My apprehension rises as we cross the bridge back into Main Street, Flushing.

As I watch the water rush under us, I get a distinct sense of deja vu. I know it's ridiculous to be surprised, especially after all the visions I've had. Yet, for some reason, this sense of a normal human occurrence actually reaffirms the fact that I have been here before. It's not just a fluke.

The clouds hang low, but surprisingly there's no rain. It might start back up at any second, but the natives are taking what time they have, enjoying a stroll through the street. Briefly, I let my mind wander to the what ifs. What if I wasn't this volshebnitsa? What if I never found out about this side of my life? Jemma and I would be planning our California road trip right about now, to celebrate surviving our freshman year of college. That word survival is even more true now than it was before.

For a moment, I miss the part of my life that's been ripped away from me by my heritage. Yet, at the same time, what if I've never met Brendan? That's the real question, because as I glance at him now, I can't imagine my life without him in it. I don't know if it's the old me, the one that knew him from before, or if it's the me who's reemerging now, but I need him to be there. He's the one constant in my life that seems to be a pillar of stability in all the madness.

"Hold on!" I shout suddenly, without even realizing I was going to. "Turn here." Brendan jerks the steering wheel to the left, his arm shooting out in front of me to keep me from slamming into the dashboard.

"What was that?" he asks, righting the car back unto the road.

"I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. I just … I got this sense of direction?" Yeah, that's a nice explanation. Way to go me! But Brendan doesn't seem to mind, he nods his head like I've said something that doesn't sound out of whack.

"Well, good. Just next time, a little heads up maybe?"

My laugh sounds a bit choked, but he doesn't comment. I try not to let my feelings show at the sweet gesture of saving me from face planting into the front of the car. I stare at him, studying his handsome features, because I simply cannot look away.

"Maybe you should concentrate."

"I am."

"I meant on the directions."

I open my mouth, ready with a snarky response when another wave of direction washes over me.

"Turn right up here."

Focusing my full attention on my surroundings I look for a landmark to fuel the memories. I roll the window down and the smell of the place is just as vivid as a memory. These are the woods from my past, this is where I came through.

I advise Brendan a few more times and now we're in the middle of nowhere. It's easy to get lost in these parts if you don't know where you're going, but I'm not worried. The road turns into a path, the trees stand around us like walls on every side. Yet, we keep driving. Brendan doesn't say anything else, doesn't question me when I guide him to make one last left turn. We follow the overgrown path to a clearing and then the house comes into view.

It looks exactly how I saw it in my vision, exactly how I remember it.

It's painted red, a bold contrast against the green of the surrounding forest. There is a porch in the front that I know matches the identical one at the back. There are flowers everywhere, even in this terrible weather we've been having. The porch is filled with ceramic pots, painted in an arrangement of colors, anything from puke yellow to bright purple. And then some. There is a swing on one side of the porch, and a table and chairs at the other.

Brendan parks, and we step out of the car slowly, both of us studying our surroundings for any sign of danger. I let my heightened senses scan the forest around the house, but I don't feel any disturbances. I glance at Brendan, and he looks calm, if not puzzled. Suddenly, the front door bangs open and an older woman steps out of the shadows.

"Calista!" she exclaims, before she's off the porch and wrapping me in her arms. "I knew you'd be back."

I stand frozen in the arms of the woman from my visions, not sure what to do.

She evokes an array of emotions, but the biggest two are confusion and safety. I look over the woman's shoulder at Brendan and find him just as confused as I am. He's not sure if he should rip me out of the woman's arms or let me be. In the end, he allows me to take the reins on this one and I'm grateful.

"Let me look at you,” the woman says, leaning back to study my face. "You're more beautiful than I remember. And I see you've brought Brendan." She turns to him and I see his apprehension going up a few notches, but her next words change that. "You are as handsome as she described."

“Oh, really?" And the amusement is back. I swear, I think my magical superpower is embarrassment. I'm so good at it. He winks at me, but before I can say anything, the old woman reaches out and slaps him in the shoulder.

"Now, don't go getting a big head, mister. The girl was only stating what's obvious. You majyk boys are no different. Now come on."

She doesn't give us a chance to reply as she turns on her heels and heads back to the house. I glance over at Brendan, who continues to study the woman while rubbing his shoulder. I suppress a smile, but I kind of want to high five the strange lady for putting Brendan in his place. For some reason, that's all the encouragement I need to follow her into the house.

