The Blood Keeper (The Blood Journals) (33 page)

“The trees? The reason you were sprung from prison this afternoon?”

I swung back around. “Oh. Right. It was great.” I smiled widely. Tried to look innocent. Ben didn’t buy it. “Mom’s on her way out. I need a brief family meeting.”

Dad lowered the Coca-Cola from his mouth and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing.” I shot Ben a glance. “I just want to tell you something about my future.”

Before either of them could reply, I stepped off the patio and jogged toward the kennel. I’d spotted Havoc’s coloring through the slats. I unlocked it and crouched. I held out my hands to my dogs.

Valkyrie hung back, tail low. Havoc walked to me. Her fur bristled, but she kept coming, not baring her teeth or growling. I kept my hand steady and reminded myself to breathe. Havoc stopped two feet away and stretched out her neck, reaching to put her cool black nose against the tip of one of my fingers.

I was shaking from the effort not to move.

“Will!” Ben called.

Havoc jumped back, but her ears were high. “Hey, girl,” I said softly. She cocked her head to the side. Relief made me laugh. She was being cautious, sure, but herself. “I’ll be back with some bacon or something for a real treat, okay?”

At the word, Valkyrie’s tail shot up and she stood at attention.

“I promise, Val,” I said, laughing again. It had worked. Mab’s magic had worked.

Backing out of the kennel, I left the door hanging open so the dogs could join us if they wanted. Mom waited with Ben and Dad on the patio. She’d taken off her apron and stood with her arms around both of their waists.

My heart hammered in my neck. I rubbed my hand just under my jaw, pressing where my pulse tried to rapid-fire its way to freedom. Then I went to tell my parents I was ditching their plans for my life.

The moment I was alone in the car, I kicked off my sandals to drive barefoot. The station wagon rattled as I pushed it faster across the highway overpass, and two crows shrieked at me through the windows. I stuck my hand out and felt the hot, strong wind, letting it surge in through the car and sweep away the sudden giddy laughter bubbling up from my heart.

I hadn’t felt this light in so long. Not since the last time I danced with Arthur and Granny, just before she died, when we set that huge bonfire next to the garden to burn all our wishes up to the stars. Donna and Faith and Eli and their children had come, and even Nick and Silla were there, because it was their college’s fall break. The whole world had smelled like apple cider and sharp wood smoke, and I remembered laughing hard enough that I was nearly unable to speak the next morning, my throat was so raw. I’d taught Hannah how to read her name in the changing patterns of the red and gold maple leaves, and when the sun had set, Nick passed around his flask of whisky.
He made a toast to Reese on the fifth anniversary of his death, and the burn of the alcohol made my eyes water. All the crows spun around us overhead, and Silla spat her mouthful into the fire. When it flared, she reached out her hands and caught the flames, pulling them like a rope, then tossing it up to her flying brother.

It had been hard for everyone, because of the weight of history there, because my mother was the reason we all knew each other, but her name was never spoken when Silla came.

The crows had spiraled out with the rope of fire, and had each taken a strand, splitting it off into twelve threads that they wove into a web before dropping a piece down to each of us. Even little Hannah, who knew already to cover her hands in dirt before catching it. The web of thin flame connected us all; its burning magic shot straight through my palms, through my heart, and out my feet into the earth.

My family had been all around me. I could have leapt off the ground to fly with the crows.

As I drove past the acres of our blood land and came to the hidden gate, I decided to send invitations out to all the kin, bringing as many as would come to the new Deacon’s blood ground. We would have a long summer party, bask in the sun, and grill and play games and laugh.

I’d ask Will to come, too. Maybe his friends.

The station wagon rolled to a stop in the driveway, and I climbed out, trying to formulate exactly how it would be best to ask Donna if she knew how soon I should or could call him. I didn’t want to seem desperate or uninterested, and I hadn’t the faintest idea where that line was.

I came into the house and stopped. Donna stood in the hallway, staring at the telephone. It hung heavy on the wall, the old rotary dial with its numbers worn away by years of fingers, and the polish rubbed off the hand piece. I kept still, waiting.

