I am sure the dance will not be as bad as it seems. Nor will the attending dandies, as you used to be so fond of calling them. Look at it from their point of view. You are a beautiful young lady with the ability to donate a great deal of money to their cause. I am sure they are just jealous. And if they knew your real age, I am sure their wives would be even more so.
In another matter, I have some news for you. The first is very trivial, really, but I am excited all the same. I found my first grey hair as I write. It is a monumental occasion, I assure you. It is a strange feeling to be growing old after all these years. A strange but good feeling.
On to my other news, Alison is expecting again, so we will have another birth to add to the records before the end of the year. I hope for a girl this time, a miniature replica of my Alison, providing the troubles she is having pass. I love our sons, but a girl would complete the family nicely.
Should this letter arrive before your dreaded occasion, please relax and try to have fun. The toes you step on will heal in time, I promise.
I look forward to hearing of your exploits and injuries.
Love always,
Your Brother,
William
Injuries. That was a long-standing source of amusement between us. In order to avoid these dreaded things, I used to pretend that I had no skill at all when it came to dancing. The truth was I could dance the night away without so much as a thought, but I hated it. It had become a means of torture over the years. On this one occasion, I accidentally stepped on some poor fellow’s toe, breaking the thing . . . well, it had been a running joke ever since.
“Serenity?” Helen asked from the doorway. I hadn’t realised that I’d stopped what I was doing. How long had I been sitting here staring off into space? “Is there news?”
“Alison is expecting again.” I smiled and handed her the letter. “William has also found his first grey hair. I am thinking of making a comment regarding his age, though he’ll no doubt come back with something worse.”
“You are a few years older than him,” she said. “Anyway, I came to tell you it’s time to get ready.”
Already? Time must have slipped away from me.
“Must I go?” I grumbled again.
“You must keep up appearances. Come now, I picked out your green dress.” She handed me the letter. “I know how much you enjoy wearing it.”
I rose and did what I did with everything I received from my brother: I burned it in the fireplace. He did the same with those I sent him. Short of never contacting each other, it was the easiest way to ensure safety. We’d decided once there were only two of us, that we needed to keep in touch in case anything happened. And it was nice to be reminded that I was not yet the last.
“Serenity?” Helen called.
I hadn’t realised I’d stopped, thinking again. It was something that was happening more and more often. And it wasn’t a good thing. Getting caught up in my thoughts at the wrong moment could cost someone their life, or it could come as close to costing my own as was possible.
“Perhaps we should move,” Helen said. The words crashed through me, sending the strangest feeling of fear racing through my veins.
“Don’t be silly. As soon as I know where the London Seat are, I’ll be fine. If Jayne doesn’t improve, then I’ll start looking. However, I feel I need to be here. You’re free to use any of my properties if you wish to leave. This isn’t exactly a safe city at the moment.”
I already knew what her answer would be. Helen would be wherever I was, and that included her daughter and her brother, Sam, who was no doubt retrieving the car for the evening. Sam had been with us for years, choosing to stay with his sister since the death of her husband.
“You already know the answer, Serenity. Besides, we have a wonderful event to attend this evening.” Helen smiled widely, but it didn’t hide the concern in her eyes.
Getting ready for the ghastly event was a complicated affair. Hairpins and makeup. Undergarments and accessories. Literally hours of primping before everything was ready.
How I longed for simpler times when a dress was something you wore day to day and your best was only worn on Sundays and at weddings. One day a week was by far more agreeable, and that was only if I happened to be going to church. Though, I had to admit that my dress for the evening was beautiful.
The floor-length cocktail dress was one of my favourites. Its gentle lines and satin-smooth finish were both comfortable to wear and stunning to look at. The high, jewelled neckline was encrusted with emerald-coloured stones that matched the dress. The colour took some of the attention from the bright shine of my eyes. It allowed me to observe the room without being overly noticed, because most people were too busy staring at my body to notice to my shifting gaze.
Sam drove us to the hall where the event was taking place. With a reluctant final sigh, I followed Helen out of the car. We were expected and Mr. Wilson, the organiser, was eager to greet us.
“Miss Cardea, so glad you could come.”
“I could hardly miss such a worthy event, could I?” His slight floundering amused me. He always had a problem with the air of authority I carried.
“Of course,” he said, ignoring my sarcastic tone. “Let me introduce you to some of our contributors tonight.”
“Go, have some fun,” I whispered to Helen. “Find someone you like.”
“You know Steven was the only one for me,” she said, her voice low enough for only me to hear.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun.” I smiled, knowing she would never do anything of the sort.
Mr. Wilson held his arm out for me. “Shall we?”
We walked through the crowd, and I was introduced to what felt like half of the people there. Many of them were faculty members, though the university was currently closed. Most of them were too old to be sent to war, Mr. Wilson included. Sharp minds and wandering eyes were the main feature of them all.
