Shadows of the Keeper (37 page)

“Better?”

“Bastard.  Toad.  Loser.”

“You forgot asshole, maggot, and
mean son-of-a-bitch.”

“Jackass.”

“Huh.  I’ll add that one to my list
of achievements.”

Envisioning revenge by way of a plunging
blade deep within her chest, she crouched.

“I will give you light.  Stand
up, fool!”

I’m an idiot
.  Lumynari
could see in darkness as well as she could see in daylight.

Flickering light illuminated. 
Though soft candlelight, her eyes watered and she had to shade them with her
hand for a few seconds until adjusted to the dim light.  She huddled, cold
returning with a vengeance.  More candles bloomed.  Emily found
herself standing in what could only be described as a warehouse loft apartment
similar to those found in New York. 
Elite
New York.  She
gawked.  Inzyr’s living room was as gigantic and Broc’s great hall.

“You will remove your shirt.”

“You will kiss my ass.”

“Your death from cold will not be
for me to suffer a challenge over.”

“And removing my shirt will somehow
warm me?”  She rolled aching eyes.  “Dezenial keeps you around so
he’ll feel smarter, right?  I’m not removing my shirt, so gear up, Bubba,
for whatever battle you’re about to be challenged in.  Putz.”  This
last part, she muttered, forgetting their heightened hearing. 

“Your lack of fear has ceased to be
amusing.”

“Which is why you want me
naked?  Sorry, find some other form of humor.”

“I am forever amazed the lengths
Dezenial will suffer dealing with you.”

Emily held up two shaking
fingers.  “Strike two, shit head.”  Probably best to shut up now; she
was too cold to give a damn.

He glanced at her as if she were
nothing more than a speck of dust.  “If you are too modest to remove your
shirt, you may step in there.”  He pointed to a darkened doorway. 
“This should be more suitable to keeping your land-dweller skin warm.” 
Viciously, he tossed a sweater towards her.  She was too numb to react in
time.  It landed against her face.  Soft.  Pulling it away, the
heavy knit was heaven to her icy hands.  “Channel?  I’m not wearing
something from one of your kills.”

He laughed.  “She won’t be
needing it anymore.  I like the color, and the memory it invokes.” 
He shrugged.

Emily tossed it onto the black
leather couch.

“You will change into the
sweater.  You do not have choices with me, as you do with Dezenial. 
Change your clothing before you become ill.  Or I will do it for
you.”  He turned from her and hunkered down in front of a fireplace of
sorts.  Turning two different dials, the mechanism began a low hum, its
face turning orange.  “This will produce enough heat to warm you.” 
He momentarily dismissed her as he ran his fingers along the spines of rows
upon rows of books.  Bookcases of staggering heights lined the wall, a
steel roll ladder attached.  She watched as he yanked free a massive sized
tomb, thumbed through several pages at its center, then replaced it after a
grunt.  A sword mocked her.  Carelessly discarded across an onyx
table, her fingers itched to wrap around its hilt—a hilt scaled like snakeskin
of gold, the artwork extended to resemble the creature coiled for attack. 
Another book clunked onto the coffee table, this the third book he’d glanced
through.

“You are difficult. 
Never
have I tolerated insolence.  Yours far exceeds limitations even for my
loyalty to Dezenial.  I ordered you to change.  I will strip
you.  I think it time for you to learn who and what we are.  This
realm you find yourself in is not some game.”

His footfalls galvanized her to
make a break for it.  Grasping the sword, she spun, bringing him up
against its point.  She stood firm her ground, opting for silence versus
threats.  The point of the sword was message enough.  The impasse
grew.  The sword became heavy.  Candles sputtered.  Another
hissed.  She glanced the suddenness of it. 

Sword smacked from her hand at the
same time, she was lifted and brought down on the table.  Inzyr crushed
her body under his, vicious dagger poised against her temple.  If she
hiccupped, the blade would penetrate her skull.  “First lesson the Elves
seemed to have forgotten in your training:
never
take your eyes from the
enemy.  I could carve yours out right now.”  He slid from her,
sheathing his menacing weapon.  She remained immobile.  Tears coursed
down the sides of her face, pooling in her ears.  The sweater landed on
top of her.  Earsplitting shriek agonized her head before she realized she
was the one who had screamed.

