Shadows of the Keeper (57 page)

Emily graced him with a steely
look.

He held up his hand, warding off
her crossness.  “Four millennia ago, you were Zaiyne—my daughter.”

“Ah.  Puzzles click into
place.  ‘Tis why I’m forever The Keeper.  Joy.  And your hatred
of Dezenial.”

“Not hatred. Not any longer. 
I misunderstood a great many things. And . . . I was a selfish old man thinking
I knew more than everyone else.”

“I’m almost tempted to pick my jaw
up off the ground.”

“You can pick mine up as well.”

They shared a smile.

“In this life, I wish for you to
experience normality.” 

“Apparently you missed the fifteen-hundred
pound, two-headed canine under the impression he’s a lap dog, the children’s
loveseat, and the thief of my Oreo Double Stuff cookies.  I’m surrounded
by Forest Lords, that my realm labeled as Picts, and I reside in a realm my
world doesn’t realize exists.  What have I left out? Ah, a Celt, a priest
having survived the Crusades,” she paused, her eyes springing tears.  “And
I take nourishment from a Daemon Elite.”  She couldn’t voice the rest of
it, however, that Vaide was probably going to be the only way she’d be able to
be any kind of mother to her babies.  How much longer did any of her
precious motley protectors deserve to endure her profound grief?

He’d read her thoughts.  As
easily as if she’d said them aloud.  The thing squeezing him tightened its
hold.  He did not like it.  Not in the least!

“I’ve lost my soul to a species
defying all realism, Xyn.  Shall we discuss the gold band on my arm?”

His gaze dropped down to where she
indicated.  He frowned, perplexed.

“It’s actually a guardian Daemon, a
ferocious bugger who protects me when death is paramount.  I weapons train
with, not only an Elf prince, but a bevy of Elf warriors, oh, and please, let
us not forget my daughter’s eyes now glow like little white moons just before
she screams bloody-fucking-murder.”

Xyn flinched.

Pendaran flounced, lost his balance
and flew haphazardly to a new branch.  Twigs rained down.  Emily
scowled up into the trees.  Xyn merely cleared his snow white hair of the
debris.  Another thing that perplexed her—his hair, following the battle,
had turned white.

“Ah, you have heard Kendara’s
wails?”

“Princess Emily, several
realms
have heard that child.”

Emily had the good grace to
laugh.  “Aedan now sleeps in the nursery.  He seems to own a power
that soothes the tiny she-devil.”

“I will reward him duly.”

If a falcon could scoff, Pendaran
would have done just that.

“We stole youth from Aurelia.”

“It was a different time. 
Even in my realm, history tells how kids had to grow up much more quickly than
modern times.”

“Thank you for the kindness, but we
were negligent in her care.  As we’ve been with yours.  Worried about
ourselves, and the power you will hold, we thought of nothing else but
protecting that power—no matter the cost.  I have grievously erred.”

“Your admission is not an easy one
for you.  Don’t ask me how I know this.”  Emily studied him for some
time.  “There’s something you are not telling me.”

 “And, for now, I cannot.”

She nodded.  “I appreciate the
honesty, at least, versus you trying to deny what I sense.”

“The powers we grant you, the
powers you honor us by agreeing to become the Keeper of, they will come to you
as you need them.  I do not want to overburden you, as we did with
Aurelia, by granting all at once.  You were raised in the mortal realm. 
I fear too much, too soon would overwhelm you, at the very least, this is our
wish.”

She looked away and folded her
arms, not against the cold, but out of habit when uncomfortable.  “Be
careful what you wish for, eh?”

And Xyn wondered, not for the first
time while observing her stare of the horizon,
what
did she search
for?  “And what, highness, would
you
wish for?”

“Dezenial.”

A soul-deep explosion burst within
Xyn.  Painfully, he comprehended the emotion assailing him during this
council with Emily.  It left him bitter and cold. 
Frightened
. 
It’s power, daunting. 

Guilt.

And it wasn’t fading, but rather,
taking hold and festering with alarming strength!  He would have to make
changes.  Whatever it took to absolve this wretched pain hollowing
him.  He’d never felt more desperate, save for when they’d escaped from
their home world. 

“We will speak again.  The
Outlander searches for you.  The twins require feeding.”

“Oh,” Emily gasped.  Second
nature, she shadow-jumped to their nursery.

“You may bring your arse down here,
rather than hiding amongst branches you obviously lack skill to remain roosted
upon,” Xyn called out to his son.

“I sense something in you.  A
genesis
. 
Odd.”

