The Last Guardian Rises (The Last Keeper's Daughter) (21 page)

“Who are you?” he asked, and then remembered she’d lost that ability and reached for pen and paper. “Here.” He leaned her back against the wall and placed the pen between her fingers.

Your death
, she wrote in squiggly letters.

“Not yet.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Why?”

The crooked grin she gave him was not an expression of Nina’s. He’d seen that particular turn of the lips before. 

“No, impossible.” He released her as the realization of who she was came to him. The cant of her head, the blaze in her eyes, and the jut of her jaw. “Faye,” he breathed.

She tossed back her hair, stretching out her arms, her fingers wriggling like worms on a hook.

“You’re dead.” He walked backwards until he bumped into his work table. Faye had been the sorceress who crafted the Dragon Sword and the accompanying curse of the wielder, Lucien. “How is this possible?”

Merlin’s tattoos sprang to life, the black magic spreading down to his fingerprints trying to stretch out and reach her.

She began writing again, this time faster than before. He stayed out of her reach but close enough to read.

Did you truly believe Henry’s pathetic coven was the power you felt?
Nina’s face contorted into an almost perfect facsimile of Faye’s sneer.
The Brotherhood is coming for you all
.

Did Henry, the king’s deceased brother, know what his witches had done? Did the witches? Or had they all been duped by Faye who used their power to resurrect and place herself inside Nina’s body?
I saw her die.

Yes, but we never recovered her bones,
Bleheris reminded him.

With trembling hands, he mixed a sleeping potion. Faye was gaining strength and it took Merlin two tries to force it down her throat. He stood over the bed watching her, afraid to even blink or move until she drifted off into a potentially limitless sleep.

Hunter

“Tell me he’s still breathing and healthy,” Hunter urged Lucien. He’d stopped directly in front of the vampire and impeded his way into the plane. He should have been more adamant before about the archeologist, Len, but the whole experience had rattled Hunter and last night he’d had nightmares about Len forever sitting in that storage room staring ahead at the walls. It probably wasn’t the smartest move now, but Hunter needed to know if Len was hurt, dead, or a walking vegetable.

Lucien had a way of looking through a person and at the person all at the same time. “I tranced the memory of us from his mind. No more, no less.”

Not quite convinced, Hunter pressed, “Then where is he now?”

“I assume at the museum or on his way back home.” Lucien lifted his shoulders, which raised the sword strapped to his back. His black eyes focused in and truly looked at Hunter. “I give you my word that Dr. Toolley was not harmed by my hand.”

 
What about your sword or your fangs?
He hadn’t known Lucien to lie to him. He might not tell the whole truth, but he seemed to be a man of his word. Whatever had or hadn’t been done, there was nothing more to do now but get on the plane and fly back to Stoke.

Meirta was waiting for him with her legs across the cushions of the seat in front of her. The plane was small compared to the one he’d flown in with the Elder. This one had a seating area in the back and few rows of seats in the front. Lily was sitting in a window seat staring out. They’d planned to leave last night, but for unexplained reasons the flight was delayed until late afternoon the next day which was why the plane was still inside the hangar. Vampires and sunlight were not a good combination.

Not for the first time, Hunter pondered exactly what happened to a vampire in the sun. Would that alone kill Lucien? Would he slowly burn? Or would it just incapacitate him? Either way he wouldn’t see that today. Hunter sat at the end of the row where Meirta was lounging and placed her feet on his lap. He didn’t see the point of the row of seats facing towards the back of the plane. Who would want to sit facing the wrong direction?

In one fluid motion, Lucien ripped his sword from the sheath on his back and sat next to Lily, placing the sword on his knees.

“We have been cleared for takeoff.” The pilot’s voice competed with the sound of the plane’s jet engines.

A loud banging sound below caused Hunter to jump. He looked to Meirta who had an equally surprised expression.

“Our cargo is secured and we’re taxiing out now.” The pilot sounded eager to get in the air.

Lucien reached over and drew down the shade on Lily’s window. Hunter noticed that they were all closed. Curious, he reached over and lifted his, but didn’t get any response from Lucien. Not likely that a tiny shaft of light would do much damage to him. Absently, he rubbed Meirta’s feet as they taxied to the front of the line of planes waiting to take off.

