Shadows of the Keeper

by Karey Brown

  “Great combination. Killers charged on espresso. Who like coffee like me?”

  “My lover.”

  “Oookay. Did she have a name?”

  “Kendra.”

  This conversation was getting weirder by the minute. As she found her way to the oversized black leather couch, she noted beautiful paintings depicting various landscapes adorned his walls, a few still set up on easels. “What did she look like?” Autopilot questions.

  “Very similar to you.”

  “What? Oh, yeah, we humans all look alike. Nice. The same could be said about you ghouls.”

  “She was beauty and strength, and unsullied.” He paused and stared out at nothing. Emily knew he was caught up in a memory and chose to keep her mouth shut. The woman had died, after all. “Her rare gift was the ability in making me laugh.” He quickly sobered.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” And she truly was. A human woman, choosing to live with this cold being, and she could make him laugh. Well, that was saying something. “Why am I here?” She monitored his every movement. He puttered; her eyes stalked. One knife, and she would be flat upon the ground. No more being caught off guard by Lumynari mood swings. “And, how do you know Dezenial and I are mentally connected?”

  “It was your bond before being . . . sent away.”

  “Yeah? Well, from now on, call him yourself. He’s your buddy.” She blew into her still-numb-hands.

  “You’ve angered him.”

  “Well, gosh darn. Think he’s off pouting somewhere? Shall we bake him a cookie? You paint, or did you confiscate these during one of your raids?”

  “You need to beware his temper. Even you can push him too far.”

  She tucked her hands under each arm. No good. They were just never going to thaw. Ever. She bent over and wrapped her arms around her legs. So . . . cold.

  Inzyr was suddenly over her, dark blanket sweeping around her. He tucked it here and there, then reached behind him to the coffee table. Handing her a warm mug with steam wafting as thick as mountain mist, he offered warning, “It’s hot.”

  “That would be the steam?” She offered a lopsided grin. Though his eyes narrowed, there was a gleam in the amber irises that let her know her sarcasm amused him. Eager to get warm, she blew ripples across the dark brew. Screw a scalded tongue. She sipped. “Scotch and coffee. How did you know?”

  He sat on the coffee table, directly facing her and finished his own sip before answering. “It’s the way Kendra like it. She’s the one who painted.” His mouth returned to his coffee.

  Gag or giggle? She was having a tête-à-tête with an assassin. Her life surpassed weird.

  “You belong to him, Emily, though you foolishly fight against it.” Swiftly, he stood, stepping away from her, heading back towards his galley. “Just as you belong to me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “I am so not becoming your lover. Ick, yuck, blech. Ain’t gonna happen. Give me your dagger or find some rope, I’ll either stab myself or hang myself for you.” She flung her hand back and forth indicating herself and Inzyr. “Remember our hate relationship? Glare all you want, once this tea party ends, so does the civility between us. You’ve made it clear you barely tolerate me. And, as I’ve told you buddy, I belong to no one. So, the idea of being either you, or Dezenial the Douche’s lover . . . well, start a bonfire, we’re about to burn the witch.” She pointed at her cup. “Soon as I finish my coffee.” She sipped hot java several more times, relishing the warm fuzzies coming over her. If she’d bothered to look up an see the grin splitting Inzyr’s face, she’d probably have choked.

  The combined whisky and caffeine coursing through her system thawed numbed veins. Dezenial. His image conjured. She’d love nothing more than to be swept away by him. He’d made it clear the feeling wasn’t mutual. Screw it. Now, if she could just block out that final kiss of his. Knocked her to her knees—literally. She giggled. If a kiss could do all that, what would the whole package be capable of? Probably cause walls to crumbled. She brought her hand up to stifle her mirth. Another sip. Cooler now. Deeper, she drank. Fangs. The guy actually had fangs. Gah! Black leather, fangs, and an ass made to be perfectly cupped in each of her hands. Laughter roared. She gasped, realizing it had been her.

  “You’ve had enough to drink.”

  “Leave me alone. I’m tired of you. Shouldn’t you be off killing and maiming?” Her tongue felt thick.

