The Vampire Keeper (21 page)

Wyler closing his bag said, “There is an easier way to secure her safety and innocence.”

“How?” asked Blaise.

“She thinks she came with Larkin, not his brother, so we will leave them here until morning. With Larkin she will be safe, and remain in the dark about vampires and of the kidnapping.”

Blaise had listened to the proposal, but was not ready to concede. He designed several scenarios in his mind, but nothing would allow for Jezalyn’s mental state to emerge unscathed in some way. He knew they were probably right that if he exposed any part of the night’s events, then Jezalyn would never feel safe again. “I don’t like this plan, but it might be her best option for now,” said Blaise finally agreeing with Wyler. In a way, Blaise wanted Jezalyn to discover the truth so that they would have a shot at getting back together. However, at the same time, he did not want to destroy her sense of security for a chance at regaining her affection, so he drove away on the agreement that Larkin would return her to the bookstore and Wyler would send her home the next day. Wyler was happy to suggest such a scenario, for he had wanted to evict her for some time now, ever since Larkin showed signs of interest.

“I am going to go, too,” said Wyler as he watched Blaise’s truck drive off down the street. “Do you need anything else, before I go?”

“No, I am good. I will drive Theron’s car back into town in the morning.”

“Are you sure? What if he comes back tonight?”

“He won’t. That arrow Blaise shot into him had serrated edges from tip to feather. He will be too weak from blood loss to do anything else tonight.”

Wyler said, “Oh,” as he turned and sprinted to his car.

Larkin stepped onto the porch and found Jezalyn asleep on the swing with her legs still covered by the blanket. He scooped her up, brought her into the room, and laid her down on the bed. He stood there elated watching her chest slowly heave for several minutes, which reaffirmed that life was circulating in her lungs before lightly lifting her to remove her pants as a necessity to check her for bite marks. A feeling of gladness overwhelmed him as Larkin found none. Instantly, he concluded that his brother was not lying to him about manipulating her mind. Flinging her jeans to the end of the bed, he knew that his joy was only secondary to the euphoria he had felt upon finding her still alive.

After a moment of staring at Jezalyn’s quiet, petite fair face, Larkin felt a deep pang in his heart. His face twisted as the pain brought back the faded memory of his beloved Isadora, for the knowledge of her death was the last time he had experienced such an emotion. Not able to discern if this current sensation was for one or the other, Larkin bent over and kissed Jezalyn’s check. His lips drank in the warmth of her being and the agony began to dispel. Rising from the depths of his ardor, Larkin slightly lifted his head and whispered passionately in her ear, “I think I love you, too.”

Theron ran through the woods until he started to lose speed. He stopped at a large boulder near the creek to rest. Theron inspected the barbed arrow sticking out of his chest, took several large steps forward, and hurled his body backward. A loud thud radiated in the air accompanied by a pop. It took Theron a moment to pick himself up out of the rubble that was once the boulder. Looking down, he saw a large portion of the arrow had broken off, so he grabbed the tip, being sure not to grasp the barbs, and pulled. He let out a gut-wrenching wail that echoed through the foggy forest as he stumbled into the frigid creek water, stirring up the mist that rested on top before he collapsed. As the water settled down, so did the haze covering the exposed portion of Theron’s body. Several minutes after Theron’s cry, which felt like an eternity to him, someone grabbed his leg and pulled him out of his frozen watery grave.

“What happened to you?” asked the somewhat stocky figure.

“Maurice!”

“Yes,” he said bending down to offer Theron his hand.

Taking his hand, Theron divulged, “A hunter—shot me.”

“Where is the arrow?” asked Maurice.

“Over there,” he replied pointing to the broken boulder.

He walked over and kicked around the ruble until he spotted the arrow. Maurice squatted down, picked up the arrow by its feather, bought it to his nose, and inhaled. He sprung up and spun around holding the stick away from his body as if it was a snake ready to strike. “Boss, we got a problem.”

“What’s that?” said Theron.

“The arrow has been poisoned,” replied Maurice dropping the broken arrow at his feet and quickly moving toward the creek to wash his hands.

“I suspected that when I could no longer keep my speed. I need you to tell me what kind of poison and how to cure it,” replied Theron edgily, but trying to come off coolly.

“It looks like Devil’s Cherry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I couldn’t pick up on a scent, but there was a blue tinge to the wood. Whatever they added to the poison must have masked the smell.”

“Clever,” replied Theron in a rather exasperated tone, “but not clever enough. Do we have what we need to draw the poison out?”

“Yes, all it takes is some Broom Snakeweed and Calabar Beans, but that’s not the problem.”

“I know the poison will make me susceptible to light, but if I stay in the murky shadows of the night, I’ll be fine.”

“True, but that’s not it.”

“What! Stop beating around the proverbial bush and lay it straight,” replied Theron.

