“I apologize for my behavior,” Henry said, to her only. “It was not my intention to scare you.”
The high humidity had caused his hair to curl slightly. It was usually pulled back off his face, but today his hair hung free and just covered the collar of his shirt. He looked different somehow, which was not possible, but still he did seem different.
“There, my lady has forgiven me.” He dipped his head to her. “It is pretty here, just before the sun rises.”
“I like the mountains,” she said.
“You realize my brother is besotted with you.” He rubbed the stubble of new growth on his chin.
Something inside her brain clicked into place. “How is that possible?” Lily rubbed her own face to indicate what she meant. “I thought you never changed.”
“I’m surprised my brother hasn’t had the talk with you. In order to stay static, our bodies are constantly rejuvenating to remain the same as the day we changed. I know the stories about vampires. Misinformation is our friend. We aren’t dead, not in the way you think. We are…” He looked off in the distance, thinking. “We are hyper-alive. Yes, I like that.” He smiled. “The older we become, the more blood we need to keep our bodies healthy. So you see, our hair and nails grow as yours do. In fact, for years I had a beard.”
That explained why Krieger’s skin wasn’t cold. A sudden disturbing thought caused her to shudder. “How much blood?”
“Ah, worried? Don’t be. He would never drain something as valuable as you. We have a network of blood banks to fulfill our needs, and there are many who find enjoyment in our bite.”
She wasn’t completely reconciled to Krieger feeding from her, or the way she craved the taste of his blood.
“Did you know that from over there you can see the valley below?” He pointed towards a clearing. “You can see Waverly.”
He kept his distance from her as they walked over. There was just enough light for her to make out the lines of Waverly’s fencing, the barns, and even the back part of the main house.
Had her ancestor bought Waverly because of its proximity to Stoke, the King’s Estate? Should she sell it? The house was too large, its walls tainted with the unpleasant memories of her childhood. There would never be a happy ending for the house which was crafted with such care. It was the land it sat upon, the rolling green hills, streams that overran their banks with spring rains, the groves of hardwood trees, and the gardens which kept her tethered. The small seed of an idea started to reach up towards the surface. She pictured herself looking over plans for a new structure.
Henry walked over to a raised flower garden and picked a red rose. He rolled the stem between his fingers.
“Have you been to Waverly?” she asked. The humidity was too much; she gave in and pulled her hair back, using the band around her wrist to secure the strands into a high ponytail. The breeze around the back of her bare neck felt blissful.
He watched and waited until she was done to speak. “It is known to me.” He turned back to the view.
“Sire.” Liam bowed as Krieger approached.
“Brother.” Henry dipped his head slightly. “I was keeping your Sanguis company.”
Lily watched the two brothers. It was clear to her that Krieger wasn’t comfortable with them talking. The tension was palpable.
“I should not keep Cherie waiting,” Henry said.
“Would you tell her I said hello?” Lily asked.
“Of course. Our conversation has ended too soon. I look forward to our next visit.” He bowed to Lily.
Krieger watched until Henry was no longer visible on the path. Lily waited for him to say something, but he didn’t, and she turned back to the view.
When he did speak, it startled her.
“Through the years, I’ve watched the valley change.” He placed his hands in his pockets and rocked back. “When I first came to this place there were Indians. They believed the mountain was cursed. I lived here undisturbed. Then centuries passed, and settlers came, but still it retains the beauty which brought me here.”
She tried to envision it without farms and roads and people, but couldn’t. The sky was brightening, the sun not yet visible but casting a faint glow.
“Aren’t you worried about the sun?”
“I have a while yet. I sensed your fear earlier.”
“I wasn’t afraid.” She watched the skeptical rise of his eyebrow. “You felt that?”
“I did.” The contours of his face were softer in this light.
“It was nothing.”
He gave her a smile. “It was Henry.”
She nodded. “At first, but then he tried to charm me.”
“I watched you with him. What words of his held you spellbound?”
There had been tension lines written across Krieger’s face when he’d walked up. Now that Henry had left, his shoulders dropped, and she could tell he was more relaxed. She’d noticed that when he was at ease, his way of speech was dated and with a different cadence than was normal today.
“He was explaining about vampires. I never understood why you weren’t ice cold like in the books.”
“We have found it useful to propagate false information.”
“There was nothing about this in Walter’s library.”
“It was his sacred duty to protect our secrets, even in his home. The real information resided underground in his private library.”
She didn’t want to discuss Walter. ”Is Henry really your brother?”
“Liam, you’re relieved for the day.”
Lily reached out and touched her guard’s forearm. “Thank you,” she said. In a short time she’d grown very fond of her quiet guardian.
Krieger waited until he was out of range. “You like him?”
“Yes, very much.”
“And Henry?”
“I don’t know.”
Krieger looked towards the east. “Come, I’d like to show you something.”
His hand went to her elbow and gently guided her down a half-hidden, overgrown path.
