The Last Keeper's Daughter

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Acknowledgements

  Rebecca Trogner

  www.crescentmoonpress.com

  The Last Keeper’s Daughter

  Rebecca G. Trogner

  ISBN: 978-1-939173-11-9

  E-ISBN: 978-1-939173-12-6

  © Copyright Rebecca G. Trogner 2013. All rights reserved

  Editor: Candice U. Lindstrom

  Cover Art: Lilliana Sanchez

  Layout/Typesetting: jimandzetta.com

  Crescent Moon Press

  1385 Highway 35

  Box 269

  Middletown, NJ 07748

  Ebooks/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Crescent Moon Press electronic publication/print publication: February 2013 www.crescentmoonpress.com

  Prologue

  Walter Ayres was six when he was presented to the king. ‘Be brave,’ he remembered his father saying.

  Even now, sixty-two years later, he still expected to see some change in the vampire’s physical appearance, but there were none, and never would be, because the vampire king would forever face the world looking thirty, more or less.

  Savoring his cigar, Walter avoided the king’s eyes by staring into the roaring fire. An oddity for the middle of summer, but he knew the king enjoyed it, and he wanted to appease him after begging for an audience. Walter knew he had to proceed carefully. Slowly, to calm his nerves, he exhaled a thin trail of cigar smoke. “Have I been a good keeper?”

  “You have served well.”

  “There will be no male heir to carry on the Ayres’ Legacy.”

  The vampire nodded. “True; you are the last to share the oath.”

  “The oath is why I asked you here tonight. I called for my daughter’s sake…” He’d never spoken to the king, who preferred to be called Krieger, about Lily.

  “Is she ill?”

  “No, I am.”

  “Your health could be restored.”

  The ghost of previous conversations settled over them like a shroud.

  “Your offer means much to me, but I am old and prepared to die. The cancer is inoperable.” Walter rubbed a sweaty palm on his thigh. “And Marissa waits for me.”

  “Your wife,” Krieger said.

  “Yes. I shall see her soon.” He spoke wistfully and looked at his wrinkled hands. Will she recognize me?

  Walter focused on the crackling fire and regained his composure before resuming. “The Elder has called me to England. It was urgent that I speak with you now, before I leave.” Walter snubbed out his cigar. The words he’d rehearsed so carefully now escaped him.

  “The Elder called you personally?”

  “Well, not personally. Gibson called.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “That my services were required, a plane would be waiting for me at Dulles Airport, and further instructions will be on board.”

  “Interesting,” Krieger said. “Go on.”

  “Why have you never taken a human?” Walter said it quick and blunt. “I would not ask such a private question unless it was vitally important.”

  “Taken,” Krieger repeated the word and gave Walter a hard stare.

  “Forgive me if I used the wrong term. There are sovereigns who have humans in their court and they are granted rights and protection. You have never done so. Is there a reason?” Walter steeled himself against the king’s withering gaze. To ask a question of such a personal nature was considered extremely bad form, and depending on the king’s mood, could be dangerous for him.

  Krieger’s stare was icy. “I’ve traveled far for this meeting. Tell me I won’t regret doing so.”

  “Please, humor me a bit longer,” Walter pleaded.

  “To decree a human as mine is an obligation, a binding commitment, which I have not felt the need to enter into.”

  This was not what Walter wanted to hear, but he pressed on. “You have no aversion to humans?”

  Krieger let out an unneeded breath. “Do I not value you?”

  “Yes, well, I believe my daughter to be quite unique, something Other, and somehow not mine.”

  “You called me here to discuss a suspicion you have about your dead wife’s fidelity?”

  Walter’s father had once counseled him to treat Krieger as one would a wild animal. No sudden movements, keep calm, and never, ever, show him fear. Walter willed himself to relax and started again.

  “I suppose all fathers think their daughters are unique. I have never doubted my wife’s faithfulness to me. And yet, Lily has always been so unusual, so…” He searched for the right word, continuing, “…foreign that not once have I felt like she is my child.”

  Krieger’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

  “As a young man, I contracted malaria while researching with Father in Africa. We were days away from a clinic. My body was wracked with a high fever. I was trapped inside a tent in tropical heat, and given quinine pills probably dating back to World War II. We tried, Marissa and I, for a long time, until finally the doctor examined me. He thought that the drugs and malaria, well, the doctor told me I was incapable of fathering a child.” Walter smiled weakly. “I think he wanted to spare my feelings, knowing how my father always berated me for being less than a man. Perhaps my father was right all along. What is a man if he can’t produce an heir?” Walter realized what he’d just said, and wiped the dampness from his forehead. “Whatever the case, I could never bring myself to tell her. When she told me she was pregnant I thought the diagnosis had been a mistake until…” Walter caught his breath. “I have never told another person that.”

