Once Upon a Haunted Moon (The Keeper Saga) (17 page)

“Our people have many furs to trade. No trader come to village in many moon…”

Ella knew where this conversation was headed. Old Mother was vehement in her belief of staying away from the white people. Too many of their people had died due to the lies and greed of the white man. Old Mother had thought them all liars and murderers, only wanting what they could take from her people. Her belief had been so strong that she had even discouraged the traders who would, on occasion, happen through their village. The fact that she had taken Ella in, an orphaned white girl, adopting her so completely as her own, still surprised Ella — and Running Wolf.

Running Wolf had wished for a long time to trade his furs in the white man’s town but had never been able to do so. Each time he approached Old Mother, she had said no. Running Wolf secretly blamed Old Mother for the distrust she had shown the traders as the reason they had chosen not to return to the village. But he loved his grandmother, and respected her wishes, and never disobeyed what she instructed him to do.

But now Old Mother was gone and he came to White Wolf and her wisdom to tell him if the journey would be one they should make.

Ella understood the benefit that could be had from trading, but she was not certain it was worth the risk. Old Mother had been wise, and her caution kept the people safe for many years. Ella knew from her childhood that her own people considered the Indians savages; their arrival may very well be considered a threat.

She was on the verge of denying his request, when a flash of the town flitted before her eyes. A store came into view, and she had a sense of something good being within it…something that felt like home…

There was something in the town that needed to be seen — by her. Ella blinked, and the store and the town left. She gave Running Wolf a small, hopeful smile.

“All right. I’ll go with you.”

***

Two weeks later, they arrived in the town. She recognized the dirt road from her vision, and when the store loomed before them at the end of the road, she wasn’t surprised. She knew that it would be there and whatever she needed to see would happen when she stepped through those doors.

They got some strange stares as they approached, but there hadn’t been any evidence of ill-will or threats toward them. The townspeople seemed curious, more than anything. Ella was almost certain the reason for the stares was the two fierce-looking warriors who accompanied her and Running Wolf.

Standing Fox, the Keeper with a cream-colored wolf who had bravely fought the Fire Witch, still had only a single eye, but nothing escaped his notice as he kept careful watch of anyone brave enough to pass by. Tall Bear, the other Keeper, was an imposing figure, muscles rippling along the arm he held behind him, leading the pack mule with furs.

“Let me go in first,” Ella told Running Wolf as they tied their horses to a long post in front of the store, “I’ll come for you if they are willing to trade with us.”

“Let Keepers go with White Wolf. Even just one,” he implored, wishing to protect his small sister.

Ella shook her head, “No, I’ll be safe. Trust me. Stay here until I come back.”

She knew he didn’t like that she would be alone, but he respected her decision and stayed, watching as she walked up the steps.

She stopped at the door, turning to offer them a small smile, hoping to calm their fear — and her own.

She took a deep breath and walked through the open doorway where she stood in awe, looking around her in wonder.

Rows upon rows of neatly stocked shelves held rolls of leather, bolts of fabric, and jars of canned goods.

She was surprised at the woodsy scents that greeted her, but soon found their source when she glanced above her. Clumps of dried herbs, hung from the ceiling, and every few feet, there were ears of corn or strips of jerky drying on poles that stretched across the room.

She was still standing by the door, staring at everything around her when a man came from a doorway at the back of the store. Ella couldn’t see much of his head for the stacks of boxes that he carried.

“I’ll be right there,” he called out from behind the counter. Blonde curls sprung up like tight corkscrews behind the mound of boxes that he had set down. Finally, he appeared.

Ella froze. There was something about him that struck her as very, very familiar. The set of his broad shoulders, hair springing up in all directions…she knew him from somewhere. From a time long ago.

“What can I help you with?” his clear brown eyes smiled down at her.

