Waltzing With Witches: A Sweet Small-Town Vampire Romance, page 10
Although, it wouldn’t surprise me for the damn Keeper to be in that forest watching. He moves around silently.
Asshat.
I flip the quiet forest a middle finger in case he’s there, and then I put the bike into gear, roaring down the dark road.
I’m unsteady on the bike at first, but I get the hang of it quickly, even though it’s too big for me. The handlebars are set at the right height for the Keeper, so I have to lean pretty far forward. Even so, it’s thrilling to have the wind in my hair. It doesn’t occur to me how loud the bike is until I drive slowly down Sycamore and hook a right on Main Street. The engine’s throaty purr bounces off the buildings.
Shit, I’m gonna wake up the whole town.
It’s too late, I suppose.
Grimacing, I troll slowly up Main, parking the bike in front of the historical society. It’s dark, which I expected. To my left, Town Hall stands quietly. A deep, aching sadness takes root in my stomach. It’s so wrong how Town Hall never gets used. I want to change that.
Jogging across the street, I head for the empty, quiet building. I make my way up the steps and place a hand on the front door. “I’ll come visit with you shortly, alright? I need to do some research at the historical society.”
The front door shimmies. Town Hall gets it, but she’s sad.
I can’t have that. I stroke the front door fondly, then jog back across the street to the historical society. A sign on the door indicates that, while the society doesn’t technically open until nine a.m., anyone is welcome to come in and look for what they need.
I push the front door open, a bell tinkling just inside the entrance. The scent of thousands of books hits me, and I suck it in greedily. Wren has always been the most bookish of the three of us sisters, but I still love a library or bookstore. Smiling, I cut a light on. Somehow, I sense the society is awake and listening to me, even though there isn’t an employee here yet.
Placing my hand on the wooden front desk, I pat its surface lightly. “Hello, friend. I’m on the hunt for a VHS player. You wouldn’t happen to have one, would you? Ben—err, the Keeper’s castle, seems to think you do.”
A door creaks open somewhere in the back.
“Thank you!” I shout as I rush down a row of bookshelves toward the sound.
The historical society is deceivingly big, as it turns out, and it takes me a few minutes to make my way through the labyrinth of bookshelves to find any sort of door. But I do find it, along the backmost wall of the society building. I push through and fumble around for a light switch.
When I turn it on, I’m in a small classroom. It looks straight out of the 50s, complete with the all-in-one desk and chair combo. A tiny shelf underneath each seat provides space to put your books on. A giant black chalkboard lines the front of the room. Faded lines indicate someone has used this room to teach.
There’s no teacher’s desk in this classroom, but a VHS player on a stand sits to one side.
“Yes!” I shout, rushing across the room to the player.
But when I get to it, I slow down.
Am I really doing this?
And am I really doing this alone?
Without thinking, I lift my wrist and speak directly into my comm watch, “Please call Thea Hector.”
Thea’s name hologram blinks above my wrist for a few seconds.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice comes through clear as a bell. I’d think she’d be tired, but she’s a detective at heart. She can wake up in about half a second and be ready to go investigate shit.
“Not wrong, exactly,” I say. “Can you come to the historical society?”
Through the watch, I hear a rustle and a deep, manly groan, followed by light footsteps. “On my way. Need anything from my place if this isn’t an emergency?”
“Nah, I’m gonna call Wren,” I say.
Thea clicks off. I hesitate for a moment. Do I want to be surrounded by people when I watch this tape? I second-guess myself for a moment, then remember that my sisters and Lou are my favorite people in the entire world. I call Lou and Wren next, and like Thea, they rise to the occasion.
I sit in the classroom, VHS tape in hand until they arrive. I try to use the time to mull over what the Keeper shared last night.
He asked if I remembered him.
That’s a dumb question.
That New Year’s Eve kiss rearranged my DNA. I think about it every year at New Year’s, and I’ve compared every kiss since then to his. Nothing ever came close.
Holy shit, I’ve actually kissed the Keeper. That’s so…weird.
