The Last Keeper's Daughter

by Rebecca Trogner

  Krieger heard her walk back into the room. He stayed where he was, waiting to see what she would do. When she came to stand next to him, he was pleased.

  “Stoke Castle sits atop the Blue Ridge mountains. Waverly is within view below us.”

  Lily stepped closer to the French doors, her hand reaching for the door knob.

  “Dawn is upon us. It would be best if you refrained from going outside until I exit the room, or until the sun has set.”

  Lily went completely still again, much like a rabbit will hide in tall grass.

  “How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

  “You’ve been unconscious for a day.” He let her take a moment to process the information. “Look at me.”

  She turned, which pleased him, but did not raise her eyes to his.

  Placing his forefinger under her chin, he lifted her face upwards. “Look at me,” he said with a kind firmness. “I have lost the ability to trance you now that you carry my blood.”

  “Trance?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  He ran his fingers lightly over her cheek bones and rested his hand against her face. “Your father told me that you hate to be touched, and yet you do not flinch away from me. It is good.” He bent down to place his lips next to her ear. “You have no need to fear me.”

  He looked down at her face. There was a hint of defiance and something unreadable, even to him, in her eyes. Now mere inches from her, he noticed that one eye was green and the other blue. The color difference was slight, but enough to be startling up close.

  “Your eyes…” He went to kiss the side of her cheek before he realized what he was doing. She stiffened. Regaining himself, he stood up very straight. “I’ve never encountered a human with this trait.”

  “Heterochromia,” she said, softly. When he didn’t respond she explained further. “My eye color, it’s called heterochromia.”

  He’d inadvertently made her self-conscious. He changed the subject. “Like I said, I am not to be feared. I do not understand the world as you see it, but I will make concessions for you.” He wasn’t comfortable discussing the vagaries of human emotions. “There are certain non-negotiable items that I will require from you.”

  She flashed him a look.

  “In public, you may remain mute, if you wish. I will not require you to go against your nature. I do require you to obey me in front of my subjects. You may ask questions if you do not understand something. In private, you may say or act however you choose.” He looked down at her. “Never, ever defy me in public.”

  He turned his back to her and continued, “We are linked now. You carry my royal blood within your mortal form. None shall drink from you but me. To do so is treason and punishable as such.”

  “We didn’t discuss that.”

  “No, we didn’t.” He turned to her. “There was no time. It was either me or the reaper.”

  Lily looked at her bare feet. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I–”

  “The important thing is that you are well and safe.” He sensed the strong beat of her heart.

  “Martha?”

  “I spoke with her before we left. She believes I am a family friend who has taken you away for a holiday. There is no need to worry about her. My guards have her and Waverly under surveillance.”

  She walked to the sofa and sat down. “If I open the doors, would the sun kill you?”

  He ignored her question. “Before I rest, would you like a tour? Stoke Castle is large.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “As you wish.” Casually, he unbuttoned his shirt and watched her reflection in the mirror. She quickly looked away and acted like something held her interest outside the windows. He yanked the belt through the loops and dropped it on the floor. Sitting on the bed, he took off his shoes and laid them by the belt. He always slept unclothed, but was willing to make concessions for her.

  “My home is now your home. Treat it as such.” His tone was matter-of-fact. He slid in between the sheets, feeling the warmth her body had left, and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  Lily knew she was dreaming. She knew this was her nightmare. It was the exact same nightmare as innumerable times before. Her mother stood at the foot of Lily’s childhood bed, her long beautiful neck marred by two puncture wounds, weeping her blood. Her hand went up and tried to cover it, but the blood escaped between her fingers and dripped down onto a pristine white carpet. Lily wanted to scream, but the paralysis of sleep held her silent. Her mother opened her mouth but no words escaped. Blood started to seep from her eyes, nose, and ears. Lily watched, unable to turn away, unable to comprehend what had happened to her. Her mother staggered towards the bed with an expression of such immense sadness, the sadness of someone who’d lost all hope.

  She turned away, looking at someone Lily could not see. Lily could tell from the angle of her shoulders that she was resigned to her fate. A man walked in and stood next to her mother. This was not part of Lily’s nightmare. Her mother should have walked away and disappeared, but she did not. Instead she turned to the man. Her mother looked as shocked as Lily was by his appearance. Her expression changed, the wounds on her neck vanished. The unknown man put his arm around her mother’s shoulders and they both turned to smile at Lily.

  “I love you,” her mother mouthed.

  With a jolt, Lily woke up clutching her neck and gasping for air. It took her a moment to realize where she was and that she’d fallen asleep on the couch. Only moving her eyes, she saw that Krieger was still in the bed in the same position as before.

  Quietly, she unfurled her body and tiptoed over to look at him. He was lying on his back, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other by his side. The top sheet and coverlet were bunched at his feet. Lily felt strangely attuned to him. It was a feeling she’d never felt before, this sense of belonging and longing.