Taking a deep breath, Maurice said, “The problem is the hunter wrapped the barbs with tentacles from a Black Bat flower.”

“Impossible,” roared Theron. “That flower has been extinct for centuries; I destroyed them myself.” Theron picking up the broken arrow that laid next to his foot in disbelief. He tossed it into the creek and mumbled under his breath “There is only one man that could know this lethal combination.”

“Who?” questioned Maurice trying to extract more information.

“Luther,” bellowed Theron in a fit of rage and shook his head as he found the thought incomprehensible.

Watching Theron’s unfathomable response at his own conclusion caused Maurice to question his declaration. “Well, is it Luther or not? Whose house do we need to visit?” said Maurice with a menacing smile as he kicked the stick baring the arrow tip into the water.

“It has all the tell-tale signs of Luther, but it can’t be. I left Luther for dead, bleeding out at the shipyard.”

“He must have survived. I heard he was a resourceful man,” responded Maurice.

Grabbing Maurice’s arm for support, he said, “I got a good view of the hunter and it was not Luther.”

“Well, looks like not only did Luther survive, but he has undertaken an apprentice.” Feeling the heat rise on his skin where Theron’s hand lay, gave him cause to worry. “We need to move now. The bat flower is keeping you from healing, and your temperature is rising.”

Theron released Maurice’s arm and jumped back into the water.

“What are you doing?” he screamed, leaping in the water after him.

“I have to slow down the process,” replied Theron. “The flower reverses our ability to heal, thus causing our body to go into shock and run high fever. It is a death sentence because the fever triggers a chain reaction making the blood boil, and we burn from the inside until the heart explodes.”

“What’s the cure?” said Maurice pulling him back out of the water.

“Broom Snakeweed and an ancient herb called Wood Avens.”

“Wood Avens?” replied a confused Maurice.

“Don’t worry. I think I know where to find some. Go retrieve the Broom Snakeweed and get some Saltbush too. I will meet you at location B in an hour.”

“The herbs are already there; I never removed them from cargo.”

“Alright, then it’s on me,” replied Theron as he tipped his head to his companion and ran off.

Theron ran back to the town of Transylvania, and when he reached the town’s water tower, he propped up against it clutching his chest. He grimaced at the heat he felt inside, closed his eyes, and fell to his knees. Trying to compose himself enough to regain his footing, a breeze blew past, and his nose caught a whiff of aged blood. His eyes sprung open, and he found himself staring at a black and white dress loafer only a few inches from his face.

Looking down upon a familiar shoe, Theron smiled and said, “Maurice, you followed.” He let Maurice help him to his feet after which a loud clatter arose as he stomped the ground. Pointing down at the shrouded metal entrance, he said, “We need to go that way.” Theron followed the smell of old blood, with the aid of Maurice, down an underground tunnel, which lead them to the secret door into Ana and Wyler’s underground loft. Maurice opened the door, and Theron entered.

“Where are we?”

“Find the herbs,” said Theron moving toward the kitchen. “Tear this place apart, if you have to. I am going to see if I can get an invitation.”

Maurice nodded and raked his arm across the counter, and with a loud crash, the overfilled dish drainer fell to the floor. The sound caught Ana’s attention upstairs. She covered Julius and lightly tiptoed toward the center of the stockroom. She jumped when the door burst open, and in front of her was Theron or Larkin, she knew not which, crouched down holding his chest.

“Ana, help me.”

With wide eyes she observed his broken physique and found herself alarmed at the thought of Theron’s strength verses her husband. “Where’s Wyler?” cried Ana trying to hold back the hysterics in her voice.

“He is downstairs frantically searching for his herbs. I am in too much pain; come help me.”

Ana gritted her teeth at his command as she moved closer, “Wait! Show me the sign.”

He lifted his blood stained hands, and said in a more authoritative tone, “Help me, now!”

Ana, being used to Larkin’s demands, cried out, “Wyler, I moved the herbs to the vault behind the fridge.”

She was about an arm’s length away when she heard a voice not of her husband’s cry out, “I got it; let’s go.” Fright crossed Ana’s face as she turned to recoil, but it was too late. She was already too close. Theron popped up, reached out with his bloody right hand, snagged a fist full of Ana’s hair, and pulled. Theron’s withdraw was quick and effortless. He had Ana, but only a piece. He looked over to find Ana laying on the floor holding her head while Julius’s eyes burned into him.

Theron shook the toffee brown hair from his hand, “Julius, what a nice surprise. I thought I left you heartbroken over your old carpet.”

Julius’s body had not fully recovered yet, so he did not let his temper flair. He let out a chuckle and said, “Perhaps.”

“Come on, Theron,” Maurice called out from behind.

Theron bowed, “Until next time.”

