Shadows of the Keeper

by Karey Brown

  “And, for now, I cannot.”

  She nodded. “I appreciate the honesty, at least, versus you trying to deny what I sense.”

  “The powers we grant you, the powers you honor us by agreeing to become the Keeper of, they will come to you as you need them. I do not want to overburden you, as we did with Aurelia, by granting all at once. You were raised in the mortal realm. I fear too much, too soon would overwhelm you, at the very least, this is our wish.”

  She looked away and folded her arms, not against the cold, but out of habit when uncomfortable. “Be careful what you wish for, eh?”

  And Xyn wondered, not for the first time while observing her stare of the horizon, what did she search for? “And what, highness, would you wish for?”

  “Dezenial.”

  A soul-deep explosion burst within Xyn. Painfully, he comprehended the emotion assailing him during this council with Emily. It left him bitter and cold. Frightened. It’s power, daunting.

  Guilt.

  And it wasn’t fading, but rather, taking hold and festering with alarming strength! He would have to make changes. Whatever it took to absolve this wretched pain hollowing him. He’d never felt more desperate, save for when they’d escaped from their home world.

  “We will speak again. The Outlander searches for you. The twins require feeding.”

  “Oh,” Emily gasped. Second nature, she shadow-jumped to their nursery.

  “You may bring your arse down here, rather than hiding amongst branches you obviously lack skill to remain roosted upon,” Xyn called out to his son.

  “I sense something in you. A genesis. Odd.”

  Xyn’s expression was thunderous. “You would do well not to try me at this moment.”

  “It is, as moderns say, a hard pill to swallow?”

  “River stones would be easier digested.”

  “Your strategy?” Pendaran asked his father.

  “You will prepare the Outlander. He will think of you as his new ally.” Xyn rocked forward a bit and stood. “I will return.”

  “As you would request.” Pendaran bowed low, reverence for his father before shape-shifting, and taking flight towards the castle, Sister Wind chasing after him.

  The elemental wasn’t missing this for the world! Besides, the castle was much warmer than her wheezing brother.

  * * * * *

  “Weapons are to your satisfaction?”

  “They are far more cunning than even I could imagine, for this realm anyway.”

  “I will take that as approval. The keep, you are comfortable?”

  The male assessed the Elder with barely contained disdain. “Confining, but I’m sure I’ll eventually adapt.”

  “Sunrise here is breathtaking, is it not? I’d forgotten how much.”

  Male growling filled the antechamber. Xyn was most tempted to push him, but poking a stick at a caged beast was not always prudent. Inwardly, the Elder sighed. Reprehensible consequences, should Emily come into full power and, thus, be enlightened to his failed strategy.

  No realm would remain untouched by that woman’s scorn, her otherworldly powers frightful, and those didn’t even include what Xyn had given her. No, no, he needed to rectify events he’d thought wise, but in hindsight, were intolerably erroneous. He’d have to find another way, but one last taunt could not be resisted. Mortals were really teaching him terrible habits.

  “I understand beautiful females flaunt their wares, vying for your attention?”

  Fists clenched. Xyn swore he heard gnashing teeth. And yet, a feisty woman, barely an inch over five feet, had tamed this beast. “Come. We leave now.” Xyn waved his hand, calling the being closer to him. A sweep of his arm, and black robes faded into dust motes. A warrior stood proud and stern. “Arm yourself,” Xyn warned.

  Cold, biting laughter erupted. “You manipulate me for your cause. You flaunt female flesh, wrongly assuming I prefer to feast when famine is all I ask, and now you wish to . . . what? Practice battle techniques? I hardly have need of weaponry, old one.”

  “An injustice, I have created. I do not like this emotion of guilt. It is likened to disease. I must absolve myself of it, quickly. My own enemies arise. I cannot have this distracting me.”

  Silence thickened the air into its mire of questions and assumptions.

  “You warned time passes differently here. How long have I been away?” One hundred twenty two sunrises had passed its light into the hands of night for safe keeping . . . last he counted. He’d not bothered with the numbers for some time now. The reminder ebbed his sanity. Why did the ancient one not answer his simple question? “How long?”

  “Clan MacLarrin prepares to celebrate the twins’ first birthday.”

