The Last Keeper's Daughter

by Rebecca Trogner

  “Your presence is not needed for the service. The attendees could easily be tranced into remembering you were there.”

  “I need to go.” Lily walked along the back of a mighty sea serpent. Around her creatures frolicked in the waters mosaicked into the floor. “What were you and Henry talking about?” She tiptoed down the serpent’s tail and hopped onto the back of a sea turtle.

  “Nothing important.” Krieger watched her step through the mosaic sea onto the shoreline. When her father’s murder was solved, he would take her to the ocean, and kiss the salt from her skin. “You mentioned Cherie. I take it that you enjoy her company.” He hadn’t expected that.

  She looked back over her shoulder. “I do. She reminds me a little of Jo.” Lily turned to face him while walking backwards. “You nervous for us to be friends?”

  “Careful,” he said. She easily evaded the chair. “No.”

  Lily turned her back and almost skipped to the marble double helix stairway. On the third step she stopped and turned to him. “There.” She pointed to the landing. “Stand there, that way we’ll both be the same height.”

  “Yes, my lady.” He stood where commanded. Lily leaned toward him, taller than him now, and put her arms on his shoulders. “You and Cherie have a relationship.” He could feel her breath against his ear.

  “She is a subject of my realm.”

  “Do you have sex with all your subjects?”

  Krieger took a step up, equalizing their height. They were now eye-to-eye. “Jealous?”

  “No.”

  He enjoyed the crimson blush of her cheeks. “No, I do not have sex with all my subjects. Yes, we were lovers.”

  “Were?”

  Krieger nodded.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” Lily asked.

  “Of course.” Krieger’s eyebrow lifted.

  “I dreamed about you.”

  The eyebrow lifted higher.

  “Not like that.” She playfully smacked his shoulder. “We were on a beach of endless white sand, the sun was high in the sky, and it didn’t matter, because you were fine. We were happy, really happy.”

  Krieger tilted his head to the side and leaned in, kissing her gently at first, and then harder. She met his kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I like your dream,” he said, once he relinquished her lips.

  “These past few days have been the best of my life.” She looked down at his chest. “I shouldn’t say that. People have been murdered. Walter’s ceremony is tonight. And there is the other thing.”

  Krieger cupped her face in his hand. He loved the feel of her skin. “Walter is happy where he is, and so should you be.” He saw one of his aides moving quickly towards them. It was past time for him to deal with a few matters.

  “Go on. I’ll be in to escort you down this evening.” She took two steps backwards, smiling at him, until Liam stepped to her side and she turned. Reluctantly, he walked away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I can’t believe he’s dead.” Jo said. She was sitting with Martha in the kitchen at Waverly.

  “Mr. Ayres was a good man.” What Martha said was true, but he was also a sad, empty husk of a man who emotionally died the night his wife did. She kept those words to herself. No good came from speaking ill of the dead.

  Jo took a sip of coffee and stared out at the pool. “Isn’t it strange, even for an Ayres, to have the memorial service at night?”

  “It isn’t really night, just dusk, and no, nothing would surprise me from Mr. Ayres.”

  “He seemed okay the last time I saw him. Did he ever say anything to you about his heart?”

  “He wasn’t blessed with a healthy constitution.” Martha patted Jo’s hand. “His heart got tired. We all die. It’s a part of life. You will see. Things will be the same for years, even decades, and then in one instant everything will change.” Martha felt it was a blessing that his time on earth was over. Maybe his soul was finally at peace.

  She watched Jo from the corner of her eye, and tried to remember how it felt to be young, to feel that an endless number of summer days lay ahead. Martha had worked for the Ayres family almost forty years. It seemed like yesterday that she’d come to Waverly, hired by old man Randolph Ayres. He’d passed away just two weeks before Walter’s wife, Marissa, had died in childbirth. Walter had never recovered, and she’d taken over as Lily’s mother. For Martha, it was an unexpected life, but one she cherished.

