The Last Keeper's Daughter

by Rebecca Trogner

  “I’ve placed no mark on you.”

  “But you have. I’m helpless against the feelings you’ve awakened in me.”

  She couldn’t bear to look into his eyes any longer; they held too much pain. She didn’t resist when he pulled her back against his chest and nuzzled into her neck.

  “I feel how your body yearns for my touch, for my blood.” His tongue made tiny swirl patterns on her neck. “You know that to be the truth.”

  It was hard to keep her train of thought. “I do, but not why.”

  “Nor do I, but from the first night I gave you my blood, you have taken to it. You’ve seen the changes in your body?”

  “Yes.”

  “Should I tell you all that I know?”

  “Yes,” she said, with as much surety as she could muster.

  “The night you fell down the stairs, you almost died. Merlin tried to use his magic to save you, but could not. Your body, your Otherness, prevented it. My blood was the only way to keep you alive.”

  Lily lifted her arm, expecting to touch his hair. Instead she felt the stubble of new growth. “Thank you.”

  Krieger kissed the palm of her hand and placed it back into her lap. “I tore my flesh away and placed the bloody wound to your mouth. At first, you didn’t respond. I forced the drops of blood down your throat. It didn’t take long until your tongue and mouth latched onto me. You drank for a long time. Your body was starved. I created the bond in order to save you, not to enslave you to me.”

  She nodded, knowing it was true.

  “You’ve asked what you are, but no living Other has your traits. There are vampire legends of Other women who mated with vampire men. Their blood was of such sweetness, such purity that they were prized as goddesses. As you have done, their true nature thrived on vampire blood and–”

  “And?” Her hand grabbed his arm. “Tell me the truth.”

  “The truth.” She could feel his shoulders muscles tense. “What truths are there in old vampire tales?” Krieger kissed her neck. “It is said their breasts swelled with the nectar of the gods. This nectar surpassed the taste of their blood, the vampires grew stronger, more powerful.” Krieger delicately slipped his fangs into her flesh.

  Lily’s mind swirled with need, want, desire, fear, but most of all with hunger. She didn’t try to stop the moans which escaped her lips as he drank from her.

  Krieger pulled away from the wound. She knew without being told he liked to see the blood ooze. Almost like a cat, he would lap it slowly, until it was clean and healed.

  “The other night your breasts were sore and swollen.” Krieger kissed along her neck, resting his lips against her earlobe. “Let us see if these tales are true. Let me give you comfort.”

  “No!” She vaulted from his lap and stood behind a chair.

  “I tell you what I know and you reject me. You reject my words. You reject your Other nature. You must come to terms with both sides of your being.”

  “I’m a freak.” Lily wrapped her arms around her chest.

  “No, but you are young, and immature, and confused.” Krieger turned away from her and towards the fire. “The mark you bear cannot be removed. With my permission, Merlin could obscure it.”

  “What do you mean by obscure? It would still be there, but no one could see it?”

  “Correct.” He added a few logs onto the fire. “We both need our rest, and you need to nourish your body.”

  “What would happen if I didn’t drink anymore blood?”

  “I’m not a doctor, Lily.”

  She knew he’d shut down his emotions. When he looked at her, his eyes were cold.

  “Is it your blood I need specifically or would any vampire do?” If he was mad, she couldn’t tell, and decided to ask the question she really wanted to know. “If you died, would it kill me?”

  “Is that what you want, to kill me?”

  “No, no!” The thought of it made her feel sick. “I–”

  “The gods do toy with us.” He motioned towards the table. “Open up the parcel. I had it made for you.”

  This must be what they were talking about before. There was what looked like a shoebox sitting on the table. She was afraid to see what was inside.

  “It won’t hurt you. Open it.”

  Lily didn’t like his tone. She ripped the top off. Inside was a dagger.