  “Unfortunately, I’ve been assigned babysitting duties.”

  She stuck out her tongue.

  “Offering for me to cut it off?” He moved closer. “Many of your days have passed since I have had something to sacrifice.”

  “Come near me again with a blade of any kind, and I’ll torch you bald.” She finished her coffee, hardly amused by his outbreak of rich laughter. Strange amicable silence passed between them as he refilled her coffee and they resumed sipping, though he’d brought a stack of books and resumed searching through them. What the hell was he looking for?”

  “I’ll bite. Tell me about Kendra. Your silence gives my brain too much time to dwell on leather pants and nice asses.”

  His mouth twitched with amusement.

  “Did she live down here with you? She was human. How did she avoid being killed by the other beasts residing down here?”

  His finger slid down a page while he talked. “She used to take the short stool and easel from over there,” he looked up long enough to indicate a far corner, “wandering the forests to set up her brushes and paints.” A far-off look stole over him, loosening the forever-present scowl.

  My God! He’s actually very good looking. It was Emily’s turn to scowl. Down at her coffee. Bastard put something in my drink to make me cordial. I should set his books on fire.

  “So engrossed in her landscapes, she would forget to eat, or pay attention to her environment. I studied her for weeks.”

  “A bit long for plotting her demise, wouldn’t you say?” Emily snorted. “A sacrifice. Oooh. Major kill, little human woman.” She reared, throwing up her one hand to ward him off. “Hellllp meeeeee,” she squeaked, imitating an infamous movie.

  “She finished the landscape.”

  “Panic time. She’s going to pack up and leave.” Emily fist pumped the air. “Sharpen yer’ knives, boys!”

  “You would prefer to tell the story?”

  Emily waved her hand for him to continue.

  “She remained fixated in my mind for a long time. Too long. A patrol readied, a human woman their target. They were alarmed over a painting.”

  Emily forgot her coffee. “Why would they worry about a landscape—how did they even see the damn thing?”

  “I knew of whom they spoke. I too was curious. Querying rangers,” he put the book down. “I was left beyond surprised.”

  This time, her hand rolled, indicating him to fast-forward to the good parts. He took her empty cup and set it down beside him. “When I located her, I was brought low.”

  “Brought low?”

  “Her painting was of my image, peering at her from across the lake.”

  “She’d seen you.”

  “In a sense.”

  “So much for you being incognito. So, Dezenial snatched back your spy card and sent you back to scaring the shit out of kids from their closets, eh? Bummer.”

  “It would appear, Emily, visions run in your family.”

  She held up her hand. “I’m not here to blunt your blades. I simply meant that she must have seen your reflection or something. Maybe she had a compact mirror, or there was water—“

  “She was blind.”

  Emily’s gaze snapped to the closest painting. She closed her mouth. And felt it dropping open again. “Impossible.”

  “Do you always allow everything to skim the surface of your mind? Do you never allow words to penetrate your thoughts?”

  “Excuse me? Know what? I really don’t care about your love life. In fact, I can see why she was interested in you, she’d HAVE to be blin
d!”

  “Kendra was very fond of whisky in her coffee, as are you. She had a quick-as-lightening temper, forever getting into trouble . . . as . . . do . . . you.”

  Something twittered, trickling within Emily, an ugly little something.

  “She had visions . . . like you.”

  Emily bolted up over the couch, running towards the door. Pounding against it several times, she spun around, crazed. Inzyr slowly stood. Breathing escaped her. It couldn’t be true. Heart clenched. Stomach knotted. My God! So many pieces fell into place.

  “NO!” She clamped her hands over her ears, not wanting to hear another word. Wanting to block the whirlwind of memories suddenly assailing her. Dots connected. Pictures cleared. Air! She needed air! She looked at him again. How could I have been so blind?! She shook her head. Deny. Impossible!

  Her reaction seemed to amuse him. “A joke?” she gasped. “You think this is . . . funny?” Fury ignited. Flames erupted from her hands. Two chairs catapulted towards his head. She’d not even touched them. Deftly, and without showing surprise, he stepped to the side. Not even a flinch escaped him when they splintered against a stone column. Books lifted, hurtling across the room to pummel him. A wave of his hand, they dropped like stones.

