Shadows of the Keeper (17 page)

“No, Peter, please.”

“
No, Peter, please
,” he
whined.  He swung the gun.  She deflected the blow.  Her scream
of agony blasted across the darkened vale.  In the car’s headlights, she
viewed her pinky now at an unnatural angle.  Again, her hair was
fisted.  Peter shook her head.  She kicked out.  He slapped her,
spun her around, shoved her face-down on the hood.  She tasted blood; felt
more of it on her forehead.

“Put your hand in front of the
headlight so I see what I’m shooting! You don’t want me to miss and I
accidentally shoot you dead, do you?”

“No!” 
Think
. 
“You’ll shoot the engine.” Blood rivered into her eyes.  He was going to
shoot off her hands.  Then, her feet.  Peter’s silence frightened her
more than his threats.

Hissing burst from inky blackness.

Peter aimed his gun at his
darkness.  “What
was
that?” 

Emily used her cuff to mop
blood. 
So cold
.

“I said,
what was that
?”

“I don’t know.”  The front of
her head had to be split in two.  “Don’t care.”  Red hands. 
Macabre finger painter.  Blood gushed.  Imploding.  Her head was
imploding.  Sinister hissing echoed again, this time from behind. 
Peter frantically waved his gun.  His back to her, Emily considered
slipping—

“Think you’re going to escape me?”

Emily buckled.  He nearly
collapsed with her.  Snow cradled her.  Hot.  She burned. 
Snow.  Nice, cold, snow.  Headlights quadrupled.  Painful orbs
of light.  She closed her eyes, no longer caring how many times Peter shot
her.  Blessedly, coherency was slipping.

Growling.

Peter stepped away, pivoted, and
shot into the night.

Emily yelped, gunfire loud.

God, who is he killing this time
?

A hand slithered across her
mouth.  She screamed.  No use.  Muffled.  None too gently,
she was dragged away, bucking and clawing.  Hissing in her ear. 
Foreign words.  Spicy scent wafted. 
Cardamom
? 
Here
?

“Shhhh, Keer’dra, I am here.”

Emily succumbed to the loud hum
within her skull.  From a great distance, a man screamed.  She
frowned and mumbled incoherently.  Vibrations of someone speaking. 
Screams silenced.  Emily nuzzled aching head against the chest of whomever
carried her.  She sighed deeply.  He was so warm.  No
shirt.  Spicy.  Deep inhale.  She could drown in the heavenly
scent of him. 

“Forest Lords obeyed and remained
indoors; let us take her up to them.”

“Think we’ll incite them enough to
attack?”

“You simply search for
bookends.  She needs help.  I cannot use
my
magicks on her.”

Emily turned her head,
frowning.  Must wake up. 
Broc’s voice is . . . wrong. 
Accent soothing . . . safe, no . . .  wrong.
 
Familiar
. 
Cardamom.  Her favorite.  When had she lit incense?

“Drag him behind us.  I do not
wish to leave my prize to freeze, robbing me of my revenge.”

Pain burst through Emily.  She
lurched, clasping onto the one who carried her.  She moaned, her pinky
banging against a hard body.  Tears drenched his chest.  Coherency
dangled as she screamed into him, crazed with pain.

“Damn.  Her hand has been
damaged.  Inzyr, we need to stop.”

Jostling.  “Please . . . don’t
move.  Pain.”  Her moans turned to keening.

“Hold up your hand, Keer’dra.”

“No.”

Chuckling.

“Always difficult.” 

Her hand was touched.  She
flinched. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“I will ease your pain.” 

Hot air blew across her finger. 
From far away, a stick cracked.  More hot air and strange words. 
“Does your hand still hurt?”

“Can’t . . . feel.”

“I’ve reset your finger.” 
Again, she was lifted.  She squirmed.  “Be still, Keer’dra.  I
will carry you to your Forest Lords.”

“We will follow, and by the
blessings of your father, mayhaps I will bleed a few Forest Lords and Elves
this night,” Inzyr said.

“Vaide, our backs.  Humans
attempt treachery, regardless if they agree to temporary truce.  Inzyr,
your blood may be needed to save her, so I will thank you to try and avoid your
yearning to bleed a Forest Lord or two.”

Emily opened her eyes, deep male
chuckling vibrating against her; coming from all sides.  Pain. 
Excruciating.  So dark.  “Where am . . . I?”

“Hush, Keer’dra.  We’re in the
tunnel.”

Keer’dra
.  Her mental
phantom.  “You’re real?”  She tried lifting her arm to hold onto the
one who carried her.  “Broc?” 

“I am not the human you seek.”

“Please.  I’m
begging
you,
stop
.  My back.  He kicked my back so many times . . . “ 
Emily cried into him.  “He hit me.  He hit—“ she screamed into his
chest, clinging.

