The Keeper's Retribution: A Chosen Novel (The Keepers Book 2) Read online

  They glittered as she moved them in her hand, lifting them into the light to better make out their details. A hint of color along the bottom caught her eye, and she flipped the first card over. It was a snarling wolf; its eyes narrowed in red slits, saliva dripping from its yellowed fangs.

  Effie shivered, shuffling to the bottom and lifting the next.

  This one was swirls of blue and white. It took her a second to realize it was a pool of rippling water, sunlight glinting off its surface. The last card finally clued her in to what she was holding. A woman surrounded by five pillars, runes emblazed in their surface. She was stunningly beautiful; her chestnut curls flying around her, smoldering flames at the tips. Her dress was the palest lilac at the top, blending into a deep eggplant at the hem, and a sparkling pendant glittered at the base of her throat.

  Effie knew this woman. It was Helena, as perfectly rendered as if she’d posed for the portrait.

  “It’s a castle deck,” she murmured, a low buzz of premonition zinging through her. What were the odds she and Lucian would stumble across a deck of cards after just talking about the game?

  Effie twisted to the table beside her, more of the playing cards strewn across its top, the wooden box that held them laying open on its side. Her breath caught in her chest as she picked up more familiar faces, each so achingly familiar that a pang of homesickness overtook her.

  There was the Palace; its circular towers standing proud against a sunny blue sky. A Talyrian in flight; her obsidian wings flung wide as molten fire spewed across the horizon. But the five that caught her eye were the ones with the symbols from the pillars in the Kiri card—Helena’s card. The men they contained were as familiar to her as her own reflection. Kragen, the Sword. Ronan, the Shield. Timmins, the Advisor. Joquil, the Master. And the last, with silver eyes and a dark brow scowling up at her, was Von, the Mate.

  “Would you like it?” Lucian asked, moving to stand beside her.

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly afford something so beautiful,” Effie protested, tearing her gaze away from Ronan’s mocking grin.

  “My dear, you must have the deck. It was clearly made for you,” the shopkeeper insisted, startling Effie with how close she was standing.

  Jumping, one of the cards slipped, slicing open the tip of her finger with its edge. She hissed at the sting of pain and dropped her gaze to the bead of scarlet as it dripped.

  “Oh,” she cried, trying to shove the cards below to the side, not wanting to ruin them with her blood.

  She wasn’t fast enough. Her blood splashed over one of the images, obscuring it and sending the buzzing inside of her to a full-blown alarm. Gasping, she toppled to the side, barely managing to cling to Lucian before hitting the floor. Eyes rolling back in her head, Effie’s vision pulled her under.

  She could tell before the images even appeared that something was different about this vision. It was as if her senses had been heightened, but also blocked.

  Blurred faces surrounded her as inhuman wails filled her ears. Effie spun, trying to find the source of the screaming, but the faces moved with her, not letting her out of their sight.

  She tried to focus, but none of the features that should have been present were visible and things were spinning too fast around her to focus on any one picture for long. She could feel the frantic pulse of her power spiraling within and tugging on her inner awareness. It felt almost desperate as it tried to relay its message, but her brain struggled to make sense of what she was Seeing. The harder she struggled, the more disjointed the sensations became.

  Fire licked up her legs, but ice ran down her spine.

  Laughter replaced the screams; keening and filled with malice. It was more terrifying than anything else. The booming laughs grew so loud the sky shattered, raining ash down upon her skin. When she tried to brush the ash away, it caught on her fingers, sticky like blood.

  Her stomach swooped, bile burning her throat as tears fell from her eyes and made the ash bloat and swell. Images formed on its mottled surface, turning once more into the blurred faces that surrounded her.

  Again and again the images looped. Fire, ice, ash, screams.

  But nothing was more terrifying than the laughter.

  Effie came back to herself and immediately rolled to her knees, her stomach heaving. The images had been so frantic, so disjointed, it hurt to try and follow them. Between the spinning and swooping, she felt like she had been flung about like a feather caught in a storm.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, tears still streaming from her eyes as her stomach convulsed.

  Lucian pressed a cool cloth to the back of her neck, the shopkeeper standing to the side with a concerned frown.

  “What did you See?” Lucian asked in a low voice, his other hand running over her back in soothing circles.

  Effie shook her head. “I-I don’t know. I couldn’t really make sense of anything.”

  Lucian frowned. “Nothing?”

  Gulping, Effie shook her head. “Faces with no features. Laughter. Ash. Tears.” She was struggling to pluck out any concrete moments from the vision, but they were blending together. The harder she tried to focus, the more confused she became.

  “Laughter?” Lucian repeated.

  “Could it have been her own laughter she was hearing?” the shopkeeper whispered, her dark eyes shooting to Lucian.

  “M-my laughter?” Effie stammered, her eyes bouncing between the two of them.

  She looked up at Lucian, waiting for his answer. He was staring at her, his expression drawn, bronze fire flashing in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, his hand snaking out and covering hers, halting its frenzied movement.

