Chapter 1: Front Doors

Flash.

The sound of a car's tires screaming over cold pavement.

Bang.

The sound of an interstate railing curling underneath itself as said vehicle barreled over the side.

Thump.

The sound of the frame crunching and cracking as it flattened against the jagged rocks at the bottom of a sea cliff.

I heard it all.

I saw the aftermath.

She had gotten a call just hours earlier. Her old friend, Rendell Locke, had been killed by one of his own students. Shot in the stomach. Bleeding out. His family traumatized.

And that's when she gave it to me. A key. A strange key with a handle shaped like human head. Keep it safe, she said. You are its sole protector now. Never give it up to anyone. Ever. And that was the last time we had a full conversation. She pressed it into my palm, said her piece, and strode out to the garage.

It was me that called 911.

I dared to look – to set my eyes upon the thing that would haunt me for the rest of my life. What I saw is now a phantom – constantly hovering over me, no matter where I go, what I do, who I talk to. I feel its chill in the back of my mind constantly. I see it when I sleep. It doesn't leave. It won't ever leave. I know that now.

I sprinted as I spat out my location to the operator, completely out of breath.

I thought it wasn't possible. I dared to doubt. But cold hard facts say differently. They tell a truth I dared not want to believe. But I can't argue with charts. Or statistics. Or truth.

Passing vehicles had already slowed – rubbernecking. Others had curiously pulled to the side of the road. I really couldn't blame them. Humans, by nature, are inquisitive beings. We ask questions because we don't always comprehend. We stop and watch something we've never witnessed before. It's true – not every day do you see a car soaring over the edge of a long, petrifying precipice.

Red and blue lights bounced off every reflective surface in the area. They blinded me at first. My eyes eventually got used to them. I had to sit there for hours while emergency services did their best to retrieve who they hoped was a survivor.

But to their dismay, and mine, there were no vitals. No pulse. No life left in her lungs.

My mother was dead.

Three months later…

"Duncan, I'm fine. I promise."

I paced around my small living space, going back and forth from a 1000-piece puzzle I had been working on for the past couple hours.

"I can literally just walk over to you and give you the cash," he told me from the other end of the line.

I rolled my eyes and glanced out my faded windowpane towards the main house. I spotted a figure at the main window from the Winter Study.

"I can see you watching me," I deadpanned.

The figure rapidly pulled back the curtains on the window.

"No, you can't," replied Duncan.

I chuckled. "Really, I'm fine. You're paying me enough. I have no issues with my finances."

He sighed dramatically.

"You and Brian have been so generous," I reiterated. "You gave me a place to live and a job – working for you. I guarantee that I am okay. I'm just dreading the day you leave Key House and I'm stuck here cleaning for your sister-in-law and your niece and nephews."

"You do realize that day is today?"

"Yes, and I'm dreading it."

"Listen," he told me carefully, "they're nice kids overall. They've just gone through a similar situation. You lost your mom. They lost their dad. You'll have something to talk about. Besides, Nina is the kindest and most hospitable person I've ever met. She won't let you feel alone."

"If you recall, I like being alone. I prefer it. People are just…a lot to handle," I said quietly.

"I know." He was understanding. There was a pause. "Well, I see their car coming up the drive. Don't let your mysterious nature intimidate them too much, eh?"

"As long as you don't forget all the puns I helped you come up with for the tour."

I could almost hear him smiling. "Will do, kid."

And with that he hung up.

It was me who sighed dramatically this time. I tore myself away from the window, where a red car was zooming into sight. I wasn't interested in making friends with the rest of the Locke family. I knew that they would need some space, and hopefully, they'd understand that I needed mine. I was their housekeeper and maid, not their babysitter.

I rearranged my small desk and laced up my boots. I had heard a little boy's voice yelling "Uncle Duncan!" so I figured it would probably be polite to introduce myself.

I took one last glance at my sparsely decorated apartment and stepped out into the frigid air, locking the door behind me. The carriage house wasn't the most comfortable living space I'd ever had, but it certainly beat having to live with Duncan and Brian in Boston.

I traipsed carefully down the shoveled path to the front door of Key House.

I inhaled deeply, mentally preparing to meet strangers I'd have to spend a lot of time with these next coming…days? Months? Years?

As I entered the house, the familiar musty scent hit me smack in the nose.

I caught a glimpse of a blue coat at the top of the stairs and heard the faint thundering of child-sized footsteps. They must have a much younger kid. It occurred to me I never asked Duncan how old the kids were. By the sounds of it, none of them were older than twelve.

I automatically turned and walked towards the kitchen.

I saw a woman with long, red hair leaning on the island, a grief-stricken expression gracing her features.

I removed my hands from my jacket pockets.

"Nina? Nina Locke?" I asked as I approached the doorway.

Her head snapped towards me, her hand clutching her chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said quickly, "I didn't mean to startle you."

She forced a smile and shook her head, seeming somewhat surprised to see me there. "No, no, you're fine. I just…I wasn't expecting anyone to be in here. You must be Angela Towers?"

Nina Locke stuck out her hand. I shook it firmly and plastered on a small smile. I knew I needed to be polite, even if I didn't feel like meeting her.

"Angie," I corrected respectfully. "I feel like a middle-aged accountant working for a failing paper company with a name like Angela. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Locke."

The redhead grinned. "Call me Nina, please, Angie."

"Of course, Mrs. – uh, Nina."

Her face fell. "I'm so sorry about your mother. My deepest condolences."

I cleared my throat, ears turning crimson. I shuffled my feet. I couldn't look her in the eye. "Y-yeah. Thank – thank you. And I'm…I'm so sorry about your, um, husband."