Turns out fate has a sense of humor.
The front door opens loudly, and the sound of my sisters’ voices echoes back.
I stand and make my way toward the front, grinning when the girls come into view.
Thea’s wearing jeans and a tee, her blond hair pulled into a messy bun that matches mine. Wren’s got a silky black robe over a floor-length negligee of some sort, black lace peeking out around the edges. Lou is wearing one-piece teddy bear pajamas that hug her curves indecently.
“Jesus, you three are a sight,” I huff out.
Lou sips at a cup of coffee, her eyeballs barely open. “Listen, bitch, till the stars die and all. We love you, and we’re here; don’t expect a lot more at this time of day. If the sun isn’t up, we shouldn’t be either, ya know?”
Thea rolls her eyes. “Wholeheartedly disagree. What do you need, Mor?”
I quickly fill them in on the Keeper’s bombshell from last night. By the end of the retelling, even Wren looks gobsmacked.
“Wait,” she huffs. “He’s Mister New Year’s Kiss?”
“Yeah.” I still can’t wrap my mind around it. I tried to forget it so many times.
“Gods, that’s so sad,” Lou says.
We all turn to look at her. She takes another sip of her coffee then whirls her hand in a circular motion like she’s trying to get the point across.
“You know? Because time moves so much faster here in Ever. That kiss was what, not this past new year, but a couple before, right?” She glances up, squinting. Ah, she’s mathing.
Her voice goes mournful, her gray eyes locked to mine. “That means, for him, he met you almost a hundred years ago, Morgan.”
Oh, fuck. She’s right.
“Oh, fuck,” Wren deadpans as I slump against the nearest bookshelf. “So he’s literally been dealing with this for that whole time? Is that what we’re saying?”
“Pining for ten decades is more accurate,” a voice echoes from the front.
All four of us scream. I drag my sisters and Lou into my arms, yanking them to the side so I’m in front of them slightly.
A shadow stands in the darkness between two bookshelves.
A shadow with feathers.
“Moira?” I call out. “Is that you?”
The shadow coos and steps into the light.
“Moira Finher, you scared the absolute shit out of us,” I shriek.
The harpy woman steps closer with both wings raised, her crown feathers rising and flattening in a pattern. “I’m so terribly sorry, Hectors. And Lou.”
“Wait.” Thea crosses her arms. “How did you know we were here?”
Moira’s cheek feathers blush pink at the root, the color traveling to the tips. Interesting. “The Keeper called me when Morgan left the castle. He didn’t think his presence would be helpful. But he hoped I might be able to shed some light, or at the very least answer your questions, Morgan.” Amber eyes flick to mine and soften. She crosses her wings over her front, looking like a schoolmarm.
“I, uh—” I sputter.
“That’s nice of him,” Lou says thoughtfully, then looks over at me. “See, Keepers aren’t all that bad. He kinda knew you were pissed.”
“It doesn’t sit right with him,” Moira offers.
“Except he’s been trying to push me away since I arrived here,” I snap a little more harshly than I mean to. “We met—
“Nearly ten Ever decades ago,” Moira says softly. “I know all about it. I was his betrothed once, remember?” She gives me a little wink.
Lou clears her throat. “Was this before or after Morgan’s identification?”
I shift from one foot to the other as Moira clears her throat delicately. “After. Our betrothal was, what’s the human saying? For show. I’d be happy to tell you more. It’s never been romantic between the Keeper and me. My sexual preferences lie elsewhere.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Thea says with a huffy laugh. “The plot thickens.” She makes the round ’em up gesture over her head. “Let’s find somewhere to sit. We need the whole scoop, the entire scoop, like right this second.”
“Let’s go to Town Hall.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize I’ve said them. All four women look at me, but it’s Moira who agrees first. “Of course, friend. After you?” She gestures toward the front of the historical society.
I turn toward the darkness. “I need to grab something,” I shout over my shoulder, jogging back to the classroom. When I get there, I pat the wall gently. “May I take the VHS player over to Town Hall for a while? I promise to return it.”
