The Last Guardian Rises (The Last Keeper's Daughter) (27 page)

Since awakening from his imprisonment, Anson had searched for the meaning of his existence in a time and place that was utterly foreign to him. With no answers, his brothers no more, and the Elders gone, he despaired.

When the darkness of night moved across the great waters of the Atlantic to envelop the shores of America he reached out with his powers. Stretching them to the limit of his abilities he searched for another like himself. Like all his previous attempts, there was nothing. He was alone in this world.

The human blood he’d ingested had revived him, but he needed the divine blood of the Lynea to bring him into his full powers. Anson thought of Audrey, the little human woman-child who’d helped him in Australia. She’d offered him a place in California. From this height, he could see the tiny beacons of life spread out across the world. Each Other’s presence was visible to him, with most living in the vast area known as North America. Sadly, he looked back at the sparseness of Others to the east, so few, and so far between.
If I’m to find my Lynea, she must be waiting for me in the land of Audrey’s birth.

Anson dove down from the sky, skimming along the ocean waters, reveling in the warmth of the sun, and dropped down to walk the streets in the early morning light. He filled his lungs with the fresh air and watched the humans go about their morning routines. How different these streets were from the ones in Asia and Africa. There, around every corner, someone crossed themselves or shuffled off to hide from him. Why had they seen him as evil? It angered him, their ignorance at what he’d sacrificed that they might live.

Halfway across a high arching bridge a truck stopped to offer him a ride. A man reached across and opened the passenger door. “Where ya heading?” he asked.

I don’t know, Anson thought. Before he could think of something, the man waved him in.

“You must be a backpacker from Europe. We get you up here all the time. Hop on in, I’ll take you to the other side.”

“Thank you.”

“Your accent’s good, better than most. Sometimes they don’t even speak English. My dad gets all undone about that, saying if you come here you should speak something of our language, but I don’t think so. I mean, if I went over to Spain, I wouldn’t know a lick of Spanish.” He shifted the truck into a higher gear. “I’d like to see Spain, though. The women.” He let out a long whistle. “They got something in the water over there.”

Anson nodded, and ignored most of the man’s chatter until they’d crossed the bridge and were waiting at a stop light.

The man shoved his hand out halfway across the space between them. “My name’s Roy.”

Anson offered his hand and felt the decency and kindness of the human. If the world was populated with more like Roy there would be a lot less war. Like Audrey, the man had a low-lying sadness about him. When Roy resumed driving down the road, he saw the man wince when shifting the truck.

“I can take you as far as Virginia Beach.” Roy quickly eyed him, obviously waiting for a response, but when he didn’t get one he continued, “Where you going?” Before he could respond, Roy filled in the space for him. “Oh, you must be going to Washington. Yep, most of you do, like to see the capital and all. I went on a school trip. Most everything looks smaller in person.”

Anson hadn’t been going there, but now it seemed like a good idea. He could move from the east to the west and catch everything in between. If he could get within a few hundred kilometers of a Lynea, he should be able to catch her scent. “I need to rent a car.”

Roy pointed out through the windshield. “Right through there is the best way to see America.”

Anson went back to his own thoughts while Roy rambled on. He stopped the old truck in the rental car parking lot. Anson reached out and touched Roy’s knee, the one that was causing him the pain.

“Ah, man, I’m not into that. I mean you’re a nice looking dude, but I don’t swing that way.”

Anson caught his eyes and tranced him. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Right now?”

“What do you want most in life?”

“To play professional football,” Roy immediately blurted out.

“Why don’t you?”

“I had a full ride to USC.” Roy said that as if it should mean something. “But then on the last play of my high school career I blew out my knee.”

“You want your knee healed,” Anson said.

Roy burst into tears. “Yes,” he replied. “I could walk on a team, get some playing time. It’s not too late.”

So much pain, Anson thought. It took energy to heal the young man, but he couldn’t leave him without helping. When he was done, he tranced their brief conversation from the man’s mind. Just before he lifted the trance, he decided to give him a little extra. “You’re a good man, Roy, don’t ever forget that.” He opened the door, stepped out and turned to close it behind him. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime. Maybe I’ll see you on the way back.” Roy waved and left him.