“In the human sense, Henry is not a relation. We are brothers in the blood, united together by the same creator.”
Lily remained quiet, not wanting him to stop speaking.
“Henry was captured as a boy by a Roman soldier who chose to save him from the sword. Back then it was common to kill the adult males in a village. When I first saw Henry he was probably twelve, small, delicate, beautiful in that way boys are before reaching puberty. He’d been passed around from soldier to soldier for years.”
“Oh,” escaped her lips.
Krieger looked down at her.
“I know how this must sound to you, but times were different then. You can’t imagine how hard it was for people to survive. Most died of disease, malnutrition, or injuries well before their thirties. Henry was given protection, food, and shelter in exchange for the beauty of his body. There was no shame attached to the sexual act between soldier and boy. The women of breeding age were taken by the higher ranks. It was common practice to impregnate them with Roman seed.” He looked down at her. “Is this too disturbing for you?”
It was disturbing and harsh, but it was important to her that he be honest. “I want to know everything you’ve experienced.”
“The common soldier was left with no physical release, so they took what was available. Henry was saved because of his beauty.”
He guided her towards the right. The path became narrower and rocky.
“My creator preferred boys. Henry was slight and skilled and clever, was taught to read and write. In his way, he was good to Henry.”
“Did you like him, too?” Lily needed to know.
Krieger stopped. “You want to know if I had sex with Henry or the one who made me.”
She nodded.
“No, I was too old for my master’s attentions. There were times when I was required to perform but never with Henry.”
Why she felt relief over something that hadn’t happened in the
distant past was for contemplation another time. She did wonder what his performances entailed, but that too would have to wait.
“He grew into the handsome man you see now. He took great pride is his ability to seduce any man, or woman, with his manipulative skills, and honeyed words, and sexual promise. There was nothing he took greater pleasure in than to corrupt the most innocent. Some he took willingly and some he did not. I counseled him to be more discreet, more careful, but it was a waste. He raped a young girl whose father was important. Our creator offered the man money to pay for the damage done, but he refused. Her father and brothers must have suspected us, and tracked Henry during the day. They thought he was dead when they left him. It would have been better if they had killed him.”
Krieger stopped walking. She looked up at him, hoping he’d continue with his story.
“What do you think?”
It took her a moment to realize he was looking at a structure. Nestled under two large oaks was a log cabin. She walked to the door and opened it. Inside was one large room divided by a rectangular shaped table. The floor was dirt, swept clean and hard packed.
He had to bend forward to pass through the doorway. She felt slightly claustrophobic with his large body inside the small space.
Krieger ran his hand over the exposed logs. “I built this.”
It occurred to her that she could spend a lifetime with him and only know a small portion of his past. That no matter what turn her life took he would be there for her. There was great comfort in that knowledge.
“I slept underground when I first came here. This was built during the spring.” He pointed towards the back corner. “Over there under that cabinet is a passageway that connects to the main house.”
“When did you arrive?” She looked over the rustic furniture.
“We sailed across from London in the early seventeen hundreds.”
“How did you manage that?” A strange carving in the logs above the door caught her eye. It was an X with a hook connected to the bottom right portion.
He laughed. “It wasn’t easy, but I endured. There were stories about a land filled with trees, and game, where there were no wars or disease. I wish I could show you how beautiful this land was. After spending a lifetime in Europe, it was Eden.”
She pointed up to the carving above the door. “What is that?”
“A rune.” He was tall enough to run his fingers across it. “There are large stones placed around this mountain with that carving. It marks it as mine.”
“Do you miss it?” She wanted to touch him. “The way it was back then?”
He laughed again. “At times.” He gave her a sad smile.
She thought she understood. “Is he dead?”
He turned his head slightly. “Who?”
“Your father.”
“You mean my creator.” With liquid grace, he came up behind her. “Yes, he is dead.”
She moved away from him, confused by what she felt. “Will Henry stay here?”
“No.”
An involuntarily sigh of relief whispered through her lips.
He leaned his massive body against the log wall. “I try to imagine how you see me. I must appear very coarse and uncaring, a hard man, but I hope you see the fairness in me.” He lifted his hands up to her. “These hands would never hurt you. I cannot change the rules which bind us, nor do I have a desire to, but I never want you to feel the desperation of enslavement, of feeling powerless to another.”
Was he apologizing or rationalizing?
“Do you find our time together unpleasant?” he asked.
“No.” Her response was instantaneous.
“You have not been out of my thoughts since I left you last evening.”
He was happy here, and it put her at ease. She looked for a place to sit, and chose what looked like a crude bed pushed up lengthwise against the log wall. The posts were the trunks of four trees, the axe marks clearly visible. About midway up her thigh, thick leather straps interlaced along the railing, and a rudimentary mattress lay on top. It was surprisingly comfortable as she sank down into what must have been down feathers.
“This is my private place where I come to think. I sit right where you are and work out whatever has me troubled.”