“Ah! There he is. Miss Cardea, I’d like you to meet the best ancient languages professor that I have had the privilege of working with. Professor Issac Baruti.”
I stopped dead in my tracks and beat back the vicious hiss that tried to force its way out of my mouth. I hadn’t known he was in the city. I was well aware of who the professor was, and what he was. But it wasn’t the Egyptian professor I was worried about. It was his wife, Poppy Baruti.
The name “Poppy” had been given to her because of her preference for draining the last bit of life from men on the battlefield. She was one of the few who’d left the Seats of Power. Willingly. Though I firmly believed that people could change, I had my doubts about someone who was so ruthless in the taking of life. Surely anyone who had built their reputation by spilling blood and littering bodies across the centuries didn’t have it in them to give up such power. Yet, when she found Issac Baruti, she stopped. At least, that was the claim.
“Professor Baruti, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I lied, offering him my hand.
“Thank you, Miss Cardea. It is an honour to meet the fine young woman who has helped us so much.” He seemed genuine as he took my hand in his slightly cooler one, showing no signs that he knew what I was. His pleasant smile reached his eyes.
Just as I was starting to feel uncomfortable at having a vampire so close, even one whose reputation was apparently free from death, we were interrupted. A stunning brunette with piercing brown eyes glided towards us. His wife. I’d recognise her anywhere, though we had never met.
“Issac, my dear, look whom I found wandering about.”
“Have you met Mr. Synclair?” Professor Baruti asked before turning to his wife.
Behind her stood two figures. Both were blond, though I couldn’t see much of the man. The woman was lovely with her hair pinned up in an old-fashioned style. It suited her perfectly. Her steel grey eyes made her appear older than she was, giving her an air of wisdom.
“I don’t believe I have.” The same anxiety that had been plaguing me rose ag
ain. Perhaps the great Poppy being in the city was what had caused it.
“Then you must allow me to introduce you. This is Mr. Ray Synclair and Mrs. Synclair.”
Fantastic, another wife to avoid if her husband decides to stare.
“You must be Miss Cardea. My son has not stopped talking about the wonderful woman who helped to set up this event. Ray, dear, you must finally meet Miss Cardea.”
Son? Well, I hadn’t seen that one coming.
As he turned to face me, excusing himself from his conversation, the first things I noticed were the cane he used to support himself and the hand resting atop it. It must have been why he hadn’t been drafted. He leaned heavily upon the cane, though I couldn’t see why. His hand clutched it repeatedly as he moved forward, as though his entire weight were resting there. I stared at him, taking in his short blond hair, gunmetal grey eyes, the nicely defined muscles under his shirt, his close to six-foot frame . . . every inch of him.
When our stares met, I was left without words.
Never before had I been rendered speechless. Standing before me was the reason I hadn’t slept in months. He was why I was here, and every part of me knew it in that second.
The room faded away until there was nothing left. It was there in his eyes, that feeling, that need . . .
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cardea.” He smiled, striking me dumb once more. He didn’t extend his hand as everyone else had. It was resting atop the cane, and I got the impression he needed it more than he would like.
“Serenity,” I managed to whisper, reluctantly tearing my gaze away.
“I’m sorry?”
“Serenity, my name. Miss Cardea is so formal.” My voice was hardly audible, and it barely held as I forced the words out of my mouth.
“Would you do me the honour of dancing with me, Serenity?” he asked, smiling.
“I . . .” Could I say no? I didn’t want to. But I needed to. I needed to get out, to clear my head and think about what had happened. “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. Would you please excuse me?”
Without waiting for an answer, I blindly turned away and searched for Helen. I found her chatting quietly with some of the gossip-hungry wives.
“I won’t be home tonight.”
She looked towards me, startled by my sudden appearance. “Aunt Sere, is everything all right?” Her voice was only a whisper.
Clearly I appeared as rattled as I felt. It was a rare occasion when Helen resorted to calling me “aunt.”
“No.” I didn’t bother to elaborate; I just walked out of the dance and left it all behind.
How could I feel so dumbfounded, yet so at ease with a person this quickly? Something about Ray Synclair had shaken me to my core. In the depths of my heart I recognised the feeling. I had recognised it the second our eyes met. The feeling of not being able to look away, of losing all sense of self.
I had found my weakness, my mate. The one thing in the world that would make me happy beyond compare.
And the one thing that would ultimately destroy me . . .
It was one of those rare occasions when I hoped for trouble. It wasn’t something I found on a regular basis, but being in the city, so close to one of The Seats, I was sure to find some.
Vampires tended to gather near them, hoping to be the next in a long line of hangers-on. They were mostly lackeys who were sent on menial errands, never actually part of the main goings on, but close enough to feel the rush of power. Any of them would be eager for a chance.
I was betting on someone, anyone, getting on the wrong side of me—anything to distract me from my thoughts of Ray Synclair.