Xyn’s expression was
thunderous.  “You would do well not to try me at this moment.”

“It is, as moderns say, a hard pill
to swallow?”

“
River
stones would be
easier digested.”

“Your strategy?” Pendaran asked his
father.

“You will prepare the
Outlander.  He will think of you as his new ally.”  Xyn rocked
forward a bit and stood.  “I will return.”

“As you would request.” 
Pendaran bowed low, reverence for his father before shape-shifting, and taking
flight towards the castle, Sister Wind chasing after him. 

The elemental wasn’t missing this
for the world!  Besides, the castle was much warmer than her wheezing
brother.

*   *   *   *   *

“Weapons are to your satisfaction?”

“They are far more cunning than
even I could imagine, for this realm anyway.”

“I will take that as
approval.  The keep, you are comfortable?”

The male assessed the Elder with
barely contained disdain.  “Confining, but I’m sure I’ll eventually
adapt.”

“Sunrise here is breathtaking, is
it not?  I’d forgotten how much.”

Male growling filled the
antechamber.  Xyn was most tempted to push him, but poking a stick at a
caged beast was not always prudent.  Inwardly, the Elder sighed.  Reprehensible
consequences, should Emily come into full power and, thus, be enlightened to his
failed strategy.

No realm would remain untouched by
that woman’s scorn, her otherworldly powers frightful, and those didn’t even
include what Xyn had given her.  No, no, he needed to rectify events he’d
thought wise, but in hindsight, were intolerably erroneous.  He’d have to
find another way, but one last taunt could not be resisted.  Mortals were
really teaching him terrible habits.

“I understand beautiful females
flaunt their wares, vying for your attention?”

Fists clenched.  Xyn swore he
heard gnashing teeth.  And yet, a feisty woman, barely an inch over five
feet, had tamed this beast.  “Come.  We leave now.”  Xyn waved
his hand, calling the being closer to him.  A sweep of his arm, and black
robes faded into dust motes.  A warrior stood proud and stern.  “Arm
yourself,” Xyn warned.

Cold, biting laughter
erupted.  “You manipulate me for your cause.  You flaunt female
flesh, wrongly assuming I prefer to feast when famine is all I ask, and now you
wish to . . .
what
?  Practice battle techniques?  I hardly
have need of weaponry, old one.”

“An injustice, I have
created.  I do not like this emotion of guilt.  It is likened to
disease.  I must absolve myself of it, quickly.  My own enemies
arise.  I cannot have
this
distracting me.”

Silence thickened the air into its
mire of questions and assumptions.

“You warned time passes differently
here.  How long have I been away?”  One hundred twenty two sunrises
had passed its light into the hands of night for safe keeping . . . last he
counted.  He’d not bothered with the numbers for some time now.  The
reminder ebbed his sanity.  Why did the ancient one not answer his simple
question?  “How
long
?”

“Clan MacLarrin prepares to
celebrate the twins’ first birthday.”

The being fell to his knees. 
Thousands of years of cold discipline anchored him.  Shallow breaths were
all he could manage.  Because, right now, his rage roared for explosive
release.  He would craze.  None here would remain alive.  “And .
. . the . . . woman?”

He hauled his fury in, link .
.  by . . . deadly . . . link.

“Her heart warms around her twins,
ices as soon as they are not present.”  Xyn’s voice became
anguished.  “I am afraid the Keeper takes care of all, but for herself,
she withers.  Her time is short, if we do not hurry.  Twice, she has
attempted to reside with Hades.  I lied, telling her she would see her
eightieth year, should she choose not to become our Keeper.  In truth,
she’ll see one more moonrise, her grief to be her death.”

“As before, you decide without
council or forethought.”

Xyn laughed, refreshed to be in the
presence of one daring speak his mind instead of fear stilling his
tongue.  The Elder laughed more loudly, his awful pain of guilt lessening.

Rage erupted.  The Elder’s
laughter metamorphosed the tormented prisoner into colossal black and red
winged raging monster.  Roaring, he launched towards the ancient, fire
encompassing the tiled floor.

Xyn threw up his hand. 
Ferocious attack was thwarted by a sudden force so strong, winged creature
catapulted backwards as if nothing more than a small reptile.  “It is not
my desire to be your enemy, not any longer.  We have spent several
millennia making very bad decisions, when we should have left some things
alone.  A tactic I thought would be to our mutual benefit has had
repercussions I should never have allowed to occur.  We will seek another
way, but for now, you are needed for much more than leashing that psychotic
mother of yours.  Besides, another night of that screaming little hellion
will have me cleaving my own ears.”

