The Last Guardian Rises (The Last Keeper's Daughter) (37 page)

“Hmm, I know what cures boredom.” Audrey ran her hands over his muscled stomach.

He turned so his back was to the railing and cupped her face in his hands. “And what would that be?” She amused him, gave him a diversion from his dark thoughts.

“I’ve been a bad girl,” she said, smiling up at him.

“I see. You know what happens to bad girls.” He kissed the side of her face.

“They get punished.” Audrey shifted. Her heart rate increased, her breathing became less steady, and her pupils dilated.

Flipping her over his shoulder, he walked into the bedroom. She loved to play games. Hers was a kind and gentle soul and he cared for her deeply, but the intimacy they shared could not compare to what he’d feel with his Lynea.

Afterwards she lay on her side and lazily traced patterns on his chest with her finger. “There’s a part that would be perfect for you in my new movie.”

He was only half listening as he enjoyed the crisp ocean breeze wafting through the beach house.

“I can guarantee you wouldn’t be bored,” she continued. “You’ll get lots of exposure.”

“Exposure,” he said, more to placate her than with any real interest.

“You’re beautiful, like a god. All my friends are jealous of me. I should keep you all to myself, but…you would be perfect.”

“What’s the part?” He remembered when he’d been a god.

“Oh, so you are interested.” She rolled over to straddle his body. “A very handsome and mysterious man, who takes control of a young woman’s life and enslaves her with his dark desires.”

“And what would those dark desires be?” He flashed his eyes at her.

“He’s a vampire.” Anson stiffened, but controlled his face while she continued. “Not like those ugly icky ones ripping people’s heads off and stuff, but the beautiful… seductive kind. You’ve got all those qualities, baby. And,” she added with a wink, “the director fell in lust with you at the party last week.”

Audrey had no idea he wasn’t human, and he wanted to keep it that way. “So you think I’d make a good vampire?”

Audrey rolled off and lay next to him, propped up on her elbow.

“No, you’re too sweet to be a vampire. You’d make a good angel, an archangel.”

Sweet. Should I show her my true self? Would she still think me sweet?
“Exactly what do you think an archangel is?” he asked, curious to hear what her interpretation would be.

“They’re the bad ass angels. The warriors.” She reached across and ruffled his hair. “I could see you wielding a sword.”

“Did you know Lucifer was an archangel?” he asked.

“Really?”

“Really, only an angel’s hair separates the dark from the light.”

She gave him a smirk. “Well, I never was a very good Catholic.” She plopped back down on the bed. “Tell me one of your stories.”

Audrey was very accomplished, wealthy, famous, but had retained a childlike quality. He’d noticed this in many of the actors she’d introduced him to. Perhaps it’s what helped them transform into their roles.

“Which one do you want to hear?” He rested his hands behind his head, watching the ceiling fan blades rotate.

“I like the one about the war.”

“This was when you could travel for weeks and not see a single soul. When the air smelled sweet and the night sky was a carpet of diamonds.”

“And the gods watched over and walked among the humans.” It was Audrey’s favorite. She had heard the story so many times she knew parts by heart.

“Yes, the gods fathered many children with human women. The ones who were most fair, whose scent and blood beckoned the gods to their sides.” He ran his finger along her thigh and heard her sigh. “Like you, my sweet.”

“Why did they leave, then?”

He wasn’t sure why this was her favorite story because it never ended as she wished. “They didn’t want to leave, but their presence caused strife. The humans, as they increased in population and knowledge, resented the gods and their offspring. It was decided that the gods would fall back into the shadows and let their offspring learn to live on their own.”

“I would love to see a god. I mean, if they existed.”

“These children prospered until the ruler from below was awakened by the sweetness of their scent. He’d been shunned by the gods from above who in their arrogance refused to believe that he’d ever appear before them again.”

“Why was he shunned again? I can never remember that part.”

“He’d given the humans knowledge.”

“Knowledge of what?” Audrey rolled over onto her stomach.

“The knowledge of vices.”