Krieger

“You’re sure of this?” Krieger asked Dr. Caanan.

“Absolutely. After I read the announcement, I called King Beline’s royal medicus. She confirmed that Eva is dead.”

“And the child?”

“Thriving with the help of a wet nurse.”

It was always what lay between the spoken words that held the most meaning. “What killed her?” he finally had to ask. “And why didn’t it kill the child?”

“Dr. Sedgewick was vague about whatever happened, no doubt protecting the king’s privacy.”

“That will be all.” The doctor bowed and left. Krieger reached for the phone, but midway, he paused. Either Eva had truly died of some natural cause or Beline had ended her life because he sensed she was a threat. Either way, it was too soon to call Beline.

The pounding of the guard’s staff indicated another visitor was outside waiting to be allowed into his office. Very well, he thought. “Let him in.”

Hunter, dressed in shorts and a sweat stained t-shirt, entered and immediately started talking. “I’ve been thinking about things and something just smells rotten.”

“Do tell.”

Instead of explaining further about his statement, Hunter took in his surroundings. “I haven’t been in here before,” he continued, like they were old friends. “Nice.” He went to the fireplace, to the bookcase, walked by the paintings on the wall, and ended up pacing in front of Krieger’s desk.

“You mentioned something rotten.” Krieger noticed that Hunter was again wearing the Elder’s ring.

“Can we take a walk or something? I think better when I move.”

“You seem jumpy, Detective.”

“I am.”

“A walk, then, and you can explain the rottenness you smell.” Krieger led the way out the monumental front entrance and veered left towards Merlin’s tower. Hunter walked along beside him. Though he was jittery, Krieger could sense that Hunter was completely at ease in his presence.

“I think we’ve been scammed,” Hunter blurted out, yanking his cell phone from the holder on his waistband.

“Scammed,” Krieger repeated the word.

While Hunter scrolled through images on the mobile’s display he responded, “You know, cheated, hoodwinked so we don’t see the whole picture.”

“I know what the word means.”

“Damn it!” Hunter stopped. “He keeps calling me when I’m asleep or busy and when I call back he doesn’t answer.”

Figuring eventually the pieces would fall together, Krieger asked, “What does he say?”

Absently walking along again, Hunter waved the phone in irritation. “Oh you know Merlin, always mysterious. You’d think a sorcerer could be a little clearer about things.”

Krieger stopped. “Merlin called you. When?”

“Two days ago he woke me up and said “Don’t trust the signs.” Then this morning he called asking if I’d rearranged his specimens.” Hunter snorted. “Like I would.”

Resuming their stroll, Krieger debated this interesting information. He motioned towards a narrow path marked off by diamond shaped stones set into the ground. “This way.”

“I thought this was abandoned.” Hunter looked up the tower’s stone wall. “Did you know the Ancient is seeing Lily’s Martha?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I just jogged past his place and they were out working in his garden. Like it’s perfectly natural to be gardening at night.”

The Ancient had been very helpful in regards to safeguarding Martha. “I’ve been told they enjoy each other’s company.”

“So this is Merlin’s tower.” Hunter paced in front of it. “You think he might be in here?”

He shrugged and thought carefully how to answer Hunter’s question. “It was his place of solitude and where all his important articles are.” Krieger waited while the guard opened the door for them and walked through, immediately going to the stone steps which circled around the inside of the tower.

“It’s darker than two midnights in here.” Hunter hugged the wall, almost tripping on the steps that had no railing.

Krieger motioned for the guard to turn on the lights. “Better?”

“Much,” Hunter replied.

Walking slowly, Krieger deliberated on the best approach. The door to Merlin’s room was left ajar and he walked inside with Hunter a few steps behind.

Hunter stood in the center of the room taking in the contents as he turned completely around. “How does he work in here? It’s a sty.”

That it was. “When was the last time you saw Merlin?” Krieger asked.

“Hmm.” Hunter picked up a vial, sniffed it. “Oh God, what is that?” He put it back and moved on to the bookshelves. “Two nights ago,” he said, with his hand resting on the spine of a book, “No, three nights ago when we went to see Nina.”