“Our flight time is approximately six hours thirty six minutes,” continued the pilot. “We should land in Upperville in time for supper. Until then, enjoy your flight.”

Hunter mouthed the word
Upperville
to Meirta.

“It’s a private airstrip,” she answered.

“Ah.”

They were in the air before Meirta could turn the page on her gossip magazine. Bored, Hunter studied Lily and Lucien who appeared to be having an intense conversation. Lucien was turned sideways in his seat to face her. Reading body language came naturally to Hunter – he knew they weren’t talking about the weather. He could easily see Lily’s profile, her lips slightly opened, her face tilted towards Lucien.

“Do you think there’s something going on between them?” he whispered to Meirta.

She glanced up from her magazine at Lily and Lucien. She shook her head and whispered back, “I would if it weren’t for the curse.”

“Curse,” he said too loudly and froze as Lucien turned his head slightly their way.

Meirta slipped her legs off his lap and leaned into him until their shoulders touched. “Sometimes I think you have a death wish.”

He waited until Lucien and Lily were talking again to whisper back to Meirta, “What curse?”

“You saw Lucien’s eyes last night when Lily was bleeding?” He nodded and Meirta continued. “I’ve only heard bits of the story, but he was cursed to wield the Dragon sword.” She placed her fingers over his mouth to keep him from speaking. “It’s said the sorceress who created the sword melded the essence of a dragon into the steel of the blade and Lucien until the two were linked. He can kill anything with the sword.” Meirta looked up to make sure Lucien and Lily were still talking. “And the curse doomed Lucien to the dragon’s needs and impulses. So, you see, he can never be with Lily.”

Hunter scowled at Meirta, not understanding what that meant.

“He can never express his love for someone in the physical sense,” she explained. Hunter shook his head which prompted her to roll her eyes. “He can never have sex with someone he loves. To do so would bring down the walls of his self-control and allow the dragon to take over.” She regarded them again. “It’s clear to everyone that Lucien loves Lily.”

Yes it was, and last night he’d witnessed just a glimpse of what lay behind Lucien’s eyes when he’d been in bloodlust mode for Lily’s blood.  

Meirta stiffened, her eyes drifting up and over his shoulder. He turned his head, following her gaze.

“We need to talk.” Lucien looked down at him with his eyebrow raised and a slight grin on his face.

Had he heard them talking? “About what?” Hunter asked.

Lucien’s grin became a toothy smile. “Come with me and find out.”

Meirta kissed his cheek and went back to her reading, seeming not the least bit concerned. He followed Lucien to the back of the plane with the Dragon sword at his eye level. Lucien bent down and slipped his finger through a small ring in the floor, lifting the cargo hold door, and disappearing down into the hold. Hunter sat and let his legs swing down before dropping into what felt like a cellar, dark and cramped and uncomfortable. Before his eyes completely adjusted to the lack of light, a foul smell made his eyes burn and his throat close.

“I almost thought you weren’t going to make it,” Lucien said.

A tired male voice came from the darkest corner of the cargo area. “Security is a bitch around Heathrow now.”

“We could have easily delayed the flight.” Lucien sat down on a trunk.

“No, it’s imperative we get back,” Krieger said, stepping forward and biting into the bag of blood in his hand. “I needed this.”

Hunter swallowed and attempted to not betray his fear. Krieger looked like a third degree burn victim. Not a hair was on his body – he knew this because Krieger stood before them naked.

“What did you find in Australia?” Krieger asked between swallows.

Lucien smirked at Hunter. “He’s afraid you’ll have him next.”

I’m not, Hunter wanted to shout, but resisted. Lucien handed Krieger a gallon sized container of water and Krieger tipped it over his head. Hunter worked hard to keep his face impassive as Krieger wiped blood and clumps of old skin off his body. Underneath he could see the new skin filing in.

Hunter began with, “Something or someone crawled out of a mine in Western Australia. I believe they’d been imprisoned in a large room made of thick iron.”

“And?” Krieger asked.

Lucien opened up the chest he’d been sitting on and pulled out a towel and some clothes for Krieger. “I thought you might need these. If you’re not careful, one day you might find out where Icarus landed in the sea.”

Krieger chuckled, dried off, and slipped his arms into an oxford shirt.

