The Keeper's Vow (7 page)

Katie laughed. Impending doom? Good thing
she didn’t go back to Lucinda with that. She skipped the last few
feet into Barnaby’s and was welcomed by a sound of light jazz and
the smell of coffee. Why the bookstore smelled like coffee she
didn’t know, because they didn’t sell coffee, and she never saw
anyone with coffee, staff or customers alike.

She made her way to the antiques section.
Walking through Barnaby’s was like walking into a house of books,
because that was what it was. A house filled with books. The walls
were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and everything in between was
filled with books. Floor stacks. Tables full. Six-foot tall
shelves. It was the mirror image of it’s owner,
Barnaby—intense.

Katie had met Barnaby a few times before she
realized he was the owner. For a while she thought he was the
homeless male-version of a crazy-wicked cat lady. He had hair
longer than any man with a giant bald spot on the top of his head
should, and huge eyes that drifted off to the side when she talked
to him. It must have been a condition. He was there now by the
classics. Just standing and staring at the books. He did that a
lot. Katie used to think he was looking for a book, but now she
knew better. He was really sleeping—with his eyes open.

The antique section was the smallest in the
store, but also the hardest to get to. Katie had found it on
accident once, when she fell through a floor stack of books. She’d
found a first edition,
Peter Pan
. She never really liked the
story, but the idea that it had once been in England, and then
years later in her hands, was trippy. So she bought it.

She scanned through the books and didn’t see
anything new, besides a small copy of Othello—it looked nice, but
she hated anything that reminded her of school—and a book on
formaldehyde. She cringed at the memory of dissecting a pig fetus
in biology. Her fingers smelled for hours.

She wondered around the store for a few
minutes, slowly making her way to the front. She heard the door
open, as the bells tied to it jingled, and looked up.

It was him.

Tristan.

She ducked behind a pile of books and ran to
the other side of the store. What was he doing there? Why was she
asking herself that question? Of course he followed her. Everything
about him screamed stalker the moment he showed up on her front
porch. The real question was, why was she crotched down sneaking
around the book store?

She began to stand up but stopped and made a
b-line for the door instead. Who was she kidding? She was jumping
over book-piles and running ninja-style through the bookstore,
because she didn’t want to be alone with him. He was nuts. Not to
mention a vampire—half or whatever.

She waited for him to disappear into a room,
and made it out of the bookstore and back out onto the street
unseen. Her heart pounded—absolutely jumping out of her chest. A
part of her wanted to laugh and call Brian because she totally
pulled off some high-level evasive moves, but she didn’t. Tristan
showing up at the bookstore made her nervous. She completely
doubted it was coincidental. He didn’t seem like the coincidental
type.

She walked to Sunny Music, looking behind
her every few minutes to make sure he hadn’t seen her. But, the
coast was clear. No Tristan.

Sunny Music was past her favorite ice cream
shop: Kat’s Ice Cream. She’d known the guy who owned it for
forever. Larry. He always gave her discounted or free ice cream,
ever since she told him she liked his new sign post of a fat cat
licking ice cream. He was nice, but dumb. There was no profit in
giving away free ice cream. Not when she went every Friday. She
passed by it but made sure to wave at him as she went.

Sunny Music was anything but sunny: black
walls…black floor…black lights. The only ‘sunny’ things were the
little bit of light coming through the window by the door and Bob
Marley’s
One Love
playing in the background. Bob Marley was
the only music ever played on the loud speaker.

Katie tried to shift through some indie
rock, but Tristan was all she could think about. Why was he
following her now? Maybe she should have stayed and confronted him.
That’s what would have made sense. Why did she always think
logically
after
the fact? She couldn’t go back now, she’d
just look stupid.

She shuffled through some alternative rock,
not seeing a single title. She sighed and moved to leave when she
saw him again. Just outside the window pulling on the door. She
ducked down, as light filled the dim room. He was
really
stalking her.

Again
.

What kind of nut case just follows people to
random places?

