Keepers of the Crossing: The Dark Friars

ONE THE GIRL

ONE

THE GIRL

W ho is she?

I’m in the middle of a forest clearing, surrounded by towering trees that disappear into the night sky.

Moonlight’s hitting my bare chest. The autumn breeze prickles my skin, sending shivers across my body and ruffling my hair.

Past my baggy pyjama bottoms, my feet crunch on a layer of dead leaves. This place is familiar.

A girl is on her knees a few feet away from me, frozen in place. Her wild black curls are dancing around in the breeze. She’s about my age, seventeen, but shorter, and more child-like.

She’s breathing heavy and fast. Her knees are caked with mud, and there’s a fresh scrape on her forehead. Her wrists are red raw.

‘Are you okay?’ My voice shakes.

She doesn’t respond. In fact, it’s as if she hasn’t registered my presence, let alone my question.

I take a couple of careful steps closer, and then it hits me – she’s not staring at me, she’s looking through me.

A lump forms in my gut.

I whirl around. A shadowy figure is approaching us. The man is wrapped in a heavy black trench coat; the shadow of a matching trilby obscures his face. He holds a sizeable silver knife, which glints in the moonlight.

My breath catches as the man strides onward, each step loaded with intent.

The girl lets out a desperate cry.

I step aside as he passes. I’m not even a blip on his radar. Honestly, I’d rather keep it that way. The sight of that knife has me still. Is this about to happen, right in front of me?

‘Please!’ The girl’s voice cracks. ‘Don’t do this!’

The blade’s edge is starkly visible now, its ancient design giving it an unsettling beauty. My pulse is pounding in my ears as the attacker raises his weapon.

‘Don’t!’ I shout.

But the blade drops, quick and sharp.

Time stretches out, but no sound emerges – no final scream, no last words.

I circle around the man, dreading what I’ll find. I expect the girl to be sprawled on the ground, lifeless. But she’s still breathing.

She has the man’s wrist in her grasp, holding that blade back from her neck. Her face wrinkled with determination. Her arm’s trembling. This girl now stands strong against her opponent. Where did this strength come from?

She starts rising, forcing the man’s arm to bend, and he lets out a gut-wrenching cry of pain.

He tries to grab at her throat with his other hand, but she snatches that one too and twists it.

She’s towering over him now. A lone tear streaks down her cheek.

Then, in a burst, she lets out a roar. With one fluid motion, her leg shoots up, connecting squarely with the man’s chest. He tumbles along the ground, only stopping when he connects with a mossy log.

The knife flies, landing somewhere half-buried among the leaves and a scattering of cigarette ends.

She seems different now – strong, unwavering. The fear’s evaporated from her face, replaced by something fierce.

With confident strides, she heads toward the discarded knife.

The man’s face is visible now, his hat lost in the fall. He’s older than I’d expected, with receding grey hair and a sharp jawline. His eyes, though, they’re what stand out – dark, sunken, almost devoid of humanity. Vacant.

The girl picks up the blade and approaches the man, who’s now pulled himself into a kneeling position. Twigs and leaves cling to his coat.

‘Who are you people? What do you want?’ the girl demands.

He doesn’t respond. A sinister grin stretches across his face.

Two dark-cloaked figures emerge from the trees. I try to shout a warning, but my voice falls flat. I’m watching a twisted movie, unable to intervene.

Before the girl can do anything, she’s yanked from behind, and the knife falls from her grip. The new pair have her arms in a tight hold.

‘Let me go!’

The man on the ground gets up, reclaiming his hat, adjusting it on himself as he saunters toward her. That grin is still there. Was he just toying with her all this time?

He picks up the knife and trails it up her body until it’s at her neck. She struggles desperately, but it’s futile.

‘What we want, pretty Keeper, is for you to die.’

Keeper?

The girl’s eyes widen.

I rush toward them.

The man swiftly jerks the knife back and thrusts it into the girl’s abdomen.

I freeze.

Blood coats the hilt. Droplets splatter onto her white trainers.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, but I can’t tear my eyes away.

She looks bewildered, disoriented, and for an instant, her gaze finds mine.

Can she see me?

Tears start streaming down my face. Her expression remains blank as her eyes close, and her head droops. The man withdraws the knife, and her body crumples to the ground.

I stumble backward, my mind reeling in disbelief.

The man with the knife gestures to his assistants. They form a circle around her body, holding hands. A chant begins. Their words sound foreign. I don’t understand what is happening.