“No one will hear you in
here.  And if they could, there would not be a rescue.  Get up. 
You damned fool.  I warned you, Just Emily, your bravery could forfeit
your life.”  He shook his head, not bothering to look at her.  “You
are more safe with me than any you have thus far met.”

Slowly, she sat up and slid from
the table.  What new trick was he playing now?  Damn her chin for
quivering.  Her jaws ached from so much teeth chattering.  She
studied the sweater, not really seeing it. 
I hate you, Dezenial. 
I will always hate you for this.  You’re no better than Peter.
Correction.  At least Peter had the balls to mete out the abuse himself
.

“I can’t wear something having
belonged to a dead woman,” Emily whispered.  “Have
some
compassion.”

“You will have your precious
coffee, Princess Emily, but not before you change.  This temperature is
dangerous for you.  I have ignited the warming stones, but they will take
some time to reach a level of heat offering you comfort.”

“Thank . . . you.”  More teeth
chattering.

“The sweater belonged to a lover—by
choice, so don’t begin your madness regarding prisoners and slaves.”

She clamped her mouth shut.

“In there,” he pointed to where
he’d earlier implied, “go change.”

“It’s dark . . . in there.”

He sighed.  “How
you
could be terrified of the dark, and be
my
. . .”  He stormed into the
darkened alcove.  A few seconds later, hint of orange light enabled Emily
to see it was a bedroom of sorts.  He came out, and swept his hand to
indicate it was her turn to enter.  She was depleted of arguments. 
She made a wide berth around him.  Ribbons of blood marring his otherwise
perfect face gave her pause.  “Sorry.”

“Cat fights aren’t something I
usually partake in.”  He smiled.  “Who I am out there, Just Emily, is
not someone you want to provoke.  Eyes are everywhere.  But, in here,
only you and Dezenial . . . change, return, I will have coffee to warm you.”

His sudden civility frightened her
more than his weapons.

Minutes later, she emerged. 
The sweater barred some of the cold, but it would take
lava
to thaw her
frozen bones.  Searching, she found him in a galley.  A very efficient
one.  “I’m a
little
warmer.  Thank . . . you.”  She
couldn’t stop shivering.  “What . . . happened to your lover?” 

“Child birthing took her from this
life.”  He glanced at her.  “The sweater fits.  Good.”

“God, how awful.  Was it your
child?”

He didn’t answer.

“Right.  None of my business.”

He graced her with a most peculiar
expression before looking away.  “Im’pyurs are not safe down here.”

 She waited for him to
elaborate, but instead, he kept stirring something on the stovetop.  A
child thrust from his care for being different.  “Like Aurelia’s exile,
just for being as you call, an Im’pyur.” 

Inzyr paused his task and studied
her.

“Visions flit as if my own
memories.”

“What is Dezenial to you?”

“A son of a bitch.  And you?”

He actually laughed.  Flutters
of fear zigzagged through her.  “You’re sure we’re safe in here?”

This time he scowled.

She rubbed her arms, scanning the
ceiling.  “Last time, premonition resulted in Spinners carting me off to
Drakar.”

“His ilk won’t make it past the
guards outside the door.” His smile widened.  “He is not brave when it
comes to antagonizing me.”

“And Dezenial?  He seems
indifferent to your temper.”

“We are of an ancient brotherhood,
our age spanning nine millennia.”  He tilted his head.  “Your mouth
drops like a baby bird waiting to be fed.”

“And here I thought it was your
winning personality that had everyone taking the long route around you.”

“I would just as soon end their
miserable lives.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that abundantly
clear.”

“His mother is Shadow, goddess of
lurking darkness.”  He turned off the stove.  “His father—“

“Is Hades, yes, I’ve been told this
bedtime story.”  Emily tossed back her hair, remembered the braids, and
began working on undoing what had taken hours.  “Is this why you’re his
puppet?”

He turned away, waving his
hand.  “Your tongue removal is becoming paramount.”

“Whatever.  Your hatred makes
this conversation ridiculously fake anyway.”

“I’m an assassin. If I show
kindness towards you, regardless your position, I place myself in
jeopardy.  But more than that, you would become a target.”  He pulled
down two cups.  “I have many, many enemies down here, Just Emily.”

