The Keeping Place (Book Six in the Witch Hunter Saga)

by Nicole R. Taylor

Isobel raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Let me just Google ‘badass baby names’ and see what we come up with.”

  He sniggered and retrieved the mattress, placing it into the finished cot Then he arranged the sheets and blankets, gesturing for the baby. Taking her gently from Isobel’s arms, he set her into his masterpiece, tucking the blanket around her little body. Immediately, her arms flailed, and her hand wrapped around one of his fingers.

  “As I live and breathe,” he whispered. “What a smart little girl you are.”

  Seeing the battle-toughened vampire so enamored with a day-and-a-half-old baby made Isobel melt even more. She always thought he was handsome, but right now, he was irresistible.

  “She’s growing. Do you see it?” he asked, glancing at her.

  Bending over the cot, Isobel studied her daughter but didn’t really know what a baby this small was meant to look like, let alone be able to do.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve not got much experience with babies.”

  “She’s…” He frowned, wiggling the finger the baby still held onto.

  Thinking about the moment she’d held her daughter in her arms for the first time, Isobel remembered the odd sensation that’d overcome her when their gazes had met. Which was strange enough considering the baby shouldn’t have been able to open her eyes right away.

  “Did you feel it, too?” she asked. “When I held her for the first time, she looked right at me, Nye. She was minutes old, and she looked at me.”

  He nodded, extracting his hand from the cot and fixing the blankets in place. “I think that was the bond Gabby was talking about. She’s going to be okay, Isobel.”

  “I hope so.”

  They watched their daughter for a moment, marveling at the unexpected thing they’d created.

  “Any ideas on a name?” Nye asked.

  “Ismena,” she replied, smoothing her fingertip against the little girl’s cheek. “I think we should name her after the witch who saved her.”

  “Ismena,” Nye echoed. “Two Izzys.”

  She smiled at the similarities in their names. “Then Ismena it is.” The baby flailed her arms wildly, and Isobel leaned over to fix the blankets once more. “Do you like that? Little Ismena. That’s what we’ll call you.”

  When she was done, she glanced up at Nye, and her smile faded. He looked positively forlorn.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Me?” he asked. “Of course.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Nye,” she said haughtily. “I know when you’re using your dismissive king of the London underworld technique on me.”

  “Dammit,” he cursed.

  “And you wouldn’t dare use compulsion to avoid talking.”

  “That’d be selfish,” he said, feigning horror at the suggestion.

  “That’d be a death wish.”

  They stared at one another, and when Isobel could take it no more, she burst out laughing. Nye smirked, then glanced back to Ismena.

  “Being a father never crossed my mind,” he declared, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

  “What, never?” she asked. “Not even when you were human?”

  He shook his head, his expression changing. “It was never possible. Before or after. It just was just a fact, so I stopped thinking about it. As a spy, love was a liability, so a child would have been another tool to use against me. As a vampire, death took my humanity and my ability to procreate.” He sighed. “Perhaps deep down, I wanted all those things, so that was why I took an interest in the little girl in the Tower.”

  “What little girl?” Isobel frowned, not knowing the exact story of how Nye had become a vampire. She’d quizzed him mercilessly about life in the golden era of England under the rule of Queen Elizabeth I for her thesis, but he’d never mentioned a little girl before.

  “After the Spanish Armada attacked England in 1588 and my face was ruined in the battle, I wasn’t able to go back to my work as a spy. I was disfigured, and it made me easily recognizable.” He gestured to the scar that ran through his left eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and finished on his opposite cheek. Isobel hardly noticed it anymore, let alone thought it marred his features. To her, he was handsome all the same.

  “I was forced to work closer to home in London,” he went on. “A slew of murders drew the attention of the guard, and after an investigation, a girl was caught in the act. She was imprisoned in the bottommost reaches of the Tower.”

  “How old was she?”

  “Young. Around ten or so. I can scarcely remember.”