The detective looked haggard to Krieger. “Take a seat. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I haven’t. I keep having these dreams, nightmares.” He cleared papers off a chair seat and sat. “Do you dream?”

“I do,” Krieger replied. “A drink might help calm your nerves. Merlin always had a bottle of bourbon in here somewhere.” He rummaged around looking for it.

“The cabinet by the window, top shelf, behind the hair samples.”  Hunter sat up straight. “How did I know that?”

He opened the cabinet, revealing the bottle, and exchanged a look with Hunter.

“I’ve never been here before. There is no way I should have known that.” All the nervous energy evaporated from Hunter.

“You do remember our meeting three nights ago? All of us at the sacred circle.”

“Of course,” Hunter snapped back. “Wait.” He slumped against the chair back. “Merlin’s sick. That’s it. That’s why he isn’t calling me back?”

A generous helping of Kentucky bourbon was Krieger’s response. “Here.” He handed him the glass.

Hunter tipped it back swallowing the contents in one gulp. “You said the sacred circle. I remember. Merlin was with Nina talking his gibberish.”

Would Hunter consider it gibberish once his mind reconciled the events? Krieger wondered.

“He needed help,” Hunter continued. “Needed to be released.”

“I’ll have my guard call Meirta. Perhaps she should be with you now.”

“No!” Hunter stood and slammed the tumbler down onto the table, almost shattering the glass. “No,” he repeated, his tone softer. “She’s sleeping. I remember now. Merlin was lying on the ground. The Ancient was helping him. Liam was there too, right?” He looked to Krieger for confirmation.

“Yes,” Krieger replied. Should he tell him that Merlin was dead, or wait for his mind to discover the information? He’d thought Hunter would instantly know what had occurred, but obviously he didn’t, and was somehow compensating for it by hallucinating phone calls from Merlin. Or maybe Merlin
was
calling him. He pushed books aside to make room and leaned against the table, noting how unsteady Hunter was on his feet. “I think you should sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.” Hunter turned the Elder’s ring around his finger. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” He braced his arms on the table. “Just tell me.”

“Merlin’s dead.”

“No, no.” Hunter backed away toward the open door. “Dead men don’t leave phone messages.”

“Merlin was no ordinary man.” Krieger waited as Hunter stopped just outside the doorway with the open staircase only two steps behind him. Surely he wouldn’t try to jump?

“You tranced me!” Hunter’s eyes were wide with accusation.

“I did not.” Krieger kept his demeanor calm, lifting and turning his palms out in the universal sign of ‘you have nothing to fear from me’. “It was the force of Merlin’s energy that caused you to collapse. You screamed, I think, at the moment of transfer.”

“Moment of transfer,” Hunter repeated the words, and stepped inside the room to lean against the wall. “The calls?” he asked, wearily.

Krieger shook his head. “Your subconscious working through the new—”

“He’s inside me.” Hunter’s eyes looked glazed. “Fucking bastard. How could he do this to me? That’s what he meant by, ‘
I’m a Merlin, not the Merlin’
.”

“The knowledge has passed.”

“Get him out of me. Do it. I know you can. Someone can. I don’t want to be a wizard or sorcerer or whatever the hell he is. Was.” His head dropped into his hand. “This can’t be happening to me.”

“It is done.”

“No one thought to tell me?” Hunter looked broken.

“I presumed the Elder had when he placed the ring on your finger. Or that Merlin said something to you. It was a surprise to me when Merlin asked to be released.” Krieger missed his old friend. “There wasn’t enough time at the end.”

“So, what now? I stop being me and become him? How long will I live?”

“Other than the calls, have you noticed any changes?”

“What am I, a prepubescent girl? Fuck, I don’t know.” Hunter paced with frantic intensity. “I need to get out of here. If it weren’t for Meirta I’d leave. Maybe I will leave.”

Krieger watched him carelessly jog down the stone steps and out the tower. Unable to do anything about Hunter’s situation, Krieger concentrated on what Merlin’s warning through Hunter meant.
Don’t trust the signs.
Did he mean the sign of the Brotherhood, or the sign of the Lynea, or the inscriptions? Or did it mean nothing at all, just Hunter’s brain sorting through trauma?