The Spirit Keeper (31 page)

Victor’s arm ached high above his head and began to swing downward. And in that one terrifying moment, the love I felt for Adrian pulsed through every crevice of my soul, surging like liquid fire until it shattered the physical confines of my body.

Victor screeched and fell away from me at once, rolling on the ground to extinguish the blue flames that had ignited his shirt. I stared down at my tingling hands, too stunned to move or even to realize exactly what had happened.

“Run!” Shyla screamed. “Get out of here!”

My head jerked up, and I realized Shyla was screaming at me. And yet I couldn’t move. I looked back at Victor still rolling on the ground, unable to tear my eyes away from what I’d just done. It didn’t seem possible.

It took Adrian jumping on top of Victor to snap me out of my trance. He shoved his father flat on his back and swung his fists, pummeling Victor’s chest and head until blood began to run freely.

“Run!” Shyla screamed again at me. She rushed toward Victor and Adrian, trying in vain to get them to stop fighting.

Victor had managed to hold fast to the knife despite the flames and commotion, and he brought his knees to his chest. He kicked Adrian onto his back and got on top of him, pinning him to the ground with the weight of his body.

With his free hand, he backhanded his son across the face with such force that Adrian lay stunned and motionless for a moment. Blood sprang at once from his lip and trailed down the side of his mouth, pooling in the crook of his neck. But then a new fire came into Adrian’s eyes, and he spat a mouthful of bloody spit in Victor’s face. The surprise of the vile spatter was all he needed to gain the advantage, and Adrian quickly shifted his weight, throwing his father to the side. Victor rolled away and attempted to get to his feet, but Adrian scrambled over the ground after him.

I watched in mute terror, powerless to intervene, knowing that neither man would give up until one was left seriously injured or dead. Both were so blinded by mutual rage that Shyla’s continued screaming for them to “please, stop!” wouldn’t end their fighting.

I raised my hands and aimed for a bush directly behind them. If only I could do what I did before, it might be enough to distract Victor and give Adrian the advantage. But no matter how hard I tried, nothing happened. I closed my eyes and concentrated with all my might on the love I felt for Adrian, but I was too scared to think of a single happy thought that might pull forth the power.

Adrian lunged at his father’s back, and the two rolled in a tangled heap on the forest floor. Just as Adrian maneuvered his way on top of Victor’s chest, his eyes widened and he drew in a sudden gasp of air. His shoulders slumped, and Victor pushed him to the ground with little effort, as though Adrian’s body were just an empty shell and weighed nothing at all.

“What did you do?” Shyla screamed, echoing my terror as we both realized Adrian had been stabbed. She was at her father’s side in an instant, beating her fists against his back and shoulders.

Victor swung his arm and made contact with the side of her face, knocking her away as though she were nothing more than an irritating insect. Shyla fell to the ground and lay unmoving next to her brother.

Adrian, his trembling hands clutching the hilt of the knife, wheezed and sputtered through paling lips. The wound in his chest was making it next to impossible for him to draw an adequate breath. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with fear.

Our eyes locked, and he whispered two words: “Get help.”

As much as I wanted to go to
him
, to be with and comfort
him
, I knew the only way to save him was to leave and seek help. I could not fight Victor on my own.

“I’ll come back,” I promised through my tears. And with one last glance at him, I turned on my heel and ran for home.

“Get back here!” I heard Victor’s snarl coming from somewhere behind me, yet I didn’t dare turn around or stop.

I had no recollection of running through the forest, only of fighting my way through endless brush before finally breaking through the tree line and seeing, at last, the familiar sight of refuge. Meg and Priscilla were just stepping out from the kitchen, Priscilla’s arm looped through the handle of the picnic basket I’d forgotten. She and Meg were laughing, not a care in the world.

The mental image of Adrian’s near-lifeless body on the ground, the knife protruding from his chest, filled my mind and sapped the energy from my body, leaving a terrible chill and dark void where once his light had been. I stumbled to the ground, exhausted and terrified, before scraping to my feet once again. I ran forward, becoming all too aware of an intense throbbing in my back. I nearly collided with David, who seemed to have materialized from out of nowhere.

“Victor,” I gasped as he steadied me. David’s eyes raked over my dirty and disheveled body, and then he glanced in the direction of the woods. Needing no further explanation, he took off at once.

Meg and Priscilla saw me and came running. “Oh my God!” Priscilla screamed, pointing at my back. “She’s bleeding!”

“Victor. Ambush. I’m okay,” I panted, as Meg turned me around to quickly inspect the wound. “Adrian.”

“What happened?” Meg said.

Priscilla looked even whiter than usual. “This is totally freaking me out. I’m going to call the police.” She took off for the house, but Meg grabbed her arm to stop her.

“No. Get Imogene. Now.”

Priscilla stared at her. “Are you crazy? What can
she
do?”

I was still breathing heavily, and every part of my body hurt. “No time. Adrian . . . needs help. And Shyla . . . too.”

Priscilla’s jaw dropped. “See? We have to call the police!” But Meg’s grasp on her arm only tightened as she struggled to squirm free.

Meg turned to me, her mouth drawn tight. “How bad are they?”

