Shadow Keeper

Chapter One

After the flash of lightning, I waited for the peal of thunder, but instead, a long pitiful shriek echoed from outside the house. A shiver rippled through me, making my flesh prickle. I threw back the covers and crawled from the bed.

Thunder crashed overhead as I searched for the pullcord in the heavy folds of the curtains. I yanked them open, but only a black void stared back at me. Dark storm clouds blocked all illumination from the stars and moon.

I cracked open the window and pressed my ear against the mesh screen. No shrieking howl, no gusting wind, not even a drop of rain on the patio outside disrupted the silence.

A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky and the night turned bright as day. I squinted to shield my vision from the burst of light, but not before glimpsing a shadowy figure lingering at the edge of our yard near the alfalfa field. A mournful howl ripped through the air and mingled with the clap of thunder. The creature twisted lower to the ground and disappeared into a clump of oak trees.

A cold chill snaked up my back. I blinked my eyes. Was that an animal, or a man scurrying into the cover of the trees? Not certain what I’d witnessed, I scratched at the stubble on my neck while backing away from the window.

“Ow,” I yelped when my foot scraped against a sharp object. I hopped around on one foot while rubbing at the heel of my other.

“Brendon?” my little brother mumbled from the upper bunk.

“Yeah, Stevie. It’s me. I think I just stepped on your dinosaur.”

“Give it back,” he said in a sleepy voice.

The digital clock on the desk gave off a dim, bluish glow, but the light only extended a few feet. I searched around on the floor until my fingers stumbled across the hard plastic toy. After picking it up, I swung my hand in the direction of the upper bunk. “Here you go.”

Lightning flashed again. With the curtains opened wide, the brilliant light flooded the room. Tyrannosaurs Rex seemed to come to life. Sharp, white plastic teeth jutted out of its furious mouth a few inches from my brother’s face. Stevie’s scream filled the air as his hands flew over his eyes.

“It’s just your toy dinosaur.”

“Close the curtains,” he shouted.

“Pipe down. You’re going to wake Mom.” I headed for the window. “Lightning can’t hurt you.”

“Yes, it can. It can kill you.”

“Maybe, but it can’t get you if you stay in bed with your head under the covers.”

I grabbed the pullcord for the curtains, but before yanking them shut, I glanced around the yard. Nothing. Whatever lurked outside had disappeared. The creepy tingling up my spine had also vanished.

Thunder rumbled right after I shut the curtains. “The storm’s moving farther away. Go back to sleep.”

“Can I sleep with you?” he asked.

“No.” I sat down on the edge of the mattress and rubbed my hand across the muscles in my shoulders. “I’m still sore from Friday’s game. I’ve got football practice tomorrow and I need sleep. I can’t do it with you thrashing around all night.”

“But your bed is bigger than mine.”

“No,” I said a little sharper than I intended.

Muffled sobs came from the bed above me.

“I’m sorry, Stevie.” I crawled from the lower bunk and searched for my little brother to pat his back.

“I’m scared.” He leapt at me with such force that the thrust of his body threw me backward.

I grabbed at the top bunk to steady myself, but all I caught was a handful of blanket. Off balance, I struggled to stay upright, but with his added weight, I lost the battle. We crashed to the carpet covered floor. My little brother, with his strangle hold on my neck, landed on top.

“Dang it, Stevie.” I batted at the sheet and blanket floating across my face. “Why did you jump at me like that?”

His arms tightened around my neck. “I hate lightning.”

I tried to pry him loose. “It’s not going to kill anyone.”

“It killed Daddy.”

My head flopped onto the floor. “No, it didn’t.”

“Then what did?”

Muscle spasms ripped through my body as a grotesque image flashed into my brain, but the figure receded into the dark corners of my mind before I recognized the form. “I don’t know.”

“Do you remember when he died?”

That much I knew. I swallowed hard, hoping my voice didn’t shake when I talked. “It was six years ago. I was about your age.”

His arms eased from around my neck. “You were ten like me when Daddy died?”