  What would it feel like to run my fingers along the lines of his muscles? The desire to be physically close to another was new to her. Unsure, and unused to such emotions, she needed physical distance from his overpowering presence. Never taking her eyes off of him, she walked to the door, and ever-so-slowly turned the door knob, opened the door, and stepped backwards out of the room.

  Feeling successful, she stealthily closed the door and walked smack into a wall of a man. She bounced off him and stumbled back to look up, and then up again, as his slanted yellow-green eyes looked down at her. She was too stunned to be frightened by him. He had a scruffy, two-day shadow growth of facial hair that didn’t conceal his strong jawline. His eyes were familiar, but she couldn’t remember ever meeting him.

  He bowed to her, like the guards had at Waverly before Krieger had come for her. “Does the Miss require something?” His voice was gravelly.

  She never forgot a face. Where had she seen him before?

  “I could have something brought up for you to eat, or we could go down to the kitchen.”

  It hit her then. His were the eyes that had kept her pinned on the rocks. “You were following me.” It surprised her more than anyone when she spoke.

  The large man took a step back, staring at her. There was nothing human about his eyes.

  “I was told you were unique,” he said. “I am Liam, your personal guard. Where you go, I go.” He smiled, his large teeth gleaming white, and except for their sharpness, a dentist’s dream.

  The realization came to her that she wasn’t anxious or worried about speaking with Liam, or Krieger. Usually, she had nothing to say, so she didn’t talk. It seemed perfectly logical to her. But now there were so many things she wanted to know.

  Liam crossed his massive arms and leaned back against the wall, totally at ease and willing to wait.

  She took in her surroundings. Her rooms were at the end of a long and wide hallway. She was used to a mansion for a home, so this didn’t seem that overwhelming to her. Still, it wasn’t what she had expected for vampire royalty. Where were the drapes, dark and velvet, covering
high gothic windows? So far, there were no candelabras with candles dripping melted wax. Everything was open and wide and filled with light. Large palladium windows, lined up like soldiers, stood at attention down the length of the hall. She leaned over the banister to look down at the rooms below. Her peripheral vision caught Liam moving closer. Was he afraid she’d jump?

  “A tour?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “This whole wing is for your private use. Of course, the whole estate is open to you, but here is your sanctuary.”

  As they walked, she marveled at how the hall floor curved into and became the stairway to the floor below. It was quite beautiful.

  Ahead, marked with an oriental carpet of peach and muted shades, was the landing. She stepped down and sank into the plush pile. The room was opulent yet restrained. Her eyes ran over the furniture, obviously collected over many lifetimes, the ornaments and vases of the finest porcelain. Two men stood to her left, facing towards the doors of her suite.

  “The King’s Guard,” Liam explained.

  They were regular sized men. It was rude, but she stared at them, trying to figure out what made them seem so lethal. It was their eyes, black and quick and alert, never blinking, always watching. They both bowed to her, just slightly at the waist.

  Liam walked ahead and waited for her to catch up. Doorways around the room led to other parts of the house. She wanted to explore what lay behind those doors, to skip along the corridors, slide down bannisters, and peek inside other doors. There was the joyfulness of a child springing up from her being, aching to be set free and allowed to follow her whims.

  She felt at home here. She felt like she belonged. Only someone who’d never felt either could appreciate the immense peace that came from knowing both. She smiled and let her hand skim over the soft fabric of a chair. It was like the decorator knew what could startle her or cause her eye to linger too long on one spot, and avoided all such things. That was the trouble with most places. There were always traps that caught her eye and refused to release her. But here, everything was calm and peaceful and her eyes could wander without fear.

  Liam pointed towards a floor-to-ceiling mirror flanked by two tall urns. “That’s the elevator down to the second level; we’re on the third. You’ll notice more guards and staff on the second floor. It’s a semi-public space where the king has his private office and other official rooms. The level below that is the ground floor. He meets with his subjects there.

  “Come, I’ll show you to my favorite part of this floor.” He respectfully shooed her towards the back of the room. They went through a wide doorway and into the kitchen. Cherry cabinets and commercial grade appliances gleamed in the filtered light coming in through the windows.

  “The floors are a bit much. Whoever designed them should be shot.”

  She looked up at him.

  “You just can’t look at it too hard. The pattern is random and endless and will give you a headache. I find that if you turn down the rheostat…” He walked to the wall and turned the switch. “…there isn’t any problem.”

  Lily looked at the floor and saw what he meant. She’d never met another person who understood how disconcerting random, everyday things could be. The floor was tiled in a sort of Escher type pattern. Sometimes a floor that was too shiny, or a high-pitched sound, or the reflection chandelier crystals cast on the wall, could send her into a paralysis of the mind. She would be stuck, staring and counting and deciphering for hours. It was why she counted steps or kept her head down in certain areas. It was a way to refocus and get through whatever was threatening to bog her down. Liam was right. With the lights dimmed it didn’t beckon her to discover its pattern, it was just something to walk on.

  She wanted to ask how it was possible that he felt the same way. Was she whatever he was?