  “My love for your mother was, and is, no joke!” He advanced.

  “Screwed up way to treat your daughter, dad.” A quick shake of her head, scrunching her eyes closed. “No. Impossible. My parents were decapitated by that monster Drakar.” Her eyes snapped open. “Dezenial was there. He was plundering with him, but oh how he tries to convince me otherwise.” She shook her head again, clearing overlapping visions. “No, that’s not right. He saved me.” She held out her hands, studying them. Blue flames. She gave them a shake. Fire extinguished. “What the hell is going on?” she screamed at him. “And where is Dezenial?” Dawning fractured her further. “He knew you were going to tell me, didn’t he? That’s why the bastard plays chicken and refuses to answer me!” She spun about, pounding the door with so much outrage, she was oblivious to pain until too late. Moaning, she grabbed her wrist. “Open the door. Let me go. This isn’t happening.” She kicked it. Hard. Another holler.

  “Let me see.” His hand gently grasped hers.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Whisper soft, he probed her wrist, his gaze flicking to her each time she winced. “You’ve sprained it.”

  “No shit.”

  “Your sword hand. You’ll not be able to use it for several weeks.”

  “Darn. Now how am I going to slice and dice you? Shame. You could use a good gutting.” Her other hand lifted towards him. “Oh, but look, I have a penchant for playing with fire.” Blue flames licked close to his face.

  He laughed, grabbing her hand. “Definitely your mother.” He blew out her flames.

  “Torched you often?”

  “Verbally, every chance she got.”

  Emily stared at his eyes. Amber. Like hers. “You just can’t be my father.” Vehemently, she shook her head. Glowing white hair, like her own; like all Lumynari she’d seen down here.

  “You are mine.” He had yet to release her hand. “Just as bloodthirsty. Just as fearless.”

  She dropped her head. He pulled her roughly, almost violently to him. Of their own accord, her fingers clutched his jerkin. Sobs wracked her body. “Why did you stay away for so long? Why did you send me away? Peter teased that I was Jane Doe. No family, he said, ‘who will miss you’?” She cried harder. So much hurt. “How could you leave me out there? I just wanted . . . to belong. I’ve never belonged.” Crying slipped into choking. She hit his chest. “Bastard!”

  “And here, outside your door, you’ve treated me . . . “

  “Emily, if anyone ever discovered you are my daughter, they would finally know how to have an effect on me.”

  “Another reason to not be granted—“

  Inzyr’s arms tightened. “You have always belonged to me. And to Dezenial. You must accept this.”

  She raised her face. His image swam. “Why?” she lowered her head again, resting it on his chest. “Why him?”

  “It has always been him. But this time, he claimed you upon your birthing.” His fingers gently tucked under her chin and forced her to look up at him. “He claimed you forty-one hundred years ago, daughter.”

  “Aurelia.”

  “Aurelia? No. Long, long before even her existence. He had pledged himself to you, regardless of tradition, regardless what age we find ourselves in.” His tone lightened. “Everything about him is a contradiction to the way of the Lumynari.”

  “How old was I when you . . . when you . . . she couldn’t say it. More crying. “You gave me up. Gave me away. My mother died birthing me. You blamed me. And you stood back allowing that witch of an aunt to—“

  “I killed that shrew.”

  “You? How? Really—oh, right, tongue removal should have been my first clue.”

  “None harm what’s mine and live. None. But, no matter the protection, it would never be enough to keep you alive in this world. There exist deep harbored hatreds towards Im’pyurs. Compare it to the racism of your realm.” He made sure to have her attention. “Now, multiply that by thousands.”

  “Did you blame me?”

  He sighed so deeply, she feared his answer. “Your mother held you for several hours, allowing you to feed from her. Her dying request was that I protect you by taking you into the light, to be a part of her world. But her father was vile and unforgiving. His loathing soon killed him, his drinking leading him to wander, fall, and die from exposure. She was relieved when Dezenial claimed you. And then she shared her vision, not with Dezenial. She waited until he had left us alone during her final hour.”