  “Ten years old?” Isobel exclaimed.

  “They threw her into a putrid cell and forgot she existed, all because no one knew what to do with her. She wouldn’t talk, and she’d fight anyone who neared. She was completely feral. I wanted to win her trust and find the truth. I’d solve what no one else could and prove my worth.” He turned away from the cot as if his words might affect Ismena. “I cared for her when no one else would. I sat with her and told her stories. I brought her food that went untouched. I gave her a doll and carved her a little spinning top she could play with. Anything to gain her trust. Eventually, she started giving in, and before long, she told me anything I wanted to know. Except, I didn’t know the right questions to ask…”

  “You saw her as a daughter?” Isobel asked gently.

  “I cared for her, yes,” he replied. “As a daughter? Who knows, but I didn’t realize she was a vampire. They were as mystical to me then as they were to you before we met. She must have compelled me because the next thing I knew, I was inside the cell with her. Her defining moment as a human child was her longing for her mother and father. I suppose she saw my kindness and latched onto me. I don’t remember how I died, just how I came back. When a guard finally came looking for me, blood was the only thing I wanted.”

  Isobel didn’t know what to say. Nye had cared for an unwanted little girl, a child who he thought was incapable of the murders she was accused of, only to find she was a vampire. His caring for her had caused him to turn against his will.

  “That’s why children should never be turned. Why they should never be used. I couldn’t chance her changing someone else,” he went on. “I… A little girl…”

  “She wasn’t a child anymore,” she said firmly, understanding how his past had shaped his future fears. “Ismena isn’t going to turn out the same as that girl.”

  “Did you want to have a family?” he asked, signaling he was finished talking about that time in his life.

  “You know what I wanted,” Isobel replied. “A family was an option but not right away. I had things I wanted to do.”

  “You’re likely the only person I know who was certain of the life she wanted to live,” he said morosely.

  “Plans change,” she retorted. “Life is unpredictable.”

  “I was so certain of who I was,” he said, staring down at his daughter. “Then Zac and Aya blew through everything, the Six fell apart, and Regulus died fighting Aed. I never wanted to be the leader of the London vampires, but everyone wanted me to do it. I was the logical choice. Whatever they saw in me, I wanted to see it, too. I know that now.”

  Isobel pressed her arm against his. “And now? Do you see it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”

  She sensed his uncertainty and leaned into him, relishing the closeness that had become easier for him to tolerate in the wake of Ismena’s birth.

  “Do you want to be the leader of the London vampires?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “After the Six… I was lost. After hundreds of years knowing who I was, I wasn’t so sure anymore. Doing this…it gave me something to define myself with.”

  “Having power could protect her, you know.”

  “It would.” He grunted and shook his head. “We’ll work it out, sooner or later.”

  Isobel’s mouth dropped open. “We? You and me? You’d ask me what I wanted? That’s a shocker coming from the guy wh
o kidnapped me for my ‘own protection.’” She air quoted the last part.

  With a deadpan expression, he said, “Of course. I was never going to be able to rule like Regulus did. He was untouchable to everyone and everything, even love. At least, he was until Gabby came along. Besides, I’m not Regulus. That’s especially clear now Ismena is here. She needs a happy home. If that means I have to rule a different way or take business elsewhere where she’s not a part of it, then I’ll do whatever’s necessary.”

  Whatever’s necessary… Nye’s words echoed through her mind, and she began to understand what being a parent was all about. Doing whatever it took to ensure the well-being of her child. It was especially clear given the chaos that was their lives. Supernatural revenge plots, crazy fertility rituals, wraiths, spirits, magical tears… What a world little Ismena had been born into.

  “I worry for her,” Isobel murmured, watching Ismena’s eyes droop until they finally closed. “She’s going to have a hard life, no matter what we do to help her.”

  “I know,” Nye said, placing his hand on her back. “There’s not much we can do except be here. Gabby will teach her to control her powers, and she’ll have an immortal uncle to look out for her when she grows up.”

