Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) (34 page)

“This
isn’t
over.”

My blood runs cold but Cassie turns and rushes away from camp before I can respond. Catherine and a few other queens chase after her but she stops them and sends them back.

“Isabella is a strong-minded woman but she still has a strong affinity for protecting the water. She will come around to this decision. Maybe one day you will be able to teach her the things that I failed to,” the Keeper says.

I highly doubt that’s possible but I keep the pessimism to myself. The Keeper continues the ceremony, taking my hand and leading me into the water. I’ve taken a step or two inside before but now we walk into the spring until the water comes up to my waist. The water is freezing, but it’s not painful to stand in. In fact, I feel more invigorated than ever before. The Keeper continues to hold my hand and I feel the life force of Earth’s energy not just on my skin but within my soul and heart.

The confrontation with Isabella and her subsequent threat are suddenly gone from my mind, as is the jungle and the women around me. I see or hear nothing beyond the world within the water, where the Keeper begins whispering incantations in an ancient language. I might not know what every word means but somehow I sense that she’s summoning Mother Earth, asking Her to bless the transfer of the water’s ownership to me. She still holds my hand while using her free hand to swirl the water, which seems to explode with brightness all around, shades of blue light totally engulfing me.

When I don’t think the water can become any more turbulent, the Keeper pulls me to her and lifts me up, cradling me like she would a small child.
Nothing
should amaze me anymore but I can’t believe an old woman could be this strong. She gently lowers me until I float on the surface of the water.

“When you emerge, you will be the new Keeper and see the whole in a whole new light,” the Keeper tells me with tears in her eyes. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I respond, never so sure about a decision in my entire life.

The old woman holds me steady and takes one final glance at the world around her. She takes a deep breath, cranes her neck back and closes her eyes. Her hands disappear from beneath me and I plunge underneath the water. In an instant I feel her hands atop me, forcing my body to stay under. I accept what she’s doing to me at first but it’s not long before panic kicks in and I try to rise to the surface. But her hand clamps onto my forehead and holds me under, even as I thrash my arms and legs. I scream underwater but the sound is drowned out by the amazing colors that swirl around me; I don’t know if these colors are part of the ceremony or my oxygen-deprived brain is making me see things.

In my panic, my mind allows for a brief moment of paranoia, during which I consider the possibility of Cassie and the Keeper conspiring against me, that their fight was staged to lull me into a false sense of security. But crazy thoughts of conspiracy quickly fade away as the panic turns to calm. My arms and legs stop moving and I don’t feel like I’m being held under water as much as I feel like I’m suspended beneath the surface.

And did I forget to mention that I’m no longer drowning? That I can actually breathe? I don’t know how it’s possible nor do I give it much thought. I simply accept that the water is more powerful than I can imagine. I give myself over to it – my entire body, mind and spirit – and the moment I do so, the Keeper releases her grip on me.

Except the old woman is no longer the Keeper –
I
am. Every fiber of my being knows this to be so. I don’t know how much longer I remain underwater but several minutes must pass before I decide to break the surface. Concerned muttering from the other Amazons reaches my ears but that stops the second I stand up. I want to ease their worries for me but I’m distracted by everything
else
around me.

The world is completely different, as Cleopatra told me it would be. The usual jungle noises – birds chirping, rustling leaves, distant animals growling – are louder and clearer, every sound combining to create a symphony more beautiful than any music I’ve ever heard. I can smell every pungent earthy aroma for miles. The warm breeze tingles my skin with refreshing bursts of energy that leave me simultaneously rejuvenated yet relaxed. But the one sense heightened more than all others – the one that leaves me most in awe – is my sight.

Not only are colors so vibrant that my eyes are nearly blinded, but I can see every tiny detail of every object around me – the granules of every speck of dirt, every droplet of water hanging on the tip of every leafy tip. The sight of so much detail might be overwhelming if it wasn’t so beautiful. But I hardly pay attention to the life force of the jungle when I can see the life force of so many women glowing brightly around me. Each woman has an aura of soft light emanating from her, the strongest coming from my mentor – though it’s not so bright around the Queen Clan.

I can’t quite put into words the sensation I feel but it’s like I’m one with the earth. And while the water has always looked spectacular to me in the past, it’s not the mere sight of it that amazes me anymore. The connection I feel toward it can’t be put into words. The thought of leaving the water – even to walk among the Amazons just beyond it – makes my heart ache and fills me with anxiety.