She held her hands lowered at her sides, and the long linen sleeves of her shirt fell nearly to her knuckles. Her hair was braided down her back, and she was wearing her favorite loose jeans with the holes in the knees and gardening boots. As I watched, she reached for the phone, clutched the hand piece in her fist, and drew it to her. But she paused with it halfway between the wall and her ear. The cord jiggled; everything else was frozen.

Finally, Donna set it back into its holder and spun around to stalk into the kitchen.

I padded after her, sparing a sorrowful glance at the phone. With one hand relaxed against the arch between kitchen and hallway, I softly said, “Is everything all right?”

She whirled around, butter knife in hand. “Oh. Mab. Yes.”

“Where’s Lukas?”

With the knife, she gestured at the ceiling. “Bathtub. We got all the leaves burned out of the side garden, and he was a mess.”

“What can I do for dinner?” I went to the sink and washed my hands, wondering how to bring up her near miss with the telephone.

“I thought we might grill shish kebabs with these tomatoes and green peppers and the leftover stew meat.”

Out the window, the yard darkened in creeping fingers of violet. “I’ll set out some mosquito wards.” As I dried my fingers
on the towel tucked into the oven door handle, Donna stepped up behind me.

“Silla’s graduation is this Sunday.”

All the lightness I’d felt as I drove home rekindled. “That’s right! Are you thinking of going?”

“I could go up tomorrow on the train and help them pack up their apartment, organize things for the move to Oregon.” Donna kept her expression light and her eyes trained on me.

I glanced at the phone over her shoulder. “You should definitely call. There are a few things Silla has that are Arthur’s, that I’d like to make sure we get back here before she leaves. And”—I popped open the refrigerator to pull out the carton of tomatoes—“I want to have a party—a summer event for all the blood witches, to introduce them to their new Deacon.” Tilting up my chin, I spread my smile out wider.

“So I could bring Nick and Silla back with me, to swing by on their way out of Kansas.”

“Exactly! I’m sure Nick will want to see how Lukas is doing.”

“Hmm.” Donna shifted away, glancing toward the telephone. She cocked her head as if she were just thinking about this now. “I want him to know I understand why he’s going.” She took a few steps back toward the phone. “Why don’t you and Lukas come with me?”

I tapped my fingers on the plastic carton of tomatoes. “I don’t think I should take him off the land so soon after reworking the black candle rune. He needs to settle into it; he and the land need to find each other’s balance.” Raising my face, I looked up as if I could see through the plaster ceiling to
where Lukas was. The singing of the pipes told me he’d let the drain go. “We’ll be all right. It’ll be good for us, even, to have time to study and brainstorm ways to free him completely.”

“He’s so young,” Donna frowned. “Maybe I should stay.”

“No, too late!” I danced around her. “I like this idea too much. Lukas and I won’t cook or clean, and we’ll sleep out under the stars like regular heathens.” I skipped backward nearer to the phone. “It’ll be a long weekend of camping, and so if you don’t call Nick, I will.”

Laughing, Donna caught my hand. “Oh no you don’t. I can be brave, Mab Prowd.”

“I know!” Stepping onto my tiptoes, I kissed her lightly and dashed for the front door, calling, “I’ll set the mosquito wards!”

The sun set behind the neighbors’ house, but the sky remained blue. Mom and Dad talked softly at the patio table over the remains of a tray of caramel brownies. Ben had a fireplace match and was very slowly lighting the wicks of some bamboo tiki torches around the edges of the patio to keep the mosquitoes away. At his heels, Valkyrie gripped her favorite neon ball, waiting for him to throw it for her again. I sat on my butt against the house, legs stretched out in front of me. With Havoc lying three feet away. She’d inched closer every few minutes since I sat down.

It had all gone way better than I’d expected. Ben clenched his teeth and kept quiet while I told Mom and Dad I wasn’t applying to the Naval Academy, or any college, because I wanted
to take a year off to work and travel. Mom asked me where I wanted to go. Dad very calmly said that he was glad to know what I’d been considering but that really, taking time off was not the best plan. Although I wasn’t sure, I stuck to the New Zealand idea. Mom covered her mouth because it was so far away. And I told Dad I didn’t need the best plan, just one that worked. That had gone down like battery acid, but I held up my hands and said, “I don’t want to discuss it, Dad.”

“You called this meeting, Will,” he reminded me. “It wasn’t just a memo. At meetings we discuss.”