Somehow she had managed to walk to the counter, though she didn’t remember doing it. Instead of answering, she simply stared at him. He must have known something was amiss, because concern wrinkled his brows, and he asked kindly, “Are you well? I can call the doctor if need be…”

“No, I am well,” she managed in a trembling, low voice.

It was at that moment, a young Indian woman bustled through the door behind him, her arms full of bolts of fabric. She took a quick look at Ella, taking in the buckskin dress and moccasins, and gave her a wide, warm smile.

“My wife has great skill in mixing medicines, if any of your people should need it,” the man offered, gesturing to the Indian woman, who dropped the fabric on the end of the counter.

“I am Chenoa,” she smiled, coming slowly around the end of the counter, careful not to bump her round belly, “What can I help do?”

“My people have come to trade. We’ve brought furs,” Ella’s voice was a little stronger now.

“Bring them, we will trade,” Chenoa smiled cheerfully, turning back to pick up a bolt of fabric to put on the shelf.

Ella nodded quickly, and went back out, gesturing to the three Keepers who stood anxiously by the horses. At her word, they began unpacking the mule, and Ella went back into the store, her curiosity piqued at the kindness of the man and his wife.

“From what village have you come?” the man asked as soon as she returned.

Ella noticed he was staring at her now, “My people are from a village to the west.”

“But that is not where I knew you, not from a village…I know your face,” he murmured, his face pinched in concentration as if trying to figure out why he would know the face of a slight, white-haired woman, “I knew it well once…”

Ella was now staring at him, too, but she was remembering. The familiar wide shoulders she had seen on another man a long time ago…her papa. But the blonde curls were the same as they had always been, belonging on the little boy who had once tried to save her, his little face pinched in concentration, so determined to save his sister…

“Billy,” the name came out in a breathless whisper.

Billy stared at her open-mouthed, as he finally realized the face of the woman before him was the sister he had lost, “
Ellie
?”

They stared at each other for a moment, frozen in disbelief. Then the moment passed and Ella ran around the end of the counter, wrapping her arms around the little brother who was now much bigger than she.

“I’ve missed you so much! But…I saw your
death
!” Ella turned loose of him long enough to shake her head, incredulous, “The Fire Witch…”

“…screamed again when I pushed the branch farther in her,” Billy said grimly, offering Ella a chair beside him, “Then I ran into the woods, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. I wandered for a few days until I happened upon a man and woman who were passing through. They took me in and raised me as their own.”

“I am sorry,” Ella whispered, “I thought I was the only one left…”

“‘Tis fine, now!” Billy grinned, happiness seeping out of every pore of his being, “My sister has been found!”

Chenoa had been listening and watching the two of them with an expression of awe on her face until the three men (wearing very similar expressions to her own) came up behind her carrying the furs. With a happy smile, she welcomed them, and began questioning them as to what they needed and what they could use. Then she started piling up twice what they had bargained for, and then added even more. The people who had brought such joy into her husband’s heart would always be welcomed to whatever she could give them.

The three Keepers stood, open-mouthed, watching the pile of supplies grow before their eyes, while their white-haired sister sat at the counter with the man, talking and smiling as if she were so happy her heart might burst.

At the end of Chenoa’s gathering, it became apparent that they would not be able to carry all of the supplies in one trip unless they went out and bought more mules. Chenoa took them out to look at a neighbor’s animals, leaving the siblings to catch up.

Billy told Ella the rest of his story. The man and woman who had adopted him had owned this store. They had passed away a few years earlier, and the store had been left to him. He met his young wife when she came in with her people. Her name was Chenoa, which meant White Dove. She spoke the white man’s language well, so she always came with them when they needed to trade. Before long, they realized that they had fallen deeply in love. She was an orphaned Cherokee and had been adopted by another tribe. So when they had decided to marry, Billy and Chenoa approached the tribe fearing the worst. Surprisingly, the tribe hadn’t fought the idea, choosing instead to think of it as a way to stay on good ground among the white people. The people of the town thought the same as the Indians, and so everyone had been happy with the arrangement. The store thrived, catering to both the Indians and the townsfolk, becoming the most well-known establishment for trade for miles. But that wasn’t the best part of his story, Billy told her, as his grin stretched even wider.

