The Last Guardian Rises (The Last Keeper's Daughter) (13 page)

Unless there were any more leads to follow, they needed to go on to London and visit Dr. Toolley of the British Museum. Toolley’s family had donated the items for an exhibit called The Treasures of Ur. Toolley’s grandfather was a noted archeologist in the early twentieth century and had excavated a site in Basrah. Lily thought there might be a clue to the gates in the pieces not on display. Hunter thought it would be good for him and Meirta to take a trip and offered to do the foot work.

Meirta was only half-listening to him. He’d already asked her if something was wrong and gotten no response. He wracked his brain trying to figure out what could be bothering her. Maybe it was going back to England. 

“Are you looking forward to seeing London again?” he asked. “Do you miss it?”

Meirta had worked closely with the Elder and lived at the Legacy Foundation. Hunter remembered the day he’d stood outside the Legacy Foundation debating whether or not he should enter. He’d received an invitation, placed inside his home, to meet with the Elder. From the moment the door had opened and the doorman, Mathers, had directed him into the enormous atrium-like room to meet the ethereal Elder, he’d not regretted his decision to join the Other World. The ring he wore on his finger was a gift from Huthwiat. He’d said it was to show the Others that he was a valued member of the community though he was only human. Lately, he wondered if that had been true. Was there another purpose to the ring? Perhaps he would never know as now both the Elder and the Legacy Foundation were no more.

“No. What about you?”

“It was a lifetime ago and one without you.”
God, I’m sappy tonight
.

“What do you say we pay the tab and get out of here?”

“I’d say that’s an excellent idea.” He was praising himself for having exchanged enough money to pay in cash when Meirta grabbed his wrist.

“Hunter?” She leaned forward, looking at his hand.

“What?” Hunter followed her eyes down to the ring; it was glowing, just slightly. Not enough to light a room, but enough to cast a small glow. Nervous suddenly, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching them.

“Do you feel anything?”

He didn’t want to talk about it, not here, not out in the open. “No.”

“Why do you still wear it?”

I wish I wasn’t.
“No choice. I can’t get it off. Huthwiat must have sealed it on somehow. I asked Merlin about it.”

“And?” Meirta tugged his arm. “What did he say?”

“Gibberish, you know how he is. He wanted to try some sort of a spell. I’d rather keep it on.”

“Chicken,” she teased.

“Absolutely,” he replied thankful that she hadn’t pressed the subject. He didn’t want her to worry or know how uneasy he felt about the ring, and more disturbing, how it made him feel.

She was rearranging the sugar packets on the table into groupings of the same color. Even in Australia they had the pink ones, the yellow ones, and pure sugar in the appropriately colored white packets. “I think we’ll find something useful in London.”

Wouldn’t Huthwiat have known about the tablets? If they were important, he would have put them in the foundation. Before he could voice his thoughts, Meirta leaned back in her chair and gave him one of her megawatt smiles.

“Perhaps he did know about them. The Elder did nothing without a purpose.” Her smile slipped as she realized her mistake. “Sorry, being around so many humans makes it difficult to keep my mind from wandering. I just picked it out of your thoughts.”

Meirta was one of the rarest types of Others, a Minder, able to read human thoughts. Given their relationship, his thoughts were probably flashing constantly in her head like the neon signs of Times Square.

“What am I thinking now?” He knew she was tired, and preoccupied with something. It just wouldn’t do to get upset about her abilities.

She lifted her eyebrow. “You want me to kiss your Pope ring?”

The Elder’s ring was glowing again but right now he didn’t care. “Try further south.”

“Oh.” She batted her eyelashes and grinned mischievously. “I think that can be arranged.”

Lily

“You look nice,” Lily exclaimed as Krieger strode into the room.

He was wearing a charcoal three-pieced suit with a gunmetal gray tie that matched his eyes, and his hair was pulled back. The words ‘beautiful savage’ came to mind as she remembered a night that seemed like years ago when she’d watched him bathing in his Roman bath. How the water had beaded down his muscles as he’d walked out of the water and taunted her with his male beauty.