But Mom touched his wrist and said, “We should sleep on it, though, Dan. It’s a very big idea, and it will take some getting used to.”

Dad shot her an indecipherable look. She lifted her eyebrows, and he nodded. “All right. It’ll be a Sunday afternoon conversation.” He smiled at me, that hard-boiled smile I knew meant he was working on a steel-tight counterargument. My insides turned hard. I wasn’t giving in on this. Dad could come up with all the rational arguments he wanted. Like Mab had said, I was starting with what I knew I didn’t want. And at the end of the day, I’d be eighteen and they couldn’t make me do anything. I just really, really hoped they wouldn’t try to.

Afterward, I’d gone back inside with Mom to help her slice tomatoes and lettuce for the burgers. She didn’t bring up anything I’d said outside, only quietly asked me for the pickles or mustard jar. As I passed her, she touched my shoulder, brushed my back. Little possessive gestures that she’d always done. It meant that she, at least, wasn’t angry. With the radio turned
to an evening game show for background chatter, I’d managed to relax and just do what she asked me to. Without thinking too much about the future, or even the past. Or even of Mab.

But post-dinner, post–mostly easy conversation that involved questions about my final exams and summer soccer practice, post–kicking the ball with Dad and Ben, and post-brownies, I could think about her all I wanted. With Havoc scooting ever closer and the humid evening breeze making me sleepy, I shut my eyes. Leaned my head back against the house. Thought about kissing her again.

“So.” Ben dropped down next to me. Stretched his legs out. Valkyrie panted over and collapsed, too. “Tell me what happened to you today.”

“Huh?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited with his eyebrows up.

Havoc lifted her head and put the edge of her chin on my knee. Scratching her ears gave me something to focus on.

“You changed. Stuck up for yourself.”

The total lack of accusation in his tone made me look at him.

“It was the girl, wasn’t it?”

I shrugged uncomfortably.

“Are you in love with her?”

“Man.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “I don’t … It’s …” The thought made me fidgety. There was this dumb, warm glow. I felt new and open and like I was waiting for something. Anticipation stuck in my chest like a magnet.

“You’re smiling.”

I was. I wiped it off, but it crept back. “Look, Ben, I don’t want to talk about it. That might ruin it.”

His face scrunched up. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I doubt it.”

Ben laughed, and I opened my mouth, not sure what to add. “I only just met her, like, two weeks ago. The day you flew home.”

“That was fast.”

“It isn’t like that. She’s so wild and strange. Beautiful. We didn’t even …” I blew out a hard breath and admitted, “I only kissed her today.”

“And yet she managed to convince you that you can throw off all our traditions?”

“Ben!” I started to get mad. Then stopped. “Yes. Yes, actually. I’ve seen some incredible stuff recently, because of Mab. And this feels right. Real.”

His frown seemed less angry and more uncertain. “Tell me.”

“You won’t believe it.”

“I believe a lot of things I didn’t used to.”

I shook my head. “Like curses? And magic? I don’t think so.”

“Magic.”

“See?”

“You’re talking fantasy, Will.”

“No, that’s not it.” My agitation made Havoc prick her ears back. I tried again. “Mab talks about patterns, connections in
the world that most people don’t see. Things happening for a reason, because they were caused by something. And we might not understand that cause, but it’s still real. It was still the cause. That’s what Mab’s magic is.”

Ben’s arms relaxed, and he clasped his hands in his lap. Stared down at them. “I’m pretty sure that isn’t the generally accepted definition.”

“What would you call it?”

“I don’t believe that things happen for a reason. Not a supernatural one. At all.”

“Why?”

He turned his head just enough to nail me with his eyes. “Because I’ve killed people.”

I tried to hold on to his gaze but couldn’t. I looked away. Off at Mom and Dad still chatting quietly at the picnic table. At Havoc’s worried ears. How did I argue with that? It made everything I’d been through seem kind of useless and petty.

Ben drummed his fingers on his legs. “That wasn’t fair.”

“I don’t think fair and killing people are usually anywhere near each other.”

“Yeah. Well.”

We sat there against the house in silence for a bit. Just us and Val’s occasional snorting as Ben rubbed down her belly. I listened to the traffic from out on the main street. The crickets. Mom and Dad. Finally, I said, “Remember that girl you told me about? Your reporter?”