She couldn’t sneak out like she did in
Barnaby’s. He’d see her the minute she stood up. But, if she stood
up now, he’d know she’d purposely ducked down.

She pretended to tie her shoe and took a
deep breath before she stood up.

He wasn’t looking at her. His back was
turned to her as he shifted through a section pulling up a CD. She
made her way to the door and stopped at the sound of his voice.

“Hey?” She turned around expecting to see
him smiling at her with that stupid crooked smile, but his back was
still to her as he walked up to the counter. “Can you tell me if
they’re new album came out yet?”

Was he serious? He hadn’t seen her?

She grabbed the doorknob and ran out of the
store before he did. She needed to get far. Somewhere different.
Joe’s Coffee Shop. She’d even take the long way two blocks
over.

She looked over her back every five seconds
sure he’d be right behind her. There was no way he’d
coincidentally
end up at Joe’s Coffee shop. There were at
least two other coffee places between Sunny Music and Joe’s. If he
so happened to want coffee he’d go there. Not Joe’s.

The long way took another five minutes, but
so far, she was in the clear. She’d even worked up a thirst for an
iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel syrup. When she walked
into Joe’s she stopped dead. He was there, at the counter ordering
something. There was no way. No way…

He turned around and looked at her, his eye
brows raised in an accusatory manner.

“Don’t look at
me
like that,” she
said. “You’re stalking me.”

“I was here first.” Tristan said, paying for
his order.

“What about Barnaby’s and Sunny Music?”
Katie said crossed her hands over her chest.

“So you followed me there too?” he said,
backing up like she’d jump on him at any second.

“That’s
so
not cool. I’m not the
crazy one.
You
showed up on
my
front porch.”

“That’s old news, Katalina.”

There it was again. Her full name.
“Seriously, what do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tristan said, looking
around.

“Obviously not,” Katie said.

“Tristan?” The barista called out. Tristan
walked over and picked up his order. An iced coffee with whipped
cream and caramel syrup.

“What the—”

“What?” Tristan said, walking back over to
her.

Katie was stunned. There was no way. How
could he—

“Like the same drink as you? A little
self-absorbed don’t you think, Katalina?”

Katie’s eyes grew wide. Her thoughts. He
finished her thought. All along—in the kitchen, he
was
talking to her.
Was
staring at her.

She backed up toward the door and into
someone. She jumped as if the three-eyed dog had jumped out and
grabbed her.

“Oh sorry,” she said breathlessly to a girl
who looked thoroughly affronted.

Tristan rolled his eyes and walked past her
and out the door.

“Wait,” Katie said as the door closed. She
needed to know. What had just happened? She ran out of the coffee
shop. Tristan had already crossed the street and was headed away
from her. She called out to him, but he ignored her. Of course, now
that he had gotten her attention he didn’t care about her.

When she caught up to him he didn’t look at
her. He stared ahead, expressionless. She walked next to him, a
thousand questions flying through her mind with no idea how to ask
them. But then again, he could probably hear them.

He walked fast; she could barely keep up,
especially after running most of the way to Joe’s. Her throat was
dry, but she was determined to keep up with him.

He held out the iced coffee. At least twenty
scenarios ran through her mind. What if he poisoned it? Or worse,
drank
from the straw.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye
and held out the drink over a trashcan as they passed it.

“No!” Katie’s made a grab for it and saved
it from the trash. She sucked down a fourth of it before her throat
eased up. “So— Um.” She had no idea what to say. Or was she saying
it all now? Could he really read her mind, or was it just a
coincidence.

His eyes flashed in her direction.

Not a coincidence.

“Do Will and Lucy know you can read their
minds?” she said as he slowed down enough for her to drink and walk
at the same time.

“I can’t read their minds,” he said.

“But you can read mine?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Anyone else’s?”

“Nope,” he said.

“How is that possible? Why is that
possible?” she said. His face was still expressionless.

“Gift from your mom,” he said, staring
straight ahead.