“I think you have the savagery
thing down pat, yanno, ‘cause I’m just oh-so-lethal.”

“I shudder with dread.”  He
opened a packet of some sort and divided the contents into each mug.  “My
way of life, our world down here, will make you cringe, Emily.  You think
you fear the dark now?  Your silly world has no inspiration of terror, or
what darkness can unleash.”  He glanced up and grinned before resuming his
task.  “Mortals chase away darkness with their array of lights for every
corner.  You have been sheltered in Dezenial’s small private kingdom, a
mistake I cannot make him see his way out of.”

Emily’s stomach rumbled.

“Sit.  Do not pull another
weapon on me.  Your food and coffee are almost ready.  Even we
Lumynari like your poisonous brew.  She liked coffee as much as you do. 
Some things are inevitable.”

“Great combination.  Killers
charged on espresso.  Who like coffee like me?”

“My lover.”

“Oookay.  Did she have a
name?”

“Kendra.”

This conversation was getting
weirder by the minute.  As she found her way to the oversized black
leather couch, she noted beautiful paintings depicting various landscapes
adorned his walls, a few still set up on easels.  “What did she look
like?”  Autopilot questions. 

“Very similar to you.”

“What?  Oh, yeah, we humans
all look alike.  Nice.  The same could be said about you ghouls.”

“She was beauty and strength, and
unsullied.” He paused and stared out at nothing.  Emily knew he was caught
up in a memory and chose to keep her mouth shut.  The woman
had
died, after all.  “Her rare gift was the ability in making me laugh.” He
quickly sobered.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 
And she truly was.  A human woman, choosing to live with this cold being,
and
she could make him laugh.  Well, that was saying something.  “Why am
I here?”  She monitored his every movement.  He puttered; her eyes
stalked.  One knife, and she would be flat upon the ground.  No more
being caught off guard by Lumynari mood swings.  “And, how do you know
Dezenial and I are mentally connected?”

“It was your bond before being . .
. sent away.”

“Yeah?  Well, from now on,
call him yourself.  He’s your buddy.”  She blew into her
still-numb-hands. 

“You’ve angered him.”

“Well, gosh darn.  Think he’s
off pouting somewhere?  Shall we bake him a cookie?  You paint, or
did you confiscate these during one of your raids?”

“You need to beware his
temper.  Even
you
can push him too far.”

She tucked her hands under each
arm.  No good.  They were just never going to thaw.  Ever. 
She bent over and wrapped her arms around her legs. 
So . . . cold
. 

Inzyr was suddenly over her, dark
blanket sweeping around her.  He tucked it here and there, then reached
behind him to the coffee table.  Handing her a warm mug with steam wafting
as thick as mountain mist, he offered warning, “It’s hot.”

“That would be the steam?” 
She offered a lopsided grin.  Though his eyes narrowed, there was a gleam
in the amber irises that let her know her sarcasm amused him.  Eager to
get warm, she blew ripples across the dark brew. 
Screw a scalded
tongue
.  She sipped.  “Scotch and coffee.  How did
you
know?”

He sat on the coffee table,
directly facing her and finished his own sip before answering.  “It’s the
way Kendra like it.  She’s the one who painted.”  His mouth returned
to his coffee.

Gag or giggle?  She was having
a tête-à-tête with an assassin.  Her life surpassed weird.

“You belong to him, Emily, though
you foolishly fight against it.”  Swiftly, he stood, stepping away from
her, heading back towards his galley.  “Just as you belong to me.”

“I am so
not
becoming your
lover.  Ick, yuck, blech.  Ain’t gonna happen.  Give me your
dagger or find some rope, I’ll either stab myself or hang myself for
you.”  She flung her hand back and forth indicating herself and
Inzyr.  “Remember our hate relationship?  Glare all you want, once
this tea party ends, so does the civility between us.  You’ve made it
clear you barely tolerate me.  And, as I’ve told you buddy, I belong to no
one. So, the idea of being either you, or Dezenial the Douche’s lover . . .
well, start a bonfire, we’re about to burn the witch.”  She pointed at her
cup.  “Soon as I finish my coffee.”  She sipped hot java several more
times, relishing the warm fuzzies coming over her.  If she’d bothered to
look up an see the grin splitting Inzyr’s face, she’d probably have
choked. 