  The being fell to his knees. Thousands of years of cold discipline anchored him. Shallow breaths were all he could manage. Because, right now, his rage roared for explosive release. He would craze. None here would remain alive. “And . . . the . . . woman?”

  He hauled his fury in, link . . by . . . deadly . . . link.

  “Her heart warms around her twins, ices as soon as they are not present.” Xyn’s voice became anguished. “I am afraid the Keeper takes care of all, but for herself, she withers. Her time is short, if we do not hurry. Twice, she has attempted to reside with Hades. I lied, telling her she would see her eightieth year, should she choose not to become our Keeper. In truth, she’ll see one more moonrise, her grief to be her death.”

  “As before, you decide without council or forethought.”

  Xyn laughed, refreshed to be in the presence of one daring speak his mind instead of fear stilling his tongue. The Elder laughed more loudly, his awful pain of guilt lessening.

  Rage erupted. The Elder’s laughter metamorphosed the tormented prisoner into colossal black and red winged raging monster. Roaring, he launched towards the ancient, fire encompassing the tiled floor.

  Xyn threw up his hand. Ferocious attack was thwarted by a sudden force so strong, winged creature catapulted backwards as if nothing more than a small reptile. “It is not my desire to be your enemy, not any longer. We have spent several millennia making very bad decisions, when we should have left some things alone. A tactic I thought would be to our mutual benefit has had repercussions I should never have allowed to occur. We will seek another way, but for now, you are needed for much more than leashing that psychotic mother of yours. Besides, another night of that screaming little hellion will have me cleaving my own ears.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Kendara awoke screaming, as had been her way since entering the world.

  Emily lurched. Pain stabbed between her shoulder blades. Falling asleep in a chair, half slumped across a toddler bed caused unmitigated pain to one’s body. “Shhh, come here,” Emily muttered her eleven-month-mantra. “Why do you still scream?” Cradling her daughter, Emily pulled the quilt from the tiny bed and tucked it around her daughter. Gently, she rocked, wondering if the absence of Aedan meant her poor Shield Guard finally realized she could handle a few hours of midnight wailing. Still, there was a measure of comfort when he’d burst in, full of apology for not remaining in the nursery. To which she’d tell him he should be down below, drinking, wrestling, wenching. And every time—Emily smiled—he’d puff up and remind her of his vow to Kendara. “Mi’ wenching days are over. ‘Tis no’ a good man, ta’ be creating bairns all over the kingdom, and one day, mi’ wife will have ta’ look in their faces, knowing they’re no’ hers. Nay. I’ll no’ disrespect her in such a way.”

  “You simply fear she’ll torch your hide.”

  “Aye, there is tha’.”

  “I thought immortals couldn’t have children?”

  “I’m no’ taking any chances.”

  “And when you two marry, what then? What if Kendara desires children?”

  Aedan had given her a look, so full of mischief, she knew there was some grand Fey secret the other immortals of Clan MacLarrin had not been made privy to.

  Emily patted Kendara, who s
till wailed pitifully. Emily nuzzled her daughter’s hair, kissing gently the small soft head of white down. “Kendara, if you stop crying, I promise you can have your very own assassin too. What do you say? Or would you prefer spiders? Your father had a penchant for spiders.” Emily grimaced. Kendara wailed louder. “Yeah, me too. Too gross. Your father thought it was very funny to scare your mommy with them. Or course, they’re as big as a man.”

  Her daughter’s scream was so piercing, Emily nearly fainted.

  “She claims light of day seeps into her dreams, and keeps her from sleeping.”

  Emily stilled her rocking.

  Kendara’s screeching silenced.

  Tears burned Emily’s eyes. “I’m slipping into madness.” She cocooned her daughter even closer, and trembled with grief. “He was so beautiful, Kendara. His voice deep, magnificent, caressing; an accent to make a girl’s toes curl.” Tears increased. “How, little one? How do I continue?” Deep sobs racked her insides. “Just . . . can’t. Pain never . . . ends.” Grief swept her down its raging river. Though she tried very hard to hide emotional devastation from her toddlers, this night would not see her as being successful with her ruse.