Billy beamed with pride, as he told Ella that he and Chenoa were expecting their first child to be born within the next month.

Ella’s story wasn’t as easy to tell, but still she told him about the Fire Witch, the nightmares…and then at the last, she told him about Bright Eyes. Billy listened to the heartbreak in his sister’s voice, and then he offered her the only solace he could give her.

“I will always be your family and I will be here if you should need me. If you wish to stay, my home will always be open,” Billy said with a shy smile, “I would be honored to have my sister in my life again.”

She didn’t stay, though she thought about it all through the night. She loved the people who had made her one of their own. She rode back with the Keepers the following day, but every time her people came to trade, she came with them, taking joy in the visits with the family that had been restored to her.

Even though her heart would never be whole, she had found happiness again.

Chapter Twenty-Three
Brian

Spriteblood

The oldest race of faerie, whose origin dates to the first Magicks of Earth. Records of four remain alive in this world — The Sisters … Frollock, Zue, Aeolith, and Wynter.

While the four possess the strongest of Magicks, their power is heightened by feasting upon the flesh of mortals and other creatures of Magick.

The four Sisters do not share the same personalities, though Frollock and Zue enjoy warlike notions and general mayhem. The remaining two sisters favor solitude, though they have been known to join the previous two on occasion.

The Sisters have been known to be accompanied by familiars, who increase the Spriteblood’s power by their presence. All Sisters have the ability to manipulate and reanimate death at their whim.

There is no known means of destroying The Spriteblood, though it has been reported that one Sister has recently shown abhorrence to the inner flesh of the sycamore tree. The validity of this statement has yet to be confirmed.

“Oh, wow!” Nikki’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she looked up from the book, “There are four sisters!”

“Yeah, and we’re gonna hope that we only have to deal with just two of them and if we’re lucky, maybe one is still on our side,” I shook my head, “It figures we’d end up with one that enjoys ‘warlike notions.’ And ‘general mayhem.’ Whoever this Efflehurt dude is who wrote this thing, he really makes it sound like general mayhem happens regularly, and he isn’t too worried about it!”

“Who knows what a ‘bog elf’ actually is. Maybe he likes mayhem, I don’t know. I do know who Zue’s familiars are, though,” Nikki nodded at the book, “I keep seeing them every time something happens. They’re crows. I don’t know how they are helping her, but they’ve got to be hers. They’re everywhere.”

“So when we find her, we need to get her away from the crows, and that should help us a little. But how do we kill her and where do we find her?” I frowned, remembering that I just asked the same questions Adam had of his grandfather. We still hadn’t found any real answers.

“I don’t know,” Nikki concentrated on the book again, re-reading the passage, “There really isn’t a whole lot to go on other than that bit about the tree…”

“So what do we do? Treat her like a vampire and stake her with a sycamore tree?”

Nikki grinned, a spark of life came back into her eyes, “It’s an idea. Even if she’s not actually a vampire, it’s a lot better than anything else we’ve come up with so far.”

“Well, let’s look through the rest of that book to make sure we didn’t miss anything first, then we can go find a tree,” I suggested, returning her grin.

She bobbed her head, sending her blonde hair curling and spiraling around her shoulders. There was a faint white mist edging around her again. It only happened whenever she was upset or excited.

I bit my lip, not really sure what to do. I didn’t want her to morph into a wolf without being prepared. I did it that way, and it had scared the crap out of me. One minute you were yourself, then the next you were fighting to keep yourself in one piece
.

“Um,” I started uneasily, paused, and then blurted, “It hurts if you fight it!”

Nikki looked up, and then blinked; confusion clouded her eyes, “What do you mean? What hurts?”