THIRTY-ONE THE KEEPER CHRONICLE #2
The envelope is lumpy, and has some weight to it. I undo the brown seal and pull out a letter. It’s from Charles Martindale. An official welcome to the Guild. Stamped with the Keepers of the Crossing symbol.
I shake the envelope and out fall two keys strapped to a rusty key ring.
‘Nathaniel, are you giving me a key to your place?’ I say. ‘Because I think you’re moving a little fast.’
Tariq laughs, and even Opel cracks a smile.
‘Those belong to you,’ says Nathaniel, purposely ignoring my quip. ‘One is a key to the Seven Angels; the other, to your room there.’
‘My own room?’
‘Of course, you don’t have to stay there, you have a perfectly good room here, but should you need it, it’s yours.’
Wow. I wasn’t expecting to get my own place until I was at least twenty-one, mainly because that’s when Mum was threatening to kick me out if I didn’t start paying rent.
I set the letter and keys on the table and scan the book.
It’s heavy, thick, and pretty weathered. Lily would be all over it if she had half a chance. Its maroon leather cover is faded and worn, but it feels strong given how old it looks.
‘This is your Keeper Chronicle,’ says Nathaniel.
I open it up. The pages are filled with names and dates.
‘It lists the Keepers who came before you,’ says Tariq. ‘Opel and I have our own.’
‘Yeah… mine’s… somewhere,’ Opel says, looking suddenly panicked.
I flick through the pages. ‘Wait, so every Auctus Keeper who ever existed is in here?’
‘With some exceptions,’ Nathaniel says. ‘And the records only date back so far. Initially, Keepers didn’t think to maintain such records.’
I stop randomly at various names as I flick through.
‘1585 Dorothy Craythorn… 1801 Elias Herring… 1978 Grace Leyland…’
Then I come to the last entry.
‘2018 Thomas Freeman,’ says Opel.
She smiles at me, and I nod. Tariq looks at us both with understanding in his eyes.
‘Time for you to add yourself in there,’ Nathaniel says.
‘Need some help?’
I wince and Tariq is at my side, taking hold of me as I climb onto my bed. He fluffs my pillow so I can sit up and rolls the throw over my legs.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘You’re welcome.’ He puts my new keys along with the Chronicle on my bedside table, before picking up his copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe . ‘Did you finally finish it?’
‘Yeah, you failed to mention Aslan dying on the stone table. I cried, for a whole three pages!’
Tariq laughs. ‘He comes back to life though.’
‘Yeah, that sort of cheapened it for me, like, go out a hero.’
Tariq lies beside me on the bed, laying his hands on his chest. It’s something he’s been doing a lot recently, staying close to me, which is both exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time.
Every time his shoulder, elbow, or knee bumps mine, there’s this electricity that runs through me, and I want to kiss him again.
Tariq pulls out his pendant from beneath his T-shirt, and I get a momentary glance of his upper chest that sends tingles over my body.
‘You’re quiet,’ I say.
‘Hm? Oh, I’m just thinking.’
‘What about?’
He lets his pendant fall and turns on his side to face me. His jaw flexes, and a tuft of dark hair falls over one of his eyes. I’m warming with every second that passes. Maybe the throw wasn’t a good idea.
‘That night, before everything happened at the Crossing, when you told me to be honest with you…’
‘Yeah, I know, I—’
‘No. I wanted to say sorry,’ he says, his hand resting on my arm. Electricity again. ‘I snapped at you, and I shouldn’t have. I just… I’ve lost too many people. I didn’t want to lose you too. Then we had that kiss and… and suddenly nothing mattered to me, apart from you.’
His heart is thrumming so loud it’s almost deafening. I’m grinning so much my cheeks hurt. My insides are swelling. Everything is telling me to kiss him, but that’s too predictable, isn’t it? Instead, I brush the hair out of his eyes.
‘Can I ask you something?’
He nods.
‘Will you go to the Festive Fling with me?’
Tariq’s eyes widen and he rolls over. ‘I take it all back, I take it all back…’
‘Tariq!’ I grab his arm and pull him back.
He’s laughing.
I punch him playfully on the arm. ‘Will you?’
He stops and takes my hands. ‘Sayatimu takrimiun.’
I frown. ‘Is that Arabic?’
‘Yeah. Dad used to teach me. I’m rusty. But it means I would be honoured.’
I smile.
‘But I’m not dancing.’
‘Deal,’ I say.
He jumps up off the bed. ‘Speaking of deals, I guess I should hold up the end of mine.’ He beams. ‘What we watching?’
‘I think you know the answer!’
He rolls his eyes. He chucks me the remote for my TV and heads for the door. ‘I need to go to the loo, and mentally prepare for this.’
I laugh as he leaves the room.
Finding Jurassic Park saved under ‘my favourites’, I pause it just as the title screen appears.
I take the Keeper Chronicle beside me, feeling the weight of it in my hands.
Opening it, I stare at the blank space below Thomas’s name.
I reach across, open my bedside drawer, and pull out a pen.
The pen tip touches the page as I pause, gazing at the names listed before me.
I smile, then write…
2024 Katie Ford
And then…
2024 Liam O’Connor