The Last Keeper's Daughter

by Rebecca Trogner

  Connections were forming, memories resurfacing, events planned years ago colliding with the present. Unwanted, she remembered Walter waking her up in the middle of the night when she was little. She didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to leave her favorite stuffed animal, but he forced her to follow him out into the night. Lily closed her eyes, seeing herself as a child, a tiny waif with long hair, wearing a white nightgown. She could feel the cold concrete on the bottom of her bare feet. He took her to Marissa’s garden. Martha said that her mother worked for months getting the garden just perfect, just the way she wanted it, with all the flowers she’d had in her own childhood home. Lily saw a man standing there, and even as a child she knew there was something different about him. Walter wanted her to talk with him, but she became frightened and started screaming, yanking and pulling, trying to get away. The man laughed. “Let her go,” he’d told Walter. She’d run back to her room. What parent would do such a thing?

  “Lily,” Krieger whispered into her ear.

  She jumped, startled by his nearness.

  “Are you seeing a vision?”

  Yes, she thought. I’m seeing a vision, but not the one you think. “No, just bad memories.”

  She could tell he didn’t believe her, not entirely. “The man, the one you saw before, he has not reappeared.”

  She wished he had. What did that say about her past? “No.”

  “Come then, it’s time to leave.”

  Leave, what was he talking about? She spun around to face him. “The grave, I need to go, to show them where to look.” To see what Walter left for me, she thought, but did not utter.

  “No.”

  “I have to go.” She put her hands on his chest.

  He growled and she felt the vibration. It did things to her body, things she didn’t understand. His eyes registered her reaction.

  “Merlin and Detective Hunter are perfectly capable of handling this on their own.”

  “No!” She pushed off and walked to the far side of the room. “I’m going. It’s what Walter would have wanted. That’s why he left the clue.” Years of suppressed hatred towards her father bubbled up.

  Krieger must have sensed the intensity of her anger; it affected him.

  “Wait outside the door,” Krieger told Liam.

  Liam took a step and stopped.

  “Now!”

  Liam did not hesitate this time. He was gone before she could blink.

  “Come to me,” he said.

  Her body wanted to respond to his command, but anger kept her immobile. His eyes reflected back her image, she felt his rage flow and meet her own. “So now what, are you going to punish me? Don’t you understand? Are you incapable of any feeling?” These were words meant for Walter, not Krieger. “I was just a little girl. You left me.” She was yelling now.

  “Apryini,” he said softly. “Trust me.”

  He reached into his pocket. The sudden movement made her jump, but when he pulled out his mobile and started texting, she relaxed a fraction.

  When he was done, he gave her a long look and turned his back to her. “Walk with me to the car. The Vantors have picked up an unknown scent. It is not safe for you to be here now.”

  The tension in his shoulders caused the fabric of his shirt to ripple. She knew he was trying to protect her, but her emotions, so long bottled up inside her, were too overwhelming. She lashed out at him. “I’m not your pet. You can’t yank the leash and expect me to heel.”

  He threw his head back and growled. “Why do I try and reason with you?”

  He was able to possess words with such force that the walls seemed to vibrate. Her knees suddenly felt weak, and she grabbed the back of a chair to stabilize herself.

  “Martha,” she whispered.

  “Martha is not here. She went home, remember?”

  Yes, she did remember that. His arms engulfed and lifted her, carrying her outside. “No,” she protested, trying to push away.

  He cradled her against his body and lifted them both into the air. “Apryini, close your eyes.”

  She knew they were flying. She feared heights, and would not have looked if she could. Then he was striding fast. She heard the guards, the sounds of doors opening and closing. Steps, he was going down steps, very fast, two and three at a time.

  Instinctively, she knew they were deep underground. She opened her eyes, but it was too dark for her to see. She heard echoes, the sound of something massive being closed, and then nothing.

  He put her down on what felt like a cloud, all softness and silk. “Sleep,” he said in that voice. Suddenly she was so very tired. The ceremony had exhausted her. She didn’t care where she was, only that it was warm and plush, and her eyelids slid shut.

  He was there, the beautiful man of her dreams, of her visions, standing by Walter’s grave holding her mother’s hand. They were both smiling and happy, beckoning for her to come with them. She tried to move, but her feet were too heavy.

  “Please, mother, please wait,” she yelled as they turned their backs to her. The sky changed, and they were no longer at Waverly, but in some foreign landscape where the sunset was purple and the light kissed her skin. She was no longer weighted down and ran to her mother’s side, where it was warm and soft and loving. Lily pressed against her as they walked. The beautiful man smiled down at them. He kissed the top of her head and vanished.

  She was not sad, though, because she had her mother. They walked in tall blue grass that tickled the backs of her knees. Up ahead was a forest, dark and thick, and she could see and feel a shadow cast them in shade. Her mother pointed upwards. Lily saw something gigantic and shiny and black. It swung its massive head around to look at them. Her mother reached out her hand.

  “No, no, don’t,” Lily begged. Her mother smiled at her and turned back to the beast. The wings disturbed the air, whipping their hair about their faces. Her mother rubbed her hands along the scales of its face. Lily looked into its black eyes and reached out her own hands to feel the cool warmness of its nose.