  “What about you?” she asked, glancing at him. “You’re immortal.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not a permanent fixture for me, not like for Alex. I can be taken away at any moment, but your brother can only be taken by one person—Aya—and I doubt she would end him anytime soon. At least, not without express permission.”

  Isobel felt an overwhelming need to cry at that moment. She was mortal, and her daughter was going to live forever.

  “Isobel?”

  She shook her head, her eyes misting with tears.

  “What’s wrong?” Nye asked, rubbing her back.

  “She’s going to live forever, and I’m not going to be here for her.” She hiccupped and turned into him, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

  “We’re going to be okay,” he crooned. “This story has a different ending. It has to.”

  Chapter 16

  Isobel stood on the balcony overlooking the back garden and watched Ismena run around in circles on the wilted lawn while Gabby attempted to catch her.

  That’s right. Ismena was running.

  It only felt like the day before that her daughter was lying in the tiny cot her father had built for her, barely the size of a watermelon. Isobel sighed, wondering how she managed to keep her daughter alive at all considering she was comparing her to fruit.

  Two weeks had passed since Ismena was born, and in those scant few days, she’d grown faster than anyone had anticipated. She’d said her first word when she was a week old, gurgling Mom and Dad, her flame-red hair had reached the middle of her back, her features had defined into the spitting image of Nye’s, and her power had manifested the moment she’d been able to stand up.

  She was growing so fast it was hard to keep her clothed at all. Outfits came in, and then a day later, they were folded away in a case ready to be donated to goodwill in as new condition. Her appetite never slowed, and at every meal, she would inhale everything on her plate and still look for more. She needed something to fuel her accelerated growth spurt, after all.

  They didn’t know if her life was limited or if she’d grow to maturity and remain immortal, or if she’d die once her destiny was fulfilled. Whatever her destiny was now that they’d managed to keep her with them and focused on the light, they didn’t know.

  Everyone had become attached to Ismena quickly, especially her and Nye. Whatever happened, she didn’t want to believe her daughter was nothing more than a tool for the Unhallowed’s resurrection. She had a life now—a free life—and there was more out there for her than being a psychopathic wraith’s battery pack.

  Isobel glanced up as Nye appeared beside her, seeming to have finished organizing his diabolical vampire empire for the day.

  “What are you looking at?” he asked before placing a chaste kiss on her temple.

  “She’s two weeks old,” she said, pointing to the garden. “Look at her.”

  Nye narrowed his eyes at the witches on the lawn, and whatever he was thinking he kept to himself.

  “She’s growing faster than she ever did in my stomach,” Isobel went on. “And don’t get me started on her powers. She had a tantrum and made my coffee mug explode yesterday.”

  “She was always going to be more than normal,” Nye said. “Don’t tell me the thought of her growing up fast never crossed your mind because I’m pretty sure we all had it at some point.”

  “I was too busy rolling around the house,” she retorted. “Or do you have the memory of a goldfish?”

  Nye snorted, hiding a laugh, and she slapped him on the arm.

  “Look at her, Isobel,” he said, nodding at Ismena, who was chattering away happily with Gabby. “She’s happy. She’s healthy. She’s already learning how to control her powers. So none of this is normal, but what’s normal when I’m a vampire, Gabby’s a witch, and you’re the mother of a magical baby with a two-week gestation period? She’ll be okay.”

  Isobel nodded, not able to voice her real fear. That Eleanor would come back and take Ismena from them. Their first duty was to their daughter, but what if they still couldn’t fight the Unhallowed and win? What if they were forced to use their sweet, little girl the same way Eleanor was going to? She was just an innocent child.

  “There you are,” came the sound of Alex’s voice behind them.

  Turning, Isobel saw the pile of shopping bags clutched in his hands and shook her head. Despite her fears, Ismena had the most mismatched family around to keep her safe. It was one beacon in the uncertainty of their immediate future.

