The Twelfth Keeper Read online

  THETWELFTHKEEPER

  BOOK ONE

  BELLE MALORY

  Copyright © 2013 Belle Malory

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1482052725

  ISBN-10: 148052725

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover art by Sybille Sterk: http://magpiemagic.blogspot.co.uk/

  You can visit Belle Malory at: http://bellemalory.blogspot.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Epilogue

  “Be humble, for you are made of earth. Be noble, for you are made of stars.”

  -Serbian Proverb

  Prologue

  “You’re smiling.”

  “That I am.”

  “You said you wouldn’t smile again until we found her.”

  The general pressed a button. A three-dimensional image of a young girl appeared. Wild, auburn hair. Bright aquamarine eyes, glinting with all the colors and ferocity of a tidal wave. “Jorgensen, we have found her. This is the twelfth.”

  Chilling tingles iced down Phoenix Jorgensen’s spine. He froze, paralyzed, stricken by disbelief. So many questions filled his mind, but he couldn’t push the words from his lips. He could barely remember to breathe.

  All he could do was stare.

  He stood motionless, breathless, staring at the girl’s image.

  It couldn’t be true.

  She couldn’t be the one.

  She was just…a girl. Nothing special or extraordinary there. In her image, she looked pensive. Her mouth curved up just slightly. Almost a smile, but not quite. What do you find so fascinating?

  Phoenix felt his hand twitch. He lifted it to her rosy cheek. Light splayed around his fingers, disrupting the image.

  He pulled back, his stomach twisting. “Why did you send for me, General?”

  A few moments passed before Phoenix heard an answer.

  “I’ve chosen you to confirm this discovery, Jorgensen. I assume you’ll feel it when you’re in her presence?”

  Of course. The feeling.

  It had been so long since he felt it, he’d almost forgotten. If the girl truly was the twelfth, he would feel it again. He would feel…whole.

  “Yes, sir,” Phoenix answered. “I’ll know if it’s her.”

  “Good to hear, Jorgensen.” The general clapped him on the back. “You leave at once.”

  The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall as the general departed. Phoenix stayed behind, unable to turn off the image just then. Unable to watch those expressive eyes fade away. Unable to wrap his head around the girl standing before him. This was not how he imagined her.

  Nothing special.

  He sighed, giving into the belief that he just might be delusional.

  One

  Kennedy Mitchell paraded in front of her bedroom mirror, wobbling in her sister’s red stiletto heels, but she gave a good show at flouncing across the carpeted floor in them.

  Holding her head up high, she batted her eyelashes at dozens of imaginary people flocking towards her in admiration, clamoring for her attention. “You want to know how I achieved valedictorian, class president, and acceptance to all of the ivies?”

  Flattered, she held her hand to her chest. “It wasn’t so very difficult. All I had to do was study hard, look down my nose at people like they’re beneath me, and remind them to treat me like the queen that I am.”

  Kennedy felt her lips curve into a sly smile. Pretending to be her sister was sort of fun. She captured Reagan’s mistaken sense of privilege brilliantly, at least she thought so anyway.

  She turned back and forth in front of her reflection. The silky fabric of her dress—well, Reagan’s dress—swayed with the movements like a misty, cascading river of blue.

  “Why, yes!” she exclaimed. “I am planning to marry Dean Cooper. He’s the most intelligent, handsome guy on the island, after all. We’ll marry as soon as we both finish college. Then we’ll move into a house on Fernandina Beach. One of the expensive Victorian ones with ocean views and a white picket fence. After that, we’ll have exactly two well-behaved, utterly adorable children.”

  Kennedy paused to laugh, the sound smooth and honeyed. A perfect imitation of her sister. “Yes, it does sound like the perfect life. Only the best for—”

  “KEN-NE-DY!”

  The shrill sound of her mother’s voice bellowing from downstairs startled her. Kennedy whipped around—a big mistake. One of her heels caught on the carpet, her arms flailed in the air for one panicked moment before she tumbled to the floor.

  “Oof,” she moaned, feeling her backside ache. A voice, probably her conscience, whispered, “Serves you right.”

  In some darkened corner, an evil troll named Karma was rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically.

  Her mother’s voice rang out again. And by the sound of it, more irritated this time. Ashley was getting impatient. Nothing new there. Ashley was always impatient, always running short on time.

  “Coming!” Kennedy called. She dragged her sore body from the floor, slipped off Reagan’s heels, then tossed them into the cluttered closet they shared. Half the space was perfectly organized and color-coded with matching hangers. The other half belonged to her—a mountain of mismatched stuff—and it was also the side she’d thrown the shoes into.

  Good luck finding those again in that mess.

  Before Ashley had the chance to do more yelling, Kennedy changed out of her dress and threw on the first jeans and top she could find. She dug around beneath her bed until she found a pair of flip-flops, then rushed out of the room.