  She awoke from the dream feeling light, like a huge weight had been lifted off her chest. Groggy, it took her a moment to piece together where she was. The bed was obviously built for Krieger; two of him could stretch out without touching an edge.

  Her eyes focused on the colors around the room. Drenched in the soft glow of gas lamp flames were rich purples and gold and flecks of red. She smiled at the fireplace in the corner. Krieger loved fire as only one who had known true darkness could. At least that was his explanation when she’d asked.

  To her left was a vault door – that’s what she had heard close when Krieger had brought her here – like you’d see in banks, floor to ceiling, made of iron and steel. She looked up. Shimmering fabrics draped down from the ceiling. It felt like she’d stepped into the bedroom of a sheik.

  Was she alone? She listened for sounds while untangling herself from the bed linens. Sliding down off the bed, she tentatively walked towards a hallway off to the right. Looking around the room, she saw oversized chairs, paintings and bookcases on the walls, with deep plush rugs covering the floor. She slowly walked down the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw a bathroom, then a small kitchen.

  Further down the hall she heard what sounded like water. She walked through an archway into a room with mosaics lining the walls and floor with images of lithe young maidens, flowers adorning their hair, dancing with their arms raised and their breasts bare. In the middle of the room was a rectangular pool of water with steam rising up from it. This was a Roman bath, and Krieger was lounging at the far end, looking at her with a crocodile smile.

  “Join me.”

  “Is that an order?” she spat back at him. The anger erupted in her.

  He resisted being drawn into an argument, and continued to stare at her.

  “I’m not a child.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  His eyebrow rose, and he ran his fingers through wet hair.

  She continued
with her line of thought. “Or your Sanguis An–” she couldn’t pronounce the word. Frustrated, she continued, “Or your slave, or whatever you have in that mind of yours.”

  He stood up in the water. She was thankful that it covered him enough. It must have been the heat which caused his scars to redden and stand out against his pale skin. His torso was covered in what looked like lash marks and knife wounds. What had he endured as a human?

  Not uttering a word, he glided through the water towards her. It was impossible to read him. She took a step back, and then another, and then whipped around and ran back through the hall.

  “Run, little rabbit, run,” he called out and laughed.

  There was no place for her to hide. The door was locked and she was trapped inside with him.

  He hadn’t bothered to cover himself. He strode into the room completely naked. She willed her eyes to stare at the fabric hanging down from the ceiling. He laughed again.

  “What if they don’t find anything?” she asked. “What if they miss a clue? How can you just saunter around like this? Say something.”

  He turned and walked to the bed. Her eyes roamed over his back. She could see exit wounds, or maybe they were entry wounds, and more whip marks. He pulled back the covers and slipped between them.

  “Come.”

  “Sleep, now? What if Merlin needs you?”

  “I am as accessible here as I am anywhere.” He patted the space next to him.

  She backed up against the door, shaking her head. “No.”

  She watched him exhale a sigh. Even for him, human habits must die hard, because he didn’t need to breathe. When she would place her hand on his chest it was completely still. He would sigh or exhale out of exasperation, usually at something she did or didn’t do.

  “Apryini.” His voice was softer. “Come.”

  There are moments when you have to trust your instincts. She slowly walked towards the raised platform that the bed rested upon.

  Krieger leaned back against the upholstered headboard. “It was not safe to have you at the cemetery searching for Walter’s message. I did not want the vision to appear to you there. Who knows how this is happening, but I did not want some unknown force to see what you see.”

  That had never dawned on her.

  “Earlier, when I found you in the study at Waverly, your mind was elsewhere, wasn’t it?”

  “I’ve been remembering things from my childhood, bad things.” She wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

  “I tried.” He winked at her, causing her to smile. “But you were otherwise occupied.” He patted the space beside him again. “I need to feed.”

  She had that strange feeling in the bottom of her stomach again. He was waiting for her to do something, but she had no idea what. She’d seen him drink blood on numerous occasions. “Go ahead.” She looked around for a decanter, but didn’t see one. “I’ll just get a book and read.”

  He laughed, and it made him look younger. She wondered what he had been like centuries ago.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  “No, thank you. I like my shirt on.”

  His eyes ran down the front of her, resting on her breasts, her hips, and slowly rising back up to her eyes.

  “The scars,” she said, nodding towards his chest. “How did you get them?”

  His eyebrow rose. “You can see them, most can’t. How vivid are they?”

  She thought about that. Vivid was a strange word to use, but it fit. “Not very. When you were warm from the water is when I saw them the most, now they’ve all but disappeared.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Europe was divided into tribes when I was human. Vast spaces with no true boundaries. Each tribe fighting for the spoils of battle, until the Romans came, and then we fought them. I was captured by the Romans twice. The first time I was taken, the soldiers used us for sword practice. I escaped.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. He had a way of distilling things down into the least amount of words. “Cherie said I’m bonded to you. What does that mean?”