“This is yours, too,” a weak voice whispers beside me. I turn to the Keeper standing beside me, though she’s no longer
really
the Keeper. She hands me the small vial she’s always worn around her neck; the only time I’ve ever
not
seen her wearing it was when she dipped it into the water before moving the entire tribe. “You know what to do if the water source ever needs to be moved.”

I’m about to say I
don’t
know what to do but that’s no longer the case. Words in an ancient language swirl in my mind, incantations I’ve heard her whisper in the past. A part of me doesn’t want to accept the vial but I know that I must – I
am
the Keeper now. The old woman places the hemp string around my neck and I feel complete.

“I will make you proud,” I tell her.

She nods. Cleopatra struggles to walk in the water and I offer my arm to support her. The strength from her grip is now gone and she has trouble merely holding onto me. She’s different, no longer the majestic spiritual protector of the water, just a regular old woman who appears very out of place in the jungle. My four recruits rush forward to help her step out of the water.

“What will you do now?” I ask her. But I already know how sad the answer is, as it must be for every outgoing Keeper.

“Now you offer me some water and I leave, just as every Keeper before me has done,” she says.

The former Keeper steps onto dry land and slowly looks around her. She takes a deep breath of air and frowns. The others may have no idea why she does this but I do. After so many years of witnessing the world with enhanced senses, it must be very depressing to go back to seeing everything as a normal person does – or even as a normal
Amazon
does.

Harriet hands me a small container and I scoop out the perfect amount of water – now an innate ability – to make Cleopatra a young woman again. I give the water to the old woman but she does not drink it right away. She already looks for the best path out of camp, which won’t be so easy for her since she hasn’t left the vicinity of the water in all the years we’ve been in the jungle. Apparently she does not plan to linger in our camp for very long.

“Do you want an escort back to… well, out of the jungle to wherever you’re going?” I offer.

The old woman shakes her head. “There are some things that must be done on your own. It was truly a pleasure to protect the water and Mother Earth and an even greater honor having each of you protect me.”

With that, Cleopatra drinks every drop of water I gave her. Years melt away from her skin and within seconds I see her as I never have before. She looks no older than twenty, younger than the rest of the Amazons and just as beautiful and exotic as I expected Cleopatra to be.

“I’ll sure miss the water,” she says to the general amusement of the Amazons.

Cleopatra turns toward the jungle and runs off, disappearing into the brush in the blink of an eye. She’s off to live a normal life, leaving me behind to begin my reign as the protector of Earth’s water of life…

“I
was
the Keeper,” I admit to John.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting silently on the bench, reminiscing about the past, but John never once interrupted my thoughts. I probably shouldn’t be telling anyone – let alone a mere
man
– about such intimate Amazon business but John already knows far too much than he should. Besides, I’m still so in awe about my past powerful position that I have to talk about it or I might explode. I look around the world now in front of me; the highway rest stop might be gray and dull but I can still see
some
beauty beyond the ugliness created by humankind. But it’s nowhere near as wondrous as the world I witnessed through Keeper eyes.

“It was the most amazing time of my life,” I say sadly.

I don’t yet remember how it was taken away from me but deep in my heart I know I’m no longer the Keeper. And when I see the look of guilt etched across John’s face, I
know
he had something to do with it.

“I’m sorry I played such a big role in taking that away from you,” he says, not trying to hide the truth no matter how unpleasant it must’ve been. “Loving you is the most important thing I’ve done in over 500 years of life. But after doing what we did to you, I would give it all up if you could’ve caught Cassie and I together in the jungle all those years ago, caught us before the Keeper chose between the two of you.”

“I always assumed Cassie had been meeting with Jack out in the jungle,” I say. “To a certain extent, I’m relieved that it
was
you instead. At least traveling with Jack now shouldn’t jog her memory of the past, though I guess that didn’t happen during all the time she spent with you.”

I can’t help sounding annoyed by that last thought. Despite everything that’s happened in
this
life and the last, it still must mean something that I hate thinking about how John seemed to choose Cassie over me during the last few months. Now the bigger question is
why
he searched for Cassie and me, though I’m certain the answer has to do with whatever role he played in taking the Keeper job from me. I’m about to ask him
how
they took it from me when I see his expression change from guilt to concern.

“Did you say Jack is still alive? As in Jack, son of the explorer who lived in the jungle?” he asks.