She forced another smile. She seemed to do that a lot. "Thank you. I appreciate it. It will be nice to have someone around who – who understands what we're going through at least a little. And you're…how old?"

"I'm seventeen."

Her eyebrows shot up. "O-oh. I didn't realize you were so young."

"I get that a lot."

"You're my eldest son's age."

This time, my eyebrows went up. "Really? From what Duncan had described, I thought your children were no older than twelve."

Nina laughed again. "Yeah, well. You know Duncan. He gets a little overexcited about things and reminisces a lot. He still thinks I'm in my twenties."

I nodded, but there was an awkward silence.

"Well, um, let me know if you need anything. My number is on the fridge. I know where everything is, so don't hesitate to ask if you can't find something," I said, inching backwards out of the room.

"Okay. Thanks so much, Angela – uh, Angie," she nodded, correcting herself.

I waved goodbye and spun on my heel, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible.

She doesn't think I can handle myself as housekeeper, I thought. I'm too young.

I decided that I would prove her wrong. I was determined to keep my job as Locke House housekeeper. I would have to show Nina Locke that I was capable of doing my job – and doing it well.

I entered the foyer when a blonde girl with a green jacket and bangs was coming down the stairs.

"Uh, what are you doing here?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm the housekeeper," I replied firmly.

Neither of us smiled. There was a strange tension in the air. I could tell neither she nor I were particularly happy to be there.

"We have a housekeeper?" she wondered. "I mean, this place is huge…I guess that makes sense."

"I don't live here in the main house. Your uncle lets me live in the carriage house." I pointed out the window to the left, where my home stood firm in the snow.

"Oh." She seemed relieved for some reason. "I'm Kinsey Locke."

"Angie Towers."

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Angie," she said, skirting around me quickly. "I've got to catch up to my brother. I'll see you around?"

I nodded. "Yeah, see you around. I mean, I'll probably be cleaning, but…you'll see me."

I watched as she hurried out the front door and jogged out to the forest, following what looked to me like footprints. The eldest brother must have trekked out to the cliffs already.

My breath shuddered as a flash of the crash scene went through my mind like a bolt of lightning. After everything that happened, even though I personally didn't go over the edge or fall or anything of that sort, a fear of heights had burrowed its way into me. The thought of going and standing on the edge of such a long drop made my stomach twist into knots.

"Ah, so you met Kinsey already."

I turned to see Duncan clomping his way down to the bottom of the steps.

I nodded. "She seemed…nice."

He shook his head. "Don't lie, Ang. It's not becoming. She's usually a lot more friendly."

"So was I."

His arm went around my shoulders and he and I walked towards the well house. There was a bench we always sat on together when we talked.

"Listen," he started as we slumped down on the concrete, "Kinsey and Tyler aren't the same kids they used to be. Tyler can be a dick. Kinsey is surly. Bode is…actually Bode is the same. He's a massive dork, but he's the sweetest kid alive. And you…"

"Are a mysterious loner who rides her dirt bike to school and is avoided by everyone because they think she murdered her own mother. I know. You don't have to tell me twice," I finished for him.

He nudged my shoulder. "Okay, stop with that whole murder shit, okay? Who the hell keeps saying that?"

"Who do you think, Duncan?"

He rolled his eyes. "Despite those ridiculous rumors…you are someone who needs a friend that can sympathize with what you've gone through."

I stared at my hands.

I was quiet. "I don't need any new friends. Jackie is all I need."

"Jackie is a sweet girl," he agreed. "But as your guardian, and a long-time family friend, it worries me that you don't have more of a support system."

I kept a straight face. To my core, I knew he was right. But my need for independence got the better of me. "I'm fine. Jackie is a great support system, and so are you and Brian. I'm sure your niece and nephews are perfectly nice people, but I'm their maid."

Duncan looked defeated.

"Okay." He was finished talking about it. "As the self-proclaimed 'maid' of Key House," he kept going, using air quotes, "would you be willing to help me move in my family?"

I rolled my eyes. "I make sure things are clean and I always do your dishes. I'm a maid."

He was amused. "Alright, alright. Whatever. But would you?"

I nodded. "Yes, I'll help your emotionally damaged and vulnerable extended family move into their creepy old, inherited house."

"Thank goodness! Finally on the same page," he joked.

He stood up and walked towards the house. "Get in here in a minute!"

He knew I liked some time alone.

"I will, Duncan."

I watched as he paced back to his family home.

I was displeased with the idea of him heading back to Boston. It was nice having him around – and him and Brian together was even nicer. Too bad that Brian had his job back in Boston, too. He and Duncan had been the best guardians I could have asked for after the insanity that my life had become.

My fingers traced the design of the key hung from a cord around my neck. I hated it. I hated that key with a burning passion. But my mother had given me an order, and I don't stray from her orders.

"Angela…Angela Towers…"

I spun in my seat frantically. No one.

I shook my head and thought that it must have been the chilly winter breeze that blew in off the sea.

"Angela…the key, Angela…"

I sprang to my feet. The grip from my snow boots helped me stay upright.

"Hello?" I said nervously.

But then I shook my head. I sounded irrational. I sounded like a lunatic.

I laughed at myself.

"I imagined it," I reasoned. "I'm going insane."

There wasn't a human around. There's no way someone could have hidden a speaker or anything around there. The well house was just…a well house and that's all it would ever be.

I shoved the key back under my knit sweater, chocked up the strange voice to my own unstable mental state, and went back to Key House to help Duncan and his family unpack their boxes.

I hope you liked the first chapter of Light Me Up!

If you'd like to read more and learn more about Angie and how she fits into the TV series of Locke & Key, let me know by reviewing and following the story!