Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He glanced up to find Wiley grinning at him. It was going to be harder than he’d thought to be productive and not give in to the temptation to read everything.
“I know just how you feel,” Wiley chuckled. “It’s got to be even more exciting for you after having spent your life studying Weaver history. I’ve been at this only a few months, so I can’t imagine what that was like. Did you live in, like, a secret cave? Like a bat cave?”
One corner of Harrison’s mouth tilted up in a smirk. “No, a regular house, though a bat cave would have been cool.”
“How many people are in The Guardians?”
“Oh, hundreds. We’re spread out all over the United States. There’s a branch pretty much anywhere there’s been rumors of unnatural phenomenon.”
Wiley did a little wiggle in his chair as he sat up straighter. Apparently he hadn’t been expecting Harrison to be so willing to talk about the Guardians. “What made you the Keeper?”
“My father was before me and his father before him. It’s something my family has always done. The goddesses brought me this pendant when I was seven years old, and I’ve worn it ever since.”
It was how he’d known his father had died. The heavy moment was still crystal clear in his head. The autumn day had been crisp and steadily warming with a bright blue sky and so much promise. Shouldn’t the day he discovered his dad was dead have been dark and stormy? Edgar Davenport had been a big man, always with a hug ready for Harrison when he came up to him. An easy smile, a quick laugh, and an unwavering dedication to his duty as the Keeper of the Heart of the Earth.
His mother hadn’t liked the life of a Guardian and had left them when he was too small to remember her. He’d never really understood her hatred until now, standing in the Weaver House. She’d known her husband was going to die too young, leaving behind a wife and son to pick up the pieces of their life created by his absence.
Would Harrison be the last Keeper?
He was without children and had never fostered a relationship enough to have any. His life had always been focused on the destiny that lay in front of him.
Besides, if they were successful and the rift was permanently closed, there would be no need for a Keeper or even the Weavers any longer.
Harrison set down the journal. “So, how about you show me where you stopped digitizing, and I’ll help get the rest done? As much as we can, at least. Anything that isn’t scanned in can be brought along.”
Wiley booted up his laptop and showed Harrison the program he was using to handle the files and compile the database. Silence quickly settled over the room, but it was a comfortable, companionable silence as they were soon caught up in the work.
Harrison was in his element with this job. He’d digitized a lot of the Weaver history over the years so the next Keeper and the Guardians would be able to access information electronically. He thought of all the work he’d done, thought of his little house where he’d been so comfortable. Who would take it over if he didn’t return?
And if he did, what would he do with his life? He was fit only to be a librarian or a historian. He’d never planned for the future, knowing he could be called away at any time.
He and Wiley were bent over a stack of books, lost in their own little world, when a gust of wind blasted into the room. Papers flew everywhere in a wild whirlwind. Both men jumped to their feet, grabbing papers and slamming books shut as quickly as they could.
Hale wildly flew through an open door and smashed into the wall with an ugly thud before hitting the floor with another thump.
“Shit!” Wiley yelled as he tried to keep the papers from floating out the open door.
Harrison continued to snatch up stray papers and pick up books from where they’d fallen from their towers. He might have directed an evil eye at the Air Weaver for causing so much chaos and destruction. “What the hell are you doing? Are you okay?”
Hale’s crooked grin was sheepish as he groaned and rolled onto his back. “I’m fine.”
He reluctantly stepped away from the books but moved so that his body was between Hale and the books. This man was not to be trusted around the journals. “What happened?”
“Don’t have control over my magic. At all. But holy hell, it’s fun to fly.” He laughed and stood, brushing off the legs of his jeans. He had a couple of leaves stuck in his messy, shoulder-length hair. “Did I screw you guys up?”
“We can put everything to rights,” Wiley reassured him, but tacked on in a grumble, “just don’t fly through our door anymore.”