“Yes, my father’s son.
He’s
the one who stopped your soldier after Cassie was kidnapped,” I tell him. “Jack subdued him until we arrived, at which time Cassie shot an arrow through his heart.”

“Something’s wrong,” John says, shaking his head. He jumps off the bench, paying no mind to the water bottles that clatter around his feet. He runs toward the parked motorcycles, where my mother and Amelia still wait for us. I rush to catch up. My recruit recognizes a problem and asks the same question on my mind.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have to go
now
,” John says, tossing me a helmet. “He can’t be alone with them. You shouldn’t have trusted Jack.”

Those last words echo in my mind, the same sentiment spoken by John’s soldier as he lay on the ground, tied up and defenseless. I assumed the old Spaniard had merely been enraged by Jack’s interference with the kidnapping but now I wonder if it was
more
than just anger. Before Cassie killed him, could the soldier have been angry because he felt
betrayed?

I shake my head, refusing to accept ideas that
must
be fueled by paranoia.

“He
has to be
trustworthy, he’s the son of my – ”

The last word gets stuck in my throat and I turn to my mother, who still doesn’t know the truth about my father’s past. It was his dying wish that I don’t sully her memory of him and I almost slipped up.

“We can trust Jack,” I finish.

“No,” John says firmly, resolutely. “We can’t.”

He sounds so certain that doubt creeps into my mind. The strange vibe I got from Jack a few times suddenly seems sinister. Though my mother often looks nervous in John’s presence, she now glares at him, doing her best impression of Celeste.

“My daughter has shown a tendency recently to trust the wrong people,” she hisses at him.

“I don’t know how many times I have to apologize for what I did to you. That was a long time ago and I’m a different…” he starts but stops, sighing. “There’s no time for this now. I’m afraid that Cassie remembers who she is… who she
really
is.”

-
- - - - - - - - - - -

Mom gasps. Her snippy attitude toward John vanishes and she’s back to looking afraid. In fact, I’ve never seen her face turn so pale, even when John reappeared, seemingly rising from the dead. I can’t say I blame her but I hope John is just being overly dramatic.

“Why would you say that?” I ask.

“You said that Cassie killed her kidnapper
after
he was already tied up. Would a normal teenage girl do that?” he asks.

“She was mad about being kidnapped,” I say, trying to rationalize her actions. “And Cassie
did
possess some of her former qualities while we were growing up. Actually, a
lot
of those qualities.”

It’s not hard to think of ways Cassie was similar in
this
life as she was in the past. Her dramatic personality, the way she was mean to those people she thought were beneath her, the way she formed cliques – or
clans
– against people she didn’t like, and especially the way she had a natural distrust and competitiveness toward me. I could come up with ten different examples of these personality traits that happened in school
and
when we were part of the Amazons. If anyone knows this as well as me, John should.

“That may be true, but was a willingness to
kill
ever one of those traits?” he asks.

I open my mouth to respond but no words come out. My stomach turns. John might be right but I don’t want to admit it, aloud
or
to myself. I just can’t accept that the evil Queen of Castille could be back, that the prissy girl who lived next door to me for so long could have once tried to use the water of life to gain infinite power.

Or that she’ll try to do it again.

“Were Jack and Cassie ever alone together before you showed up?” John asks. I simply nod and think of how the two were sitting in the cab of the big black truck when Celeste and I arrived. “Or was my soldier saying anything that might have prompted Cassie to shoot him?”

“He warned us not to trust Jack but Cassie shot him before he could explain why,” I admit.

John nods. “You should’ve listened to him, at least that time.”

I’ve never seen him so worried and he pulls on his dark helmet before I can ask anything else. He starts the black motorcycle and revs its engines, looking back at me to climb on. I have a feeling that he won’t give me a second chance to come with him.

As if I had a choice…

Despite my mother’s pleas for answers, I pull on my own helmet and climb on behind John. I no sooner wrap my arms around his waist when the bike takes off. We weave in and out of the other vehicles trying to merge back onto the highway. I normally close my eyes and hold on for the ride but I don’t want to become lost in my thoughts at the moment. Instead, I peer around John’s body and watch every close call with death, every time we come within inches of smashing into a tractor-trailer or RV. I glance behind us long enough to see the other motorcycle speeding to catch up; Mom holds on to Amelia though a part of me wishes she would’ve stayed behind, out of the danger.

“Where exactly did Jack say he was going?” John calls out, the sound of his words nearly blown away by the air rushing around us.