On cue, the VHS stand rolls across the tiled floor toward me.
“Thank you!” I shout, tucking the VHS tape under my armpit. I grab the player stand and wheel it out of the classroom toward my girls.
When I rejoin them, Wren looks at the player skeptically. “We watching old movies, Mor?”
“You found it, then,” Moira says with a preen of her crown feathers. “The Keeper’s transition video?”
I nod, discomfort niggling in my chest. “Do I want to see this?” My eyes are locked on the bird woman.
She sighs, shaking her head. “It won’t make you happy to see this, Morgan. But I hope it will help you to understand him a little bit more. All of you, really.” She looks around at the group.
“Hey,” Thea barks. “I get the whole being-a-Keeper-zaps-your-empathy thing, kinda, but it doesn’t excuse poor behavior.”
“It doesn’t,” Moira agrees. “But you don’t yet know his full story, and you lack the context about how everything came to be. Let’s go watch the video, and I think you’ll see what I mean.
“Oh God,” I moan. “I don’t know if I want to, now that I have a way to.”
Moira steps closer, reaching around me with one long, elegant wing. “You’re his mate. And I know it sounds trite to say he pushes you away because of his love, but it’s true. I have watched him struggle with this for decades.”
Something angry and ferocious bursts inside me. The idea of him struggling over me feels wrong.
“Ah, there you go,” Moira whispers in a conspiratorial tone. “You’re beginning to see the yin and yang of Keepers and their mates. You don’t want to be mad at him, do you? It feels wrong?”
Silence descends as my sisters and aunt stare at me. I look deep into Moira’s whiskey-brown eyes.
“No,” I admit. “I want to understand. But I’d like him to be forthcoming.”
“Ah,” Moira says, patting me on the lower back. “Once you have this context, I’ll encourage him to share the rest of his story with you.”
“I need breakfast for this shit,” Thea grumbles. “You guys wheel that stuff over to Town Hall. I’m going to the Galloping Green Bean to pick up some French toast and whatever you might want.”
“Let me go,” Lou says quickly. “It’s more important for you three to be together. I’ll grab a bunch of food and be back in a few, okay?”
I pull her in for a quick hug. Her skin is burning up, scorching mine. My magic curls and tumbles in my chest, beating a pattern against the back of my ribcage. I step back, throwing a hand over my heart as I suck in deep lungfuls of air.
“What’s wrong?” Thea barks.
I reach for Lou again, resting the back of my hand on her forehead. “You’re burning up, Lou. When do you see Doc Slade next?”
Her eyes go hooded. “Later today,” she says, rubbing the back of her elbow. “I haven’t been feeling all that well, but he says it could be a side effect of the thralls.” She forces cheer into her tone. “If I was going to become one, it would have happened by now, though, so that’s good!”
We all fall silent. The thought of Lou becoming one of the soulless, depraved monsters is more than I can bear. I yank her back into my arms, wrapping her up tight as my magic twists and snatches inside me.
“I’ll go with you to see Doc Slade later,” I whisper into her hair. “I don’t know shit about my magic, but maybe there’s something I can do to help.”
“Mmkay,” she mumbles from my neck area. “Let go, Mor, you’re suffocating me, woman!”
Reluctantly, I release my hold on her. Lou gives me a soft smile, then turns to leave. She pats both Thea and Wren on the way out.
I clap my hands together. “Okay, kids, let’s do this!”
Moira and my sisters trail me as I push the VHS stand out of the building and across the street. We drag it up over the curb onto the sidewalk, then push and pull it across the grass and up the steps. On a whim, we wheel it all the way to the Keeper’s office. Feels fitting.
A small, still-mad part of me wants the monitoring system to let him know I’m in his office.
Again.
Town Hall helpfully lights the fireplace, casting warmth into the chilly room.
“Thank you, friend,” I murmur, patting the fireplace mantel.
Moira smiles at me as we settle into his office chairs. “Are you ready, Morgan?”