The combined whisky and caffeine
coursing through her system thawed numbed veins.  Dezenial.  His
image conjured.  She’d love nothing more than to be swept away by
him.  He’d made it clear the feeling wasn’t mutual.  Screw it. 
Now, if she could just block out that final kiss of his.  Knocked her to
her knees—literally.  She giggled.  If a kiss could do all that, what
would the whole package be capable of?  Probably cause walls to crumbled. 
She brought her hand up to stifle her mirth.  Another sip.  Cooler
now.  Deeper, she drank.  Fangs.  The guy actually had
fangs.  Gah!  Black leather, fangs, and an ass made to be perfectly
cupped in each of her hands.  Laughter roared.  She gasped, realizing
it had been her.

“You’ve had enough to drink.”

“Leave me alone.  I’m tired of
you.  Shouldn’t you be off killing and maiming?”  Her tongue felt
thick.

“Unfortunately, I’ve been assigned
babysitting duties.”

She stuck out her tongue.

“Offering for me to cut it
off?”  He moved closer.  “Many of your days have passed since I have
had something to sacrifice.”

“Come near me again with a blade of
any kind, and I’ll torch you bald.”  She finished her coffee, hardly
amused by his outbreak of rich laughter.  Strange amicable silence passed
between them as he refilled her coffee and they resumed sipping, though he’d
brought a stack of books and resumed searching through them.  What the
hell was he looking for?”

“I’ll bite.  Tell me about
Kendra.  Your silence gives my brain too much time to dwell on leather
pants and nice asses.”

His mouth twitched with amusement.

“Did she live down here with
you?  She was human.  How did she avoid being killed by the other
beasts residing down here?”

His finger slid down a page while
he talked.  “She used to take the short stool and easel from over there,”
he looked up long enough to indicate a far corner, “wandering the forests to
set up her brushes and paints.”  A far-off look stole over him, loosening
the forever-present scowl.

My God!  He’s actually very
good looking.  It was Emily’s turn to scowl.  Down at her
coffee. 
Bastard put something in my drink to make me cordial.  I
should set his books on fire
.

“So engrossed in her landscapes,
she would forget to eat, or pay attention to her environment.  I studied
her for weeks.”

“A bit long for plotting her
demise, wouldn’t you say?”  Emily snorted.  “A sacrifice. 
Oooh.  Major kill, little human woman.”  She reared, throwing up her
one hand to ward him off.  “Hellllp meeeeee,” she squeaked, imitating an
infamous movie.

“She finished the landscape.”

“Panic time.  She’s going to
pack up and leave.”  Emily fist pumped the air.  “Sharpen yer’
knives, boys!”

“You would prefer to tell the
story?”

Emily waved her hand for him to continue.

“She remained fixated in my mind
for a long time.  Too long.  A patrol readied, a human woman their
target.  They were alarmed over a painting.”

Emily forgot her coffee.  “Why
would they worry about a landscape—how did they even see the damn thing?”

“I knew of whom they spoke.  I
too was curious.  Querying rangers,” he put the book down.  “I was
left beyond surprised.”

This time, her hand rolled,
indicating him to fast-forward to the good parts.  He took her empty cup
and set it down beside him.  “When I located her, I was brought low.”

“Brought low?”

“Her painting was of my image,
peering at her from across the lake.”

“She’d seen you.”

“In a sense.”

“So much for you being
incognito.  So, Dezenial snatched back your spy card and sent you back to scaring
the shit out of kids from their closets, eh?  Bummer.”

“It would appear,
Emily
,
visions run in your family.”

She held up her hand.  “I’m
not here to blunt your blades.  I simply meant that she must have seen
your reflection or something.  Maybe she had a compact mirror, or there
was water—“

“She was blind.”

Emily’s gaze snapped to the closest
painting.  She closed her mouth.  And felt it dropping open
again.  “Impossible.”

“Do you always allow everything to
skim the surface of your mind?  Do you never allow words to penetrate your
thoughts?”