Katie knew that wasn’t possible. Her mom
died giving birth to her. Not exactly enough time to gift
anything—let alone some jacked up ability to read her only
daughter’s mind.

“You still believe everything your dad told
you. Nothing about yesterday made you question a few things?” he
said, making an abrupt left turn.

“What’s that suppose to mean? What do you
know about my mom?” It was strange saying that word. Mom. It was
something she didn’t have but something she always wanted—like a
cat, E-Z Bake Oven, a sixty-piece oil pastel set. A mom. Something
she’d grown out of and would never have. A mom.

Tristan held her gaze for a few steps before
making another left turn. He didn’t say anything else.

Another right…straight…a left. He was
walking her home. No matter how many questions she thought in her
mind, he didn’t say a word. The only hint that he was truly
listening, was the way he looked at her when she wondered if he
could turn into a bat and fly. It was a stupid thought, maybe, but
plausible given the circumstances.

He stopped at her street corner. She didn’t
know why she expected him to continue all the way to her house, or
why she’d even want him too. It crossed her mind that maybe he
didn’t want to return to the place he was stabbed.

“You’ve been avoiding going home since you
left Lucinda’s, right?” he said, looking at the house across the
street. She had, hadn’t she? Even now she could feel the anxiety
she felt earlier creeping up again. Going home meant telling her
dad. It occurred to her, the anxiety attack, the reason she didn’t
want Will to stop by…it was all to avoid telling her dad. “Then,”
Tristan said, turning around, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for
me to be seen by your house. Drew might recognize me.”

Tristan stuffed his hands in his pocket and
looked at her.

“How do you know my dad?”

Nothing.

“The same way you know my mom I’m guessing?”
she said.

Nothing.

“Fine,” Katie sighed. It was strange.
Yesterday
—
when he was on her porch—he
scared her
.
Now, he was kind of normal and
annoying.

“See you Monday, Katalina,” he said, walking
away from her. She forgot he could hear that—she didn’t like that
he could hear that or anything she thought.

“Wait!” She had so many other questions that
the pile was starting to topple.

Tristan disappeared around the corner.

As soon as she walked into her house she
could hear her dad in the kitchen. Not her dad exactly, but the
radio. He always listened to it when he tried to cook.

“I’m home,” Katie said, taking a deep
breath. The radio quieted.

“Katie Bug? I’m in the kitchen. You gotta
try this spaghetti sauce.”

Katie made her way into the kitchen. He was
listening to country music and dancing in his sweats and slippers.
She stood in the doorway watching his fuzzy brown-gray hair bob
back and forth.

“Katie Bug?” He yelled as he turned around.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were right there.” He was all smiles—his
eyes and his toothy grin.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Who peed in your cereal? Everything go
okay—over there?”

“Yeah,” Katie said, sitting in one of the
two kitchen chairs.

“You’re not uh—the mother nature stuff?”

“Dad.”

“Just asking,” he said, turning back to the
stove. “Would you stop looking like someone shot Santa Claus if I
told you I’m not mad about the yard?”

Crap. She had forgotten yard-duty. Mrs.
Field, the all-in-one neighborhood-watch probably came over bright
and early to remind him. “Sorry.”

“No worries. Will called,” he said.

Katie watched him stir the sauce still
swaying his hips to the music. “What he say?” Katie held her
breath.

“That you were staying over. Something about
issues and needing Lucinda for some lady-talk. I get it, Katie
Bug.”

Katie sighed. But froze again when her dad
looked at her.

“You’d tell me if something were wrong
right?” he frowned. She could see him swallow hard. It was his way
of beating around the bush with hard conversations.

“Like what?” she croaked.

“You know–stuff.” He stared into the sauce
pot.

“I—I don’t know what you mean.” Katie held
her breath as her stomach leaped.

“You’re not thinking of—you know. I’m sure
sex seems like what all the cool kids are doing but it’s not.” He
said in one breath stirring the sauce faster.