A Keeper's Truth (22 page)

Bryce
nods. “Not only was the boy’s soul capable of recalling the art of telepathy,
he knew the power of invisibility. And could explain it. He could describe the
use of light to transform physical matter into transparent matter and the use
of energy from the seven major centers in the chakra system to project energy.
He could, by all accounts, remember man’s oldest form of self-defense,
invisibility.”

“What
torturous past did this boy’s soul experience to recall disappearing from
sight?” The thought makes me shiver, and a few of my more recent nightmares
come to mind. “What happened to the boy, did he survive?”

“He’s
living with a friend of
Angitias
.”

“The
witch,” I say, remembering the woman from Bryce’s Halloween party.

Bryce
grins. “Her friend runs a school for the gifted in Russia, a secluded little
place called the House of
Ved’ma
.” I must look
confused because he says, “The Russian word for witch is
ved’ma
,
literally meaning, one who knows.”

It all
comes together. Bryce’s powers, the mind reading, the superhuman strength, the
memory; these are natural capabilities of the human mind, the soul, but are
considered witchcraft. A light flickers in my head. To protect my family, I
need to learn how to tap into my soul’s inner strength, its knowledge of the
mystical. I’ve got to think like a witch.

Bryce’s
chuckle pulls me from my thoughts. “Change of plans,” he says, grabbing my hand
and guiding me from the office.

At the
front door he tosses me my coat. He looks downright giddy so I follow without question.
I’ve just finished lacing my boots when he pulls me close placing a knitted hat
over my head. We laugh as the puff of wool flops over my face. “I know where
you can concentrate,” he says, grinning. He opens the door and we step out into
the night.

Even in
the dark the woods call to me. The moon reflects off the bright white snow,
illuminating the forest in shades of indigo. I’m overwhelmed by an urge to
paint, to capture the beauty on canvas. The dense packing snow crunches under
foot. There is no wind but the air has bite, nibbling the tip of my nose. I
remove a glove and reach out to touch the branches of an ancient blue spruce.
The needles are chilled, but soft. Furry buds await spring. The silence
captures me, trancelike, until I feel Bryce watching, his billowing breath the
only proof he’s breathing.

“Close
your eyes, feel the energy that radiates from the trees,” he says.

I tilt my
head back and concentrate. The warmth starts at my feet and works its way up my
body until a buzz rings in my ears. I feel . . .I
feel . . .alive.

I open my
eyes and the forest snaps back into place, serene but dormant. The feeling is
gone, the cold seeping into my boots.

“Tell me,”
I say, turning to Bryce, “which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

Bryce
laughs, his entire body shuddering with amusement.

“Funny
girl. I assume you’re referring to which came first, the human form or the
soul, and the answer is neither. One does not exist without the other. Some
Keepers believe their soul experienced life for millions of years before man.
But if this is true, if our soul existed within creatures like dinosaurs prior
to mankind’s rein, we have no memory of it.”

I walk
along the tree line, kicking at clumps of snow. A fresh blanket drapes over
manmade mounds, and I realize these woods are well-traveled. I spot what looks
like a fort and a pyramid of snowballs.

“Who
created souls?” I chuck a snowball at Bryce. It hits him in the shoulder,
smashing into bits. He looks surprised.

“The great
unknown question. Good luck finding someone to teach you that one.”

I gather
snow into my gloves. “I thought you knew everything.” I throw another ball but
Bryce disappears and it smacks into a tree.

I hear his
laugh before he appears a few feet away. “Keepers contain the knowledge and
power of our race. But we’re limited in regards to history pre-dating our own
creation. This is why religion, legends, and sagas are so popular. They give
people something to believe, a neatly packaged answer to the unknown. Most
don’t care if it’s the right or wrong answer, they just like to feel that there
is one.”

I’ve never
believed in a higher power. I’ve always thought we humans were the power, and
that miracles are within us. I never doubted we are capable of so much more
than we understand.

Bryce
dissolves, and when I turn he’s standing right beside me. He’s so close I can’t
lob the packed snow in my fist so I hide it behind my back. Bryce laughs and I
pretend the silver sparks in his eyes don’t provoke my stomach to do flips. I
step back and stumble into a ditch, a long hole dug behind a rudimentary wall
of ice and snow. Under me lies a pile of snowballs, and when Bryce reaches to
help me I grab one and aim, but he’s disappeared again.

“Nice
try!” he bellows from afar.

Suddenly
the hole reminds me of an open casket. Meyer comes to mind. “Where do we go
when we die? I know where our body goes, back into the earth in one form or
another, but what about our soul, where does it go? Does it immediately jump to
another body, a newborn?”

Bryce
leans over the wall, shaking his head. “Most choose to reflect, to think about
what they’ve learned.”

“They go
to heaven?”

“Where
they go is more a time than place. Some souls call it Spirit World, but that’s
merely a name of convenience. There, a soul feels at peace, one with Earth’s
energy. There is no negative emotion, only contemplation, an infinite time for
basking in the contribution of life.”

“Sounds
kinda
beautiful.”

I hope
Meyer is there, at peace.

“It is,”
says Bryce, “and it isn’t. There’s no color, yet everything is bright. There’s
nothing to touch or smell, but the aroma of your favorite bread engulfs you and
the memory of a fleeting touch is so strong you’d swear it was real. Eventually
you realize the experiences that drive you, make you feel, are memories made while
joined with a living being.”

I suppose
I wouldn’t enjoy the scent of grass if I couldn’t wriggle my toes in it. And
what would love be if you couldn’t hold the one you’re attracted to, or look
into their eyes, or hear them breathing?