  They both turned back to the window, watching a guard patrol around the house. Jo shook her head. “I was almost afraid to drive in. Are they necessary?”

  Martha laughed. “They are intimidating, aren’t they? The lawyer arranged for them. There is a lot of interest in Walter’s death.”

  “Have you heard from Lily? She called me the other day. We actually talked about Walter and her boyfriend. She’s never talked to me on the phone.”

  “It’s the new medication,” Martha lied, something she rarely did, but felt it was necessary. “I think she’s in love.” She smiled at Jo. “That helps, too.”

  “What did you say his name was?”

  “Krieger Barnes.”

  “I’ve never met anyone named Krieger. Is he related to the Barnes of Greenwich?”

  “I don’t know.” Martha couldn’t remember much about him. It caused her to fret, this feeling that she was forgetting something important.

  “Did you have him checked out? He could be using her.”

  Martha thought it a shame that Lily and Jo always had to worry about someone’s intent towards them. It was one of the downsides to wealth.

  “What could they have in common?” Jo continued. “Lily doesn’t speak. Well, she used to not speak. She’s never had a date. You don’t think…?”

  “No, no, it isn’t like that.” In some ways Martha worried more for Jo than Lily. Jo had endured a long string of stepfathers. Her mother cared for her own gratification and nothing for her daughter. Unfortunately, it was a passed down trait of some wealthy families. They left the raising of their children to nannies and never really understood their own flesh and blood. “As a precaution, I had the lawyers run a few checks on him. His fortune is larger than Lily’s. He’s not after her money.”

  That seemed to ease some of the tension in Jo’s face. It occurred to Martha that Jo needed her now more than Lily did. Jo was rushing through life too quickly, burning her candle at both ends. Martha remembered how much she’d loved that poem, how romantic it had seemed to her as a young girl. Now through the eyes of a middle aged woman, she was thankful her light was still burning, maybe not so bright, but still here, still loving life.

  “Charlie came by the tack shop the other day. He said Lily is going to sponsor him for training and eventing of the horses.”

  “She is. He should be trailering the horses to Jimmy’s training facility this week.”

  “Do you think she’ll sell the place?” Jo asked.

  “Waverly?” Martha shook her head. “No.”

  “You know, this has always felt like home to me. Remember that Christmas when the farm manager dressed up as Santa and you as Mrs. Claus?”

  “Oh my, yes, that was a good Christmas.”

  “And when I fell out of that tree.” Jo pointed to a majestic oak.

  “And nearly gave me an attack.” Martha patted her chest and laughed.

  “Will you be okay?” Jo asked. “I mean if Lily decides to leave?”

  Martha looked at Jo. She’d known her since that first play date; even now she could still see that little girl inside her. “Dear, you don’t ever have to worry about me. Mr. Ayres deeded a portion of acreage to me years ago. I have a lovely cottage on it, a lot easier to keep up than this behemoth. He never let me pay for anything. I have more than enough money to live on very comfortably.”

  “But you have a staff. You don’t have to lift a finger to keep this place going.”

  Martha remembered back to her youth, and saw a reflection of herself in Jo. The intensity of trying
to hold onto something after it had passed.

  She took Jo’s hand and rubbed her thumb along the slight calluses caused from a lifetime of working horses. “I love you and Lily like daughters. I couldn’t be prouder of you both. It doesn’t matter where I live. There will always be room in my home and a chair at my table for you. We’re family.” Martha squeezed her hand. “No matter what happens, I will always be there for you.”

  It broke her heart to see Jo’s tears. Wiping her own away, she changed the subject. “He is very handsome.”

  “Krieger?” Jo asked.

  “Yes. Not at all what I thought Lily would like.”

  “How did they meet again?”

  “It was Walter. He introduced them. I had no idea there was anything between them, not until the night of the party.”

  “She came by the shop that day. Walter had left a picture of him for her. I guess it was him, it had his name written on the back.”