“Like jealously and envy and lust.” She kissed him. “He’d be perfect for Hollywood.”

“Vices do seem to thrive here,” Anson agreed. “The god of the underworld took the most beautiful women and held them captive in his underground kingdom, but they were sad and their sons hated to see them weep for the world above. Eventually these sons tricked their father and escaped his world to return to the land above, the land of their mothers.”

“But they couldn’t free their mothers. It’s so sad.”

“The deepest ocean could not contain the sadness of the Strigoi.”

“That’s a terrible name for them. You should think of something better.”

Anson closed his eyes to keep from weeping. Because of the mothers they’d left behind, no Strigoi would ever hurt a woman.

“Couldn’t they have gone back for them and killed their father?”

“Such a thing was impossible. Instead they worked with the gods above and created gates to keep the underworld god from ever returning.”

“You should write a screenplay but have the Strigoi – you have to change that name – go back and free the women.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” Anson rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine.

“Aren’t you going to finish?” Audrey had slipped on a robe and followed him.

“It makes me sad.”

“Me too.”

“Don’t you have some promotion to attend tonight?” He sipped the wine.

“Ugh, don’t remind me, I hate them. Standing there being asked stupid questions, all the photographers waiting for me to slip up or get a shot under my skirt.” She giggled. “Like I’d be stupid enough to go without panties. You could come with me.”

If he thought he could endure it, he would go with her. “I’m going to take a swim.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful and not go out too far.”

What would she think if he told her the truth? He longed to tell someone who he was, and when loneliness darkened his soul he was tempted to explain that the stories she loved to hear were true. That he was Strigoi, one of the four guardians that betrayed their father and stood with the Elders to secure the world against the darkness. But he’d been awakened in a time that had no gods, no Elders, very little magic, and where the humans far outnumbered the Others and vampires.

Lily

Lily watched the party goers from the fringe of the room. Perched on a window seat with silk pillows pressing against her back, she pretended to enjoy Cherie’s fortieth birthday celebration. Since Krieger had forced the iron rings on her, she had acquired the habit of tracing with her fingertips the pattern of the iron, feeling the raised inscriptions like a blind person reading braille.

Her return from the realm of her father had left her out of step with time. Like a professional dancer who suddenly finds that the once-effortless steps of the tango are unknown to her, Lily’s partnership with time had become disjointed. To her, she’d spent a few hours with her father, but in reality she’d been gone half a year. How does one reconcile that difference? She smiled at Mercy – realizing she’d been stared right at her without knowing it – who always looked like the embodiment of a Beach Boys’ song, all blond haired with the sunny disposition of someone who’s never seen rain or snow and has only known the bright warm days of summer.

“You look like I feel,” Cherie said.

Lily had been too much inside her own head to notice Cherie walk over with her panther grace. She had a drink in hand, her hair pulled up into a loose french twist, wearing a black dress that made Lily think she looked like a voluptuous Holly Golightly.

“I’m the one who should be wearing the frown,” Cherie continued. “Forty years. I remember thinking I’d never grow up, and then when I did everything went so fast.”

Lily didn’t know what to say. Cherie was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen in print or film or in person. Before meeting her father, she would have said something trite like, “I hope I look like you when I’m forty.” But now, she met Cherie’s direct gaze and truly saw the fragility of beauty. Cherie reminded her of a tropical flower that was at the peak of its bloom. If picked one day early it would still be green; a day late and the petals would have started to wilt, but right now, in this moment in time, Cherie was perfection.

“There was a time I thought I was in love with the king,” Cherie said in a hushed tone, “and he me.”

“And now?” Lily asked.

“He’s a different person with you. I never had that effect on him. You breathed warmth into him, and then disappeared and he turned into an icy hard shell of what he’d once been.”

It physically hurt to remember those halcyon days of discovering love and passion in Krieger’s arms. “It wasn’t my choice to leave.”

“No one appreciates an ex-lover of their partner giving them advice, but he put those on you because he loves you.” Cherie pointed to the iron rings on Lily’s arms. “Because he is doing anything and everything he can to keep you safe.”