My heart races, the rhythm of their chant digging under my skin.

Their eerie chorus comes to a halt, and the three men step away, melting into the darkness of the trees. And then, silence.

Just silence.

I edge closer to the girl. She’s pretty, even now. Pale, rosy cheeks, dark hair.

How could anyone do this?

I kneel beside her, brushing her hair away from her face. Tears continue to stream down my cheeks.

And then, a whisper, faint at first, followed by crackling sounds. The girl’s eyes flash open. I jump. They’re different. Black, with yellow veins protruding from the pupil. And they’re fixed on me. That’s not the girl anymore.

What is that?

I stare back as light begins to emit from underneath the body. Then it ignites, flames surging forth. I stumble back, the scent of burning flesh and hair invading the air. The fire engulfs everything – the trees, ground, sky. All that’s left is a blazing inferno.

I jolt awake. Sweat clings to my skin, my hair damp against my forehead. I gasp for breath as I try to untangle myself from the bedsheets, the mattress springs creaking underneath me. The morning light streaming through my window is harsh.

As my eyes adjust, I take in my surroundings.

Clothes are strewn across the floor, some hanging from a chair nestled under my desk.

My laptop’s open, a half-full glass of water beside it, and my badminton racket, poking out from my rucksack.

The familiar bright lime-green walls, clad with various movie posters.

It’s definitely my room.

But there’s no fire, no trees, no sinister figures, no girl. The girl. I know her face, but where from?

I let out a sigh of frustration.

This has happened again. Another dream, or rather, the same one.

It’s the fifth night in a row where I’ve been subjected to this disturbing scene of a random girl meeting her end.

Aren’t dreams supposed to be different every time?

Yet, it’s the exact same scenario – same place, same men, same girl.

And those eyes. Those unnatural, devil-like eyes.

On the first night, I brushed it off as just a nightmare.

But now, after four more nights of this, it’s wearing me down.

I’m exhausted beyond belief. Wednesday, I managed to doze off in the middle of catering class, leaving my food processor to overmix my pizza dough.

And yesterday, during break, I somehow punched a hole through the glass panel on a vending machine.

I still can’t figure out how. I was frustrated over my crisps getting stuck, then my fist met the glass, and there was this warmth and dizziness.

I must’ve been so out of it that I didn’t realise how much force I used.

Miss Williams, my history teacher, caught the show.

After a stern lecture, she sent me to the medical room.

I stare at the bandaged knuckles of my hand for a moment before letting my body flop back onto the pillow.

I can’t believe how real that dream felt. I’m not exactly prone to nightmares or dreams in general. And ones this vivid? They’re pretty rare, aren’t they?

I reach for my phone and tap the screen. 8:38 AM . Fantastic, I’m running late as usual.

I swing my legs out of bed and open my window, craving that refreshing breath of autumn air.

I inhale deeply, then exhale, savouring the stillness of the morning.

My bedroom overlooks water meadows, and just beyond, the impressive Sarumbourne Cathedral stands tall, the heartbeat of our medieval city.

My phone vibrates.

Incoming video call: Lily

Lily Boynes is my best friend and self-proclaimed life coach. We’ve been inseparable since we both reached for the same traybake slice one break time back in primary school.

With a swipe of the screen, Lily’s face appears, and her bright blue eyes immediately light up.

‘Liam Kalen O’Connor, have you only just got up?’

Her long, light golden hair bounces as she walks. She is definitely at college, and I’m definitely not.

‘Oh hey, Lily.’

‘Don’t “hey Lily” me, history starts in twenty minutes.’

History isn’t exactly my favourite subject.

I ended up taking it for two reasons: first, I needed a third subject to fill my timetable – apparently film studies and catering weren’t enough.

And second, Lily was taking it, so I knew we’d have at least one class together at college, plus, I can just copy her coursework.

‘I overslept,’ I say, pulling my window shut.

‘Liam, you’ve been like a zombie all week. Friday is your only early class.’

I haven’t mentioned my dreams to Lily, mostly because I can’t handle her spiritualistic side coming out. Give her a day, and she’ll be trying to fill my pockets with healing crystals.

I stumble across my room, tripping over skewed piles of dirty laundry.

‘I was on time last week!’ I say, before taking a big gulp from the glass of water on my desk. Yuck! How long have I had that there?

‘Only because the refectory was trialling free breakfasts before 9am.’