  Effie glanced down, surprised to see that she’d been scratching at her arms hard enough to draw blood. The buzzing still raged inside of her, her skin feeling too tight, like she was going to burst from the vibrations inside of her.

  Panic set it. Something was very, very wrong.

  “I need Smoke.”

  Something shifted in Lucian’s eyes, but she was too jumbled to make sense of anything else. Distantly, she heard the rustling of cloth and a low murmur of voices before her mind shut down, trying to protect her from the overwhelming assault of sensations.

  Effie had no memory of returning to the citadel, nor of Lucian leaving her. By the time she was aware again, hours could have passed. It was the sound of fire crackling in a hearth that finally cut through the void, the sizzling pops providing her with an anchor to focus on as she pulled herself out of the darkness.

  It didn’t take more than a cursory glance to tell that Lucian had brought her back to the Hall of Guardians. She was sitting in one of the high-backed chairs, a thick blanket that smelled faintly of him wrapped around her shoulders.

  Kneeling before her was Smoke, his scarlet hood pushed back and her pale hand clasped between his.

  “Welcome back, Daughter.”

  Chapter 20

  “Smoke.” His name left her lips in a warble.

  She wasn’t sure why the sight of him brought such swift relief, or why she felt like she was on the verge of tears—except that he might be the only person to understand what just happened to her.

  “Where’s Lucian?”

  Smoke rose up from his knees, letting her hand fall limply into her lap. “I had to send him away.”

  “Why?”

  “So he could do what needed to be done.”

  Effie couldn’t imagine he’d left her willingly. Lucian was too fiercely protective to leave her in a vulnerable state. Although, waiting around while she stared vacantly into the distance probably hadn’t been easy on him either. Her Guardian might have relished the opportunity to do something useful since he was incapable of doing anything to help her.

  Either way, she harbored no ill will at his absence. It would be easier to discuss her mess of a vision with someone who could experience it himself and not have to worry about sounding like she’d lost her marbles.

  �
�Are you ready to speak about what happened?”

  Taking a deep breath, Effie tucked the blanket more tightly around her body as if she could absorb some of Lucian’s strength through the garment.

  “I know that our prophecies are trapped in metaphors, but the images that came to me were . . . chaotic. Blurred faces, ash, tears, the sense of being on fire . . . laughter.” Effie shuddered, the cruel mocking sound echoing in her mind. Forcing herself to focus, she added, “There was no sense or reason to anything I Saw. Everything swirled together until it was all one jumbled mess. Even the pieces I could make out remained mostly out of focus or transformed into something else.”

  “Do you feel that what you Saw was about yourself?”

  Effie bit her lip, considering the question. “It’s hard to say, really.”

  Smoke lifted up his hand. “Would you like me to—”

  Before he could finish the question, Effie flinched away from him, quickly shaking her head. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Premonition?”

  “No…” she responded slowly, checking herself for signs of the familiar buzz or tension.

  He tilted his head and studied her. “Then why?”

  Effie didn’t fully understand the answer to that question herself. It was just a gut reaction. Not having a better explanation, she settled for a different truth. “I guess I just don’t want to have to experience it again. It was awful enough the first time.”

  “Very well.”

  “That’s it? You aren’t going to insist?”

  “I will always respect your privacy, Daughter. Your visions are your own; to share or not as you will. If what you Saw suggests imminent danger I would ask you to reconsider, but barring that,” he spread his arms and shrugged, “a verbal retelling works almost as well.”

  “You aren’t upset with me?” she asked, more than a little relieved he wasn’t going to press the issue.

  “Of course not.”

  Feeling a little more settled, Effie asked a question that had been bothering her. “Smoke, what’s happening to my visions? Why are they . . . devolving?”

  She didn’t voice the real concern: that if her visions were no longer trustworthy, then she was no good to anyone. She wasn’t ready to hear that without her gift, there was no place for her with the Keepers.

  “Who says they are?”

  “What?” she blurted in surprise.

  “Just as the symptoms of visions change with time, so do the visions themselves. It is not uncommon for the future to appear fragmented or abstract. The more in flux the outcome, the more chaotic the vision. It is simply the nature of your gift.”

  “You mean . . . this is . . . normal?”

  “What is ever normal about prophecy?”

  He was so matter-of-fact, so damn unaffected by what felt like a cataclysmic shift to her, that she couldn’t stop the incredulous laughter from bubbling up. Nothing got beneath that rune-covered skin of his. Except your past, she reminded herself, sobering slightly. If Smoke said this wasn’t unusual, all she could do was trust that he would not lie to her about something so important.

  “So, you’re not worried about it?”

  “Should I be?”

  This was her chance to ask him. To give voice to the secret fear lurking within her. Effie opened her mouth, the words crowding on the tip of her tongue.

  Smoke tilted his head, waiting for her to speak.

  Heart racing, Effie closed her mouth and shook her head. She couldn’t do it. Not yet.

  “No, I guess not,” she murmured finally. “I just didn’t realize it wasn’t unusual for visions to change. I’d become sort of used to them making more sense.” She frowned. “Well, okay, maybe not sense, per se, but at least being a little less fragmented.”