Kendara awoke screaming, as had been
her way since entering the world.

Emily lurched.  Pain stabbed
between her shoulder blades.  Falling asleep in a chair, half slumped
across a toddler bed caused unmitigated pain to one’s body.  “Shhh, come
here,” Emily muttered her eleven-month-mantra.  “Why do you still
scream?”  Cradling her daughter, Emily pulled the quilt from the tiny bed
and tucked it around her daughter.  Gently, she rocked, wondering if the
absence of Aedan meant her poor Shield Guard finally realized she could handle
a few hours of midnight wailing.  Still, there was a measure of comfort
when he’d burst in, full of apology for not remaining in the nursery.  To
which she’d tell him he should be down below, drinking, wrestling,
wenching.  And every time—Emily smiled—he’d puff up and remind her of his
vow to Kendara.  “Mi’ wenching days are over.  ‘Tis no’ a good man,
ta’ be creating bairns all over the kingdom, and one day, mi’ wife will have
ta’ look in their faces, knowing they’re no’ hers.  Nay.  I’ll no’
disrespect her in such a way.”

“You simply fear she’ll torch your
hide.”

“Aye, there is tha’.”

“I thought immortals couldn’t have
children?”

“I’m no’ taking any chances.”

“And when you two marry, what
then?  What if Kendara desires children?”

Aedan had given her a look, so full
of mischief, she knew there was some grand Fey secret the other immortals of
Clan MacLarrin had not been made privy to.

Emily patted Kendara, who still
wailed pitifully.  Emily nuzzled her daughter’s hair, kissing gently the
small soft head of white down.  “Kendara, if you stop crying, I promise
you can have your very own assassin too.  What do you say?  Or would you
prefer spiders?  Your father had a penchant for spiders.”  Emily
grimaced.  Kendara wailed louder.  “Yeah, me too.  Too
gross.  Your father thought it was very funny to scare your mommy with
them.  Or course, they’re as big as a man.”

Her daughter’s scream was so
piercing, Emily nearly fainted.

“She claims light of day seeps into
her dreams, and keeps her from sleeping.”

Emily stilled her rocking.

Kendara’s screeching silenced.

Tears burned Emily’s eyes. 
“I’m slipping into madness.”  She cocooned her daughter even closer, and
trembled with grief.  “He was so beautiful, Kendara.  His voice deep,
magnificent, caressing; an accent to make a girl’s toes curl.”  Tears
increased.  “How, little one?  How do I continue?”  Deep sobs
racked her insides.  “Just . . . can’t.  Pain never . . .
ends.”  Grief swept her down its raging river.  Though she tried very hard
to hide emotional devastation from her toddlers, this night would not see her
as being successful with her ruse.

Footfalls neared.  Quickly,
she fisted her tears.  Miraculously, Kendara had yet to scream
again.  A rarity.  Slowly, the nursery door opened.  Her
beautiful, lethal guardian peered in.

“It’s okay, Vaide.  She seems
to be settling.”  Magnificent to look upon, so kind to her, and
all-knowing when it came time for her to feed.  Sometimes, it seemed a
no brainer, to just allow him to drink from her and be done with it. 
Tears slowly found their way down her cheeks.  The betrayal to Dezenial
would have her taking a knife to her own heart.  It just wasn’t something
she would survive.  She knew this, soul deep.  Vaide had come to
realize it as well, whispering to her last night that he knew her time was
near, and that his place would always be with the twins.  She’d balked,
determined to remain here with her babies.

And then, times like now, when she
swore she could hear Dezenial’s voice . . . well, at least the twins had
something more terrifying than a nightmare to protect them—gorgeous, but,
still, a nightmare, when provoked.

That’s not very nice, Keer’dra
.

A choked cry escaped her. 
“Please, please get Aedan,” she whispered.  “Sorrow hits me hard this
night.”  This was the most her mind had ever, at one time, conjured his
voice.  She felt herself slipping over an edge she’d never return
from. 
I fought too hard to keep grasp of his image.
 

Vaide had yet to leave. 
Instead, he opened the door even more.  Emily tightened her hold on Kendara,
and quickly stood to face down the Daemon.  Had her father been
mistaken?  Was this in fact an assassin, sent by Shadow? 

Emily’s eyes ignited. 
Incantations filled her head. 

His yellow eyes fixated on an area
over her shoulder.  Her nape prickled.  Before she could react, he
dropped to one knee, bowed his head, and crisscrossed his arms over his chest.