  Footfalls neared. Quickly, she fisted her tears. Miraculously, Kendara had yet to scream again. A rarity. Slowly, the nursery door opened. Her beautiful, lethal guardian peered in.

  “It’s okay, Vaide. She seems to be settling.” Magnificent to look upon, so kind to her, and all-knowing when it came time for her to feed. Sometimes, it seemed a no brainer, to just allow him to drink from her and be done with it. Tears slowly found their way down her cheeks. The betrayal to Dezenial would have her taking a knife to her own heart. It just wasn’t something she would survive. She knew this, soul deep. Vaide had come to realize it as well, whispering to her last night that he knew her time was near, and that his place would always be with the twins. She’d balked, determined to remain here with her babies.

  And then, times like now, when she swore she could hear Dezenial’s voice . . . well, at least the twins had something more terrifying than a nightmare to protect them—gorgeous, but, still, a nightmare, when provoked.

  That’s not very nice, Keer’dra.

  A choked cry escaped her. “Please, please get Aedan,” she whispered. “Sorrow hits me hard this night.” This was the most her mind had ever, at one time, conjured his voice. She felt herself slipping over an edge she’d never return from. I fought too hard to keep grasp of his image.

  Vaide had yet to leave. Instead, he opened the door even more. Emily tightened her hold on Kendara, and quickly stood to face down the Daemon. Had her father been mistaken? Was this in fact an assassin, sent by Shadow?

  Emily’s eyes ignited. Incantations filled her head.

  His yellow eyes fixated on an area over her shoulder. Her nape prickled. Before she could react, he dropped to one knee, bowed his head, and crisscrossed his arms over his chest.

  Emily hyperventilated. He was going to force her to be his mate! She’d shred him alive!

  Kendara batted something behind Emily.

  “Keer’dra, I command for you to turn around, and face me.”

  Ever-so-slowly, she obliged.

  Her mind collapsed.

  As did her body. Emily sank to her knees. She wept aloud, rocking back and forth. Somewhere, in the fog of her misery, Kendara was lifted from her arms. Too grief stricken to battle, sobbing wracked her body. Broc hunkered down beside her. Where had he come from? She peered up at him, her daughter so at peace in his arms. No, that couldn’t be right. Her daughter never ever ceased her screams for more time than it took to fill her lungs for the next assault to their ears.

  Now, she lay mute. Content.

  “I can’t . . . no more. Not another day, Broc. I’m sorry. I’ve failed my children. His memory. All of you. Please, my father knows the way . . . call for Hades.” She looked beyond Broc. “Vaide. Please. Take me to Hades.” She clutched her heart, and bent low, keening. “Pain. It claws me.” Hysteria choked her. “Can’t . . . handle anymore. Now I hear him, see him. I’m going mad. No more. No . . . more!” Her final word was a scream into her hands now covering her face.

  “I would have you fill mi’ hall with laughter, lass, ye’ and Aedan, once again schemin’ yer’ plots to humiliate mi’ men.” Broc stood and moved back.

  Emily rocked. Arms hung limp at her sides.

  A hand snaked under her chin, forcing her head to look up. An image swam. Glowing white hair. Her father. Oh, wouldn’t he be pleased, his daughter, the lunatic—a thumb wiped away her tears.

  “You will look at me, and see I am no phantom of your grief.” His arm waved, illumination filling the room. Shakily, her fingers reached up. She poked at the hands caressing her face.

  He was on bended knee. So close. Warm. His spicy scent permeated her senses.

  “No, no, no! You’re not real. I watched . . . you die! I’ll awaken—another dream! Hades!” She shrieked her father-in-law’s name over and over, louder each time. She sagged.

  “I was given a choice. Die and become nothing but grief to you—your suffering is as sharp as the Lumynari whip against my soul—or a hidden weapon against Shadow. I was given mere seconds to decide.”

  Emily scrunched her eyes closed. If she opened them, and he was not there, and she was simply sitting up in her bed—

  Hands impatiently grasped the back of her neck, pulling her to his descending mouth.

  Dezenial kissed her deeply, his own eyes watering. “Shall I taste your blood as well, convincing you once and for all I am here, Keer’dra?” Fangs grew, his eyes glittering with heartache. She touched his face. Kissed him again through both their tears. And inhaled deeply the scent of him.