  Krieger nodded for him to continue.

  “We,” Walter continued, using a hand to indicate the two of them, “Both sense something is amiss with the Elder.”

  Krieger raised an eyebrow.

  “Winston, the head keeper, has disappeared, vanished, with no trace. How is this possible?”

  “There has been talk,” Krieger said.

  “Precisely,” Walter quickly replied. “Winston reports directly to the Elder.” Walter’s voice shook slightly. “The Elder knows everything, yet he doesn’t know what happened to Winston. Something is wrong, very wrong.”

  The sound of seconds ticked by on the grandfather clock. Krieger rose and went to stand in front of the fire. Walter held his tongue, controlling his anxiousness, using far too much e
ffort to keep from tapping his foot.

  “The Elder has commanded we leave such matters to him,” Krieger said each word distinctly. “You understand that I do not interfere in his affairs, or he in mine.”

  Walter tried to inhale a few deep breaths but could only manage shallow ones. “It is important that you see why I ask this of you, this request to take her. Like I said before, Lily is something very different. I’m not sure what, but I know she will need the protection of someone powerful. My time on this Earth is short. I fear for her. With no knowledge of the Other world, nor someone to guide and protect her, she would be as low hanging fruit on the tree.”

  “Why have you not spoken of this before?”

  “I had hoped this would not be necessary. I still hope that, but…” He let the thought drop. “The Elder asked me to translate a tablet.”

  Krieger turned slowly around to face him, tension lines creasing his brow. Walter used a remote to turn on the monitor and placed the wireless keyboard on his lap. Within seconds an image of the tablet was up on the wall screen. “It’s some form of proto-writing. I cross-referenced with all known texts and found it similar to the Tartaria tablets.” He shrugged. “By mistake, I changed the shading.” He brought up another image next to the original one. It was like a negative of the first. He pointed as he spoke. “See how the lines have faded into the background, and this part here is now distinct, whereas before you could not see it. This is much more sophisticated than anything I’ve ever seen in a pre-Egyptian artifact. There.” He indicated a symbol.

  “And what does this have to do with your daughter?” Krieger asked.

  “Have you seen that symbol before?”

  The king didn’t respond. His focus did, however, remain where Walter pointed.

  “I started searching through the archives looking for this particular symbol. I knew I’d seen it before. It dogged me, this feeling that I was missing something important.”

  Walter breathed in deeply, and immediately started to cough. He placed a handkerchief over his mouth. The coughing fits were becoming more frequent. When he pulled the handkerchief away, he saw that it was speckled with tiny droplets of blood. Embarrassed by his sickness, he avoided Krieger’s gaze. “Excuse me.” He wiped his mouth, took a sip of wine, and placed the soiled handkerchief in the side table drawer.

  In between blinks, the king moved. He was now sitting opposite Walter. Even after a lifetime of dealing with vampires, Walter had never gotten used to them.

  “Remember my trip to England last month?” Walter asked. When Krieger nodded, he continued, “I was waiting in Winston’s office when I noticed an old book underneath his stack of research.”

  Walter’s remembered excitement was palpable. “It’s binding was thick and yellow and the leather was cracked. I could just make out thin golden threads woven around the edge. I didn’t mean to pry, but the temptation was too great, and in the end the indiscretion was worth it. The monk who transcribed and decorated the pages was a master. The tome was dry and brittle, threatening to fall apart as I opened to where a ribbon lay across an exquisitely painted page of a young woman with long white hair, her body draped across a large boulder like an offering. She was…” Walter’s voice drifted as he remembered. “She was beautiful, ethereal. Her body glowed against the page. I can’t imagine how the monk achieved the effect. Above her was a moon-filled sky.” Walter stopped for a moment, collecting himself. Even now he felt haunted by the image. “There were bite marks, vampire bite marks, on her neck, with tiny beads of blood dripped down her creamy skin.” Walter closed his eyes. “Her face had the most beatific expression, like the Virgin Mary. I can see it perfectly in my mind.”

  “And you saw this in Winston’s office?” Krieger asked.

  “Yes. I should have translated the caption, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, and then I heard Winston’s footsteps. I immediately put it back in its place. If he knew what I’d done he never let on, and he never mentioned this research with me. Do you have any idea who she was?”

  “An ancient vampire tale.”

  “Why have I never seen it before?”

  Krieger laughed again. “As I said, it is a vampire tale, not to be taken seriously.”

  “But the drawings were exquisite, and we both know the Catholic Church would have considered them pagan. Surely, the monk would not have risked his life for something as trivial as a fairy–” he corrected himself, “vampire tale. The artistry far surpassed anything I’ve ever seen. The detail and time it took to paint that. I can’t believe it meant nothing.”