“Excuse me?  Know what? 
I really don’t care about your love life.  In fact, I can see why she was
interested in you, she’d HAVE to be blind!”

“Kendra was very fond of whisky in
her coffee, as are you.  She had a quick-as-lightening temper, forever
getting into trouble . . . as . . . do . . . you.”

Something twittered, trickling
within Emily, an
ugly
little something.

“She had visions . . . like you.”

Emily bolted up over the couch,
running towards the door.  Pounding against it several times, she spun
around, crazed.  Inzyr slowly stood.  Breathing escaped her.  It
couldn’t be true.  Heart clenched.  Stomach knotted. 
My God
! 
So many pieces fell into place.

“
NO
!” She clamped her hands
over her ears, not wanting to hear another word.  Wanting to block the
whirlwind of memories suddenly assailing her.  Dots connected. 
Pictures cleared.  Air!  She needed air!  She looked at him
again. 
How could I have been so blind?!
  She shook her
head. 
Deny.  Impossible
! 

Her reaction seemed to amuse
him.  “A joke?”  she gasped.  “You think this is . . .
funny
?”
Fury ignited.  Flames erupted from her hands.  Two chairs catapulted
towards his head.  She’d not even touched them.  Deftly, and without
showing surprise, he stepped to the side.  Not even a flinch escaped him
when they splintered against a stone column.  Books lifted, hurtling
across the room to pummel him.  A wave of his hand, they dropped like
stones.

“My love for your mother was, and
is,
no
joke!”  He advanced.

“Screwed up way to treat your
daughter,
dad
.”  A quick shake of her head, scrunching her eyes
closed.  “No.  Impossible.  My parents were decapitated by that
monster Drakar.”  Her eyes snapped open.  “Dezenial was there. 
He was plundering with him, but oh how he tries to convince me
otherwise.”  She shook her head again, clearing overlapping visions. 
“No, that’s not right.  He saved me.”  She held out her hands,
studying them.  Blue flames.  She gave them a shake.  Fire
extinguished.  “
What the hell is going on
?” she screamed at
him.  “And where is Dezenial?”  Dawning fractured her further. 
“He knew you were going to tell me, didn’t he? 
That’s
why the
bastard plays chicken and refuses to answer me!”  She spun about, pounding
the door with so much outrage, she was oblivious to pain until too late. 
Moaning, she grabbed her wrist.  “Open the door.  Let me go. 
This isn’t happening.”  She kicked it.  Hard.  Another holler.

“Let me see.”  His hand gently
grasped hers.

“Don’t touch me.”

Whisper soft, he probed her wrist,
his gaze flicking to her each time she winced.  “You’ve sprained it.”

“No shit.”

“Your sword hand.  You’ll not
be able to use it for several weeks.”

“Darn.  Now how am I going to
slice and dice you?  Shame.  You could use a good gutting.”  Her
other hand lifted towards him.  “Oh, but look, I have a penchant for
playing with fire.”  Blue flames licked close to his face.

He laughed, grabbing her
hand.  “Definitely your mother.”  He blew out her flames.

“Torched you often?”

“Verbally, every chance she got.”

Emily stared at his eyes. 
Amber.  Like hers.  “You just can’t be my father.”  Vehemently,
she shook her head.  Glowing white hair, like her own; like all Lumynari
she’d seen down here.

“You are mine.”  He had yet to
release her hand.  “Just as bloodthirsty.  Just as fearless.”

She dropped her head.  He
pulled her roughly, almost violently to him.  Of their own accord, her
fingers clutched his jerkin.  Sobs wracked her body.  “Why did you
stay away for so long?  Why did you send me away?  Peter teased that
I was Jane Doe.  No family, he said, ‘who will miss you’?”  She cried
harder.  So much hurt.  “How could you leave me out there?  I
just wanted . . . to belong.  I’ve never belonged.”  Crying slipped
into choking.  She hit his chest.  “Bastard!”

“And here, outside your door,
you’ve treated me . . . “

“Emily, if anyone ever discovered
you are
my
daughter, they would finally know how to have an effect on
me.”

“Another reason to not be granted—“

Inzyr’s arms tightened.  “You
have always belonged to me.  And to Dezenial.  You must accept this.”