  “Understandable.”

  “So, what now?” she asked, looking up from the silver embroidery on his sleeve.

  “Since you do not feel prepared to show me, I need you to describe your vision as best you can. Even fragmented, your vision contains a warning. With a second marker having passed—”

  Effie jolted as if he’d burnt her. “A second marker? How? When?”

  “The massacre in the jungle—”

  “And you’re just now telling me!” she shouted.

  Smoke held up his hands to stop her angry tirade. “You knew it was a possibility, but we only managed to confirm it today.”

  “How could you not have realized it sooner?” she sputtered. “This seems like something you three should know. I mean, isn’t that what you do?”

  Smoke used silence like other men issued threats. Her accusation displeased him, and he was making sure she knew she’d overstepped.

  Effie lifted her chin, refusing to give in. The Triumvirate were their leaders. They were the ones with access to every Keepers’ prophecy ever made. Surely, something as important as a marker of the Shadow Years would be readily recognizable.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “I think you misunderstand how the prophecies are stored. There are thousands of them, stored in our archives as well as our memories, but the nature of prophecy is patently obscure. There is rarely one specific outcome a prophecy could refer to, and more than one way for a prophecy to come true. We are not infallible. Miscategorization does occur.”

  There was nothing worse than a logical explanation when you were in the middle of a deeply emotional reaction. Effie didn’t want logic. She wanted the Triumvirate to be all-knowing. Learning that they weren’t attacked the sense of safety she felt being near them. Safety she hadn’t recognized for what it was until it was threatened.

  Effie didn’t want the occurrence of a marker to be a surprise. Smoke and the Mirrors were supposed to know what was coming and give the rest of them a heads-up so they could stop it.

  Frustration leaked into her voice as she asked, “So what makes you so sure you’re right about this being a marker? If it’s that easy to mislead you, how can you ever be sure about anything?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” Smoke’s voice swelled in her mind, sending chills cascading down her body. “‘And beasts will fall, the docile becoming fiends in their quest for blood. Peaceful no more, the prey become the hunters; upon the threshold of day, where life and death meet, converging into one. Let it be a mark of the end, a herald of destruction. None will be safe when the gentlest amongst us are lost.’”

  “Yeah, that sounds like a marker,” Effie muttered, numb with the realization they were that much closer to annihilation.

  Hearing the prophecy, seeing how vague the phrasing could be, she better understood why it could have been overlooked, or simply forgotten. But there was no doubting that this was tied to what happened in the jungle. The lajhár were obviously the docile creatures fiending for blood, and the attack’s timing at sunset matched the reference to the death of day and birth of night.

  No matter how many sites they searched looking for answers, until they could find a way to stop the corruption from spreading, they were dead in the water. The Chosen needed their Kiri. The Mother’s Vessel was the only one powerful enough to put an end to this.

  So, where is she? Why haven’t Ronan’s notes reached her by now?

  Trying not to let the feeling of helplessness send her spiraling into despair, Effie looked back at Smoke. “What can we do? What are the other markers?”

  “There are hundreds of possible scenarios. The only marker known with certainty was the first because it was the shepherd of the rest.”

  Effie’s blood turned to ice and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “If we aren’t sure when and where the markers could potentially occur, how can we protect ourselves?”

  “We decipher our visions. We look for the clues contained within and use them to point us to warnings from the past. If there’s a way to stop this, we will find it.”

  “And in the meantime? Until then? You’re putting a lot of hope into something that might not be the answer.”
r />   “We do what we have always done, Daughter.”

  “Stand back and watch while everything goes to shit?”

  Smoke rested his hand on her shoulder. “We do the best we can with what we are given.”

  Effie closed her eyes as tears threatened. Smoke might be right, but it wasn’t nearly good enough. The Mother blessed them with this gift for a reason, surely she couldn’t mean to leave them without a means of salvation.

  “How is so little known about this?” she whispered, her lashes wet with unshed tears when she opened her eyes.

  “Do not give into your fear. You will find no answers there.”

  Effie scowled at Smoke. “I’m allowed to be upset.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

  “Smoke, there has to be something more that we can do than sit around waiting for the three of you to look through old books. Maybe if we help you—”

  “You have been helping. More than you probably realize. What we need right now is information, not just that contained in the archives, but insights about the corruption that you and the others have gathered in your investigations. You can travel where we cannot. Each new detail you bring back could be the difference in uncovering the answers we seek.”

  “You want us to go back out there,” she surmised.

  Smoke nodded. “Until a new attack is reported, we will monitor the jungle, track the spread of the corruption, fight the infected beasts, and learn what we can.”

  Something was still bothering her. “What’s the point of knowing about the markers if we can’t prevent them?”

  “The purpose was never to prevent the marker—not specifically. The markers are a warning of what’s coming. The goal is to recognize them for what they are, and change the behavior that is causing them in the first place.”

  “But the Chosen aren’t doing anything truly terrible, are they? Helena defeated the Corruptor. So why is this happening? Why now?”

  “I wish I held the answers you seek, Daughter.”