I yell back the name of the arena hosting the MMA fights in Fort Lauderdale though it doesn’t matter right now since we’re
hours
from reaching Florida, even at
this
speed. I can’t stop my eyes from glancing down at the speedometer. I close them too late, as the image of the needle well beyond the 100 M.P.H.-mark is burned into my mind.

“Why shouldn’t we have trusted Jack?” I call out.

Jack should probably be concentrating on driving but I
need
to know.

“My soldiers and I spent years hiding in the jungle beyond the Amazon camp,” he calls back, the sound of his voice hollow from within my helmet. “But Jack was the one who found
us
only a few days before the Keeper change. He was an older man by then – all four of us were much older than the Amazons – and his bitterness made me seem cheerful by comparison. He spoke about how much he hated – hold on!”

A tractor-trailer’s horn blows as the massive truck nearly sideswipes us. A cinderblock road barrier is on our other side so we have nowhere to go and I’m certain we’re going to be crushed. But John pushes the motorcycle even faster and turns
toward
the huge truck. I feel the bike’s tires start to skid as we turn so sharply that we’re nearly perpendicular to the ground. I’m afraid the side of my body might scrape against the road but I dare not try to move for fear of throwing us off balance.

Not to mention the fact that lifting my head would cause it to smash into the underside of the truck. John has inexplicably swerved beneath the back of the truck, squeezing us under the few feet of space in the world’s most dangerous – and fastest – game of limbo. I barely have time to consider how crazy this is – and how I’ve forgotten to breathe – when we emerge safely on the other side and straighten out.

“Sorry. As I was saying,” John calls back, making no mention of the heart attack he nearly gave me, “Jack told us about how much he hated the women.”

“But that makes no sense,” I yell back once I find my voice. “We saved his life from the Man-Eaters!”

“He resented you for saving him but not stopping the natives from killing his friend. Plus he blamed you for causing his father to stay behind in the jungle while ignoring his
real
family, who eventually died!” John calls back.

“But we didn’t ask them to stay! We told them to go back to their real lives but my father – Percy – demanded to stay!”

“I’m sure a part of him knew that but you have to realize what spending decades in the jungle can do to a person’s mind. His father was over a hundred years old and near death when he discovered my soldiers in the jungle. He wanted revenge on the women who destroyed his family but he wanted to wait for his father to die so he wouldn’t disappoint him. My men liked the ruthlessness of his plans but Jack’s lust for carnage went against our plan for taking control of the water. Besides, Jack was so old at that point that he wouldn’t have made it within a hundred feet of the Amazon camp. We didn’t bother to tell him that. Instead, my soldiers said they’d think about his offer just in case we ever needed another ally. I actually planned to warn Isabella but the next time I saw her was right after the Keeper’s decision to choose you. So much happened after that that I never even thought about Jack’s crazy plans until today.”

“But a lot has changed since then,” I say so weakly that I’m not even sure if my words made it over the sound of rushing wind.

“Maybe for us but Jack’s best friend is still dead and his family is still long gone,” John calls back. “And if Jack’s father knew where to find you and Cassie, Jack must’ve known, too. I don’t know what kind of falling out father and son had but Jack
did
tell us that he wouldn’t take revenge on the Amazons until after his father died.”

“Which happened right before he showed up…” I call back, a feeling of dread tightening in my chest.

“My soldier must’ve felt betrayed that Jack turned on him but he probably didn’t realize that he actually killed Jack’s father. I’m surprised Jack didn’t do the dirty work himself and left it up to Cassie. And if she killed my soldier before he could talk, she must not have wanted you or Celeste to know who Jack really was,” he says.

“In that case she has to know about the past,” I conclude, my thoughts moving as fast as the motorcycle, moments from the past weaving in and out of each other even faster. “But if he wanted to destroy the Amazons, why tell Cassie who she really is? Who we
all
really are? Why not just kill her?”

“I’m trying to figure that out, too,” he calls back.

Tiny details come back to me from the last few days, clues that
should’ve
set off warning bells in my mind. But I’d been so preoccupied remembering my own past that I wasn’t concentrating the way I should’ve been. After Jack emerged from the black truck following his rescue of Cassie, I spotted a grease smudge on his shirt but didn’t connect it to the truck’s engine not starting. Obviously he disconnected something in the engine so we would need him to give us a ride. I thought several times during our drive that he’d want us to get out of his car but I couldn’t have been more wrong.