Emily hyperventilated.  He was
going to force her to be his mate!  She’d shred him alive!

Kendara batted something behind
Emily.

“Keer’dra, I command for you to
turn around, and face me.”

Ever-so-slowly, she obliged. 

Her mind collapsed.

As did her body.  Emily sank
to her knees. She wept aloud, rocking back and forth.  Somewhere, in the
fog of her misery, Kendara was lifted from her arms.  Too grief stricken
to battle, sobbing wracked her body.  Broc hunkered down beside her. 
Where had he come from?  She peered up at him, her daughter so at peace in
his arms.  No, that couldn’t be right.  Her daughter never ever
ceased her screams for more time than it took to fill her lungs for the next
assault to their ears.

Now, she lay mute.  Content.

“I can’t . . . no more.  Not
another day, Broc.  I’m sorry.  I’ve failed my children.  His
memory.  All of you.  Please, my father knows the way . . . call for
Hades.”  She looked beyond Broc.  “Vaide.  Please.  Take me
to Hades.”  She clutched her heart, and bent low, keening. 
“Pain.  It claws me.”  Hysteria choked her.  “Can’t . . . handle
anymore.  Now I hear him, see him.  I’m going mad.  No
more.  No . . .
more
!”  Her final word was a scream into her
hands now covering her face.

“I would have you fill mi’ hall
with laughter, lass, ye’ and Aedan, once again schemin’ yer’ plots to humiliate
mi’ men.”  Broc stood and moved back. 

Emily rocked.  Arms hung limp
at her sides.

A hand snaked under her chin,
forcing her head to look up.  An image swam.  Glowing white
hair.  Her father.  Oh, wouldn’t he be pleased, his daughter, the
lunatic—a thumb wiped away her tears.

“You will look at me, and see I am
no phantom of your grief.”  His arm waved, illumination filling the
room.  Shakily, her fingers reached up.  She poked at the hands
caressing her face.

He was on bended knee.  So
close.  Warm.  His spicy scent permeated her senses.

“No, no, no!  You’re not
real.  I watched . . . you die!  I’ll awaken—another dream! 
Hades
!” 
She shrieked her father-in-law’s name over and over, louder each time. 
She sagged.

“I was given a choice.  Die
and become nothing but grief to you—your suffering is as sharp as the Lumynari
whip against my soul—or a hidden weapon against Shadow.  I was given mere
seconds to decide.”

Emily scrunched her eyes
closed.  If she opened them, and he was not there, and she was simply
sitting up in her bed—

Hands impatiently grasped the back
of her neck, pulling her to his descending mouth.

Dezenial kissed her deeply, his own
eyes watering.  “Shall I taste your blood as well, convincing you once and
for all I am here, Keer’dra?”  Fangs grew, his eyes glittering with heartache. 
She touched his face.  Kissed him again through both their tears. 
And inhaled deeply the scent of him.  

“Don’t leave me.  Please,
please be real.  Please don’t—“

“Shhh, Keer’dra.  I have
returned, little one.  I’m here.”  He scooped her against him,
holding her tightly as she sobbed loudly into him, clutching every part of
him.  And then, she screamed and screamed into his chest, grief battling
joy.  Dezenial’s gaze fell on Vaide.  “You will remain her personal
guard.  Also, you will now be as Cianna, all power granted to you, and
also, like her, the privilege to choose a mate to call your own, should you so
desire.”

Vaide bowed his head.  “I am
profoundly thankful, my lord.”

“No, Vaide,
I
am.  You
will now also command the Elites.  And, from Hades, you have been granted
your wings.”

Vaide, beyond humbled, could not
speak.

Dezenial tilted Emily’s head back,
gazing down at her, his fangs long.  “I give you my strength to heal your
heart.  And your soul.”  He bit deeply, his powerful soul reaching
for hers, pulling to him, cradling it against his own.  After several
minutes, tranquility settled over her.  He eased his fangs from her neck,
licking the droplets before kissing her lips, her closed lids, his hands
entwining her hair.  “I am here, Keer’dra.”

“I love you so much.  I’ll
never be able to stop touching you, breathing you in.”  She grasped his
hair.  Trailed his cheekbone; ran her index finger across his very
chiseled mouth.  She pressed her fingers to his neck, felt the artery
throb, tears welling again.  “Please, don’t stop speaking.  I missed
your voice.  So much.”  She sagged into him, weeping
uncontrollably.  “Please, never stop speaking.”

