Drinking Life (Keeper of the Water Book 1) (28 page)

“Anything,” I say.

“I know you’ve been remembering more of the past recently,” she says. “I hope that’s because we didn’t give you as much, didn’t take you as far back.”

“Too much what?”

“I’ll tell you more later but if I’m going to try saving…
him
… then you’ll be spending a lot of time with Cassie until I return,” Celeste explains. “Whatever you may remember, whatever you may know, whatever
John
may have told you: promise me you won’t tell Cassie
any
of it, nothing about the past or the water.”

I’m confused—and curious—about the request but nod my head.

“
Promise me
,” Celeste says. “Say the words like you mean them. I can’t stress enough the importance of her learning
none
of this.”

“I promise,” I say and follow her as she heads back to retrieve John. “How else can you help him?”

“There’s no time for explanations,” she says, though her glance toward Cassie tells more of the story. Celeste obviously wants to say
nothing
in front of her daughter. “John and I have a long, difficult journey ahead but not a lot of time before he dies. Each of you, grab a leg.”

Celeste roughly hooks him beneath the arms, paying no attention to his groans of pain as Cassie and I grab his legs. We carry him over to the raft and Celeste all but plops him down inside. She yanks the arrow out of one oar and picks up the other one, which is split down the middle after being used earlier as a club. Celeste sighs.

“This is going to make rowing a lot harder,” she says.

“I’ll help with that,” Cassie says, climbing into the raft.

“I can row, too,” I offer. Exhausted or not—rowing upriver or not—there’s no doubt in my mind that I can row harder than Cassie.

But Celeste holds up a hand and stops either of us from coming aboard.

“He and I go alone,” she says.

“
Why
?” Cassie whines. “I can help.”

What Cassie doesn’t say—but what I’m also thinking—is that Celeste doesn’t like John. I don’t exactly think she’d just let him die—at least I
hope
she wouldn’t—but I’d feel much more comfortable if Cassie
or
I could go along. But Celeste makes it known right away that it’s not an option.

“Do you want me to help him or do you want to stand around and argue?” Celeste asks. Neither of us says a word so she climbs into the raft and pushes away into the river. “Nia, be careful out there. Make sure to protect Cassie and your mother at
all
costs while I’m gone.”

Celeste begins to row upriver, her arms pumping so fast that the raft shoots forward as if being propelled by an engine. Celeste wants me to tell Cassie nothing about who we are or the powers we possess but it doesn’t take a genius to see there’s something extraordinary about Celeste. But I have a feeling that Cassie pays more attention to the person lying in the raft than the one rowing it. Before they get too far away, John struggles to raise his head though his eyes are once again closed.

“I love you,” he calls out, his voice strong and full of conviction.

My heart melts and I suddenly regret not saying goodbye to him, just in case. No, I can’t think like this! John
will
survive. Celeste
will
save him. She was always the most amazing person I ever met and that was
before
I knew who she really was. If anyone can help, it’s her. I open my mouth to call back to John but Cassie takes the words out of my mouth.

“I love you, too!” she yells.

I’m certain John was calling out to me and I almost point this out to Cassie. But that will only lead to a fight that I won’t win with her anyway. Cassie can’t possibly know John the way I do and this thought brings me solace. Cassie cries quietly as the raft disappears around the river bend and I have trouble keeping my tears back, too. But when I see my mom crying as well—undoubtedly thinking of my father—there’s no point for me to stay strong.

My head suddenly aches again but crying at least releases some of the pressure.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say. “I never meant for Daddy to get hurt.”

My sentiment is genuine but the words sound hollow even to me.

“I’m cursed, I’ve always been,” Mom says. “But it’s not
your
fault.”

I don’t miss the angry glance she throws at Cassie when talking about who’s to blame for her bad luck.

With my bow in hand, I lead my mother and Cassie back into the woods, heading toward the ‘Pocono Adventure Guides’ headquarters. I try to take my role of protector very seriously since Celeste stressed the importance of keeping everyone safe. Besides, my emotional state is already fragile and I don’t know
what
I’d do if something else terrible happened to a loved one… or to Cassie. Though John’s
other
soldier—the one that escaped death thanks to his stolen water—would be wise to get far away from us, there’s no telling
where
he could be. His partner in crime went to great extremes to attack us so I have to think the other goon could be just as dangerous.

The trip through the forest is slow-going. My body cries for rest and my head cries for aspirin. A week of sleep is the only thing that might make me feel better. I think about what it will be like returning to my father’s body… I think about John and where Celeste is taking him, about
what
she’s doing to him. Whenever we reach a break in the heavy forest growth, I steal a peek toward the river, hoping to spot any sign of Celeste or John. But the raft is long gone.