  “Don’t leave me. Please, please be real. Please don’t—“

  “Shhh, Keer’dra. I have returned, little one. I’m here.” He scooped her against him, holding her tightly as she sobbed loudly into him, clutching every part of him. And then, she screamed and screamed into his chest, grief battling joy. Dezenial’s gaze fell on Vaide. “You will remain her personal guard. Also, you will now be as Cianna, all power granted to you, and also, like her, the privilege to choose a mate to call your own, should you so desire.”

  Vaide bowed his head. “I am profoundly thankful, my lord.”

  “No, Vaide, I am. You will now also command the Elites. And, from Hades, you have been granted your wings.”

  Vaide, beyond humbled, could not speak.

  Dezenial tilted Emily’s head back, gazing down at her, his fangs long. “I give you my strength to heal your heart. And your soul.” He bit deeply, his powerful soul reaching for hers, pulling to him, cradling it against his own. After several minutes, tranquility settled over her. He eased his fangs from her neck, licking the droplets before kissing her lips, her closed lids, his hands entwining her hair. “I am here, Keer’dra.”

  “I love you so much. I’ll never be able to stop touching you, breathing you in.” She grasped his hair. Trailed his cheekbone; ran her index finger across his very chiseled mouth. She pressed her fingers to his neck, felt the artery throb, tears welling again. “Please, don’t stop speaking. I missed your voice. So much.” She sagged into him, weeping uncontrollably. “Please, never stop speaking.”

  He chuckled. “You will beg for silence, but until then, I will regale you with stories of your father’s youth.” He stood, pulling her up with him.

  “Dow! Dow! Dow!” Kendara shouted, her command for down. Eyes ignited into two white hot little lights. She yanked Broc’s war braid. Yowling, laughing, quickly he set the Daemon princess down. Kendara crawled to her brother’s bed, pulled herself to a standing position, and proceeded to belt her brother awake. Sleepily, he turned to his side and sat up.

  And looked at his sister, nonplussed.

  “He’s indifferent to her chaos,” Emily sniffed, tears trying to make gullies in her face. “Just like you were—are—to mine.”

  “He is up against great odds,” Dez
enial whispered. His son. His daughter. He had spoken long with the Outlander. And both had sworn allegiance to the other. Dezenial had expressed that giving Broc fealty would still never be enough repayment for the kindness the human had shown towards his children, his help in bringing them into the world . . . and then, Broc’s testimony of Emily’s suffering had torn into him so deeply, he’d listened to everyone’s tale with his head cradled in his hands. He’d had no shame when at last, he’d looked up at the bevy of faces, his own face awash with tears.

  His Emily had suffered soul wrenching grief. Hades’ threats to his person, and to Xyn, still echoed in his mind. His father’s fury over Emily’s suffering had him being lectured like a freshman demon.

  And then, Zeus had bellowed.

  He was surprised his soul didn’t visibly smoke, his uncle having scorched him numerous times with lightning. Both gods had made themselves visible to Xyn. And warned the eternally meddling Elder, interfere with Emily’s happiness again, and there would be an epic battle the likes none of the realms had ever witnessed . . . and lived to retell.

  He and Inzyr had clasped arms. Dezenial remarked Inzyr’s considerably shorter hair—the assassin having always been rather vain about his hair—and had been informed by the Forest Lords that Inzyr had slashed his hair, shortly after Dezenial’s demise. The god sat heavily, and contemplated the various consequences his death had caused. He was regaled with details regarding his twins’ birth—and how history repeated itself, this time Aedan the bearer of The Claiming. His brows had shot up, shocked to find out Inzyr and Aedan had become blood-bonded. A Lumynari and a Fey royal. “I leave you to your own devices, and return to find you’ve grown soft.”

  “I am dutifully shamed, my lord,” Inzyr said, eyes glinting.

  Scrutinizing, Dezenial had not found Aedan wanting. His daughter would be cherished. He could ask for no more. He’d roared with laughter over Emily’s annoyance that his son already had his very own assassin. Eldaryn had groaned, padding out the front doors of the keep in search of something he could kill, gnaw, and eat. Grown males gushing over babies more than nauseating for the Oltheg to tolerate any longer.