The Apothecary (The Lost Keepers Book 3) Page 4

Sean ran a hand through his hair, and his green eyes glistened as he spoke of her. “Things have just been really weird since her dad got sick. It’s like they got this giant inheritance from his aunt and then he fell into his deathbed, almost like it was the wealth that made him sick. Every day I wonder if it’ll be his last, and it’s really hard on Abby.”

  “Well at least she’ll be rich if he dies.” Jealousy wasn’t a good look for Gayla. Dom cringed, but Sean didn’t seem to notice. His head was in the clouds.

  “I normally am not a fan of the hunters, but in this case, I’m cheering them on. No one should be practicing magic. That kind of power belongs to Keepers and Keepers alone.”

  I gulped.

  “Someone out there has enchanted the cash. That’s what I think anyway. It’s probably how his aunt Linda died, too. But I refuse to let it get to Abby.” He banged his fist on the table, causing the rest of us to jump in our seats.

  Sean was livid, understandably. And I was sick with guilt. Dark magic was taking the lives of people he really cared about. Was that something I should meddle with?

  Dom glanced at me again, curiosity evident in her dark eyes. I stood, abruptly. “Well, it’s getting late. I should probably get to bed.”

  “It’s only 10:30,” Gayla said.

  “Yeah, I should have taken my vitamins half an hour ago. Sean, do you mind walking me home?”

  “Sure,” he muttered.

  I retreated back to my room and grabbed the book before giving a hasty goodbye and bolting out the door as quickly as I could. My mind was racing with thoughts of magic and murder. I knew the risks, and yet, it was so tempting. If I could find the right elixir, maybe something to force the truth out of someone, I could get Rossel to talk and find my mom.

  That kind of magic wasn’t really dark, was it?

  CHAPTER 7

  Abby returned to work the next day, slightly ragged and obviously exhausted. This situation with her dad really seemed to be taking a toll on her. She pulled her unwashed hair back into a messy bun on top of her head and slumped forward onto the countertop.

  Sean hovered around her like a helicopter mom, fussing over every sigh and stumble she made. He was concerned the dark magic was getting to her, too. It wasn’t though.

  Abby was down, but she wasn’t sick. She was dealing with grief. I knew the look well. It was the same look my mother used to get—a distant emptiness in her eyes, a hollow expression, an empty well of tears—whenever I asked about my father. Abby was slowly coming to grips with the fact that her father was probably going to die.

  I didn’t blame her for losing hope. I know that sounds harsh, but in a way, it seemed that if she could process some of her grief while he was still here, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad when he finally did pass. My mother lost a piece of herself when my dad left, and that hole of despair haunted her throughout my entire childhood. Maybe if she’d seen it coming, like Abby could see the loss coming with her dad, it wouldn’t have lingered. But no, my dad was a deadbeat who blindsided her by leaving when she needed him most.

  “Sean, come here.” I tossed him a rag and a bottle of furniture polish. Abby tended the counter while Millie rearranged supplies and over stock in the back room. I had been dusting shelves and straightening bottles, trying to learn where everything was in case I needed to fill in for Abby soon. But she needed a break from Sean. I would, if I were her, anyway.

  With a pained expression, he finally pulled his eyes away from the poor girl and joined me near the front of the store.

  “You’ve gotta let her breathe.”

  “I know.” He shook his head. “I just don’t want to miss anything, you know? If this fractured loser decides to go after Abby too, I want to spot the signs right away. Maybe if we catch it early, we can help her.”

  “She’s going to be fine. She’s just dealing with some stuff right now.”

  The door chimed, and a familiar face entered the shop. It was the same customer from the day before.

  “Back so soon?” I asked.

  Sean nudged me in the ribs and took over. “Welcome back to the apothecary, sir. Is there anything we can help you find?”

  He smiled, the same wide grin I’d noticed the day before. This guy sure was cheerful. “I just need to grab a few more items. I think I know where they are.”

  “Great,” Sean smiled back. “Let me know if you need any assistance.”