  “Alex, you didn’t,” she said with a groan.

  “What?” he asked with a mischievous grin. “Can’t I buy my niece a giant pile of toys?”

  “She’ll grow out of them in a few weeks,” Nye grumbled. “Then what’ll you do with them?”

  “So what? She’s still a kid now. She should have something to play with other than her grumpy father.”

  Isobel plucked some of the bags out of her brother’s hand and began sifting through them. There was a selection of My Little Ponies, Barbie dolls, and soft toys. She held up a bright yellow container filled with building blocks and was certain Ismena was a pretty lucky girl to have an immortal uncle with deep pockets.

  “He has a point, Nye,” she said, putting the toys back into the bags. “Mena is still a little girl, no matter how fast she’s growing up. We should let her be one while she has the chance.”

  “Is she, though? A little girl?” the spy asked. “She’s the Immortal Witch.”

  “Infinite knowledge and understanding,” she mused. “I’m pretty sure that’s how Gabby described it.”

  “Infinite whatever,” Alex declared. “No matter what she’s meant to be or do, she still needs to have fun.”

  “Go give them to her already,” Isobel declared, waving him off. “And while you’re at it, take the…” Her words trailed off with a groan as Alex bounded over the balcony, hopped onto the roof, and landed on the lawn below. “…stairs.”

  “He won’t listen to you,” Nye said. “He’s smitten.”

  “I suppose that means you can keep your head?”

  He smirked. “For now.”

  Turning to watch the goings-on in the garden, she laughed as Ismena began pulling at the bags in her uncle’s hands. He lifted them up out of reach, but she jumped…and floated for a split second before returning lithely to the ground. The things she could do already were astounding. Soon, she’d leave her poor mother behind.

  “Come,” Nye said as Alex led their daughter inside so she could open her presents. “Let’s oversee the mess that’s about to explode all over the house.”

  It was moments like these she’d cherish when Ismena was grown, and knowing how soon that would be, Isobel’s heart sank. How big would she
be when her first Christmas came around? Twenty-one?

  Shaking her head, she followed Nye into the house, determined not to think about it.

  Tristan listened to the sounds of glee coming from the living room at the front of the house and tried to find happiness in Ismena’s joy, but he couldn’t find it within himself. Alex had purchased more toys than was likely appropriate, but the little witch sounded more than pleased.

  Sitting at the island bench in the kitchen, he stared out over the wilted garden and sighed.

  On the outside, he might look like a thirty-year-old man, but on the inside, he was worn down by the ages, his continued struggle with his past and loyalties a constant drag on his day-to-day life. Gabby had removed Eleanor’s compulsion, and his visit with Arrow had confirmed it, but he still didn’t feel right about any of it.

  He should’ve been able to withstand the wraith’s power and break free. The problem was, he hadn’t known he was under her control until he was standing over Gabby at the standing stones, entirely prepared to rip her apart…just like he’d torn Nye’s witch contact, Sabine, limb from limb.

  Resting his head in his palms, he tried to clear his mind of the image but wasn’t having much luck. He’d done terrible things over the millennia, especially in the first decade of his vampire life. He’d slaughtered innocents who’d strayed too close to his hideaway in the forest of Germany. He’d killed so many that the local peasants had referred to him as the ‘Devil Who Walked.’ His legacy of murder was so strong they still told stories about the monster who lurked in the woods to this day.

  He wasn’t that person anymore, not after Arrow helped him control what he’d become and remember his humanity, but the compulsion Eleanor had placed him under brought back all those memories. The sense his life was not in his own hands, that he’d killed innocents, that he almost killed Gabby…the thought was too much to bear for a man like him. A knight who believed in loyalty and a strict code of honor above all else.

  Movement roused him from his self-loathing, and he raised his head. Ismena was standing beside him, her little hand tugging at the hem of his shirt.