He chuckled.  “You will beg
for silence, but until then, I will regale you with stories of your father’s
youth.”  He stood, pulling her up with him.

“Dow! Dow! Dow!” Kendara shouted,
her command for down.  Eyes ignited into two white hot little
lights.  She yanked Broc’s war braid.  Yowling, laughing, quickly he
set the Daemon princess down.  Kendara crawled to her brother’s bed,
pulled herself to a standing position, and proceeded to belt her brother
awake.  Sleepily, he turned to his side and sat up.

And looked at his sister,
nonplussed.

“He’s indifferent to her chaos,”
Emily sniffed, tears trying to make gullies in her face.  “Just like you
were—
are
—to mine.”

“He is up against great odds,”
Dezenial whispered.  His son.  His daughter.  He had spoken long
with the Outlander.  And both had sworn allegiance to the other. 
Dezenial had expressed that giving Broc fealty would still never be enough
repayment for the kindness the human had shown towards his children, his help
in bringing them into the world . . . and then, Broc’s testimony of Emily’s
suffering had torn into him so deeply, he’d listened to everyone’s tale with
his head cradled in his hands.  He’d had no shame when at last, he’d
looked up at the bevy of faces, his own face awash with tears.

His Emily had suffered soul
wrenching grief.  Hades’ threats to his person, and to Xyn, still echoed
in his mind.  His father’s fury over Emily’s suffering had him being
lectured like a freshman demon.

And then,
Zeus
had bellowed.

He was surprised his soul didn’t
visibly smoke, his uncle having scorched him numerous times with
lightning. 
Both
gods had made themselves visible to Xyn.  And
warned the eternally meddling Elder, interfere with Emily’s happiness again,
and there would be an epic battle the likes none of the realms had ever
witnessed . . . and lived to retell.

He and Inzyr had clasped
arms.  Dezenial remarked Inzyr’s considerably shorter hair—the assassin
having always been rather vain about his hair—and had been informed by the
Forest Lords that Inzyr had slashed his hair, shortly after Dezenial’s
demise.  The god sat heavily, and contemplated the various consequences
his
death
had caused.  He was regaled with details regarding his
twins’ birth—and how history repeated itself, this time Aedan the bearer of The
Claiming.  His brows had shot up, shocked to find out Inzyr and Aedan had
become blood-bonded.  A Lumynari and a Fey royal.  “I leave you to
your own devices, and return to find you’ve grown soft.” 

“I am dutifully shamed, my lord,”
Inzyr said, eyes glinting. 

Scrutinizing, Dezenial had not
found Aedan wanting.  His daughter would be cherished.  He could ask
for no more.  He’d roared with laughter over Emily’s annoyance that his
son already had his very own assassin.  Eldaryn had groaned, padding out
the front doors of the keep in search of something he could kill, gnaw, and
eat.  Grown males gushing over babies more than nauseating for the Oltheg
to tolerate any longer.

And all males had agreed, the
temptation to rope Xyn to four horses, each galloping in a different direction
carrying torn portions of Xyn’s carcass to four corners of the world would be
too good for the Elder.  Dezenial made mention of what he could do to the
Elder’s soul, but Pendaran had warned he’d be forced to defend his father,
which would then awaken Emily’s temper, she needing to defend Dezenial.

“Do no’, we beg of ye’, Daemon,”
Reignsfeugh said, hand splayed over his heart, “awaken the wrath of She Who
Must Be Obeyed!”

The hall had filled with laughter,
backslapping, ‘aye’s’, and much clonking of pewter mugs filled with ale.

Kendara suddenly looked at them,
her eyes shining brighter, bringing Dezenial back to the moment of laying eyes
on his children for the first time.  The tiny tot pointed at Dezenial,
chattered her shared language with her brother, drawing the little boy’s
attention.

“They have their own language. 
My father claims its from Mt. Olympus,” Emily muttered, refusing to relinquish
the band of arms enveloping her tightly. 

“She speaks the language of
gods.  I think my father has meddled.  Again.”

“She’s in full rage now,” Emily
warned.

Broc chuckled, the twins forever
amusing him.  “Oh-oh.  Her chest ‘as swelled.  Guard yer’ ears.”

On cue, Kendara deafened the room
with shrill screaming.  Then looked up at Broc with her little cherub
face, unaware several rattled their heads to regain their hearing.  “Nay,
lass.  I canna step in and rescue ye’ this time.  You’re the daughter
of mi’ heart, but time ta’ meet yer’ true da’.”