The interior is exactly how I remember it and the place smells something like home. As soon as we're through the doors, a husky runs up to me, his tail wagging. He jumps up, placing his paws on my stomach, and the happiness radiating off him almost blinds me. Petting him is a comfort I didn't know I was missing. My mind instantly flashes back to the memory of the cat, but I push it aside.

"He missed you,” the woman comments from the doorway to the kitchen. "I've made tea and those cucumber and bread sandwiches you like. Here, sit, sit."

Brendan and I are speechless. She places the food in front of us, her face lit up with a smile the whole time. I know I should say something, but I'm afraid to shatter the illusion of me coming here just to see her, of me remembering her. She pats my cheek and disappears out of the room.

"You have to tell her."

"You tell her." Not exactly an adult response, but I feel bad breaking the illusion.

"Well, the longer you wait, the more complicated it will be."

Him and his stupid logic. I don't want logic. I want to pretend that I actually do remember everything and not just flying blind here. The moment I tell her the truth, I know the happiness will turn to confusion and some part of me wants to protect this sweet lady from that. On the other hand, I need answers. She comes back into the room, carrying some fresh berries.

"I know how you love raspberries. I just got the best batch—“ I place my hand on her arm, halting her progress through the room. She's puzzled but stops, watching me with a smile.

"Please sit," I indicate the chair beside mine. Giving Brendan a bemused look, she sits, placing the berries on the table in front of us. I take a deep breath, nervous about what I have to do.

"I'm sorry," I begin and the woman in front of me is instantly on alert. "I don't know how else to say this, but I … I lost my memories after I left here. I don't know your name or anything about you. I just know I know you. That I've been here before. I'm sorry,” I repeat again, thankful I could manage to get all of that out. I watch as confusion, apprehension, and surprise flickers over her features before she looks calm again and sighs.

"You were afraid something like this would happen."

Sitting up a little straighter at her words, I wait for an explanation. It's Brendan who asks the important question.

"Calista knew she was losing her memory?"

The old woman gives him a smile and a pat on the hand before turning back to me.

"I guess I should introduce myself then. My name is Elizabeth Glade. I'm a Keeper."

"That's impossible." Brendan's voice rises to break off whatever else Elizabeth was going to say. I look at him sharply but I can't decipher the emotion on his face. But he's not looking at me anyway. He's watching Elizabeth like his life depends on it.

"What's a Keeper?" I ask when they just continue to stare at each other.

"A Keeper is a watchman over the gates. The one who lives in a safe house for travelers, if need be. Sort of like a Motel Six during the journey, before they get settled onto bigger and better things,” Brendan answers, but all of his attention is still on Elizabeth.

"Oookay."

They continue their stare down, getting to the point of uncomfortable fast. However, Elizabeth doesn't flinch. She seems to have grown an inch or two since announcing her title. The half answer doesn't do much for me. Frustrated, I slam my hands on the table, making them both jump.

"Now," I say, smiling sweetly, "why can't Elizabeth be a Keeper?"

Brendan tears his gaze away from the old woman, taking a visible breath to calm his nerves. I'm on alert, because I trust his instincts. Yet, I'm desperate for the truth. It's not wise walking in the darkness when you have no idea what is in front of you.

"Because there are only five keepers in this realm and she is not one of them."

I can hear the challenge in his words, but Elizabeth doesn't seem bothered by it. She watches him steadily, looking less like a grandmother and more like a high school teacher. She’s a tough no nonsense woman, through and through. She could probably teach me a thing or two about control over my emotions.

"Well, I guess they don't tell you everything,” she finally replies.

He growls at her words, and I have to react fast, grabbing him by the arm before he attacks her. There's something raw in his look. Raw and a bit desperate. When my hand makes contact with his skin, he exhales loudly, settling back into his chair. Glancing at me, I glimpse what's behind the anger.

Panic.

He's panicking, and I have no idea why.

Keeping my hand on his arm, I turn to Elizabeth. She watches us with some sort of a quiet understanding. After another moment of silence, she stands.

"I think it'd be better if you explain."

"What?" Brendan and I exclaim at the same time. She turns and walks out of the room without another word. We exchange a look, neither one of us knowing what to do. But before either one of us can say anything, she sticks her head back into the room.

"Come on, you two."