  Inexplicably Lily suddenly felt completely depleted. She’d felt perfectly fine. Actually, she’d felt better than ever before, but now her knees no longer supported her weight, and her vision narrowed down to the width of a straw.

  Large arms wrapped around her, lifting and placing her on a chair. “Apryini,” Krieger’s voice enveloped her.

  “Your Majesty,” Liam said.

  Lily didn’t know how Krieger could sense the exact moment of her unease, but he could, and he widened the space between them until she missed the nearness of him. It was a dance, a mental dance of sorts, between them.

  “Your body is still adjusting.”

  She closed her eyes, listening to his voice. It vibrated through her body in ways nothing else ever had. She felt joined to him emotionally. Should I doubt my lack of doubt? Her answer was no, and she opened her eyes to embrace a new chance at life.

  “Wine,” Krieger ordered.

  “I don’t drink,” she whispered.

  He cocked his eyebrow at her, saying without ever speaking a word, “really.”

  Lily marveled at how easy it was to interact with him. She knew exactly what his expression meant, and effortlessly responded to it. “I was nervous at the event. I don’t like the alcohol taste. It burns my throat.”

  Krieger nodded. “Tell Liam what you’d like to drink, then.”

  She peered at the refrigerator; the clear glass front let her see what was inside. “Juice, pomegranate.”

  There was a fluidity of motion to Liam’s body. He was very male, broad shoulders, arms the width of her thighs, hands the size of plates, and yet he didn’t seem tethered to the gravity of earth. He wasn’t slow, burdened down by his musculature, but instead nimble and quick. Something as mundane as pouring a glass of juice and placing it on the table became a type of performance art. Lily mouthed thank you to him.

  She turned to find Krieger watching her, as intently as she’d been watching Liam.

  “Liam is charged with your personal protection. He is a Vantor,” Krieger explained.

  She wrapped her hand around the glass, turning it clockwise, watching the red juice slosh. Lily wanted to ask what Vantor meant, but wasn’t sure if it was polite to do so. The juice was cool and soothed her parched throat. “Why do I need protection?”

  “I am king. You are now a member of my royal house. Favorites have enemies.”

  She knew there was more to this, and almost asked.

  “Leave us,” Krieger said.

  Liam bowed and left.

  Krieger pointed to the pool outside the bay window. “Friends, Martha, whoever you wish to invite, are welcome here to enjoy the pool, the estate.”

  “What about…”

  “Keeping ourselves hidden?” Krieger leaned back in his chair. “It won’t be a problem as long as the visits are short. I don’t expect you to walk away from your human life.”

  She sat back, unconsciously mimicking his posture. The sun was low, casting everything in a golden glow. She thought of Martha, who was probably reading one of her romance novels right now. She would like it here.

  “I expect discretion in your human interactions here. Secrecy is a necessity to ensure safety.”

  “I understand.” She stood up too quickly, and a fit of vertigo took her for a moment, but she refused to give in to it.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  She didn’t like being told what to do. Instead, she moved to the window and stared out at the pool. Too quick for her eye to follow, he was by her side. She watched him in their reflection in the glass.

  He rolled a lock of her hair between two fingers. With his head turned, she could see the side of his face. She hadn’t noticed it before, but a faint scar ran down the edge of his cheek line.

  “You will drink from me again.”

  “Why?”

  “Have you ever met anyone like me?”

  “Vampire?”

  “Yes, or someone that didn’t seem human.”

  She shrugged, and changed the subject. “You called me Ap….”

  “Apryini.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It was a delicacy of my time, a s
oft, sweet fruit that was very expensive and rare. The goddess Juno had it as one of her symbols. You call it a pomegranate.”

  She looked at her glass. “A nickname, so soon?” Had she just joked with him?

  “Something like that.”

  “You said, ‘my time’. You mean when you were human? How old are you?”

  “I was born in the reign of Augustus Caesar.”

  Her mind furiously worked through her history class timeline. “Before Christ?”

  “Roughly two thousand years ago.”

  There had to be a million questions she should ask, important things, and yet none of them came to mind.

  “I thought people were smaller, less healthy back then, but you’re huge.”

  He laughed, and she liked the sound of it. “I came from a tribe of warriors. We were considered giants in our time. The lands have changed hands many times since then but it was once called Germania under the Roman Empire.”

  “Barbarians,” the word slipped out. She hadn’t meant to say it.

  Krieger gave a wolf’s grin. “We were called that, and many other things. After my human death, I became a centurion.”

  “But weren’t you fighting the Romans?”

  He nodded. “I was to be sold for the gladiatorial games. A Roman took an interest in me, and the rest is history.”

  “Did you want to become a vampire?”

  She could see the question had caught him off guard.

  “I wanted to live, and so I have.”

  “And Liam, is he a werewolf?”

  “He was born a werewolf. He became a Vantor.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When you feel more comfortable with Liam, you should ask him about the details. I will say that he and his pack are werewolves with vampire blood running through their veins. They are one of the most dangerous of the Others.”