The Last Guardian Rises (The Last Keeper's Daughter) (19 page)

“He might be helpful in the future,” Hunter hurriedly said, not sure how Lily would respond, and not wanting to see the man killed.

Len swayed.

“Lucien, please, I’m tired,” Lily said, still facing the door. “He has family.”

What would Lucien have done if Lily weren’t here? Hunter quickly moved to stand beside her and waited until Lucien had erased everything about their meeting from Len’s mind. When he reached for the doorknob he saw Lucien had the box of bones in his hand. Hunter glanced back just before the door closed behind them to see Len sitting with his back military straight, staring forward with his hands spread and resting on his thighs, like he was sitting on a bus going nowhere.

Krieger

King Beline sat at the head of the council table, still and menacing as a predator observing its prey.

“I will choose my own bride.” King Grigori pounded his fist on the table like a petulant child.

Queen Pao smiled. “Perhaps Grigori needs someone more accustomed to the weight of a crown.” She glanced at Grigori with her almond shaped eyes. “We could sign a pact to rule our two territories as king and queen.”

Krieger was intrigued by Pao’s obvious disregard for Grigori. She anticipated he’d be gullible enough to consider her proposal.

Beline gave Grigori an acerbic look. “Territories have always been ruled by vampires. We have all agreed that you are not an exception to this rule. Sit.” Beline smacked his flattened hand onto the table. “Sit and listen to who we propose.”

Grigori seemed to be contemplating his next move. He was right to be wary.

“Sophia is both wise and beautiful.” Krieger waited to continue until Grigori sat. “She is from your territory and served Queen Ekaterina without being tainted by her—”

“Her insanity,” Grigori completed the sentence.

“Precisely.” Beline traced his finger along a ridge of the intricately carved surface of the table.

In his thick-tongued manner, Carlos rubbed the spittle from his lips and uttered, “I was the one who suggested her. You will thank me once you see what a nice little morsel she is.”

“True.” Beline tapped his finger. “She is beautiful, but it’s her temperament and the regard of your subjects which make her a true asset that will complement your reign.” Beline tilted his head back slightly.

“I am king. It is my choice to make.”

“You are king at our discretion.” Beline waited, probably thinking Grigori would spout more words of futile resistance. “Do you have a particular vampire in mind?” Beline asked. “Would you prefer a male instead of a female?”

 Krieger knew Beline was toying with Grigori. There would be no other option but the one the council had chosen for him. Accept their choice and live. Refuse and die.

“No, I don’t see this as a love match,” Grigori said quietly.

“Wise man,” Merneith agreed. “Then let us continue.”

Beline grabbed the wooden staff leaning against the table and pounded it on the floor, summoning the guard to open the double doors. “Send her in.” The guard bowed and backed out of the room, closing the doors behind him.

“And what would have happened if I was not amenable to your choice?” Grigori asked.

“This is a negotiation,” Krieger said.

“Is it? What if I would prefer your Lily to rule by my side?”

“She is not vampire.”

“We all saw that. Nor is she human.”

Krieger ignored him. Lily’s performance was an unfortunate event which he knew none in this room would forget.

Sophia Parnell slipped through the opened doors like a soft summer breeze. She was dressed in a modest robin-egg blue dress that fell to the floor. Her bearing was regal, her manner cordial, and her temperament calm. Born in England in the late fifteen hundreds, she’d left her homeland by choice to join a convent in France. She was picked to travel with a delegation of the Roman Catholic Church to entreat the newly crowned Tsar Michael I for more religious freedom inside his kingdom. Krieger did not know who her maker was, but somehow she was separated from the church’s party and had been reborn as vampire. Since that time she’d remained in Russia, always working to better the lives of the Russian people. There were rumors that Sophia considered herself to be and upheld the vows of a nun. Vampires had been in the church before, even a pope, but none had lived a virtuous life. To eschew pleasure in all its forms and vices was unfathomable, and yet, Sophia who was without a doubt vampire, seemed to have done just that. 

Grigori rose with his hands still planted on the table, his fingers splayed out like roots, giving him a hunched appearance. Krieger could see his eyes and because Grigori was intently watching Sophia he witnessed the irises change from a plain shade of brown to a vibrant green, like the color of a newly sprouted shoot.