  “Vision?”

  He chuckled. “Tell me, do you repeat everything when you are nervous? Do you spout words like water gushing from a waterfall when upset?”

  She nodded against him, crying again for the mother she never knew. The pain of it combined with the mother who had tried to raise her, but lost her life to a savage Lumynari. “Why didn’t you use magic to save her, or have Dezenial help her?”

  “Lumynari magic or Lumynari blood, used on a human, can cause madness. Dezenial took a chance with you, but hoped your heritage would enable you to survive his ministrations. Besides, Kendra was Roman and very Catholic.”

  “You said she was blind. Please tell me she at least knew you were a monster.”

  Inzyr laughed. “Yes, she could see, but telepathically through another’s eyes. It’s how she was able to view me. She’d actually been looking through my eyes and remained with me, unbeknownst to me, when I returned down here. For her, death was meant to be. She refused interference.”

  “Wait. Back up. Dezenial took a chance with me? What, allowing me to remain here?” Swiping tears seemed useless. They just kept coming.

  He regarded her quizzically for a moment. “Emily, have you no idea the true nature of your wounds when you were in Drakar’s prison?” Her blank stare was answer enough. “You were skinned with a Lumynari whip. That’s what the weapon does to human flesh. You could not see what Dezenial observed of your back. Shreds are what were left, and severe infection. You’d bled within hours of your life ending. Even now, you have scars. And Dezenial taking a chance with you—several days, you laid in his bed, delirious with fever. Even my blood was given to you.”

  “You’re avoiding something.”

  “I am now in your mind, not as connected as Dezenial, but, enough to hear you when you rage.” He grinned.

  “Eh-eh. There’s more to that healing, and I’ve even seen Dezenial get weird when I ask questions about my back. I have the right to know what you two are hiding.”

  “How you survived is beyond our understanding, and for so many days.” He was shaking his head. “Your Lumynari heritage is the only reasoning we can surmise.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “Dezenial used ancient magicks, sliced his arm, and allowed his blood
to flow across your back.”

  “Fusing.”

  His stare drilled into her. “How do you know of this?”

  Emily swiped tears from her face. “Things keep coming to me. Sudden understanding. And really bad headaches.” She breathed deeply, her chest fluttering jaggedly from the hard crying. Her bottom lip trembled again. “Well, it would seem I survived this fusing. I am grateful to him. He has a knack for rescuing me just in time. Your blood too, eh? Bet you howled with outrage.”

  He softly smiled. “It isn’t the first time I’ve bled over you.”

  She looked up at him, quizzically.

  “There is more,” he said, his voice low.

  “Always is.”

  “Do you understand fusing?”

  She shook her head.

  “His blood now flows through you.”

  “Oookay.”

  “It was not an easy decision for him to make.”

  A sense of inadequacy swept over her. “Yes, my being this Im’pyur you spoke of is a terrible downside.”

  “Sharing blood. That’s what wasn’t easy for him. It is a serious decision. He didn’t have time to confer with you, and explain what the consequences would be. You are hapless against the bond with him now.” Inzyr hesitated. “Emily, should he die, there will never be an end to your grief. It won’t be like human women in your world where, as years pass, the pain lessons and good memories fill the void. Lumynari bonding creates the opposite. The more time that passes, the deeper your loss; the deeper your grief. None will be able to fill your heart. This is fusing. None ever agree to such a binding, save for a few. Our world is too violent from crib to coffin.”

  “Yet, he takes his time to claim me. Reeks of regret.”

  Lightly, he fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek before tucking it behind her ear.

  Emily looked down at the gleaming black floor. If her damn lip didn’t stop trembling, her eyes flooding with new tears. “Not surprised. No one is interested in me, only this person I supposedly was in another life, the power I have buried, and a group of Elders I’m to be protecting. Then there’s the one who, if I mention his name, you go ape shit, showing up at various times in my life. I was accused of being his whore. Nice.” Hysterical giggling bubbled. “How can one be a whore, yet no man has ever remained interested long enough to discover I’ve never been touched?”