by Simone Lari
The Keepers of the Teardrop
Revelation
By Simone Lari
Cover by Lorena Laurenti
Cover Photo by "Subbotina"
License purchased from the website: www.123rf.com
Work regularly filed.
Ebook protected by Digital Right Management.
© All rights reserved to the author.
To the one who bewitched me
without using any magic
but by simply showing me her heart
This book is a work of fantasy.
Names, characters, places and events are the fruit of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious way. Any similarity with facts, places, real or imagined people, alive or dead, is completely by chance.
Any reproduction, total or partial, and any publication in digital format not expressly authorized by the author will be considered as a violation of copyright, and therefore a punishable offense.
Index
Chapter 1 – Nina’s Eighteenth Birthday
Chapter 2 - Vans and Gabriel
Chapter 3 - Christopher and Sting
Chapter 4 - Festivities
Chapter 5 - Black Sun
Chapter 6 - A Crowded Alley
Chapter 7 – Unexpected Encounters
Chapter 8 – Abraham’s Villa
Chapter 9 – Jared’s Chalet
Chapter 10 – Tiptoeing back home
Chapter 11 – The Lair of the Duergar
Chapter 12 - Request for Mediation
Chapter 13 - Contact
Chapter 14 - Shades of Grey
Chapter 15 - A Difficult Meal
Chapter 16 - the Agreement
Chapter 17 - It's Part of My Job
Chapter 18 - Interesting Intervals
Chapter 19 - The Enemy's Lair
Chapter 20 - Surprise Counter-attack
Chapter 21 - To Each his Own
Epilogue
Author's Notes
Chapter 1 – Nina’s Eighteenth Birthday
An insistent chirping filtered between the shutters of the half-open window of Nina’s room.
The sheer curtains of a light lilac hue hardly moved, pushed gently by the cool early morning breeze, accompanied by the timid rays of the sun that had just risen.
Nina smiled without opening her eyes.
She nestled under the blankets, pulling them right up to her nose, enjoying their enveloping warmth. Then, tentatively, she brought her arms outside, stretching them for a while with short ungraceful movements.
"Uhmmm...” she groaned as she continued to stretch.
Finally she opened her eyes, green as the meadows of Ireland. She turned her gaze to the heart-shaped alarm clock on the bedside table and realized what time it was: six fifty nine.
She held out her open hand toward it and as soon as it turned to seven, pitilessly indicating the time with a noisy ringing tone, she quickly silenced it.
"Nina, come down, breakfast is ready!" her mother called from the kitchen downstairs.
How on earth does she manage to be so damned punctual? She wondered amazed, hiding her head under the pillow in a vain attempt not to hear her calling any longer.
With a sweeping movement she pushed the blanket away and sat on the edge of the bed. She rubbed her still sleepy eyes, and then looked around blinking to clear her vision.
Her desk, full of fantasy books and cuddly toys, the PC workstation and the posters on the walls suddenly seemed far too childlike.
She scowled in annoyance.
It's all a psychological thing, only one night has gone by. What I liked until yesterday can't seem stupid and childish this morning. Tastes don’t change overnight, she reflected.
Her bare feet felt for her comfortable slippers covered with kittens and little hearts.
When she got to her feet, she gave her young limbs another morning stretch which, as well as being beneficial and pleasant, would delay her arrival in the kitchen by a few precious moments.
Now she was ready: she opened the door of her room and headed to the stairs, giving in to a resounding yawn.
She stared suddenly: her left foot slipped abruptly ahead of her and the next instant she found herself with her bottom on the ground.
"George!" she burst out angrily, rubbing the offended buttock.
She grabbed the chubby rubber triceratop that had betrayed her and threw it unkindly against the half-open door of a little room with blue and green walls.
"Did you hurt yourself, darling?" her mother asked, looking up from the floor below.
"Not as much as I’d like to hurt that nitwit!" she threatened, waving her hands in the air angrily.
"Oh, come on, don’t be hard on him” urged the woman, a moment before a little tot with a vivacious and mischievous face wrapped his arms around her hips, burying his falsely guilty face into her belly.
I'll just cut off the heads of all his damned dinosaurs! she thought to herself as she cautiously descended the stairs.
As soon as she came down the last step, her mother wrapped her in a warm prolonged embrace. "Happy birthday, my darling!" she said lovingly.
"Mo-mommy, you're s-su-suffocating me" she protested, as in addition to the woman’s hug, she found her brother’s head buried between her buttocks.
"And you, you nuisance, get your face out of there at once!" she rebuked him, freeing herself with a shake of her hips worthy of a voluptuous carioca dancer.
When she noticed the colored tablecloth with the coffee pot and the jug of steaming milk on it, she couldn't resist any longer.
Wriggling free of her family’s affectionate greeting; she went quickly to the table and sat down.
She filled a cup with milk and coffee, and then carefully examined the various cereals, biscuits and jams scattered on the table, as if she didn't already know everything by heart, including the exact amount of sugars and fats they contained.