Taking that to mean he should continue, Hunter gathered his thoughts. “We followed his trail to Sydney where we think he took up with an American actress.”

“He’s learning,” Lucien said.

“I see,” Krieger responded.

“He left her,” Hunter continued, “and went west, we think to Jakarta. We have an article talking about some killings there. Then we came here, uh, to London to meet with Dr. Toolley.”

“He only kills the men. He hasn’t harmed any women,” Lucien interjected.

“What did Dr. Toolley have to say?” Krieger asked, and stepped into a pair of jeans.

Hunter glanced at Lucien before speaking. “His grandfather was an archeologist in the twenties and—”

Krieger held up his hand. “I don’t need all the details, just the parts that pertain to our situation.”

Hunter cleared his throat, mentally parsing his words. “In the twenties another corpse was discovered inside an iron room. It moved and was wrapped in chains, just like our rogue.”

“The tablet referenced a guardian,” Lucien added. “'The guardians protect us from he who knows heaven.’”

“So you think that’s what our rogue is called, a guardian.” Krieger rolled his tongue over his teeth. “Anything else?”

“Bones of a woman and child were inside the room.” Hunter shrugged so as not to shudder. “And Lily found a pendant.”

“With the symbol we’ve seen before.” Lucien used his finger to draw a circle with bisecting lines in the air.

“I see,” Krieger said.

“Audrey Moon, the American actress, called him Anson.” Hunter watched Krieger’s expression. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“No,” Krieger replied. “Do you know where he is now?”

Lucien shook his head.

“Do you have a description of this Anson?” Krieger asked Hunter.

“We have one picture from the security footage at the hotel, but it’s too grainy to make out much.”

“Around my height,” Krieger said, “mid to slender build, brownish hair, with classical facial features.”

“You’ve seen him?” Lucien asked.

“No,” Krieger responded, took a fresh blood bag from a nearby cooler, drained it, and tossed it aside. “I spoke with someone who has.”

Krieger studied Hunter, probably deciding how much to explain in front of him. At first, Hunter had been put off by this behavior, but now he knew it was more of a habit than anything else with the vampire, and that sometimes it was just best not to know. Krieger reached for another bag of blood and this time used the tube like a straw. Hunter peered inside the cooler, quickly counting ten more bags. Would Krieger drink them all? As if knowing what he was thinking, Krieger and Lucien looked entertained by his nerves.
Yeah, yeah, whatever, the human is funny
.

“I had a conversation with Carlos.” Krieger finished the bag and grabbed another one. “He was in bed with the Brotherhood of the Sanguis.”

“Was?” Lucien asked.

“Wait a minute,” Hunter interjected. “You mean a king was part of the Brotherhood? I thought these were just a bunch of terrorists.” He sat down on Meirta’s bright pink Hello Kitty luggage. Then it dawned on him that Krieger had used the past tense. “Did you kill him?”

He thought Krieger was giving him a, ‘would I do that?’ look, but couldn’t be sure.

“Give us a moment,” Krieger said, nodding towards the cooler. “And then we’ll be up.”

He wasn’t going to argue and gratefully slipped back up through the plane floor. He sat down next to Meirta, who offered him a bag of M&Ms. He shook his head, noticing she’d already eaten half the contents, and marveling at how she could eat anything she wanted and never gain an ounce. She must have the metabolism of a hummingbird.

“The steward said pizza will be ready in a half hour.”

Somehow watching the king’s skin grow back while he guzzled down bags of blood had put Hunter off his food. “We have a steward on board?”

“Uh huh.” She tossed down another handful of candies.

It perplexed him that she didn’t seem concerned or want to know why he’d gone with Lucien. He tapped the side of his head. “You listened.”

She smiled broadly. “You’re so easy to read.”

He gave her his best scowl, but he wasn’t mad. She was a Minder and he would have done the same thing if he could. Even though he’d been immersed in the Other world for months, the absurdity of it all could still make his mind reel. Below were two vampires. His girlfriend could read thoughts. Merlin was probably losing his mind. What sane man would find any of that acceptable?

The steward, who looked like a pro-wrestler, was bringing him a second vodka tonic when Krieger, looking almost normal, appeared with Lucien.