“I guess.” I slid him to one side. “Let’s get off the floor.”

The blanket and sheet tangled around me as I crawled from the rug. Stevie grabbed at my tee shirt and never let go while I gathered the covers and flung them on the top bed.

“Can I—”

“Yeah,” I said, cutting off his request since I already knew what he was going to ask. “Get in there.”

“Thanks.” He let go of my shirt and scampered into the bottom bunk.

I waited for him to quit squirming around. His bony elbows and knees could be lethal weapons. When I didn’t hear anymore wrestling with the covers, I flopped down on the bed.

Stevie had his back to me, but he turned over and slipped his arm around my bicep. “Brendon—”

“No talking.”

“But I want to know—”

“Shh.”

“—what Daddy was like.”

A clammy sweat broke out of my pores. I loved my father, but talking about him always brought back unsettling visions of his death. “How come you’re thinking about Dad all of a sudden?”

“Because I don’t have one.”

“Half your friends at school don’t have a dad.”

“That’s because their parents are divorced. But Taylor and even Josh see their dad once in a while. I never get to see mine, and Mom won’t talk about him. I don’t think she liked Daddy.”

“Don’t you
ever
say that.” My tone was harsh. I tried to mellow. “Mom loved him. She still does. That’s why she won’t talk about him.”

“Then how will I ever learn anything about him?” he asked around a sob.

“I can tell you a little.” I swiped one hand across my face to remove the sweat. My little brother deserved to know about our father. If I stuck to his life and not his death, I might be able to give some details. “His name was John Alexander, and his hair was—I don’t need to describe him. You’ve seen pictures of him, haven’t you?”

“No.”

“Yes, you have. There’s one in Mom’s room of Dad holding you when you were a baby.”

“I thought that was you holding me.”

“No, goofy. That’s Dad. He was about thirty–three when you were born.”

“Then you and Daddy looked alike? Was he tall like you?”

“I think he was about six–three, so I’ve got another couple inches to go. And I guess I inherited his looks. You look a little like him too.”

“He had dark, curly hair?”

“Dark, but straight. We get the curly from Mom.” I thrust my fingers through my inch–short hair. “Wavy is more like it. Just be glad you didn’t get Mom’s red hair and freckles.”

Stevie snickered. “Krystal did.”

“It’s all right for her. She’s a girl. Besides, she looks cute with those blue eyes and red hair. Maybe too cute. In ten years from now, when she turns sixteen, I won’t be around. It’ll be your job to protect her.”

“From what?”

My sarcasm cranked up a notch. “Your friends, probably.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind.” I rolled over, putting my back to him. “Are you finished with your questions?”

He made a little humming noise. I knew his tactic. He planned to keep me talking until he fell asleep.

“Did Daddy have weird eyes like you?”

I glanced over my shoulder even though the darkness prevented me from seeing him. “What do you mean, weird?”

“They’re green and brown at the same time.”

“That’s not weird. It’s called hazel.”

“Josh said Daddy was part Indian like the ones who own the casino.”

“Don’t listen to Josh. He doesn’t know anything. We didn’t move to California to live with Grandma until after Dad died.”

“Then we’re not Indian?”

“No, we are, but I don’t know which tribe since Mom won’t talk about it. But we don’t belong to the tribe that owns the casino. Otherwise, we’d be rich instead of poor. But I remember Grandfather. He was half Indian and used to tell me stories about the Ancient Ones. I was probably Krystal’s age when he died.”

“How did he die?”

“He got old.”

“Is that how Daddy died?”

“Dad wasn’t old.”

“Then how did he die?”

We were back to that again. I took a deep breath, hoping a fresh shot of oxygen would keep the clammy sweat from returning. Memories of my father’s death were just hazy recollections. The doctor said I’d suppressed the incident because my young mind couldn’t deal with the horror of seeing him die. I was older now. Maybe if I remembered, I could put the past where it belonged. I rubbed at my forehead, hoping to clear my thoughts, but too many years had passed. “I’m not sure. I was with him that night, but I don’t remember what happened.”