"Darling, today at least eat regardless of the labels" suggested the mother.
"It's precisely today that I need to be careful: what with lunch, dinner, and the cake, I'll be full to the brim."
"You're eighteen years old and you're very fit, you can afford a few calories more."
George, who meanwhile had got into his small padded chair, grabbed the cup of milk decorated with a T-rex in funny pajamas with pink polka dots.
"Calories!" the little boy repeated excited, without exactly knowing the meaning.
Nina looked at the empty chair to her right.
"Has Dad already left for work?"
"Yes, he went early, as usual" explained the woman.
"I was hoping that at least today, seeing it's my eighteenth birthday and that it’s Saturday as well, he could take a day off" she said, unable to hide a certain disappointment.
"He’ll be with us for lunch, don't worry. By the way…"
Nina stared at her.
"No, I already said no. You're not going to make me work today of all days?" she objected pre-emptively, realizing where she was heading.
"That's exactly right: you’ll help me prepare lunch" the woman said, confirming her fears.
"No, Clarissa, you can’t do this to me, not today!" replied Nina.
"Stop calling me by name, you know I don't like it."
"Maybe because, when I do, you've already grossly exceeded my threshold of patience" she muttered rudely.
"My dear daughter, you have no idea what patience is” she pointed out in a firm voice. "In any case, you can't make me cook by myself for an army of people. Everyone is coming, grandparents, uncles... "
"But I didn't ask you to invite all the relatives,
did I?" she argued with clenched teeth.
"They’re coming a long way to be here, we hardly ever see them, and how could they miss a celebration like this?”
"As far as I'm concerned, the uncles and aunts could all stay where they are. I don’t like Dad’s sister at all or my cousin either. And my grandparents, well, apart from the proud display of dentures, I'll be happy to see them again."
"I know that what are important to you are your friends and the party this evening, but your uncles and aunts and grandparents love you, and want to celebrate this important transition to adulthood with you."
"Ok, I’ll help you then. Let’s hope that at least they bring me some nice gifts, that army of stingy gluttons!"
"Stingy gluttons, stingy gluttons!" George echoed her, amused.
"Nina!" her mother reprimanded her pointing to the brother, who had already gone into parrot mode.
The girl nodded and made a gesture of sewing her mouth, then, after downing only her coffee, raced to get ready.
After enjoying a long shower, she stood in front of the mirror: she found herself seductive with the towel twisted around her head and her skin still steaming. Then, so as to not take herself too seriously, she began posing and making faces, imagining she was some famous movie star of days gone by.
Then it was the moisturizers, which she enjoyed with an almost ritualistic languor; then she looked at herself once more for a careful examination. Her long chestnut hair, just dried, fell onto her shoulders in locks with just the right consistency: the conditioner had done its job. She continued the examination, inspecting her small face, and frowned as her eyes fell accusingly on a nasty pimple with a suspicious whitish top. She quickly took everything she needed from the bathroom cabinet to put an end to that unexpected threat.
As if she were preparing instruments of torture, she carefully laid out tweezers, cotton balls, foundation and an outrageous number of other products all poised on the edge of the washbasin; and then with two slim fingers with shiny nails, she affronted the problem.
With the restoration job completed, she stood there a moment longer to stare at her reflected image, then turned her gaze downward to look at her round, but rather small breasts, poking modestly from the pink bra.
She cupped them in her hands and lifted them, pressing them together. Observing the effect, she scowled with annoyance.
You really don’t want to grow a bit, do you? I'll have to buy a push-up, but one that works miracles.
She promised herself she’d go shopping in the afternoon, after the forced lunch with the whole family. Something made her think that her girlfriends had already decided on a similar, provocative and equally useful gift, but she wanted to wear it that very evening.
She was curious to know what effect it would have on her classmates, and see whether a dear friend of hers in particular would notice the difference or not.
She continued her preparations for the memorable day and some light make-up was the finishing touch. The brush of color would be quite different for the evening out. She intended to be at her very best that evening at dinner with her friends.
Chapter 2 - Vans and Gabriel
Vans hesitated at the doorstep perplexed as he examined first of all the shabby facade, then the darkness that reigned inside the house.
The noise of a squeaky shutter allowed a faint light to show as it timidly fought its way through the darkness and dimly revealed what was inside.
"It's totally disgusting" remarked the boy with a sad frown as soon as he saw the Sixties style furniture and the dust cloud that hovered in front of him.
"And you’re never happy with anything" muttered Gabriel going past him nimbly, despite the heavy backpack and the suitcase in his hand.
"Be careful!" he warned him, hugging a small cage to his chest where a striped cat was jumping around.
"Move your ass, kid, don't stand there like a salt statue" resounded a gruff voice from inside the house, just before the worn roller shutter creaked again for the umpteenth time.
Vans grumbled and went inside.
"Jared, tell me again why we’ve come back to this dump" he said with contempt.
"Let me remind you that this dump is my home, and that you're my guest, but if you prefer you can always sleep outside. You’ve always loved camping, haven’t you?”
