Keeper of the Lost Cities: Unlocked: A Fan-fiction

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Keefe

"Miss Foster, all preparations are satisfied," Granite whispered, his body in its hard, rocky form. Keefe knew why he had to stay that way – the hundreds of people in the downstairs rooms of his house were reason enough for Granite to stay as, well, Granite. But it was still weird, even after several years, to see his body so rocky.

"How'd you fit so many people into one house, anyways?" Foster asked.

"We have our ways. Are you ready to come down now?"

"I guess." But her eyes were worried, and her hands were shaking.

"It'll be fine," Keefe said as they started moving toward the stairs. They were only one floor above, so they didn't have to take the Vortinator.

"I hope so. It's just..."

"What?"

"If this gets messed up, it's going to be my fault."

Keefe stopped walking, took her gloved hand, and looked into her worried eyes. "That is not true. Sophie, you've spent so long telling me it's not my fault that my mom is doing all these horrible things. If you want me to believe that, you have to remember it's not your fault if things go wrong. It's not your fault. Got it?"

Slowly, Foster nodded, and that was when Keefe realized how close their faces were. For a frozen, heart-stopping, breath-taking moment, Keefe thought she might kiss him. Then he remembered. Fitz. Of course she wasn't going to kiss him. She had better things to do with her time. Not to mention a boyfriend. Mostly.

Keefe pulled away and let go of her hand, his face pinking as much or possibly more than Foster's. Which was saying something.

"We should catch up," he said. Tiergan was already far in front of them.

"Yeah," Foster said. Was he imagining it, or was there the tiniest note of regret in her voice? No. Definitely imagining it.

(A/N: Ugghgghghhghghgggghghhh! I swear, Keefe, if you don't ship shape up and confess already, I will make you Foster it! And don't forget, I can actually do that. Author power, remember?)

"That's a lot of people," Foster hissed as the doors to the Sencen living room opened, showing at least three-hundred people mingling and wandering around. "I'm not going to have to talk to all those people, am I?" she asked, sounding horrified.

"No," Granite said, leading them through the room (pushing people out of the way when need be). "You'll have to address this many people." They had rounded a corner and gone up a flight of stairs, and were now in front of a balcony. Looking down, there were about two-hundred more people. Foster gulped.

"You're kidding, right? I thought you said preparations were already made!"

"No, Sophie, I'm not kidding. You were the one to come up with the plan, so you get to tell everyone what it is. This is the only thing left to do. I meant, by preparations other things. Relax! It'll be fine."

Foster nodded again, but Keefe could tell she was still doubting herself. He had done all he could, though. At this point, if he told her she would be alright yet again, she wouldn't believe it any more than she had the other times.

They reached a landing above the room. No one was paying attention to them, roaming the room like a school of fish. Lost fish.

"Everybody, listen up!" a voice called loudly behind Keefe, Foster, and Granite. "Sophie wants to talk to you!" It was Fitz.

Foster reached a level of pink previously unknown to man when every eye turned and lasered her.

"Bad idea, Captain Perfect-Pants," Ro muttered from behind Fitz. Keefe glared at her. She shrugged.