“As do you.” She could almost feel where his eyes slipped over the velvet gown of royal blue that fit her like a second skin. “I could hear the two of you in my rooms.” He closed the door and cut his eyes to Lucien. “You should be getting dressed.”

“I was keeping her company.” Lucien, who’d been making her laugh moments earlier, was suddenly sullen.

“Did you know that the fruit of the Banyan tree is said to give life? That it has magical properties?” Lily asked, lying on her stomach in front of the fire with a grouping of old books spread around her.

“It seems the archives are not the only books which speak to her,” Lucien explained. “She wanted to see the castle’s library.”

“Aren’t there similar stories about the apple, the pomegranate and…” Krieger leaned back on his heels, thinking. “A magical bean?”

Lily laughed. “I loved that story as a kid.” She sat up, wrapping the long skirt of her gown around her legs. “It would be nice if this place had central heating.” She moved the old books around like playing cards until one with a cracked leather cover appeared. “This one,” she said in a fake-serious tone, “has meeting notes dating back centuries.” She licked her index finger and turned the pages. “Ah, here it is.” She stopped and pointed to the page. “This entry talks about you being appointed king.”

“This is why women weren’t taught to read,” Lucien joked. “I hope all your exploits aren’t written there.”

“You.” She playfully flung a notepad at Lucien who caught it in midair.

Krieger didn’t laugh. “I’ll see to Lily now,” he said to Lucien.

She felt the chill between them and gave Lucien her warmest smile before he left. Not willing to let her festive mood slip away she tried to engage Krieger with banter. “So what kind of exploits would there be in these books?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He slowly stalked towards her. “Maybe how I took a beautiful maid with hair the color of white silk up into my tower.” And reached down, tickling her sides.

“Stop, please, stop.” She laughed so hard it was difficult to breathe.

“A kiss,” he bargained. “I require a kiss to stop.”

“Okay, okay.” She rolled away from him as he jumped towards her. “No, really, please stop.”

“I’m waiting.” Krieger sat down and patted his knee.

His demeanor was playful but she wasn’t fooled. The intensity in his eyes was a yearning so palpable that it burned over her body, igniting her own neglected needs.
Why have I resisted him so long?

“I’ll wrinkle your suit.”

“Do you think I care?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“No.” She’d never been the aggressor and was uncomfortable with the role. It was a little intoxicating taking control as she leaned in and found his lips.

Why it struck her at that particular moment, she had no idea, but the question took hold and had to be asked. “Do you visit the ouleds?” she whispered.

He leaned his head back and ran a forefinger along her cheek. “You know that I have.”

“If we were together—”

His finger gently quieted her lips. “I give you my solemn vow that if we should become lovers no one will come between us.”

She was hoping for another kiss, but abruptly Krieger lifted her up with him as he stood and placed her by the fire. “What is it?” she asked.

“It seems we have a visitor.” He opened the door just as his guard was about to knock.

Grigori stepped forward and addressed Krieger, “I’d like to speak with your Sanguis Ancilla, if I may.”

“Yes,” Lily whispered, unable to take her eyes off him as he walked into the room.

“I have been told of your beauty.” Grigori bowed. “Their words did not do you justice.”

He looked like a college student, fresh faced, eager and ready to tackle the world. Her feet were glued to the floor and all she could manage was to dip her head at him.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Grigori glanced out the window and then back at her. “I’ve wanted to apologize about that night you were on the stairs. It was not my intention to scare you. You have no idea how I feared for you, that you’d been hurt.”

She shivered remembering that night at Waverly, her family estate, standing at the top of the conservatory steps and feeling the ghostly sensation of his icy fingers wrapping around her wrist just before she lost her balance and plunged to the bottom. “How?” It was all she could manage to say right now. There was an irrational urge to touch him just to make sure he was in the same room with her, but that was ludicrous because Krieger had brought him in. She knew without a doubt that Grigori was the man of her visions, and was equally sure he wasn’t the man of her dreams. How could that be? All this time she’d thought they were one and the same.