  “It was from a costume party.” Martha wanted to reassure Jo. “You know Lily; she holds everything inside, good and bad.”

  “It’s time we go to the cemetery,” the reverend interrupted them.

  They both jumped.

  “Gracious, we got to talking.” Martha stood. The reverend walked over to the table. ”When did you get here?” Martha shook his hand.

  “Just now. The guard at the door let me in.” He smiled and gave them a wide eyed look. “They are ferocious looking.”

  The reverend found amusement in everything, it was one of the reasons he did so well in this area. You had to have a keen sense of humor to deal with all these crazy rich people.

  “Mr. Ayres planned out the ceremony.” Martha said it as a warning.

  “I know exactly what I’m in for, and it’s quite all right. Mr. Ayres and I shared many an evening discussing our differing ideologies.” He offered an arm to each. “Shall we?”

  “Lily’s not here, we have to wait,” Jo said.

  “A group of cars passed me on the way in. I thought it was the president’s motorcade.” He winked at Jo. “Wouldn’t that get the tongues wagging?”

  They walked through the wide halls of the house. It seemed empty and sad now, like it too was mourning the loss of Walter Ayres.

  Parked on the circular drive were black golf carts.

  “Seriously,” Jo said.

  “Walter thought it would be a nice touch.”

  “I know I appreciate it. My old knees aren’t what they used to be. It’s a hike to the cemetery.” Martha laughed and they all joined in.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lily sat in the back of the Suburban with Krieger. The guards had already debarked and were standing very attentively outside, watching for any sign of trouble. It seemed like overkill to her.

  “What is it?” Krieger reached for her hand.

  Her mood was somber now. He missed her earlier flirtatiousness.

  “I should be happy to be home, shouldn’t I?”

  He looked at her for a long time. “It will get easier.”

  “I hate Walter.” Her eyes welled up, and fat tears ran down her cheeks. “He shouldn’t have left me.”

  “He was murdered.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “I meant what I said earlier. It would be nothing to trance everyone here. We could leave right now.”

  “No, I have to do this. I have to help tonight.” She looked out the window and saw Martha and Jo. “I miss them.”

  “They shall visit as much as you’d like.” She continued to stare. “When the killer is found, there is no reason you can’t resume your life as normal. Live here if you wish or anywhere else.”

  Her hand found his. “What if I’d rather stay with you?”

  “It is my deepest desire.”

  “You know sometimes you sound like an actor from an old movie.”

  “If only I were so young.” Krieger gave her a slight grin.

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  “Good, because the detective looks strangely impatient for a funeral attendee.” They turned to look out the windows, where Detective Hunter was standing, shifting his weight from leg to leg, looking toward the cemetery.

  Lily had never felt comfortable within her own life, never felt that she belonged there. But now, strangely enough, with this man, a vampire, whom she hardly knew, she was at peace.

  “It’s time,” he said in that voice. It was deeper, much deeper than his normal low tone, and it was impossible for her not to respond when he spoke that way.

  She stepped out of the vehicle and walked towards the gate. There was Martha, dear Martha, who hugged her too tightly, like she had when Lily was a toddler. Jo gave her that crooked smile. They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment and then hugged.

  “You look good,” Jo said. “Really good. What’s with the…” She swirled her hand around her hair, indicating the change in Lily’s hair color. “I like it.”

  Old habits die hard, and Lily looked down at her feet and shrugged. The reverend gave her shoulder a squeeze and they proceeded to the family cemetery. Lily cried when they rounded the corner and she saw the small group of people sitting in front of the gravesite. There was the old farm manager with less hair than she remembered. Three of the stable hands sat in a row to his left, all cleaned up and looking solemn. Charlie sat at the end, his eyes smiling. Her old riding instructor, Jimmy, sat in the back. The Dean of Foxcroft School sat up front. She realized they weren’t there for Walter, but for her. Each one was here because, in some way, they had cared about her. Lily reached out and found Jo’s hand. She squeezed it tight.