The entire time I wandered, I berated myself for leaving him there, in the same room as one of the most notorious vampires in the world. Surely he would be safe; there were far too many people around for her to try anything, but . . .
Stop it.
I was overthinking everything. Of course nothing would happen to him. He would be perfectly fine surrounded by the people at the hall. No doubt some other woman would want to dance with him, and though the thought made me want to return to ensure that didn’t happen, it caused me to wonder. Exactly how had he planned on dancing with me? Surely that cane of his would hamper any such attempts.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask him when I saw him again.
Wait, when? There isn’t going to be a when.
There was no chance I’d felt that accursed connection. It couldn’t be that this was the time and place for me to find my weakness. It just couldn’t. There had to be more time left for me. How else were we supposed to survive?
Fear lanced through me, making it so hard to breathe that I had to stop. If he truly was my . . . no. I squeezed my eyes shut, as though closing them would make everything less real. The possibility was too much. Having my life linked so intimately to another when there was so much left to do was almost unbearable. To be so close to the brink of extinction and then find my partner . . .
No! It just couldn’t be that connection.
If it was, and our lives were linked so . . . what if he died?
The thought almost brought me to my knees. Yet it was all too real a possibility. The vampires had hunted our partners for fifteen-hundred years. They would stop at nothing—because killing him was the only way to kill me.
I gripped the wall beside me, my fingers making rubble of the stone as I tried to calm myself. I had to be wrong.
If I wasn’t then the reality was too horrific to contemplate.
I needed to speak with William. He would know. He would tell me how frivolous I was being.
Helen confronted me the second I stepped through the door. “I don’t suppose you would care to elaborate on why there was a very concerned Mr. Synclair chasing after you last night?”
It was a question I didn’t want to answer. Not yet.
“Would you wake Sam for me?” I asked, ignoring her hard tone and worried stare. “I need him to do something for me.”
With the way she glared at me, it was clear that the subject was not closed. She wanted answers, and knowing Helen, she was going to get them. One way or another. If I were being honest with myself, which I absolutely wasn’t, I didn’t want to share that answer with anyone. If I was wrong, and I adamantly hoped I was, then I didn’t want to admit how much he affected me.
If I were right . . . the possibility was frightening.
Write . . . that was what I needed to do. If I were to get an answer, either way, then I needed to write to William. It took me a few moments of deep, calming breaths before I was able to put pen to paper and write out my worst fear.
Dearest Brother,
Congratulations, both on your first grey hair and the news of your family addition.
First, please accept my apologies for the delivery of this letter. I knew that, due to its content, it needed to reach you and only you.
I am in dire need of your advice on a matter I know you are well versed in. While attending the function you so kindly inquired about—no injuries to report I am afraid—I encountered a young man.
I am sure by now you have realised the importance. The young man I met has had a profound effect upon me, and I require your advice on whether I am correct.
Upon meeting him, for the first time in my life, I found myself speechless. Not only that, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away and I think I finally understand the meaning of looking into someone’s eyes for the rest of time.
I cannot accurately put words together to describe the depth of the feelings that coursed through me in that single moment. One word from his lips and I was enraptured.
Part of me is praying I am incorrect and I have been bewitched by the spell of infatuation. However, the greater part of me is concerned that it has finally happened. As you well know, this is my greatest fear. If I am not, then I am afraid the end is almost here. There are a great many things we need to now discuss, and I believe seeing you in person would be the best way.
I am rushing things again, aren’t I? My apologies. You know how I can be. The messenger has been instructed to wait until you have finished this and composed a reply.
Please write back as soon as possible. I would greatly appreciate your help with this matter.
And, as always, please take every step to ensure this letter is destroyed.
Kindest regards,
Your Sister
It took me far too long to write the letter, and by the time I was finished, Sam was awake.
“You need me?” Sam asked, half asleep. His dark hair was tousled, but his sharp eyes missed nothing. He looked a lot like Helen, but his father was apparent in the hard line of his jaw and the deep reddish-brown of his tight curls.
“Yes, please, Sam.” Rising, I handed him the envelope. “You know how to get to William’s house safely, I take it?”
“I do.”
“Good. Take my horse, and get there as soon as you can. My boat will be ready for you at the docks. Do not let anyone see this letter. Once you arrive, please wait for a response.”
As much as I’d have preferred him to take the car, getting it across the channel was a problem. Thanks to my contacts, borders weren’t an issue, but traveling could be.
William lived with his wife, Alison, and their sons, David and Michael, in a small village skirting the border between France and Switzerland. The journey would take Sam a minimum of five days by horse, but that meant pushing Tara to her limits. I also expected William to insist he stay overnight before returning.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” He smiled, heading for the door.
A couple of hours later, I finished with the first pile of the notifications and had updated our records. They were death notices—all of them. The number of our un-matured descendants dying had increased since war had been declared, and although it was a concern, there was little we could do about it.
The Last Keeper Page 2