  “I had it made for you. I thought it was time you had some protection of your own. My timing leaves something to be desired.” His laugh was cold. “It’s made of wood and silver.” With preternatural quickness he stood in front of her and grabbed her free hand. “Here.” He placed it just to his left of center, in the middle of his chest. “Stab one of us there, all the way to the hilt.” He let her go, so abruptly that she stumbled back against the table. “You’ll only get one chance, so I would be sure of it. A stab through the heart with that will kill even me.”

  “That’s not what I want. I could never kill you.” She shook her head. “No matter what happened, I know I could never do that.”

  “Never, Miss Ayres, is a very long time. To answer your question, no, you would not die if I were killed.” Without looking at her, he walked out. She heard the kitchen cabinet doors open and glasses clink together. In a few moments he returned with a champagne glass full of his blood. “Perhaps I have not handled our unique situation delicately enough for you. I have strived to treat you fairly and hoped that in time you would return my desire. I could force myself between those silken thighs of yours.” He placed the glass on the table between them. “The thought has crossed my mind, but I am not inclined to take from a woman what is not given. Henceforth, I will provide Dr. Caanan with my blood. It is your choice whether you wish to continue drinking or not.”

  How had the conversation taken such a dark turn? She felt more out of her depth than ever. Utterly speechless, she watched him stare at her, and then he turned and left.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The waiting is finally over. Standing in front of Waverly, Lily felt a pang of sadness for her home. Even though Martha had been gone only a few days, the house seemed to call out to Lily, begging for them to return. I will be back. Someday.

  She blamed her sudden chill on the night air and wrapped the light jacket tighter around her. Impatient to get this over with, she traced an imaginary pattern on the stone drive with her foot.

  Krieger, now completely healed, stood to her right, talking with his guards. His close cropped hair was the only indication he’d been burned. They’d not spoken since their argument. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but she had, and now didn’t know how to broach the chasm between them.

  The Vantors, fresh from their hunt, stood guard around the perimeter of the house. Fleetingly, she could see the king’s guards’ shadows moving along the roof line.

  Every corner of every room had been thoroughly searched. All entry points sealed off. The underground section doors welded shut. Windows locked, nailed to the frames, their glass panes covered. The flues and chimney openings blocked. That left only one way in and out of the house.

  “Merlin will lead the way. If he senses anything, we regroup.” Krieger turned to her. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, happy that at last he’d spoken to her.

  The house she’d spent most of her life in now felt like a stranger to her. The side hall leading towards her mother’s suite made her feel like a prisoner walking to the gallows. She held tighter to Liam’s arm, her chest tight with entangled emotions of fear, dread, and anxiousness. Each step towards the door was torture. The beam of her flashlight reflected off the skeleton key as Merlin held it up, ready to slip it into the lock. An involuntary scream escaped her lips before she clamped her hand over her mouth.

  “Take her back,” Krieger ordered.

  “No. You won’t take this away from me.” Lily glared at Krieger.

  Ignoring her, he looked at Merlin. “Do you sense anything?”

  “An odd smell,” he answered, “nothing thre
atening, nothing alive.”

  With a click she heard the lock mechanism slide open. As Merlin had said, she smelled a musty, strangely chemical odor. She’d smelled it before.

  They stepped into a large seating area with windows along the back wall. To her left were double doors into the bedroom. Was it possible to hear your heart pumping blood? It must be, she thought, because her head felt like it would explode with the pounding. She could only see small segments of the room, the flashlight beam bathing objects in a halo of light. A light blue sweater was tossed over the arm of a chair. A stuffed teddy bear sat on the chaise longue, probably meant for her. She shined the light on a grouping of pictures, wedding photos, maybe their honeymoon, and some taken here at Waverly. Walter was happy, young, and unrecognizable to her. Cautiously she walked around the room, telling herself there was nothing to fear.

  She pointed her light towards the doorway which led to the bedroom. Lucien had gone inside and was walking back towards her. He blocked the entrance with his large frame. The light illuminated his dark eyes. He shook his head. At first she didn’t understand, but then she saw Krieger. Lucien was telling him that she shouldn’t be allowed in there. By his expression, she knew it was bad, but she’d always known that.