She makes a good point. But it was food, and it was free; sue me. I grab what looks like a clean towel from the floor and rush out of my bedroom.

‘I’ll be there ASAP.’

I dash into the bathroom and turn on the shower.

‘Well, you better be, because—’ Lily looks off into the distance. Panic appears on her face.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Something is going on. The police are here, look!’

Lily turns her phone.

With my pyjama bottoms tossed to one side and one leg already in the shower, I hold the screen closer.

A crowd of students outside the college’s main doors are being held back by uniformed police.

The student news team is to one side, rushing around each other, clearly just as clueless as Lily is about what is going on.

‘A bit chaotic,’ I say.

‘Looks like they’re asking questions.’ Lily turns the camera back around to face her. ‘Maybe it’s to do with that boy who died last year in that weird church fire. It’s not far from the college. Hey, Jack!’

Her face falls away and the camera drops to her side, muffling the sound.

Jack is my only other close friend. Lily and I met him in our first week of secondary school when he tried to convince us to join cross-country club with him.

I made some comment about my idea of a marathon being watching multiple episodes of The Walking Dead . He’s loved me ever since.

I place my phone upright on the soap-dish in front of me, keeping the camera on my face. I step under the warm running water, careful as not to soggy-up my bandaged hand. As I lather my hair with shampoo, I can just about hear Lily’s tones over the surge of the shower.

‘Jack… do you know what’s happening?’ she says.

There’s a murmured reply as I push back my wet hair and just catch an upside-down outline of Lily’s grey jeans and Jack’s trainers. Useful.

‘That’s terrible.’ Lily brings her phone up to her face. ‘Liam, did you hear that?’

I dip my head out from under the falling water. ‘Hear what?’

‘Apparently a student has gone missing. She hasn’t been seen in a few days.’

‘What?’ I wipe my eyes. With Lily’s wakeup call I’d almost forgotten about the girl in my dream. Her face suddenly shoots through my mind.

Jack mutters something to Lily, but I can’t hear him. I grab my phone so fast I forget my hands are wet.

‘Lily, what’s Jack saying?’

My phone slips from my grasp. Panic sets in as I try to catch it, but I knock it further away from me, out of the shower.

The next few seconds are a muddled blur.

The heat from the shower seems to escalate, almost as if someone turned it up to boiling.

My phone tumbles in mid-air, heading directly for the hard, tiled floor.

I fling one leg out of the shower, my upper body toppling forward, and miraculously manage to catch my phone between two fingers just before it crashes.

But my luck doesn’t hold for long. As I try to regain my balance, my foot slips on the wet floor, and I land, bare bum first, on the cold bathroom tiles.

‘Fuck.’ I rub my side in discomfort. Despite the awkward situation, I’m relieved that I still have my phone intact. I’m not usually that lucky, and breaking it would have meant facing my mum’s wrath. This is my fourth phone in two years.

‘Well, I just saw everything,’ Lily says, reminding me I’m still on a video call.

My cheeks suddenly feel very warm as I stare down at my damp, naked body. Oh hell, maybe I should just bury myself under a pile of towels and hide forever?

‘Could you, um, give me a moment to, you know, get myself together?’ I mumble, quickly grabbing a towel to cover up my junk.

Lily’s laughter comes through the phone. ‘Sure thing. Take your time, you clumsy queen.’

I stand up and switch off the shower. I try to stare at my pasty white butt in the bathroom mirror, but it proves challenging. One hundred percent there will be a bruise.

‘So, did Jack say anything else?’ I say, finally, holding up the phone to my face.

‘Hang on a sec,’ Lily says.

I wrap the towel around my waist and quickly fluff my damp hair with my hands. The blond always looks so much darker when it’s wet.

‘Jack is wondering if you and your Hulk-smash hands are coming to college today?’ Lily chuckles, referring to yesterday’s vending machine stunt.

‘No Hulk, only Liam,’ I reply, rolling my eyes.

There are muttering voices in the background.

‘What’s going on?’ I say.

‘Liam, the missing girl. They’re saying it’s Katie.’

‘Katie?’ A knot forms in my stomach.

‘Katie Ford,’ Lily clarifies. ‘You know, the pretty girl with curly hair. Jack says she’s in your film studies class.’

My grip on the phone tightens. That’s how I know her face!

‘Liam?’ Lily’s voice brings me back to the present.

The dead girl. Those men. The fire.

My heart pounds as I slowly lower the phone.

‘The girl in my dream… it was Katie.’