  He pointed his finger to her chest. “If you want answers you must show me what is giving you discomfort.”

  He was back to wanting her shirt off. It was impossible to deflect him once his mind was set on something. He was right; her bra was tight and restricting. Cherie had picked it out for her. She narrowed her eyes. “If I show you then you’ll tell me what I want to know.” Her hands went on her hips. “You’ll tell me the truth.”

  An easy boyish grin spread over his face. With his wavy hair wet and raked back he looked classically handsome. “It is to be a negotiation, then. So soon you learn to use your feminine wiles.”

  She couldn’t help but smile back at him.

  “We will talk,” he began. Lily attempted to interrupt him, but he lifted his hand. “Until I can no longer resist the temptation of your blood, and then you will drink from me.” He gave her a wink. “Or we decide to enjoy other things.”

  A part of her body really wanted to know about those ‘other things’.

  When she didn’t say anything he gave her an expectant look. “The shirt first.”

  It wasn’t like she’d be nude without the shirt; she did have on a bra. She told herself it would be like wearing a bathing suit. She freed the delicate pearl buttons one at a time. The fabric hung from her shoulders. Too quick for her to respond, his hands, slightly rough with callouses, brushed across her skin and pushed the blouse off her shoulders.

  Her hands flew up to cover her breasts.

  “Your body,” he spoke with tenderness, “is most beautiful.” Gently, he pried her arms away. “Where did you come from?” he said to himself.

  She stood there, feeling his eyes upon her body. She thought perhaps he had mentally traveled to another place, another time. Then, as happened with him, his mood shifted.

  “You should go without that silly contraption.”

  Lily took a step back. “It’s lace and it’s sexy.”

  His eyes drifted over her. He closed them, and she knew he was inhaling her scent. It had weirded her out in the beginning, how strong his senses were, but Cherie had explained that it was a part of all Others.

  When his eyes opened they were hooded and slightly out of focus. “You are my Venus,” his voice was deep and husky.

  She looked into his eyes; they still had that dreamy quality about them.

  “In the bathroom you’ll find some shirts of mine. Take off that torture device and let the hot water wash over you, it will help.” His whole body was drawn tight with tension. “For now.”

  On autopilot she closed and locked the bathroom door and stripped out of her clothes. When she looked in the mirror, there were harsh red marks from where the underwire had dug into her. He was right; as the hot water washed over her, she luxuriated in the relief.

  Before Krieger, she had never once felt the urge or desire for sex. No interest in boys or girls, just nothing. Often she’d wondered if she was asexual, one of the rare individuals who found no pleasure in the sexual act. She didn’t have to worry about that anymore. Just his voice or the way he’d watch her gave her chills sometimes. Cherie called it his animal magnetism.

  The closet was a small walk-in. He had a few items, pants, shirts, shoes, etc. She picked out a white dress shirt with pale blue stripes. The fabric was soft and felt almost silken next to her skin. The shirt fell past her knees, and though she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself, she was glad to feel the freedom of nothing.

  Krieger was standing in front of the fireplace when she walked back to the bedroom. A sandwich sat on the coffee table along with a glass of milk. He was wearing a pair of low-slung pants, sort of like track pants or pajama bottoms, but more refined.

  He moved the sandwich plate to the other side of the table, the side that was closest to the fire, and placed a large pillow on the floor for her to sit on.

  “You need to eat.”

  She didn’t ar
gue. She was starving. She’d put on weight in just the short time she’d been here. It felt good to look in a mirror and see a woman’s body with soft curves.

  “They found a chest at the cemetery.”

  Lily swallowed the piece she’d been chewing. “What kind of chest? Did it have anything inside? Materials, like papers, or books, or pictures?”

  “It will have to wait till nightfall.”

  She wanted to argue, to insist they look at it now, but she knew it was close to dawn, and this was a rare opportunity for her to get answers from Krieger.

  In silence, Lily ate her sandwich while Krieger watched the flames. It was a comfortable silence. Usually when they were in private he stayed close to her. Now he was keeping his distance, avoiding her eyes. When she was done, she went back to fluffing her hair until it covered her shoulders with softness.

  “Tell me about our bond,” she said.

  She watched his shoulders tighten and then relax. “It is a blood bond created the night I gave you my blood.”

  “I still don’t understand what that means, not really.” It was disconcerting the way he kept his back to her.

  “It means I can feel your emotions, your proximity, your physical condition.”

  “Your voice, sometimes it’s different, controlling?” She shook her head, unable to articulate exactly what she meant. “You made me fall asleep when we got here, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, my blood within you responds to my call, to my influence. You needed rest.”

  This was going to take some getting used to. It was overwhelming to think about someone having access to that much information about her. “What else?”

  “You are impervious to a vampire’s trance. My blood inside your body prevents it.” Muscles bunched along his back. She knew he was calculating how much to tell her. “I can influence your mood.”

  “I knew it. That’s why I feel so comfortable around you.”

  “No.” He turned, arms held taunt at his sides, hands clenched into fists, jaw tight, and eyes filled with need. “You slipped your hand into mine when we first met. I did nothing to influence that.”