“I don’t know why or how you appeared to me. Standing encased in darkness staring down into what looked like a pit. I feared for you.” Grigori smiled apologetically. “I was a fool to try and touch you. I felt your warmth on my fingers and despaired when you wrenched away from me. I should have never have done that. I’m sorry for the panic I caused you. For the pain you must have endured as you fell.” He bowed again but kept his eyes on her. “Do you forgive me?”

She would have died if Krieger hadn’t found her and given her his blood. Healed her wounds and formed the blood bond they now shared. “There is nothing to forgive.” When she’d met his father, the Elder, there was the same static electricity in the atmosphere, like the force of gravity had lessened with his nearness.

“Do you know why our visions have ceased?” Grigori asked, and stroked his pale green tie as the Elder had done with his long white hair, like a treasured pet.

So he thought of those brief moments of seeing the other as visions also. She shook her head, afraid to move too much that he might disappear.

“Well.” Grigori tilted his head to the side. “In a way we are still connected.”

Krieger had his arm resting on the mantle, looking relaxed and almost unconcerned about the conversation she was having with Grigori.

“We are?” she asked.

“You have recently lost your father.”

“Oh, yes, of course. It must be hard for you losing both of your parents.”

His face hardened slightly. “They are with me.”

Did he mean literally or in memory? In another setting they might have sat and talked for hours, but right now she felt uncomfortable, like a thorn was embedded in her side.

“Your beauty and wellbeing are not the only reason I asked to see you” –he glanced at Krieger– “in private.” Grigori tilted his chin skyward and closed his eyes. “You’ve felt him, as I have; his awakening is not to be feared.”

Krieger moved between her blinks and stood next to and a little in front of her. He wasn’t feigning disinterest any longer, nor was he threatening, more readying himself.

Her mind was reeling with what Grigori had said. Yes, she had felt something awake, a being whose presence rippled just below the surface of her thoughts. “Who is he?”

There was no answer from Grigori.

“If you know something of value then you should speak it.” Krieger’s patience was waning.

“I have said all I know.”

Was Grigori speaking the truth? She couldn’t tell and feared Krieger might try to force the information from him. “I have something of yours,” was all she could manage. She hated how small her voice sounded.

He straightened his shoulders and placed a hand on his chest. “You have something of mine?”

His eyes changed color from a warm brown to a vibrant green, the color of new leaves hit by the sun on a spring day. His head tilted just slightly to the side like he was straining to hear faint music, and again she felt the need to confirm that he was corporeal but all she could manage was to look over at the journal lying on the side table. Grigori’s eyes followed hers and his expression went from docile to wary, and finally hardened to stone. When he looked back at her his eye color had changed yet again to dual pits of infinite darkness.

“I see that you do. It was my father’s.”

Krieger handed the leather bound journal to Grigori.

“You should have told me,” Grigori addressed Krieger. With one hand he clutched the journal tight against his chest while the other stroked the leather cover. “That you were the destroyer.”

“He didn’t…” She loathed the word
destroyer
. “It wasn’t like that. They saved the archives from destruction.”

Grigori’s eyes narrowed into cold hard pieces of amber. He stepped back.

Krieger moved closer to Grigori. “Without my intervention all the archives would have been lost.”

It was Lily’s turn to stare at Krieger in disbelief. “There were more?”

“We retrieved everything we could,” Krieger said, never taking his eyes off Grigori. “Mathers was unable to access the lowest portions.”

“The vaults,” Grigori said softly.

“Is that why they are so afraid to speak,” Lily said, equally soft.

“You have the gift.” Grigori glared at her. She thought he was going to say something else, but instead he dropped his gaze to the floor, turned his back on her and walked toward the door.

“Wait.” She bumped into the chair in her haste to stop him. “Wait, please.” Grigori stopped. “Read it,” she said, looking at the journal. “Please, it explains what happened. It wasn’t Krieger who killed your mother.” She reached out to him but he sidestepped. “Please believe me.”

Grigori’s only response was to leave.

Lily turned on Krieger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Lucien worked with Mathers to clear everything out.” His eyes focused on the wall behind her. “The explosion was not set by us. When Lucien realized…he didn’t have enough time…”