"Not in the middle of winter and never without some girls around."
"Look, it’s not all that bad" Gabriel tried to convince him, "we’ve been in far worse places."
Jared approached the pair of them with a big sigh. His heavy boots and firm step made the hard wooden floor creak.
Through slit eyes, he scrutinized them from a short distance.
They were all almost the same height, but Vans was decidedly more robust than Gabriel, who had a lean physique, while Jared, because of his age, was carrying a few extra pounds.
"If you two dickheads had managed the affair of the demon girl in Larson City better, you wouldn’t have had to take this forced vacation!"
"What the hell are you saying, we did an exemplary job!" objected Vans, sure of himself.
"Uh, yes, everything went…well" Gabriel attempted to back him up.
"All good, you say? Let's forget the fact that the father you got rid of was human, and that you got help from a girl dressed in black latex…"
"Leather! It was a fantastic leather outfit that showed off her little butt like…" Van’s ecstatic expression, as he recalled the memory of that sensual body, collided with Jared’s serious and somber look.
"They saw you: you and your car. You let an old gossip armed with binoculars spy on you."
"Yes, but the description she gave the cops was very vague, and we didn’t leave fingerprints" Gabriel argued persuasively.
With a resounding snort that ruffled his eyebrows, Jared turned his back on them and impatiently rubbed a hand over his forehead. He started to cough repeatedly as he breathed in too much dust.
"Uncle, you're not hiding something from us by any chance?" conjectured Vans as he put his fingers between the bars of the cage trying to caress the cat.
"Yes, I mean, returning to Persepolis after so many years...
Why?" Gabriel asked.
Undecided at first, Jared rummaged in the pocket of his overcoat and took out a wrinkled sheet of parchment paper.
He then gestured for them to follow him to the table, where he pushed aside the jumble of things lying on it, and then opened the sheet and spread it out.
"Look at this."
The two boys came to his side; Vans gently placed the cat’s cage on a sofa, faded from neglect, and looked carefully at the writing.
"Hmm, it’s Latin, I think."
"Of course it’s Latin! Do you ever read anything apart from comics? Gabriel, will you enlighten him please?"
The boy held the message close to his face and examined it.
His expression became increasingly concerned. Instead of translating it literally, he began to describe the contents of it, something Jared knew all too well.
"It's a bounty on our heads, put up by an elder vampire belonging to the House of Tremein of Stoneridge."
"It’s impossible: we eliminated all those arseholes!" Vans argued.
"It would appear not. One of them survived and fled, it doesn't say where to here, and has alerted the mother house, giving a precise description of the two hunters that eliminated its young servants."
"Well, so what? Do they know who we are? Let them come; they'll make our job easier. We won’t have to go looking for them any more" remarked Vans lightly.
"Rule number one: a hunter must never become a prey!" Jared admonished him.
"Of course, uncle, I remember that well."
"For a while you’ll be good boys and keep out of the mix: no arguments, I've already decided. And now go and unload the van."
The pair headed meekly to the door.
A noise, sharp at first then muffled, coming from under Vans’ boot, made him roll h
is eyes to heaven.
"It’s only a small cockroach or, better, it was" Gabriel noted smiling.
Once outside, they went to the uncle’s pick-up, shouldered the bags and prepared to go back inside.
"I can’t stand him when he treats us like that. He’s a wise-ass, and then he starts to pontificate his stupid rules like Gibbs does in NCIS."
"Wise-ass? Where did you hear this word, on the radio?” ridiculed Gabriel.
"Do you take me for stupid maybe?" Vans replied annoyed, "I heard it on television" he admitted then.
After they had unloaded the luggage, the two of them joined the uncle, who was fiddling in the electrical panel to reactivate the power.
"When are you going to send that piece of junk out there to the scrap heap? Not even Chuck Norris would deign to drive a wreck like that" Vans challenged him, well aware of how fond the man was of his van.
"Look who's talking! The only American to buy a European car and it's a mini-van to boot."
"Listen, my car is not under discussion. A metallic blue color like that is impossible to find, and besides it costs nothing to run!" he protested.
"Listen," said Jared, cutting him short, "I've found you some small jobs to do; at least you’ll be busy and earn some money honestly, for once."
"What is it?" asked Gabriel.
"For you I've found a job as a salesman in the drugstore not far away, and for Vans there's a nice manual job: as a lumberjack."
"Hey! How come I always get the heavy work?'"
"Would you prefer to work in the store perhaps?”
"Never! Where’s my ax?"
Gabriel sniggered.
"Here are your documents. I've changed the details and the surname: you're now the Brawn brothers."
"Are you crazy? Us brothers? It’s not credible!"
"You're the same height, you both have brown hair." Jared ignored Vans’ dirty look of disagreement. "Ok, yours is darker and he has a few freckles here and there, but when it’s all said and done you’re fairly similar, so get used to it. Ah, as you can see, to help your stubborn heads not to make any mistake, I left your real names in the documents, so appreciate it."
