The Keeper's Six


 Contents
 
 Title Page
 Copyright Notice
 Dedication
 Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
 Chapter 3
 Chapter 4
 Chapter 5
 Chapter 6
 Chapter 7
 Chapter 8
 Chapter 9
 Chapter 10
 Chapter 11
 Chapter 12
 Chapter 13
 Chapter 14
 Chapter 15
 Chapter 16
 Chapter 17
 Chapter 18
 Acknowledgments
 Also by Kate Elliott
 About the Author
 Newsletter Sign-up
 Copyright
 
 
 
 Guide
 
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Chapter 1
 Acknowledgments
 Contents
 Copyright
 
 
 
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 Begin Reading
 Table of Contents
 About the Author
 Copyright Page
 
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 To the families, large and small, found and blood, who have each other’s backs
 
 
 
 1
 
 The call came at night.
 Esther fumbled for the phone lying on the side table. Still barely conscious, she stuck it to her ear.
 “Hello!” What time was it?
 Static hissed and whistled.
 Then:
 “Mom, I need your help.”
 Her son’s voice, tight with fear.
 She sat up, heart racing, everything sharp: the book she’d fallen asleep reading pressed under her arm, the open jalousie windows, trade winds stirring the air inside the room.
 “Daniel. Where are you? What do you need?”
 “… ruin…”
 The connection cut off. Yet she could have sworn she heard an echo of high, sly laughter fading the way a train’s whistle recedes.
 Ruin.
 Intimations of doom crowded into her head until she couldn’t feel the phone in her hand.
 A dog’s distant bark shocked her out of her frozen state. The gold ring she wore on her thumb pressed so hard against her jaw it probably would raise a bruise. She lowered the phone to check the time: 2:22 A.M.
 She checked to see the incoming number. There was no record of a call. She checked her text messages, her incoming calls again. Nothing. The last call registered was at 5:14 P.M. the previous day from an electrician about replacing the useless fluorescent fixture in the carport.
 Nausea stirred in her stomach, an old fear reaction she’d worked diligently to train herself out of but Pavlov died hard. Reflexively she closed her hand around the Star of David she wore, using the action as a shield to calm herself. After releasing the necklace, she tapped in the “contact me” code to her daughter’s emergency number. After kicking off the sheet she lit her way with the phone’s screen to the closet, not wanting to turn on the house lights or even risk the brighter glow of the built-in flashlight. It was incredibly unlikely a Concilium picket was stationed outside watching for any sign she intended to violate her suspension, but it was always wisest to assume one was. The closet’s tidy organization had come courtesy of Daniel’s spouse, Kai, and included a drawer with dividers for her Hex gear so she could dress in the dark. A year had passed since she’d last opened the drawer, but the routine slid easily through her movements.
 She dropped her nightclothes on the floor, pulled on underwear and wrestled into a sports bra with a flat pocket sewn into the side of each cup with the reassuring presence of a Keep key tucked inside. Wool socks. Utility pants with cargo pockets. A wool long-sleeve shirt and over it her faded travel vest with more pockets. It was all about pockets, and the pockets contained gloves, a collapsible hat, a multi-tool, a slim book, a small waterproof field notebook, a manual-wind watch, the Hex’s badge, and four shiny gold rings.
 Pono pushed up against her, moist nose bumping the back of her hand.
 “Stay here, boy. Guard the house.”
 He whined softly. His neck tentacles unwound to hiss at the air as he followed her down the stairs. A full flask of water and a hip flask of whiskey always sat by the front