  His smile faded quickly as he turned back to me. I pointed to a dusty spot he missed and moved to the next section of shelves. Abby still leaned vacantly against the counter while the customer browsed some shelves on the other side of the store. He cast a glance over his shoulder, and upon meeting my eyes, flashed that broad smile again.

  “Why are you so taken with Abby, anyway? You know you can’t be with a mortal.”

  “Shh,” Sean quieted me with a glare. “I know,” he whispered. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t care for her wellbeing.”

  “I think you care for more than just her wellbeing.” I raised my brows. “What about Gayla? Do you, uh, care for her wellbeing, too?”

  Sean snorted. “I did, once. When we were younger. But time changes people.” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. I can’t be with an Olympian any more than I can be with a mortal.”

  “What?” This was news to me. “Why not?”

  “Our souls, Everly. It’s like we explained that night at your aunt’s house. We have soul mates, always within our own race. It’s the only way our kind can survive. New souls are not simply created out of thin air. If we don’t mate and have pure children, there aren’t vessels for the old Atlantean souls to enter and return to the earth.”

  “But one Keeper is as good as another, right? It’s not like the souls would be fractured.”

  Sean let out an exasperated sigh. “It can’t happen. It’s just a fact of life. There’s a curse. If any two Keepers from different races seal a bond, if you catch my drift, they die.”

  “So you’re telling me if you so much as hook up with Gayla, you’ll both die? Like get struck down by lightning or what?”

  He shrugged. “Possibly. The curse doesn’t specify how you’ll die, only that you will. Sometimes you just quit breathing, sometimes nature intervenes and does the job for you, or sometimes you’re driven to insanity and take your own life. Like Romeo and Juliet.”

  “I hate it when people romanticize death.”

  “She was Atlantean, he was Agarthian.”

  I laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “They knew better. Their families tried to warn them, but they didn’t listen. So the fates did what had to be done.”

  “And Shakespeare just happened to be around, taking notes of everything?”

  “I think he saw it in a vision, like all his other plays. He was Olympian, you know. Brilliant mind, that one.”

  Huh. If what Sean said was true, then the Keeper way of life was sounding less and less appealing. And I felt bad for poor Gayla. She was obviously smitten with Sean, but she could never have him. Just like how she had no say in her job, or where she went to school. She might be loaded to the gills with cash, but as they say, money can’t buy happiness. In her case, it seemed like a fact.

  Mr. Smiley cleared his throat at the counter, trying to get Abby’s attention. She’d been staring off into nothing, but turned abruptly at the sound. He didn’t seem upset at all, though. He simply grinned.

  “Did you find everything you were looking for?” she asked.

  “Just about. Is the shop owner here, today?”

  Abby nodded. “I think she’s still here, somewhere in the back. Want me to get her for you?”

  The man shook his head. “Oh no, not if she’s busy.” He smiled again. It was getting old. No one was that happy. Something seemed off about this guy. I set down my rag and moved to join them at the counter.

  “Oh!” the man put a finger in the air like he’d just had a brilliant idea. “I almost forgot. I do need a little Mon
kshood.”

  Monkshood. Why was that ringing alarm bells? My mind flashed back to the page I’d read in Millie’s book. I remembered the big red letters that said TOXIC. Monkshood, also known as Aconite, was a well-known poison.

  “Sure,” Abby said, reaching for a key to the locked cabinet behind the counter. The man cut his eyes over to the curtain and back to Abby. He looked impatient.

  “What are you using the Monkshood for?” I asked.

  I tried to keep my tone light, but he clearly heard the accusation I implied. His smile faltered as he turned and raised his chin. “Lotion. My girlfriend has fibromyalgia, and the only thing we’ve been able to find to help with her nerve pain is this lotion we make from the powder.”

  Hmm. In small, controlled doses, I knew it could help with neuralgia. That’s what I got from overloading on information. My mom used to joke that I would binge on one topic until I thought I was an expert. But with medicine, most everything was okay in moderation. His story checked out, and I needed to stop jumping to worst case scenarios…

  Even if he did seem a little suspicious with his too-happy grins and anxious glances at the curtain.