  Ashley waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, tapping the watch on her brace as if it were also frustrated. “Told you to be ready by four.” Ironic that the one time she would look at the multifunctional device was today. Unless Ashley needed to call someone, she rarely used the thing.

  “Sorry, Mom. Lost track of time.” Kennedy took the steps two at a time. She didn’t call her Ashley out loud, ever. Only within the privacy of her thoughts, where she wouldn’t be slapped over the head for it.

  Ashley frowned, shaking her head. Her dark brown eyes sharpened as they skimmed over Kennedy, looking like she had more to say, but didn’t want to waste time saying it. Didn’t matter anyway, Kennedy knew what she was thinking. That was a look that said daydreaming again, always daydreaming.

  It was a habit her mom had never been able to relate to. Being a single mom of three,
Ashley was pulled in many directions. Into the clouds, however, wasn’t one of them. Ashley’s head stayed grounded, where she needed it to be.

  “Here, take Linc.” Her ruddy-faced baby brother toddled towards Kennedy.

  She smiled at him; he’d only just started walking. His footing wasn’t the sturdiest, but he managed to make it into her arms without falling over. Kennedy swung him around and landed him on her hip, bouncing him up and down. Lincoln giggled and reached for a lock of Kennedy’s hair. Chubby fingers gripped the auburn-colored strands and pulled at them.

  “Ow,” she complained. Pursing her lips into a pout, she gave him her best imitation of pain.

  Lincoln loved this. He ate it up, giggling again.

  “See this, Mom? Your son is a sadist.”

  Ashley spared them a small smile, too busy collecting her purse and keys to give them her full attention. “We gotta get moving. Your appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

  The appointment. Ugh.

  Kennedy almost wished they would be late. Or simply missed it altogether. Yes, missing it altogether would be even better. Unfortunately her mom seemed bent on punctuality today, a first in this family.

  Once they were all buckled inside the family van, a congenial voice greeted them.

  “Hello, Barney,” Ashley said. “Take us to our four-thirty appointment please.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Mitchell. Now en route to Medi-Care at 100 North Kingston Avenue. Location is designated for vaccinations and laboratory testing. Travel time, approximately ten minutes.”

  Hearing all that made Kennedy groan. “Thanks for reminding me I’m about to be poked and prodded with needles, Barney.”

  “You’re most welcome, Miss Kennedy.”

  Ashley chuckled, apparently finding the van’s cheery response amusing.

  Kennedy muttered, “You’d think Fords would come stocked with sarcasm detectors.”

  “I think the newer models do.” Ashley patted the dashboard as if the van were a real person. “But Barney here is a classic.”

  Kennedy rolled her eyes. “If classic means super old and outdated, then sure. He’s a real treasure.”

  “None of that now.” Ashley pulled the sun visor down, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “The woe is me for not being born rich card has been played out by your sister.”

  Point taken. It was annoying enough, coming from Reagan.

  Using her fingers, Ashley combed through her dark, cropped hair, which stuck out in places it shouldn’t. Most of the time her mom looked like she was in a constant state of disarray, but in a cute way. Ashley was annoyingly pretty naturally, making it impossible for her to look bad, and on the rare occasion when she had time to use the hairdryer and some mascara, she managed to look like a ten.

  Kennedy sometimes wished she looked more like her mom. In a family of striking brunettes, she was the only one born with an odd shade of auburn hair and blue-green eyes. But while the rest of them were tall and slender, Kennedy was the only short one who held enough weight to be considered chubby.

  So not fair.

  At least Ashley preferred to use kinder words than short and chubby. Words like petite and baby fat. Whenever Kennedy complained, she’d receive a quick fluff of her hair, followed by a reassuring, “Your growth spurt will come.”

  Ashley had some adorable parenting moments. Kennedy would give her that much.

  She sometimes wondered though, if perhaps she’d been adopted. She might have believed it too, if her mom didn’t struggle feeding three mouths as it were. Who knew…maybe the doctors accidentally switched her with another baby at birth. Maybe her real family was made up of petite, chubby people with reddish hair and a tendency to daydream.

  Okay, probably not. But there was a small possibility that could be true.

  They arrived at the Medi-Care facility ten minutes later, just as Barney predicted. Kennedy eyed the building, hesitating to open the van door. The place was a whitewashed clinical block of mortar with a few doors and windows cut out of it. Blackbirds circled the parking lot, cawing eerily, like something out of a horror movie. Hitchcock style.

  She didn’t want to go inside.

  Inside they would strap her to a chair and stab her with sharp needles.

  Inside she would be forced to watch as physicians drained her blood through a clear tube like hungry vampires stocking up for winter.

  She whimpered at the thought, incapable of handling such torture.

  “For Pete’s sake, Kenn,” her mom scolded. “It’s just a few frickin’ needles. I could take them in my sleep.”