“My lady,” Grigori said, bowing his head. “You honor me.”

How much did Grigori know about Sophia? There seemed to be tension between the two.

Sophia returned his bow. 

“Then this is amenable to both of you?” Beline rose and walked to stand beside Sophia.

Krieger saw Sophia’s shoulders tighten just a fraction as Beline moved towards her. Interesting, he thought. Pao looked like she would spit out iron nails at any moment. Her chances of successfully manipulating Grigori into ceding land to her were looking very slim now.

“I remember your visit to my father.” Grigori’s eye color fluctuated, changing from green to brown to almost a red hue, and back again.

This statement struck Krieger. As far as he knew, Sophia never left Russia. So she visited with the Elder. Why?

“The world is less without his presence,” she said.

Carlos laboriously rose from his chair. “Let’s get on with it then. A little blood between you.” He lowered his chin and looked at each of them. “Maybe a little blood between Sophia’s legs later and you two will be coregents.”

Sophia flinched. Grigori’s eyes went black as tar.

Merneith sprang up from her chair. “Carlos, your way with words is your worst feature. Why don’t you go play with your milkmaids and leave this to the adults?”

Carlos wiped away a large drop of yellowish spittle that had collected between the creases of his lips and used his tongue to clean it off his hand.

“Blood must be exchanged between you.” Beline walked over to the side cabinet and opened a drawer. “And your signatures.” The parchment paper was rolled tight and secured with a leather strap. “This pledges your devotion to each other and your commitment to rule as coregents.” He worked the strap off the coiled paper, unfolded it and spread it on the table. Without looking at them, he said, “Once the blood is drunk and the pledge signed then the deal is struck. No further action between the two of you is needed.”

It was Grigori who seemed the most relieved. Krieger inwardly chuckled.

Pao raised her pinkie finger with its long gold-encased nail. “Are you ready?” she asked the two of them.

Sophia smiled as sweetly as a child being given a treat. “Of course.” She waited while Pao walked over to them, and then extended her arm, offering up the underside of her wrist.

“Is this necessary?” Grigori asked, looking around the room.

“It is,” Krieger found himself saying. “You do not understand how lenient we have been with your reign. The least you can do is accept our traditions.”

Gracelessly Grigori shoved his wrist towards Pao, who ignored him and instead gently placed her hand underneath Sophia’s arm. She delicately used her nail to slice vertically down Sophia’s vein, whereupon a thick line of blood about two inches long bubbled up to the surface. Both Pao and Sophia remained still, waiting for Grigori to drink. He seemed not to know what was expected of him.

“Drink,” Carlos pressed.

“Savages.” Grigori’s lip curled as he stepped back and scowled at Sophia’s blood.

“The blood is all. Without it, you do not rule.” Beline expression was impassive.

Grigori took a deep breath, steadied himself, and more roughly than necessary grabbed Sophia’s wrist away from Pao. Instead of placing his lips against the cut, he ran his forefinger along the ribbon of blood, then tentatively placed it inside his mouth. He swallowed, grimaced, and wiped his lips clean with his shirt sleeve.

It was difficult to say if Sophia was offended by his rudeness, because her pleasant demeanor did not waver. She smiled at him and lifted her other hand to rest against the side of his face. “My king.” Sophia turned to speak to Pao. “If it is acceptable, I would rather–” Sophia’s fangs snapped down, visibly startling Grigori– “drink directly from the vein.” She returned her attention to Grigori, who suddenly looked less sure of himself. With feline grace, she licked the remnants of blood from her wrist and went straight for his jugular.

Krieger felt like they were watching a kill and not the melding of two rulers. Sophia was the perfect choice for him. She would be kind but firm, and the kingdom would be calm for the first time in centuries. More importantly, she had never shown herself to be aggressive or power hungry. It was important that Russia remain within its boundaries. All Grigori’s bluster left him as he leaned against Sophia who was taking more blood from his vein than necessary. When she did pull away, he appeared disoriented, and staggered for a moment until he regained his equilibrium.