Am I ready? I take a moment to contemplate that. I’m not. I don’t think I ever could be.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter. “Let’s just get this over with.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MORGAN
Apprehension chokes me when I slide the VHS tape from its protective cardboard box. My fingers tremble as I push the tape into the TV’s slot. The mechanism grabs the VHS and pulls it in, a series of clicks and whirls telling me it’s beginning to play.
“Well, that’s a blast from the past,” Wren mutters.
The TV cuts on, the picture grainy and faded. Inside a stark, tiled room sits a single chair with straps at the feet, armrests, and head.
A chill steals down my spine as I grind my teeth together. Whatever this is, it looks like a torture chamber.
“The initial Keeper training is more of an unraveling,” Moira says softly. “It’s hard to watch. But this first session is a rewiring of Keepers’ brains. After this is done, they go through more formal training on the ins and outs of fulfilling their roles.”
A title pops up on the screen: Keeper Transition—A. Zeniphon.
My mouth goes dry.
The small room’s only door opens, and Evenia strides through with both hands clasped behind her, hair pulled into a high, tight bun. She stops beside the chair and lifts an arm, resting it along the chair’s back.
“Do not fight me on this, Keeper,” she growls, her tone cruel and callous.
A figure falls through the doorway onto his knees. He slips gracefully back to his feet and rounds the chair.
The Keeper.
“Don’t call me that,” he says. “I’ve already told you I have no intention of becoming a Keeper. I don’t even live within the haven system.”
Evenia drops her hands, black claws glittering as she glares at her son. “You don’t get that choice. You should have taken the keeping test long ago. You would have if you’d been living in the system like your fathers and I asked you to. This isn’t optional.”
“I won’t,” he barks, balling his fists. “I’ve identified my mate, and I won’t pull her into the life of a Keeper’s mate. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“Do or don’t.” Evenia shrugs. “Although, at some point, you’ll have to take a partner. Keepers don’t succeed without a partner; you know that.”
“You can’t force me to do this,” he spits. “I don’t want it.”
The older vampire shoves her way into her son’s face until he backs into the wall. “You can and you will, Keeper.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Stop behaving like a child.”
Two more figures enter the room, trolls. Muscle is stacked on top of muscle. They’re easily three times his size.
The Keeper’s eyes flick to them, then back to his mother. “You wouldn’t.”
She grins at him. “Oh, I would, and I will. You don’t have a choice in this.”
The Keeper slumps to the tiles, his voice breaking. “Mother, please. I’m begging you not to do this to me. I’ll leave the haven system. It won’t disgrace the family. Don’t make me do this. I can’t do this to her. I won’t be me anymore. I’ll have nothing to offer he—”
A slap rings out as Evenia backhands him. Blood sprays the wall as he snaps his fangs at her. She doesn’t flinch, standing toe-to-toe with him.
“Mother,” he whispers. “I’ve waited my whole life for her, and she’s perfect. Don’t make me do this. I’ll leave; I’ll go. Don’t take this from me.”
The quiet stretches as Evenia frowns down at him, seeming to consider what he’s asking.
A red tear slides down his cheek, but powerful muscles bunch, and then he shoots across the room, knocking Evenia to the ground. He darts between the trolls and out the door, only to be backed into the room again by a fourth giant figure.
One of the trolls grabs him around the neck, slamming his body into the chair. He writhes and twists, slashing with his claws and snapping with his teeth.
Evenia rises and rounds the chair, spitting blood at her son. “How dare you fight this?! None of us have any choice, Keeper. We all serve the system for the greater good! Keeper Rule #1!”
He’s beyond words, bellowing into the room as the trolls struggle to keep him in the chair. He slips out more than once, but a troll has a grip on his arm and yanks him back. His joint pops, his arm hanging limply by his side.
And still he fights.
He fights and bellows as they strap his arms and legs and head to the chair.
Evenia steps back. “You had better be a good Keeper after all of this. Mark my words, if you don’t, I’ll find her and do what I must to ensure you do your duty. Do you understand, my child?”