  Abby measured out the amount he requested and totaled up his purchase for the day. He tossed in another black licorice stick for good measure, and placed his messenger bag on the counter to retrieve his wallet. When he unclasped the bag, I noticed a bright blue and yellow folder sitting inside.

  An amateurish logo flashed through my memories. D&N Investments, The Opportunity of a Lifetime.

  “What did you say your name was?” I asked.

  “David.” He grinned and accepted the receipt from Abby. “Thanks again.” With one more furtive glance toward the back room, he casually waved over his shoulder as he hurried out of the shop.

  “Do you know that guy?” I set my gaze on Abby as the door swung shut behind him.

  “Just from the shop. Why?”

  “I think he may be friends with your housekeeper.”

  “I doubt it,” she said. “Nikki just moved here last month and she’s terrified of street crime. I don’t think she gets out much.”

  Sean raised his brows at me, but I shook him off. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions again. I didn’t know if it was the same folder in Mr. Smiley’s bag or not. But I would definitely do some investment research later, just to ease my suspicions.

  CHAPTER 8

  Gayla and Dom were waiting for me near the Columbia gates on 116th after lunch. I approached them, warily eyeing the Greek-looking statue that stood to the right of the entrance.

  “Hey girl,” Gayla grinned as I approached, then followed my gaze to the statue.

  The towering stone woman wore long robes and held a book open in front of her, showing the world pages that I couldn’t quite make out. I shielded the sun from my eyes and squinted to get a better look.

  “It’s Latin,” Dom said.

  “What does it mean?”

  Gayla shrugged. “Probably nothing. But who cares? I’d rather check out the hottie across the street.”

  I followed her to the statue on the opposite side of the gates. A similarly dressed man stood in robes that hung open to expose an attractively chiseled chest. “He does have rock hard abs,” I said.

  Gayla giggled. “Come on. There are way more interesting things to see inside.”

  I followed the girls through the gates and immediately felt like I was leaving New York city and stepping onto the set of a movie. It was the quintessential college experience, and as devoted to NYU as I was, I couldn’t help the flutter of excitement I felt as we made our way down the tree covered path into campus.

  I’d been reluctant to accept the girls’ offer for a tour of Columbia, but since we were here, I figured I’d make the best of it. So I truly listened as Dom gabbed on about the history of the campus and its ties to the Keepers. And Gayla was sure to point out all the best study spots, coffee shops, and where to find the hottest guys.

  "Over there is where the lacrosse team hangs out," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  "In other words, that's probably where you'll find Gayla most afternoons," Dom said with a laugh.

  "I can't help it if the sun's rays are brighter on the Low steps. I've gotta get my vitamin D somehow," she winked.

  "Speaking of the Low Library," Dom gestured ahead, "do you know the story behind Alma Mater?"

  "She's the mother of knowledge, right?" We all turned to admire the giant statue standing guard at the front of a very Grecian looking library.

  “Sort of. So Columbia was actually called King’s College when it was founded by the Olympians shortly after coming to America.”

  “It was an Olympian college?”

  “Yes and no. They never intended for it to be exclusive, but King Baerius thought it would be useful to educate the Keepers on our history. Mortals were admitted as well, though for different subjects, and eventually the name was changed to Columbia to be less auspicious. But he commissioned the statue of Alma Mater to sit here on the steps as a reminder to us all that the university is rooted in Keeper history.”

  I stepped closer to the intricate statue, admiring the details and taking in the woman’s beautiful face.

  “See the crown of laurels on her head? It represents fame, or notoriety. Influence. It’s a nod to the Agarthians. The lamps on the arms of her chair represent wisdom and teaching, a nod to the Olympians. And the scepter is made of four heads of wheat—one for each Keeper race and one for the mortals, but it’s topped by a crown. The crown is the symbol of all Keepers—a reminder that we are to work together to rule over the mortals and keep balance on the earth.”