“Next time we meet, it will be your heart I feel pulsating in my hand,” said Julius.

The words “Not likely,” accompanied by a snarl was Theron’s final response as he rushed back downstairs.

“Let me see,” said Theron. Maurice silently held up the bag. “That’s it,” responded Theron as he flung open the freezer, grabbed several ice cubes, and pushed them into his wounds. With every insert, Theron let out a teeth-grinding grunt.

“Let’s go! This ice is going to melt fast,” said Theron. By the time they re-emerged at the surface, Theron was clasping his chest again.

Maurice grabbed Theron and threw him over his shoulders. “We are only ten minutes away. We can make it; just hold on,” said Maurice as he sprinted through the woods toward the Mississippi River.

***

Wyler returned home to find his weeping wife huddled up next to Julius, and to his surprise, Julius was genuinely trying to comfort her. Upon seeing her husband, Ana raced to him squeezing his torso as hard as she could, refusing to let go. She finally released him, as she unfolded the events that took place while he was gone. Finally, she bent over to pick up the hair Theron had torn out. After discovering that Theron was not alone, Wyler did the only sensible thing he could. He first obtained the inn’s number, and afterwards he relayed the events that had unfolded at the shop to Larkin. As Wyler retold Ana’s story, she huddled against his back. Wyler urged Larkin to come back regardless of the previous plan since they now knew Theron was not alone and did not know how many co-conspirators Theron had brought with him. Larkin agreed it would be the best course of action and cautioned Wyler about going downstairs. “I’ll inform them to stay in the storage room,” replied Wyler, and as Larkin hung up the phone, he debated on how to awaken Jezalyn and return her to the shop without suspicion.

Instead of waking Jezalyn immediately, he paced back and forth in front of her door trying to come up with a suitable reason for departing in the middle of the night. Unbeknownst to Larkin, Jezalyn had awakened, her head foggy from the remnants of the sedative that Theron gave her. She glanced around the room a moment before quietly sliding off the bed. Jezalyn crouched down next to it, as if to hide, all the while peeking under and over it to make sure she was alone. Once she discovered she was alone, she checked both thighs. She had found no blood or even one mark on them, so she slowly stood up and sat back on the bed, took a deep breath, and concluded that she must have fallen asleep. “It was all a dream,” mumbled Jezalyn as she slid her bare legs back under the covers. She found herself trying to piece things together. She remembered,
I felt fear, pain, and then pleasure, but what could it mean? There was Larkin who really wasn’t Larkin, Blaise, and aggression. I am missing something,
thought Jezalyn as Larkin lightly rapped on the door before entering.

“You’re awake,” said Larkin as he entered the room with a wooden tray.

“What’s all this?” said Jezalyn pointing for him to place it on the nightstand next to the bed as she pulled the covers up to her chest.

After fulfilling her direction, he sat down next to her, “I made you some eggs, grits, French toast, and bacon.” He reached up to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, but she winced at the approach and reached for his hands.

“What’s wrong, Jezalyn?” asked Larkin.

“Nothing,” she responded with a smile as she saw two smooth hands. She certainly knew she had been dreaming when she found no scar, so she leaned in to kiss him.

As she pulled away, she said with a giggle, “It’s a little early in the morning for breakfast, isn’t it?”

“I know,” kissing the hand that clasped his, “but Wyler called and requested that we come home as soon as possible.”

“Is everything alright?” said Jezalyn with her body sitting up at full attention, letting the covers fall into her lap.

“Wyler said, ‘Ana had some kind of incident with a patient at work.’ He felt it would be better for Ana if we were to come back, but I didn’t want you to leave here without receiving breakfast at the bed and breakfast inn.”

Jezalyn giggled again at his reference before allowing her facial structure to form serious features, “Is Ana okay?”

“I think so, but we can’t be sure until we get all the facts.”

“Well, let’s go now then. Ana might need us for emotional support,” said Jezalyn pulling back her cover to get out of bed forgetting she had no pants on.

Larkin tried not to stare at her exposed panties, but he could not help it. When Jezalyn realized her pants were missing, she jumped back in the bed and quickly covered up her naked legs. Her countenance mixed with confusion and embarrassment. “Um, where are my pants?” she asked.

He moved to the bottom of the bed, lifted up the pants, and handed them off to her. “I’ll take this food back to the kitchen while you get dressed.”

“Wait!” exclaimed Jezalyn, pulling a piece of bacon off the plate as Larkin moved back toward the nightstand to recover the tray.

He picked up the plate and held it out to her, in a butler fashion, “Anything else?” Larkin lingered a moment waiting for Jezalyn’s extended hand to pluck a piece of food off the plate. He was somewhat surprised to find her hand had extended beyond the plate and onto his. Jezalyn did not flinch at the clattering of the plate hitting the floor as she pulled him into the bed with her.