At that moment, Imogene’s round form appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Meg, lunch is almost ready.” She took one look at us and stepped outside, shielding her eyes from the sun. A look of horror dawned on her face. “What’s happened?”

I felt suddenly sick to my stomach and retched my measly breakfast all over the ground. “Please!” I screamed between convulsions, my forearms braced against my thighs as I struggled for breath. “He’s dying!”

I straightened then and took a deep breath, steeling myself. And before anyone could stop me, I took off running, leaving Meg, Priscilla, and Imogene yelling for me in the background. But after a minute, I couldn’t hear their cries for me to stop and come back. The only sound was the noise of blood rushing in my ears and the pounding of my feet on the path.

I ran with a single-minded drive, flying down the trail on auto-pilot, not fully aware of the forward movement of my body through the thick growth. All I could think about was Adrian. I could only hope that Victor had fled and David had made it to him in time, and by some miracle Adrian might pull through this crisis.

At last I broke free into the clearing and found David bent over Adrian. I stopped to scan the area, instantly on guard. “Where’s Victor?”

Shyla had regained consciousness, and she startled at the sound of my voice. She stumbled to her feet and came to me. Then the expression on her face changed as she looked at something behind me, and I whirled around to see that Meg, Priscilla, and Imogene hadn’t been far behind.

“Tell me you can help him.
Please
,” Shyla said to Imogene, running into her grandmother’s arms.

Imogene held Shyla against her and then released her, frowning at the swollen eye and bruised cheek. But then her attention went automatically to Adrian.

“Where is Victor?” I yelled, still looking suspiciously at the trees. He could have been hiding anywhere, waiting to attack.

“He was already gone when I came to,” Shyla said. “But David was here. If he hadn’t come when he did . . .”

David had removed his shirt and bunched it around the hilt of the knife, pressing firmly to slow the bleeding. His forehead glistened with a layer of sweat from the stress of his efforts to keep Adrian alive, but Adrian was barely hanging on.

“Wake up, Adrian!” David was saying. “Open your eyes! Hang on! You’re not gonna die!”

There was a peaceful look about Adrian, as though he were merely sleeping, but his breathing was shallow and coloring all wrong. My heart caught in my throat, and I turned my head to steady myself. Falling to pieces now would do nothing to help him.

“
Please
. You have to do something,” I said, raising my eyes to meet Imogene’s.

Imogene, who had taken her place next to Adrian’s side to hold his hand, leveled her gaze at me. There was something like pity etched in the lines of her face, and I knew what her answer would be before she even said it.

“There is nothing I can do for him, Sarah. I relinquished my power to my daughter many years ago.”

“But, but,” I stammered. “Can’t you do what Shyla did and say a prayer or something? C-can’t the Spirit Leader help him?”

“That’s not how the magic works,” she said, looking from me to Shyla. “I do not have the power to summon the Spirit or to ask for Her help any longer. There is only one of us here who can do that now.”

“What magic?” Priscilla said from behind me. “What the heck is she talking about?”

I dropped to my knees next to Adrian’s feet, ignoring Priscilla’s question, and put my face in my hands. “But how am I supposed to do that? What do I know about saving someone? What do I know about
anything
?”

“I said I no longer have the power, but I haven’t lost the knowledge,” Imogene said patiently.

I looked up at her, feeling the tendrils of a new hope beginning to take root. “What are you saying?”

“I can tell you how to save him,” she said, “but you have to listen carefully.”

I grabbed her arm in my excitement. “I’ll do it! Whatever it is, I’ll do it!”

 Imogene nodded. “When David removes the knife—”

“But he’ll bleed to death if you do that!”

“Listen to her,” Meg urged, placing a calming hand on my shoulder.

I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to work, that we should’ve called the police and an ambulance, ages ago, like Priscilla first suggested. I moved near Adrian’s head and put my hand against his cheek. His skin was already cold to the touch, and I had to resist the urge to pull away.

“When David removes the knife,” Imogene said, her voice low, “use it to slice your palm. Then lay your hand against Adrian’s wound.”

“Please tell me you’re not serious,” Priscilla said, her voice sounding faint and laced with doubt. “I mean, I realize you all have your own customs and ideas as to what constitutes as medicine, but that’s just insane.”

“I c-can’t do that,” I said, afraid to meet Imogene’s eyes. “I’m not strong enough.”

“But you said you love him!” Shyla said, her voice pitching with anger. “He helped save your life, and now you’re refusing to save his?” Her eyes were dark as coal, and just as hard.

“Please think about what you’re saying,” Imogene said more calmly. “Will you let him die just to spare yourself a moment of pain?”

“I didn’t mean that I won’t do it,” I said hurriedly. “I only meant that I can’t cut myself. I won’t be able to do it right. David will have to do it.”

Before I had a chance to feel even more scared than I was or second-guess my ability to save Adrian, David wrenched the knife free from Adrian’s chest, grabbed my right hand in his, and made a long, hard incision through the meaty flesh of my palm.

I gasped and yanked my hand free from his grasp, my eyes clouding with tears. David exhaled sharply, and I realized he’d been holding his breath. Likely the gash had caused him a pain more lasting than the superficial wound on my hand. Without meeting my eyes, David held out his hand to me. I offered mine to him willingly this time, and he gently guided it to the wound on Adrian’s chest.