  Being told she couldn’t go inside only made her more determined. Lily marched up to Lucien. “Let me by,” she ordered.

  He looked down at her, the light giving his eyes a hazy quality. “Go back, sweet mermaid, let us handle this.”

  Fear, anger, terror, heartache, and a lifetime of suppressed emotions flooded to the surface. She pounded him with her fists, ripping his shirt, biting and clawing at his chest, wild and out of control, she screamed for him to move. Krieger pressed his body into her back, pinning her between the two men. Neither said anything while she fought against her imprisonment.

  Spent and unable to stop her tears, she pleaded with them. “Please, I have to go in, please.” She fell against Lucien’s chest and sobbed.

  Still caught between the two, Krieger brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. “Are we to leave her no innocence?” he asked Lucien.

  There was something perfectly natural about being pressed between Lucien and Krieger, which, if she had been thinking clearly, was perfectly unnatural for them.

  “Ignorance is not innocence,” Lucien responded sadly.

  “Let her in,” Krieger said.

  Lucien stepped back, steadying her with his hands until Krieger moved next to her. She wrestled away; rather, Krieger let her move away. For a tiny fraction of a second, she felt an immense well of sadness from him. She wanted his arms to wrap around her. To undo the damage of their previous conversation. Later, she thought, I’ll fix everything later.

  Lucien looked past her to Krieger and disappeared into the darkness of the room. The chemical smell grew stronger inside the bedroom. It wasn’t fresh, but more like the smell of a tack room, steeped in the odor of saddle soap and neatsfoot oil. Without the flashlight, she could see Lucien standing by the bed. Krieger was along the far wall, and she heard, more than saw, Merlin let out a long sigh to her right. Liam, faithful Liam, stood directly behind her.

  “Would it hurt to have some light?” She knew they didn’t need it, and preferred to move around without the harshness of it, but what good would this do her if she couldn’t see everything?

  Incrementally, the room went from dim to medium brightness. Her eyes skimmed over the peach colored wallpaper, the shimmering taffeta curtains looking like bookends to the large windows. The furniture gleamed from polish, the glass sparkled, and except for the odor, you’d never know this room wasn’t used. A rocking chair pointed towards the windows which would look out over the rose garden. What would her life have been like if her mother had lived?

  Lucien cleared his throat. When she looked up, he gave her a strange, weak smile, and then averted his eyes to look down at the carpet. “Don’t look,” he begged, “leave this to us. There are no answers in this room.”

  “She is not a child and wishes to see the whole truth of things.” Krieger turned the rheostat to a brighter setting. She stood very still, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. “It can’t hurt you,” Krieger said.

  It, what it? What were they talking about? She followed their eyes, which were trained on the bed. The bedspread was pulled back, revealing crimson sheets. There was something lying on top. Her eyes were seeing it, but her brain did not comprehend what she was seeing.

  Slowly, one horrific piece at a time, she was able to understand what was before her. A strange contraption hung from the ceiling above the bed. It had ropes and pulleys attached to the arms and legs of a doll.

  “It’s a doll,” she said out loud.

  “No, Apryini.” Krieger sounded weary.

  It was half propped against the bedframe with hands primly clasped, dressed in a creamy chiffon gown, and feet shod in delicate silk slippers. The macabre creation looked ready to step into her spotlight as the most celebrated debutant of her generation.

  “It’s not a doll,” she whispered. “How could Walter do this?”

  Now she knew why the family cemetery held no monument to her mother. Why Walter had locked the door and forbidden entry.

  Lily’s mind swirled back through the years until she was a child again. It was late; she’d gone down to the kitchen to make a peanut butter sandwich.