A series
of thumps followed by flying snow catches my attention and I peek over the
wall. Bryce is about twenty yards away, partially concealed behind a similar
wall of ice. When he sees I’ve made out what is obviously the stage of an
earlier snowball fight, he laughs and throws another one in my direction.

“Finally,
a counter attack!”

We take
turns hurling well-packed balls at each other, mine hitting nothing but
branches. Bryce is either quick to move or he disappears all together. I lean
over to scoop more snow and get belted, the force knocking me over.

“Sorry.”
he yells.

I duck
into the trench, gathering snow for an arsenal. I need time, a distraction.

“Is that
the best you can do? You’re a
Lemurian
, a Keeper!
Come on, man, I want to see this power in action!”

“You’ve seen
my soul as an eagle.” He’s not even slightly interested in taking my bait.
“What more do you need to see?”

“I’d just
witnessed the violation of my private property and the murder of my dog. I was
under serious duress.” I tweak the line. “I
wanna
see
your tricks.

Bryce
laughs and a round of shots pound my barricade, the last leaving a gaping hole
at one end.

“Let me
see you fly,” I say, trying not to chuckle, “or lift a bus or something.” My
knees are frozen numb and I can hardly move my fingers. I count the mini mounds
of snow that barely pass as balls, formulating a battle plan.

“Tess,
power has a cost. I don’t hurl it around like a toy. I could lift a bus, but
why would I?”

I pop up,
lobbing an armful of mushy bullets, one at a time.

“To show
me you can.” I watch Bryce shatter each snowball with a simple wave.

“What
about the people on the bus? What about the driver? What about the innocent
people walking by or the curious child? Do I disregard their safety to prove
something to you?”

The last
of my snowballs falls to the ground, not even close to the mark. Okay, so I
hadn’t thought about the potential passengers. And I’ve officially lost this
snowball fight.

I pout.

“We make
choices,” says Bryce, stepping over his wall and toward me. “We learn from the
decisions we make, the good and the bad.” He pulls the hat down over my eyes.
“Lifting a bus to show off would be a bad call on my part.”

Bryce is
right and I know it. Still, there are things I want to see him do, things I
want to learn. There is so much I don’t know. And speaking of choices, why did
he let Thomas hit him?

“Is Thomas
stronger or faster than you?”

Bryce
shakes his head, in on my game. “I would neither run from nor strike my
brother. I love him.”

“So you
just stood there and let him beat you? Why didn’t you stop him?”

“We all
make choices. Mine was to allow my brother to vent his frustration.”

I amble to
the front of the house, aware of how cold I am. I’m half soaked and frozen.

“You don’t
even sound angry about it,” I say.

“I’m not.
I would do anything for my brother. There are no conditions.”

“Does he
know this?” The answer is written on Bryce’s face, setting me off. “He knew you
wouldn’t defend yourself, yet he hit you anyway. What an ass. Why would he do
that?”

Bryce
takes my hand. “That’s a question you’ll have to ask him.”

“Maybe I
will.” When I’m not pissed at him. I look to Bryce, wondering if he heard what
I was thinking. “How do you do that?”

Bryce
looks away. “Do what?”

“Ha, ha.
How do you read my mind exactly?”

He drops
the charade. “I don’t hear your cognitive voice, and I can’t visualize your
exact words, although sometimes they come through loud and clear. It’s more of
a feeling. I can feel your thoughts.”

“Can you
teach me?”

“Someday.
If you learn to clear your mind and concentrate.” I roll my eyes and he grins.
“Like everything, man is made of electro-magnetic energy. Our thoughts create
energy that is dispersed into the atmosphere like radio waves. Anyone capable
of picking-up on this transmission can essentially read your mind. The trick is
distinguishing other thought waves from your own.”

I let go
of Bryce’s hand and consider blasting the heat in my car.

“I guess
that’s kind of cool.”

“
Lemurians
rarely communicated using language. They shared
memories, images, and sensations, not words. Now, however, it’s a necessary
skill, one that allows me to assist my students.” He sighs. “People’s true
feelings aren’t always great to know. Sometimes I prefer to work blind.”

“Ah, so
you can shut it off.” I dig keys from my coat pocket.

“With you
I forget. Partly because you fearlessly say almost anything that comes to mind
and partly because I’m so comfortable with you.”

I step
closer. “Speaking of that, being comfortable, I mean. Why is that?” I’m
suddenly hot. I know Bryce prefers to keep these rendezvous a great distance
from personal, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something he isn’t
telling me. “You know I feel the same. I want to know why?”

His
complexion turns pasty. “This is not a subject we should be discussing right
now.”

I lean
forward, studying his apprehensive features. He doesn’t move, but the muscles
in his jaw flex and the glint in his eyes turns bright white. I search for what
he’s concealing, but if it’s there, in those explosive eyes, it’s hidden beyond
my reach.

“I guess
this session is over then,” I say, turning back to Magic Carpet.

Bryce
slams the car door, the force rattling the windows.

“I was
your consort in several lives,” he says, the words escaping captivity. He rakes
a hand over the back of his neck and fumbles for his pockets.

I stop
dead in my tracks.

“How is
that possible? How could you have been my . . .You were my
lover?”

“I was
your confidante, your advisor. In this day you would call me your best friend.”
He pauses. “And yes, I, my soul, shared your bed.”

Bryce
watches me slowly break into a grin. What can I say? I don’t have a clue what
to think, never mind putting a thought through my vocal chords. My mind flashes
vivid and sensual dreams I’ve had of Bryce, dreams I wouldn’t dare confess.
Instantly I remember the first time we met, at the parent-teacher meeting, when
Bryce was naked, wrapped in white fur.

We were
lovers.

“You know
this, Tess. I can feel it when you touch me with even the simplest of
gestures.”