Please tell my parents, too. You all might be in danger.”

Her angry expression changes to one of worry. “What kind of – ”

“There’s no time to explain. Just go, do what I say!”

I hit the gas and speed away, a part of me feeling bad for leaving my family behind. But I
must
do this now since it may be my only chance. Before I disappear down our dirt driveway, I check my mirror to see Cassie running toward the trailer. At least I feel better knowing she took my warning seriously.

I speed toward John’s house though I have to follow the speed limit as I get closer. Police litter the area as they clean up several fender-benders caused by our earlier chase. One side of the highway is closed off for nearly a mile and I’m stuck in heavy standstill traffic. With every second that passes, my anxiety levels go higher and higher. I don’t normally suffer from road rage but I find myself banging on the steering wheel and
honking
the horn. I consider pulling over, abandoning the van to run the rest of the way. But a traffic cop finally waves us forward. Once I hit open road, I start swerving in and out of traffic until I reach John’s neighborhood.

My heart pounds as I round the corner to his house but I sigh deeply when I see the trucks aren’t there. I hope the goons will be lost in the woods for hours—
forever
would be even better—but I won’t underestimate them ever again. I park the van down the road and leave the keys in the ignition in case a sudden escape is required. I look for any other signs of danger but see nothing.

Then, my roving eyes stop on the shed. A strong tingling grips every fiber of my being and thoughts of escape and danger and goons leave my mind. Whatever is inside that shed will change my life forever, of this I am certain. Sticking to whatever shadows I can find, I run like the wind down the street, stopping once I reach the shed. There’s a new padlock on the entrance, this one bigger and thicker than the one I crushed in my hand. But no mere piece of metal will keep me from my destiny.

I concentrate on the tingling, my focus redirecting it to my hands and arms. As I grip the padlock and begin to squeeze and pull, I know this is the strongest I’ve ever been. My fingers dig into the cold steel, which quickly turns hotter under the heavy stress of my grip. A loud
squealing
soon follows and within seconds, the padlock pops off. I drop the heavy clump of twisted metal. I force my breathing to slow down as I open the door though I still feel on edge.

That paranoia ends up saving my life. I hear the quiet
ping
of a tightening bowstring as the door opens. Instinctively, I spin out of the way, even as the familiar
whoosh
of an arrow speeds out of the open shed. The arrow certainly would’ve impaled anybody else. Even with how fast I react—how fast I twirl out of the way—the tip of the arrow tears through the side of my shirt as it zips by. I should’ve expected some sort of booby trap considering how John’s ‘uncles’ seem willing to kill for their secret.

I step cautiously into the shed, ready to duck or dive at the next sign of danger. Apparently, the goons figured the first trap would be more than enough to dissuade anyone else from entering. The shed’s interior is dark, the only light coming through the open door. The lone object in the room is a big steel safe with an electronic keypad. I type a few numbers into it but am met with a blinking red light each time. There’s not even a handle for me to try yanking open. But the tingling has grown so intense that the energy just about radiates off me.

I have no means of opening the safe electronically—I’ve never been good enough with technology to figure out the keypad—so I use the only trait I have left: brute strength. I throw punch after punch against the steel, trying to bust it open the way I did with the padlock. It doesn’t hurt as much as I expect but my knuckles end up bloody after a few minutes. I make sizable dents in the heavy steel but I’m nowhere close to busting it open. I could probably beat on it for hours without breaking through.

I finally collapse in front of the safe, feeling exhausted and utterly defeated. I ran miles earlier without breaking a sweat but this disappointment crushes me, leaves my spirit broken. I begin to doubt whether I’ll ever learn my true fate. A shadow suddenly looms large over me as someone stands in the shed’s doorway. I’m a sitting duck in the small building but will fight to the end if I must. Before I scramble to my feet though, I hear a familiar voice—a welcomed voice.

“The combination is 1 – 47 – 3. How’s that for trust?”

John steps into the shed and offers a hand to help me up. I’m glad to see him but he doesn’t look like he feels the same. I can’t say I blame him; after all, he
did
catch me breaking into—and breaking—his shed. Now that I have the combination, I want nothing more than to open the safe. But seeing him upset gives me reason to pause.

“What’s in there?” I ask.

“If you’ve resorted to sneaking around and damaging property, it must be very important for you to find out. Don’t let me stop you at this point.”

I hesitate, wondering if he’s trying to test me somehow. But he
did
give me the combo so he must want me to know—at least that’s what I convince myself as I punch the numbers into the keypad. The little light turns green and I hear the
click
of the bolt unlocking. The safe’s small door cracks ajar but I fight the urge to swing it all the way open. I might feel strongly about whatever’s inside but it’s still a mystery to me. But I feel even stronger toward John and that is something I
do
know. As much as it pains me, I shut the safe’s door.

“Your uncles are trying to kill me,” I say, trying to explain my drastic actions of breaking into the shed. “They’ve been chasing me for the last hour. I finally escaped and came here before they got back.”

At first John looks concerned, his brow furrowing, his lips frowning. But after a few seconds of thinking, he shakes his head.

“No, you must be mistaken. They have been given their orders to leave you alone. They would not dare disobey me.”

“I came over here looking for you and they chased me away. But then they followed me and tried to run me off the road. And that was
before
they shot at me with arrows and chased me through the woods. Whatever orders you
think
you gave, they are
not
following them.”

John shakes his head in disgust and mutters to himself in Spanish. I might not speak the language, but I can recognize cursing when I hear it.

“Modern society is too lenient, they’ve lost their fear of authority,” he says. “My troops aren’t afraid of being put to death for treason.”

“Your
troops
?” I ask.

John frowns and nods his head. “I suppose it is no longer a surprise that those two men are
not
my uncles. The idea of sharing a bloodline with them makes me sick. We have come up with many stories over the years but this one I’ve hated the most. Those two men were once my most trusted troops.”

“How
old
are you?”

John shrugs. “I lost count after my 500th birthday.”

At first I smile, expecting one of his famous mischievous grins. But it never comes.

“But how can that be? How can you be the same old man from the field hockey game?”

“That is a
long
story,” he says. “First, tell me what you remember about
your
past.”

“Just moving around a lot with my parents, Cassie and her mom. Besides that I had a normal childhood, a normal life,” I answer, wondering exactly what it is he expects me to say. John stares into my eyes, looking closely for something. It feels like he gazes directly into my soul.

“Nothing else?” he wonders.

I immediately think of my dreams and visions, think of the old keeper and the glowing water and tribe of women. I don’t quite know
how
these things fit into my past—or even if they do at all—so I don’t mention them. Instead, I shake my head.

“I’m glad I never took too much,” John says grimly, shaking his head. I have a feeling his sympathy is aimed toward me.

“Too much what?” I ask, growing impatient. Maybe I
should’ve
just opened the safe. “Are you going to tell me or what?”

The amused smirk returns to his face. I think a part of him enjoys drawing this out and seeing me squirm for answers.

“Let’s take a walk, it’s too stuffy in here,” he says, leading me out of the shed. I follow but once outside, I can’t help glancing back at the safe. I guess I can’t hide the longing I feel for whatever is inside. “Don’t worry, we’ll get back to the safe soon enough. But we should probably start from the beginning.

“Now I can’t give you all the answers you’ll probably want; all I can do is start
my
story. My involvement begins many years ago…”