“Good,” Beline said with a clap of his hands. He produced a pen and placed it on the table next to the document. “All that is left are your signatures.”

Grigori signed first. His handwriting was large and full of flourishes. Sophia’s penmanship was small and clear and precise.

Krieger bit his thumb and pressed the bloody print onto the document, as did the remaining members of the royal houses of vampire. It was done.

An hour later Krieger and Beline strolled along the rocky shores of Wyre Island. Krieger looked back at Thaddon Hall. Grigori’s chambers were ablaze in light. He wondered how the two co-regents were getting along.

“It’s a good match.” Beline looked up at the night sky.

“I don’t trust him.”

Beline’s laugh was hearty. “Nor do I. That little bastard thinks he’s got us by the short hairs.”

“Did you see the smug smile on his face?” Krieger joined in the laughter.

“Sophia wiped that right off, didn’t she?” Beline slapped his thigh. “She’ll let him believe he’s ruling.”

“Was it truly Carlos who recommended her?”

“First good idea he’s had in centuries.”

“After the first meeting, I spoke with Grigori. He mentioned choosing a vampire to rule with him.”

“Did he now?” Beline grunted. “There wasn’t much fight in him about her. I thought it was because she charmed him.”

“They know each other.”

“I’ve not known her to involve herself in politics before. Might be worth digging into.”

Krieger nodded. “And does the council sanction my questioning Carlos?” He would do it either way.

“Do whatever you wish to him as long as you’re discreet and he meets his final death.”

“He’ll be departing soon.” Krieger was eager to accomplish his task. “I will take care of the matter before I reach my shores.”

“It must be deemed an accident,” Beline continued. “Perhaps a ruse, make it look like the Brotherhood of the Sanguis’ work.”

“Perhaps.” Krieger had already devised a plan, but didn’t feel the need to divulge the information.

Beline grabbed his arm. “There is talk about your Sanguis.”

Krieger reined in his disquiet. “Her Other abilities aren’t unique enough to merit anything but idle gossip among royals.”

“We all saw.” Beline’s hand fell to his side. “Keep her close.”

Before he could ask further, Beline went instantly still except for his eyes, which cut towards his tower. “Eva.” He trembled and the words, “The baby…” drifted on the wind behind him as he flew to his tower.

‘We all saw’ rang in Krieger’s ears. Lily had not only floated, but she’d radiated a glow much like the rays of the sun. He’d kept it from her, from everyone in the room, that the palm of his hand was lightly scorched when he’d pulled her down to the floor.

If the Royal Houses decided she was a threat to them, there was no one who could protect her. For right now, he knew she was safe with Lucien and though it eased his mind some, it didn’t lessen his apprehension for the future. He gave the castle walls one last look. “Better sooner than later,” he said to no one.

Carlos left an hour later. Though he was ponderous on the ground, he was an adept flyer. The milkmaids, along with his other attendants, had been packed off in a plane for the long journey back to South America.

Krieger had spies in the Spanish court. He knew that Carlos was a creature of habit and after every council meeting would visit his island hideaway off the coast of Brazil. The island was uninhabited and where he boasted that his true nature flourished. He’d named it Tenedor del Hereje, the heretic’s fork, after a medieval torture device.

Krieger flew high and fast, staying in the stratosphere and moving towards the small speck of rock. Immediately upon landing he was assailed with the scent of fresh blood and followed the trail to the far side of the island. Underneath a pavilion were seated Carlos and a human male, involved in a heated discussion. Carlos was waving his arms around dramatically while the man listened. At Carlos’ feet lay two vampires, skinned, with silver daggers plunged in their sides, and moaning in agony. Another human, tranced and almost depleted of blood, was draped over a chair. Careful to stay downwind, Krieger moved to a location where he could hear their conversation yet remain undetected.

“What did you tell him?” Carlos asked, kicking the vampires away from his chair.

The able-bodied human knelt beside the two vampires, and from this angle Krieger could see the dark clothes and white collar of a priest. He was giving the vampires last rites. Something Krieger had never known the church to do before.

When the priest was finished he stood and looked Krieger’s way but did not see him. “I never truly believed,” he said to Carlos.

What had Carlos been up to that caused a priest to express doubt?