He looked down at the dirt floor, perhaps gauging the morning light as it crept closer to the cabin door. When a ray of sunlight was inches from his right foot, he stepped to the left.
“It’s important that we speak of last night.” He stared at her neck. “I want you to understand why my bite was harsher than before. I know you must have questions.”
This was what she’d hoped to avoid by staying on the chaise. She reverted to her old behavior. She undid the band which held her hair up, and put her head down, avoiding his eyes, and letting her hair fall around her face.
“Lily,” he said her name softly. The next second he was in front of her, raising her chin with his fingers. “Why do you deny yourself pleasure?”
Her face flushed with embarrassment. It took courage for her to meet his gaze and see concern fill his impassive eyes. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
He moved back to the doorway and didn’t press her further. “I find this time of day best for speaking truths.”
The morning light caused dust particles to shine like tiny precious jewels in the air. She watched Krieger’s dance with the beams of light entering the cabin. Sometimes the sunlight was near enough to cause his dark hair to appear lighter.
“I am at your disposal always.” A wave of his hair slipped down onto his forehead.
She nodded back to him with understanding and gratitude that he wasn’t insisting they talk about something she wasn’t ready to discuss.
“I have opened my kingdom to Others wishing to immigrate. In the days to come you may see individuals of varying physical appearance.”
“Liam said there may be a war.”
“Lines are being drawn.”
There was too much sunlight filtering into the cabin now, he moved to the back where it was dark. “Knowing what you do now,” Krieger spoke, his back to her as he opened up the passageway, “which would you choose, your old life or the life you have now?”
His body half-turned towards her, waiting for her answer. Slipping down from the bed, she went to stand next to him. “This is where I want to be.”
Chapter Twenty
Having worked in law enforcement most of his life, Hunter knew the value of information containment. It didn’t surprise him that the king wasn’t being completely forthright. What did surprise him was the similarity of this case to the gang wars of London. These keepers’ murders were meant to be horrific, more for presentation than for a true purpose. Someone, or thing, was saying, “Here I am. See what I can do if I want.”
He was relieved when the young woman’s mysterious appearance was revealed to everyone. It would have made him nervous if such a thing were kept secret, because the Others needed to know, and take appropriate precautions. So far, her identity was still unknown, perhaps never to be known. She’d awoken with no memories, none, not even her name. Dr. Caanan explained she suffered from amnesia. That one day, hopefully, she would regain all her memories. His charitable side hoped she’d never remember, but the old copper in him was disappointed. There were questions he needed answers to and she was the only one who could provide them.
Last night, he’d seen Lily visiting her and bringing clothes for her to try on. She’d informed him that Merlin had given the woman a name. Nina is what he called her. They both agreed that it suited her.
Meirta had filled him in on the Brotherhood. They were much like the human nutbag-crazy groups that persistently caused heartache and hardship where there needn’t be any. London had had its fair share of terrorists blowing up innocent civilians throughout the years. It didn’t seem too farfetched to know that the supernatural world also had dissident groups.
Tonight they were all convened in the banquet hall. At one end w
as a fireplace, large enough to roast a wild boar. Along the back wall was a buffet of food consisting mainly of breakfast items. He was on his second plate, heaped high with scrambled eggs and thick slices of bacon. He needed all the protein he could get just to keep up with Meirta’s Olympic sex. Since he’d been here his waistline had diminished. Soon he’d need new clothes. He hadn’t felt this fit since his early twenties.
It was seven o’clock in the evening. The sun was retreating, casting a glow which photographers were forever trying to capture. The king had not joined them yet; Merlin informed them that he would follow shortly. Lily was here though. She reminded him of the screen goddesses of old Hollywood, the way they shimmered in the black and white films. She had that luminous quality about her, with her white hair and mismatched eyes.
The king made his entrance with two private guards following behind. Merlin, Liam, and the king exchanged looks. Some wordless communication was passing between them, and it wasn’t good. What else had gone wrong?
As if to answer that question, Merlin slid back a section of the wood panel wall and turned on the television inside. A breaking news banner flashed bright red across the screen.
“At precisely eleven o’clock, the sounds of a massive explosion ripped through this quiet street. St. James is known as one of the most prestigious locations in London.” The cameraman moved closer to the edge, allowing the viewers to see down, way down. “The authorities think these are ancient ruins unearthed by the explosion. No doubt archeologists will be onsite as soon as it is deemed safe. At this time there have been no casualties, and miraculously no other buildings were damaged in the fire.”
Everyone sat in silence. The Legacy Foundation was destroyed. Hunter looked down at the ring Huthwiat had given him. The red stone shone bright, lit from within. That’s just too strange to think about right now, he thought.
“Is the Elder dead?” Hunter asked no one in particular.
The king leaned against the window frame. “He is no longer here.”
“And the other keepers, there are more of them, right? Do they know anything?”
Merlin stepped to the table. “The king was just on a conference call with the Royal Houses. Every keeper still in service has either disappeared or been killed.”
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