“I know,” Lily said, and looked about the room, registering the attention their quiet conversation was attracting. She knew people thought she was immature and heartless for arguing with the king. But it was her love, her wanting to keep him safe, that made her fight all his attempts to ensure her safety. Lily was the cause of all their heartache. The gates and the impending doom they all felt was her fault, because she’d been born, because she was a Lynea, because a guardian was on earth and would one day find her. And then what? Would Lily watch as Krieger and his men were slaughtered? Had Helen of Troy felt this way when she was snatched away from the ones she loved?

“I wouldn’t have said any of this if I didn’t consider you my friend.” Cherie took a sip of her drink. “I must be getting maternal in my old age.”

Lily knew Cherie was a friend and valued her advice, but unfortunately there was nothing she could do. She looked at her empty glass of wine. “I’ve had one too many. Would you point me in the direction of the bathroom?”

The space between Cherie’s eyes creased into two parallel lines, one day those would be permanent unless she took corrective measures. Somehow Lily didn’t think Cherie was the type for cosmetic surgery. Whatever she was thinking she kept it to herself and pointed towards an arched hallway entrance. “Use the one in Nina’s room. First door on the right.”

Lily hadn’t known they were close enough for Nina to have a room in Cherie’s home. What did Cherie think of Nina’s forced sleep state? She smiled at Cherie and then kept her eyes on her own feet as she walked down the hallway and into the designated room. She took a deep breath, feeling her ribcage expand with air and slowly, through pursed lips, let it out again. The bedroom was pretty but sterile in that way model homes are. There was a sumptuous red and gold comforter over a high canopy bed, an elaborately carved hope chest at the foot, and a couple of over-stuffed chairs facing each other as if having a conversation by the floor to ceiling windows.

I need to get away from Krieger, to protect him, to protect everyone from what is coming. I need to do the impossible.
She walked over to the dresser and stared at her image in the mirror. “I need to find a way to kill my father.” She felt if her father was dead the gates could not be opened, and whatever the guardian was, he would not be able to cause any harm to the ones she loved. But how do you kill something that is in another place, a being that can look like anyone, who doesn’t tell you their name, who can turn into a burst of light so strong you feel your skin searing? “I have to find a way.”

He can’t be killed.

Lily whirled around looking for the man who spoke the words. There was no one in the room with her. Cautiously she walked backwards towards the door.

It’s not too late to seal the rift
.

She stood motionless like somehow that would help her understand what was happening, to pull from the depths of her memory who the voice reminded her of, and then, as often happens, it hit her, it was the Elder’s voice. She reached out with her gift and walked over to the hope chest, lifting its heavy lid, smelling the pine, and moved the contents aside until a small book, no bigger than a modern paperback, with a cover that looked like gold and encrusted with red and green and blue gems, sparkled before her.

The imposter kept us from you
.

The voice of the Elder was now joined with other voices, all speaking as one, but each distinctive. Her gift told her it was the five voices of the Elders, together, somehow inside this golden book.

The imposter, who could that be? Thanking the gods that she’d worn a light jacket over her dress, she lifted the book, which wasn’t as heavy as she thought it would be, and slipped it into a pocket.

“Miss.”

She turned to see Liam standing in the doorway.

“You must come with me,” he said in an urgent tone. “It’s your Martha.”

Her world stopped spinning. “She’s not…”
I won’t say it
. She felt that if she uttered that dreadful one syllable word, it would make it so.

“Jo called.” Liam stepped into her personal space. “Martha’s being taken to the heart center in Fairfax.”

She listened, her limbs paralyzed, not responding to her frantic commands for them to move, to run, to do anything but stand impotent.
I won’t accept this. Martha will be fine. No matter what it takes, I won’t let her go.
Though they felt encased in concrete, she willed her feet to move, and sealed her fears behind anger. She followed him out the back of Cherie’s home and when she had her bearings she started running toward the castle. “I’ll drive,” she yelled back to Liam.