  The music of Clair du Lune was coming from someplace in the house. Martha had told her it was her mother’s favorite song. She followed the sound, her bare feet chilly against the cold floor. She saw the light seeping through the closed door to her mother’s suite. She knew she was forbidden to go in, but the music drew her. On tiptoes she crept closer to the door, pressing her ear against it, almost falling over because the latch was not completely engaged and gave way with her weight.

  She was only six; what child wouldn’t want to investigate? She stepped in, hearing a familiar sound in an unfamiliar setting. The farmhands would use pulleys to bring things into the hayloft. The wheel would make a distinctive noise as it turned.

  With each footstep the sound became louder until inexplicably it stopped. She heard someone humming along with the tune. It was Walter sitting on the bed with his back to her. He had a hairbrush in his hand and had stopped mid-stroke. Maybe he saw her in one of the mirrors, because he turned. His face was crazed. She knew whatever he was doing was wrong, terribly wrong. Even to a child this was obvious. She’d screamed and run towards the door. Walter had spun off the bed and chased her down.

  She knew then, and now, that the thing on the bed was her mother, somehow preserved, held captive to her father’s obsession.

  A Vantor’s howl shook her out of the memory. Somewhere one of Liam’s pack was howling, then another and another. Above all the howls she realized she was screaming and pressed her hand against her mouth. She couldn’t rip her eyes away from her dead mother.

  “Go,” Krieger ordered Liam.

  Lily turned to see that Liam had changed into wolf form. His woeful eyes held hers, and then he ran out of the room to join his pack. One of them was badly hurt; its shrieks of pain must have caused him to shift.

  “I need to get out of here.” She felt bile rise up in her throat.

  She had to flee, adrenaline spiked through her already taxed system, but her feet refused to move. The atmosphere felt strange, heavy somehow. Krieger leapt over her and landed on something or someone. He whirled around, revealing Henry with his arms held behind his back by Krieger.

  Henry smiled at her. “Brother, do you think this will hold me?”

  The atmosphere in the room shimmered, like the air above asphalt on a hot day, and Henry disappeared and reappeared on the other side.

  “How does it feel, brother?”

  Krieger immediately moved in front of Lily.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not here to hurt your little pet.” Henry disappeared and instantly reappeared by the doors, and placed his hand behind his ear. “I didn’
t hear your answer.” He was taunting Krieger, trying to goad him into chasing him about the room. Even with Krieger’s speed, he wouldn’t be able to catch Henry. “How does it feel to be less than your little brother?”

  “I should have killed you years ago.”

  “Yes, you should have; didn’t I beg you to end my misery?”

  “I pleaded your case to Atilius.”

  “Did you ever think to disobey?” Henry walked slowly toward Krieger. “No, I see that you did not.”

  “He was our creator. He forbade me to harm you.”

  “So you watched while he tormented me with his games, year-upon-year of being his favorite toy.”

  Lily had to turn away from Henry’s face. She wanted to cry. Somehow she could feel the shame he’d felt.

  “Don’t pity me,” he snarled at her. “I killed Atilius.” Henry glared at Krieger. “Yes, brother, it took days. You thought that selfish cur willingly went to his final death? That he repented for all his evil deeds?” Henry laughed. “At the end, he cried for you. You,” he threw his head back and yelled. “You were the one he loved. All the years I endured with him, and in the end he cries for you.” He spat onto the carpet.

  “I do not fault you for killing him. He was cruel.” Krieger moved closer to Henry. “He fed off our pain. He knew us well.”

  Henry slumped slightly. Maybe Krieger’s words had deflated his anger.

  Krieger stepped in closer. “We have suffered together. There is no need for us to be enemies. Tell me what you’ve done.”

  It was the wrong choice of words. “Yes, always the same. Even now you do not see me as an equal.”

  Lily felt Henry’s gaze drift over her body. Krieger moved directly in front of her, blocking Henry’s line of sight.

  Henry laughed. “So possessive of your toys, just like Father.” He took two steps and stopped, holding his hands up to Lucien and Krieger. “I would never harm her. I give you my word.”