She raised her face.  His
image swam.  “Why?”  she lowered her head again, resting it on his
chest.  “Why
him
?”

“It has always been him.  But
this time, he claimed you upon your birthing.”  His fingers gently tucked
under her chin and forced her to look up at him.  “He claimed you
forty-one hundred years ago, daughter.”

“Aurelia.”

“Aurelia?  No.  Long,
long before even her existence.  He had pledged himself to you, regardless
of tradition, regardless what age we find ourselves in.”  His tone
lightened.  “Everything about him is a contradiction to the way of the
Lumynari.”

“How old was I when you . . . when
you . . . she couldn’t say it.  More crying.  “You gave me up. 
Gave me away.  My mother died birthing me.  You blamed me.  And
you stood back allowing that witch of an aunt to—“

“I killed that shrew.”

“You?  How?  Really—oh,
right, tongue removal should have been my first clue.”

“None harm what’s mine and live. 
None.  But, no matter the protection, it would never be enough to keep you
alive in this world.  There exist deep harbored hatreds towards
Im’pyurs.  Compare it to the racism of your realm.”  He made sure to
have her attention.  “Now, multiply that by thousands.”

“Did you blame me?”

He sighed so deeply, she feared his
answer.  “Your mother held you for several hours, allowing you to feed
from her.  Her dying request was that I protect you by taking you into the
light, to be a part of her world.  But her father was vile and
unforgiving.  His loathing soon killed him, his drinking leading him to
wander, fall, and die from exposure.  She was relieved when Dezenial
claimed you.  And then she shared her vision, not with Dezenial.  She
waited until he had left us alone during her final hour.”

“Vision?”

He chuckled.  “Tell me, do you
repeat everything when you are nervous?  Do you spout words like water
gushing from a waterfall when upset?”

She nodded against him, crying
again for the mother she never knew.  The pain of it combined with the
mother who had tried to raise her, but lost her life to a savage
Lumynari.  “Why didn’t you use magic to save her, or have Dezenial help
her?”

“Lumynari magic or Lumynari blood,
used on a human, can cause madness.  Dezenial took a chance with you, but
hoped your heritage would enable you to survive his ministrations. 
Besides, Kendra was Roman and
very
Catholic.”

“You said she was blind. 
Please tell me she at least knew you were a monster.”

Inzyr laughed.  “Yes, she
could see, but telepathically through another’s eyes.  It’s how she was
able to view me.  She’d actually been looking through my eyes and remained
with me, unbeknownst to me, when I returned down here.  For her, death was
meant to be.  She refused interference.”

“Wait.  Back up. 
Dezenial took a chance with me?  What, allowing me to remain here?” 
Swiping tears seemed useless.  They just kept coming.

He regarded her quizzically for a
moment.  “Emily, have you no idea the true nature of your wounds when you
were in Drakar’s prison?”  Her blank stare was answer enough.  “You
were skinned with a Lumynari whip.  That’s what the weapon does to human
flesh.  You could not see what Dezenial observed of your back. 
Shreds are what were left, and severe infection.  You’d bled within hours
of your life ending.  Even now, you have scars.  And Dezenial taking
a chance with you—several days, you laid in his bed, delirious with
fever.  Even my blood was given to you.”

“You’re avoiding something.”

“I am now in your mind, not as connected
as Dezenial, but, enough to hear you when you rage.”  He grinned.

“Eh-eh.  There’s more to that
healing, and I’ve even seen Dezenial get weird when I ask questions about my
back.  I have the right to know what you two are hiding.”

“How you survived is beyond our
understanding, and for so many days.”  He was shaking his head. 
“Your Lumynari heritage is the only reasoning we can surmise.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Dezenial used ancient magicks,
sliced his arm, and allowed his blood to flow across your back.”

“Fusing.”

His stare drilled into her. 
“How do you know of this?”

Emily swiped tears from her
face.  “Things keep coming to me.  Sudden understanding.  And
really bad headaches.”  She breathed deeply, her chest fluttering jaggedly
from the hard crying.  Her bottom lip trembled again.  “Well, it
would seem I survived this fusing.  I am grateful to him.  He has a
knack for rescuing me just in time.  Your blood too, eh?  Bet you
howled with outrage.”