  “You’re a nurse,” Kennedy argued. “You deal with shots all day long.”

  Plus, her mom was like, super impervious to pain. A few months ago, Ashley split her knee open after tripping over one of Lincoln’s toys. Kennedy had watched—horrified—as she cleaned and stitched the cut by herself. On her own knee, for crying out loud!

  Kennedy shuddered at the memory. Sometimes she swore her mom wasn’t fully human.

  Growing impatient, Ashley reached across Kennedy’s seat and opened the door for her. “Out,” she ordered. “The quicker you get it over with, the less time you’ll spend whining.”

  Kennedy sent her mother a baleful glare before climbing out of the van and swinging the door shut.

  The driver’s side window rolled down. Ashley waved goodbye. “Be back in an hour. Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she muttered, not sure if she meant the words.

  The van speedily drove away. Evil woman. No sense of maternal nurturing whatsoever.

  Kennedy walked towards the entrance of the building, her legs heavier with each step. The warm rays of the sun beat down on her in warning. She wiped the sweat from her brow and kept moving.

  Stop being a baby. All the sophomores have to do this.

  The front doors swung open as she stepped near them. Cold blasts of air chilled her as she walked inside, sending waves of goose bumps spiraling down her arms. Up ahead, she saw the reception screen alongside a waiting room full of other patients.

  She placed her hand over the monitor, allowing it to scan her prints. It beeped, and she was officially checked-in. Turning back was no longer an option.

  Hunter was in the back of the waiting room. Kennedy spotted him slouched in one of the metal chairs, his unruly mass of brown curls resting against the wall. Most likely he was bored out of his mind.

  Hunter saw Kennedy and waved her over. Grateful to see a familiar face, she threaded through the crowd and plopped down into the seat beside him.

  “Thank God,” he groaned.

  “Nice to see you too.”

  “Forgot our appointments were scheduled at the same time.”

  “Yeah, well, we ran a little late. As usual. How long have you been here?”

  Hunter looked down at his brace. “Fourteen minutes. But it feels like an eternity.”

  It seemed they were always waiting around for things together. Matter of fact, now that she thought about it, that’s how they first met.

  First day of high school, nearly two years ago. Kennedy was waiting for the bus. Her mom had offered to drive her, but she’d stubbornly refused. She had still been upset at the time. Well, upset wasn’t giving it enough credit.

  She had been downright angry.

  Angry because she missed her old home, where she didn’t have to share a room with her anal-retentive sister. Angry because she’d been uprooted to a public school on the other side of the island. Angry because her previous school had given Reagan a scholarship in order to keep their precious honors student and her 4.3 GPA.

  To top it all off, Kennedy was furious she’d left her breakfast on the counter out of spite. Stupid tantrums. By then her stomach was growling angrily, too.

  So there she was on the first day of school, waiting on the corner of the street for the bus to come, still fuming about all the changes she’d experienced over the summer. If things never changed, she would have been waiting out
side with her best friends, gossiping about boys and their new class schedules. She wouldn’t be alone. Dwelling. And hungry.

  Then Hunter breezed out of the house next door to hers. Kennedy hadn’t realized there was a boy her age living there. She watched as he strolled up beside her, wiping the sleep from his big brown eyes. Messy curls hung around his head like he’d gotten out of bed that way. There was something kind of appealing about him though.

  She was intrigued.

  Hunter paused, standing next to her, holding a folded up napkin in his hand. He never introduced himself, never welcomed Kennedy to the neighborhood, or anything polite like that. Instead, he did the most perfect thing imaginable.

  Pulling the napkin apart, he pulled out two warm squares covered in sprinkles. One of them he offered to Kennedy. “Pop-Tart?”

  They’d been best friends ever since.

  “They’re so obvious,” Hunter said under his breath.

  His voice drew Kennedy away from the old memories, pulling her back to the present. “What are you talking about?”

  He pointed to the wall where a news broadcast was on display. Kennedy couldn’t make out what the anchors were saying, but the headline read: DOE’S SEARCH FOR TWELFTH CONTINUES.

  “That’s what these tests are for,” Hunter explained. “They’re trying to play it off as school immunizations, but everyone knows that’s bull.”

  Kennedy arched a brow. Immunizations were nothing more than exactly that, immunizations. “Is this another one of your conspiracy theories?”

  It was no secret how Hunter felt about DOE. For years he’d theorized that particular branch of the military was doing everything from planning the first war of the worlds, to trying to integrate humans with other life forms. Sometimes Hunter’s theories sounded plausible.

  But most of the time he sounded batshit crazy.

  “Think about it, Kenn,” he started.

  Here we go.

  “Most kids get their immunizations in seventh grade, and not again until college. We’re in the middle of our sophomore year.”

  Kennedy shrugged. “Apparently they came out with new ones.”