I’m distracted, and it doesn’t help that Cassie occasionally sobs about her ‘poor John.’ She gives no thought to my grieving mother, who lost her husband of the last sixteen years, or to me for losing my father. I feel like we walk for hours, as I constantly stop to hold up a hand and listen for any sign of trouble. It also
feels
slow-going having to listen to the whimpering the entire way. Cassie gets on my nerves—even worse than usual—but I’m not the only one.

“Would you
shut up
already?” Mom finally snaps at her.

Years
of frustration burst in that single question and a part of me smiles on the inside. But Cassie doesn’t back down and the two nearly come to blows. I’m put in the unexpected position of actually stepping in front of Cassie, ready to protect her in case my mother attacks.

“Keep it down!” I hiss at them, though it’s probably useless at this point. If the other soldier is looking for us nearby, their yelling will guide him straight to us.

Perfectly on cue, I hear
crashing
in the woods just up ahead. I wave for Cassie and Mom to get behind me and crouch down. I load an arrow and aim toward the sound, ready to fire at the first sign of the other soldier. My heart pounds with anticipation but my breathing remains calm, my hands steady. Seconds tick by but they feel more like hours yet I can’t help noticing that the tingling does not strike. I’m so focused on who’s approaching that my mind barely registers the faint smell of smoke.

When a large man finally rushes between the trees, my hand flinches just the slightest bit before I pull the arrow off the bowstring. He’s certainly big enough to be the other soldier but his outfit is the only clue to stop me from shooting. Bright yellow and red with some sort of mask and breathing apparatus, he at first reminds me of some sort of being from outer space. But then I realize the fire started in the supply garage could not be ignored by the fire department forever.

“Whoa, little lady, put that thing down,” the fireman says, throwing his hands in the air.

“Sorry,” I say, slinging the bow over my shoulder. Considering my father’s death by arrow, I realize how bad this might look. “There’ve been a lot of bears around here recently.”

It’s a weak excuse but the burly man nods.

“I’ve been trying to locate the owner of the tour guide place just beyond these woods here. You ladies couldn’t help out with that, could ya?” he asks.

I freeze, my mind unable to figure out how to respond. In the course of putting out the fire, I can’t imagine the firefighters missing the sight of my father’s body. I haven’t given much thought about how we would deal with his death—what we would do with the body or how we would explain it to the police—but there’s no time to come up with a plan now. For all I know, the cops can be just on the other side of the trees, waiting to arrest the most likely suspect—hey, the girl carrying the bow that shot him seems like the obvious killer!

Mom pulls herself together long enough to step in front of me and Cassie.

“The girls and I have been out on a nature walk for several hours. Has something happened? Is that
smoke
I smell?”

Her performance is masterful, just the right amount of curiosity mixed with concern, not a single hint of her earlier despair. For a woman so devastated by the loss of her husband, Mom is certainly cool under pressure.

“Yes, ma’am, we just put out the last of a blaze,” the firefighter says, his voice full of pride. He doesn’t
sound
too suspicious for a rescue worker searching for a murderer.

“Oh, no, not a fire at my business!” Mom says, growing more upset as she ‘realizes’ what the fireman is telling her. “There have been two men stalking us for quite some time. I’ll bet
they
had something to do with this.”

“Two men in
black trucks
,” I add, figuring out what Mom is doing.

“We received an anonymous phone call about the fire. That’s how we were able to respond so quickly and contain it to the garage only before it spread to your trailer or the nearby cabins,” he says. “But I’m sorry to tell you, ma’am, it appears that everything inside that garage was completely destroyed.”

“What about Daddy?” I ask. “I hope he wasn’t hurt in the fire… or hurt by whoever started it.”

I’m a horrible actress and my voice cracks at the mention of my father. It sickens me to pretend that I don’t know what happened to him, not that I do a very good job of pulling off that deception. Luckily, the fireman gives no indication that he’s wary of my act.

“Thankfully, nobody was in the garage during the fire and we found nobody else around injured because of it,” he says.

Mom and I look at each other. I
know
what I saw earlier but the fireman’s statement gives both of us hope even though there should be none. Mom takes off through the woods and I follow close behind. Cassie and the fireman struggle to keep up.

“We didn’t know there might be a man here,” he calls after us. “The business is only registered under the name Katina Ammo.”

“That’s me,” Mom says.

Since the ‘Adventure Guides’ always seemed more important to Dad and Celeste—and more of an annoyance to Mom—I find it odd that
hers
is the only name attached to it. But considering Dad’s past, I guess it makes sense that someone born in the 1800s wouldn’t want to be on too much official paperwork. And
who knows
what sort of story I’ve yet to hear from Celeste?