  “What about the Atlanteans?” I asked. “Do they get a nod as well?”

  Gayla laughed. “Alma Mater herself is Atlantean! The Keeper of the people. Do you see how she welcomes the human students in with open arms? Atlanteans have always been closest to the mortals. They lived and worked alongside them until Atlantis was sunk. But even now you’ll find them walking the face of the earth more than the other Keepers.”

  “Hang on.” I put my hands on my hips and turned to face the girls. “Where are the other Keepers, if not ‘walking the face of the earth?’”

  “Olympus is known as the city in the sky, and Agartha is at the core of the earth.”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. Gayla giggled, too, but I had a feeling she was laughing at me, not with me.

  Dom frowned. “You don’t believe me.”

  “I mean, I believe in science. And unless Tate lives in the molten rock core of the earth and ‘city in the sky’ is a poetic way of saying the Olympians live on mountains or something…” I shrugged. “It’s not possible.”

  “You’d be surprised at what’s really possible.”

  I looked at the statue again. This world, this history they spoke of was almost too much to take in at times. The bronze woman’s expression seemed to echo my thoughts. She was graceful and strong, the epitome of truth and knowledge, and yet, it almost looked as though the weight of it all—the secrets behind her wise eyes— were burdensome.

  Gayla turned back toward the lawn. “Let’s go get some coffee. I heard they’ve got a back to school special at The Honey Pot— iced caramel lattes with an ambrosia flavored drizzle.” She rubbed her hands together.

  “Wait.” Something else caught my eye, tucked away into the folds of the statue’s robes. “Is… is that an owl?”

  Dom smiled brightly. “It sure is. The mascot of Athena and messenger of the Keepers. Well done, young grasshopper. According to the mortals, the first freshman to find the owl will become the valedictorian of her class. Too bad you’re going to NYU.”

  I put up my hand. “Rewind that back. Owls are messengers of the Keepers? Does that mean you all see them more often than mortals? Do you communicate with them?”

  My mind flashed back to my many run-ins with little owl friends since I first arrived in New York. Each time, whoever I was with became very inte
rested in whether or not I was communicating with the creatures. I’d shrugged it off before, but now… if it might be a sign that I actually was one of them…

  “No.” Dom shot my wishful thinking to bits. “Before modern technology, the owls were used to help the races communicate with each other. They would deliver messages to and from Olympus, since the other races weren’t able to get up there. Atlantean messengers, those with extreme speed or the ability to teleport between locations would complete the delivery back on earth.”

  “Ah, so they were little mailmen. But no one could actually communicate with them?”

  “Only Athena. It’s said she could speak with the owls, that they were her eyes and ears where she could not go.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why do you ask?” Gayla turned her attention back to us.

  Dom stilled as well, appraising me. I tried to shake the thoughts free from my mind and shrugged. “Just wondering.” I wasn’t about to divulge my recent interactions with the creatures. It’s not like they were communicating with me. It was probably all a coincidence. Just wishful thinking—hoping it might have more significant meaning.

  “So about those lattes?” Gayla raised her brows.

  “Let’s get some.” I fell into step behind her, thankful for the change in subject and Gayla’s lighthearted willingness to move on and drop it. I wasn’t sure if Dom dropped her curiosity quite as quickly, though. I swear I felt her eyes on me as we made our way through the lush green trees and down the path that would take us back out into Morningside Heights. How much had she heard in my thoughts? Would she be willing to drop it, too?

  My question was answered a moment later as Dom persisted, continuing to talk up the wonders of Columbia. Her sales pitch grew stronger by the minute, and she watched my reactions closely. She was determined to get me there with them.

  “You know,” she said at last. “You seem to have lots of questions about Keeper history. There’s truly no other school you can attend that will offer as much information about your background as Columbia. I know you’re set on NYU, but our Ancient Histories program would probably help you understand a lot more about who we are and what our purpose is.”