  The coffin rested on a small table of sorts. It held nothing within its walls, not even the box which had been presented to her. Walter’s head had been burned; she’d watched while it was reduced to ash. This service was more for appearances, for the human world who knew nothing of Walter’s other life.

  Since their arrival, the sun had set. Lit torches were placed in a circle around the seated area. Even the evening seemed to be holding its breath. Never had Lily experienced a summer night of such complete silence. There was no wind, no sound of summer insects or the distant noise of livestock. She nodded or smiled to everyone in attendance, forcing herself to meet their eyes. They feel it too, she thought.

  The reverend began, “I feel honored to have called Walter Ayres my friend. He was a man of conviction. A man of many interests and talents who followed what he believed.”

  Lily heard what he said, but wasn’t listening. Her mind was elsewhere, thinking of later when everyone had left.

  The reverend reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small piece of paper. “He prepared something for me to read. I think he was afraid of what I might say on my own.” He looked around and smiled at them. “I know that he wanted none of you to be unhappy at his passing, but to embrace life.”

  The reverend cleared his throat and shifted his weight. It was obvious he was torn about reading Walter’s last words. He looked at the casket for a long, uncomfortable moment and finally started to speak the last words of Walter Ayres.

  “Do not fear the shadows, the amorphous impossible tricks of the eye which conceal themselves behind the night’s curtain. Our inception was nurtured by their velvet embrace. For it is the darkness of our own hearts, that intangible pull towards the hideous, that frightens us. Embrace the unknown and let your mind open to the impossible. For I have moved on to another realm, the realm we whisper about and long to know.”

  The reverend paused and everyone waited for him to continue.

  The words slipped out of Lily’s mouth untethered, without worry or hesitance. “Go on, we understand these are Walter’s words and not your own.”

  The man of God gave her a strange look, almost fearful. He nodded.

  “For the dark shall feed upon the virtuous and bask in the glow of your world. This is good, this is just, this is as it should be.”

  A long, mournful howl broke through
the quiet of the ceremony, then another joined in, and other. It was the most sorrowful thing she’d ever heard. It was Liam and his pack letting her know they felt her pain. Then, as one, they stopped. The reverend, his hands shaking, folded up the piece of paper and handed it quickly to Lily. She could see fear in Martha and Jo’s eyes. She wanted to explain, to tell them not to be afraid. Instead she smiled, trying to reassure them, but she knew it wasn’t nearly enough.

  She wanted to retreat into herself, revert back to her old ways, and let everything flow by her, but she resisted and made eye contact, spoke to each person, thanked them for coming and pretended to grieve for a father she never knew. Finally, mercifully, she was alone in the library where her real life had begun days ago. The animals looked down at her, watching with their lifeless eyes. When she was very little, she remembered that Walter smelled of chemicals. His hands were sometimes stained from his hobby.

  She was pacing around the room waiting for the detective. He’d recognized the first three letters Walter wrote with his own blood. Had Walter died before finishing, or had he, even on the verge of death, wanted to torture her? It shamed her, the words Walter wrote for the reverend, words he knew would cause a kind man hesitation to speak. What type of man would do such a thing? She’d always known her father was cold. He was a deeply unhappy man who found pleasure in causing others discomfort.

  F, A, U, were the letters written by a bloody finger on the stone floor. While other children memorized the names of the seven dwarfs, she had played amongst the memorials of the dead in her family’s cemetery. She’d danced between the statues of her uncle’s fox hounds, singing out their names one by one. Walter had caught her doing this once, and laughed and told her she could bring them back from the dead if she tried hard enough.

  The forgotten memory seeped into her conscious mind, unbidden and unwanted. She stood very still, almost afraid to move, afraid that it would precipitate other memories, things best forgotten.

  The letters, if they meant anything at all, were the beginnings of the name Faust. Walter had told her it was his brother’s favorite dog. There was something else, something that might be important, if only she could remember.