Before we emerge from the forest near our homes, I spot the flashing lights of several fire trucks and police cars. I don’t want any more questions that I know we’ll be getting so I lean the bow against a nearby tree before stepping out into the chaos. Obviously, the first thing I notice is the burnt remains of the garage, which is completely torched as the fireman said. But my eyes go straight to the spot where I left my father’s body. A fire truck is parked just next to it but there’s no sign of a body anywhere. My heart leaps at the thought of him somehow surviving but I see no trace of him.

With the fire extinguished, the rest of the fire trucks leave, though the police cars hang around.

“I thought you said he was dead,” Cassie whispers to me.

Mom doesn’t hang around long enough to hear my response. She runs to the trailer but only stays inside for a moment before rushing toward our cabin. I want to run around and search for Dad as well but I
know
what I saw, I
know
he didn’t make it though I’d love to think otherwise.

“He
was…
he
is
… at least I thought he was,” I say.

“What is going on around here?” Cassie asks once my Mom is finally out of the way. “Why were John’s uncles after me? What’s the big secret that you and my mom and John and
everyone but me
seems to know?”

Cassie looks genuine in wanting to know what’s going on; I can’t exactly say I blame her. Apparently she’s mixed up in this more than
I
even understand, more than Celeste or my mom or John has told me. She probably deserves to know what’s happening in her life. Plus, I wonder if there’s something
Cassie
hasn’t told
me
, if the two of us could figure out more answers together if we shared some information. But I made a deal with Celeste to keep quiet and I can’t ignore that considering what she’s doing for me.

“I really don’t know much more than you do,” I tell Cassie, which isn’t a total lie. Cassie knows I’m not telling her the complete truth, though.

“You’re
lying
, you know
something
,” she snaps. “You and my mother
both
hate me. You’ve been trying to hold me back for years.”

“We’re not trying to hold you back from
anything
,” I snap back, not in the mood for her baseless accusations. “I’m sure your mother is just trying to
protect
you from problems we have no control over.”

“My mother hates me and you hate me,” Cassie says. “But it’s fine because I hate you both, too. All I have in this world is John, at least I hope…”

Cassie rushes off toward the river, undoubtedly to wait for any sign of her mother and John. I feel an obligation to stay close to her since the other soldier is somewhere out there but I have a feeling he’s long gone, at least for the time being. Even if the special water
did
manage to keep him alive, he won’t be in the greatest shape and wouldn’t want to be around so many police officers. I watch her disappear and decide to give her some time alone to cool off.

I turn my attention back to the thought of Dad and rush to our cabin, where Mom trudges back outside. Her shoulders are slumped, her eyes vacant. She does not even look at me as I approach. I know right away that she found nothing inside and it looks as if she’s lost him all over again. I don’t know whether to worry about my father really being dead or if there might actually be an even worse situation.

“Could he have just left?” I ask.

“And gone where? To the hospital? Never,” Mom says.

“I mean could he have left
us
? You know, because of me? To get away from the problems I’ve brought?” I wonder.

Mom shakes her head vehemently. She almost appears angry that I even considered this scenario. “Never. Your father loves you more than anything. He told me about the secret he discussed with you, about him being in prison during the time you were born. But even though he’s not your real father doesn’t mean he loves you as less than a daughter. He would
never
leave us.”

“Then he
really
never told you who he actually is?” I ask.

I would never divulge my father’s dying secret but I’m starting to wonder if he told Mom more than I thought. But there’s not even a hint of recognition at my suggestion. I guess Daddy didn’t tell her as much as I thought.

“He may have spent some time in jail but he was no criminal if that’s what you’re implying,” Mom says, misinterpreting my insinuation. “He was a good man. He married me and loved us without ever questioning who your real father was.”

Her tough exterior is cracking again as tears flow from her eyes. I don’t want to make her more upset and I consider just shutting up but I can’t ignore a subject she may never broach again.

“Who
is
my real father?”

“I… I don’t know,” Mom says hesitantly.

“I know who I am… at least I kinda do,” I tell her. “I know I’m not an ordinary girl. I’ve had dreams about being part of the tribe of women fighters.”

Mom avoids eye contact, looks more uncomfortable than ever.

“We weren’t sure this day would ever come.
I
for one hoped it never would,” she admits. “But you should probably talk to Celeste about it—she knows better than I do.”

“But if you’re my mother and I was once one of those warrior women—as was Celeste—doesn’t that mean you were too?” I deduce.

Mom frowns and I’m afraid there’s a much bigger story behind that frown.

“Not necessarily,” she says.

“But you
are
my mother. I have the DNA tests to prove it.”

She nods. “Your father told me about that, too.”

“And when you shot the soldier, you said that we have the same blood.”

“Actually, I said that I have
your
blood in
me
,” Mom corrects.

I fail to see the difference. Unfortunately, I’m growing experienced with figuring out when I’m about to hear information I don’t want to know. This feels like one of those moments but I can’t stop myself from asking about it.

“What does that even mean?”