  The king’s smile faded. “The Church.” He stared into the fire. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with an accent Walter had never heard before. “When I was very young, a newborn vampire, there were old tales of beautiful Others like you described.”

  Walter waited for him to elaborate, but he did not.

  “What if it is more than a vampire tale?” Walter rose slowing from his chair and walked over to his paper-strewn work table. Not finding what he wanted, he let out an annoyed grunt. Turning, he leaned against the table, his eyes scanning the bookshelves. “There you are,” he said absently. He pulled out a generic hardbound copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Walter leaned closer to the vampire and whispered, “When I found the connections, I decided it best to hide this.”

  Walter fanned through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Spreading his hand over the spine, he flattened out the pages and handed it to Krieger, who let it hover in Walter’s hand for too many seconds to be comfortable.

  “Those pages are my father’s sketches from his travels. I never thought much of his little book; it’s mostly drawings of people who must have caught his eye.” Actually, he’d found the book disturbing. It was page-after-page of his father’s drawings of dark haired, naked girls.

  “I’ve had this nagging feeling ever since I saw the book on Winston’s desk. Then the Elder sent me the tablet image, and that’s when it all came together: the image, the book in Winston’s office, and this.” He pointed towards a specific page, and watched as Krieger unfolded it. “My father drew this. It is crude compared to the original but it is the same image.” He reached across Krieger’s chest to point, resisting the urge to yank his hand back. Vampires were not approachable; everything about them, even to someone who had known one most his life, was anathema to humans. “See the mark, there in the corner? It’s the same symbol, waxing and waning moons. I find it very strange that my father and Winston both were interested in this and never told me about it. We are never to pursue private research in the archives.”

  He’d leaned in too close to Krieger. Walter stood, took a step back, and rubbed his spine. “My back isn’t what it used to be.”

  Vampires could not read minds, he hoped. They were secretive and mistrustful, and even Walter with all his knowledge of the Other world did not know the extent of Krieger’s ability. He did know that vampires could recognize a lie or deception by body language. No point in stopping now, he thought, and sat down in his chair to calm his nerves.

  “I’ve lived a good life with few regrets. If I should not return from England then so be it.”

  “I will contact the Elder. You’re too ill for this assignment.” Krieger reached for his mobile.

  “No!” Walter rose halfway from his chair and fell back into another coughing jag. This conversation had depleted his already weakened state. “I must go, for Winston’s sake.”

  “Then I’ll speak with my security. I’m sure something can be arranged for Lily.”

  Walter shook his head.

  Krieger stood and went to the fireplace, giving his back to Walter. “Fathers usually marry off their burdensome daughters. You ask a vampire to claim yours. You do understand the full implication of your request?”

  He tried to answer but his coughing returned.

  Krieger turned to see him nod. “She has no knowledge of me, I gather.”

  “My oath to secrec
y has not been broken.”

  “Then so be it. Lily Ayres, the last keeper’s daughter, shall be a subject of my realm, and her physical being will be protected as I see fit.”

  Walter wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. With only the slightest nod of his head, he gave his daughter to Krieger.

  “Then let the truth of it flow from your lips to her ears.”

  Walter shook his head. “When I return from my trip. I will speak to her then.”

  “You will speak with her now.” The king had a certain way of looking at a person, like he could see through them. “Or is there something else that burdens your soul?”

  Walter felt his blood turn cold. He willed himself to rise slowly and follow the king.

  Chapter One

  Lily was headed to Delune’s, which sat at the farthest end of the main drag in the quiet town of Paris, Virginia. She always thought of the town as a sleeping cat curled up at the feet of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The few unmarked roads she passed led down quiet lanes where the old moneyed families attempted to live out their existence in privacy.

  One handed, she cranked the big steering wheel, making a hard right turn into the back lot of Delune’s. She parked under the Witness Tree, an oak tree which had survived the Civil War and reminded her of an anchor holding the town in place. With the clutch pressed to the floor, she shifted into neutral and released the pedal. Her foot still on the brake, she turned the ignition key off and waited until her antique Dodge truck stopped sputtering. She engaged the clutch again and shifted into first gear. The parking brake was not to be trusted.

  A man was standing beside a tall forsythia bush on the edge of the property. She’d never seen him before and wondered why he was there. He was dark, tall, and somehow wild looking without being disheveled. He was keenly watching something to her right.

  Her mind cataloged him as she did everything around her. She could recall every person she’d met since the age of six. What they wore, the words they spoke, even the time of year she met them. It was one of the reasons she kept to herself. Why she came to the store when it was closed. Normal people had no idea how important forgetting was.