“Shhhh, Keer’dra.”  His hold
tightened.  “
Never
will he touch you again.”  He stilled.

“Movement within the tower.”

“Keep blades pointed
downward.  They watch; they won’t dare attack.”

“As you command.”

“Why would we be killed in our own
castle?” Emily asked.

A small torch ignited, the faint
beacon bobbing closer to her.  She looked up.  Screams to awaken the
dead escaped her.  The being scowling down at her covered her mouth with
his hand.  The one carrying her grinned. 

She was being carried by none other
than her phantom lover!

He winked.  “Keer’dra?  I
am taking you up to the keep.  We will not harm you.  The human,
however, will suffer.  I promise.”  He smiled most wickedly. 
Emily’s eyes bulged. 
Fangs!
  She turned her head, trying to
free her mouth.   The other leaned closer.  “If I lift my hand,
do not scream.  You will encourage Elves to release their arrows and
Forest Lords to charge with their ridiculous weapons.  Blood will be
spilt.”  Mirth lit his face.  “Not any of ours, mind you.  Do I
have your word?”

Emily nodded, shook her head,
nodded again.  White brows scowled down at her.  They were a shock
against his dark skin.

“What are you?”

“Lumynari.”

“You’re supposed to be
terrible.  Evil.  Dangerous.” 

He flashed an arresting
smile.  “You forgot
savage
.”

“I was working my way down the
alphabet,” Emily quipped.   She switched her attention to the one
carrying her.  “Let me walk.”  Pain thudded inside her head, each
step they took, regardless how he seemed to glide.  “My back.  My
head.  God, I’m in pain.  Why do you . . . call me ‘Keer’dra’?”

“I have always called you
my
soul
, and no, I will carry you.  Your body makes a good shield against
Aunsgar’s arrows.”

“Oh, well, in that case . .
.”  Her eyes fluttered.  “My head.”  An icky wetness saturated
her scalp again.  “Bleeding.”

He stopped and eased down until he
was crouching.  “I will ease your soul.”

“It’s my . . . finger and . . .
head that ache.  Soul’s already . . . damned.  Millie says so.”

“Luckily, that bitch will never
again utter her lies,” another voice stated.

“You knew my . . . aunt?”  She
inhaled deeply, and tried damn hard not to be obvious in her quest to breathe
him in.  If she could wallow in his scent . . . deeper, she inhaled. 

What she failed to realize was that
what she
wallowed
in—Dezenial found this highly amusing—was the scent of
his blood, her soul recognizing its mate.

It became one of the most difficult
treks of Dezenial’s life, Daemon and Lumynari heritage battling against
claiming his woman.  To take her away, make her his—again, this is what he
wanted above anything.  But, he’d made a vow . . .

The more she breathed in his scent,
the more she healed.  The torment of his decision burned him like Hades’
fires.  “Better?”

Ever so slight, she nodded. 
Cradling her against him, he stood.

“How does he know my aunt?”

“Because he’s the one who removed
her tongue.”

Emily offered a limp salute. 
“Give him a . . . bonus.”

“She does not fear you,” a gravelly
voice said.

“Do I need to be afraid . . . of
you?  Trust me, I could act the part very well.”  Her face felt
tight, like those pricey department store facial masks that lied about the ease
of peeling off when dried.  An occasional whisper in their guttural
language distracted her from her agony.

They exited the lengthy
tunnel.  Not one window offered warm glow of orange.  Hearths remained
snuffed; occupants hidden.  Broc must have gotten word down here to the lower
bailey for the residents to remain indoors, yet guarded.  Or so, judging by the
ominous quiet, she assumed.  Emily envisioned Pratty cowering, the vile woman
eyeballing her windows, just sure she was going to die this night.  Almost,
Emily asked if they could give the woman a good scare.

She could feel laughter vibrate
against her.  “I’m sure we can make a quick detour, Keer’dra, if this is your
desire.”

“Can’t be . . . that kind of a . .
. person.”

Flapping wings penetrated her dim
awareness, the sound of them large.  A gust whooshed across her, just as
something vast passed overhead.  Incoherency had to be knocking around her
senses, because she could have sworn she’d just seen, by light of the moon, a
man fly—

“The light,” her rescuer
snarled.  The torch snuffed.  Sulfur filled Emily’s nose.  She
sneezed. 

“Maybe I should go first, introduce
you—“

“You will be silent,
Keer’dra.  Their light does not harm us as it does my brethren, but in the
darkness, your ridiculous caretakers are weakened.”

Emily’s very heavy head dropped
against his broad shoulder.  “You smell good.”  Her senses
lulled.  She felt herself squeezed tighter against his body.  “Your
name . . . tell me.  I can’t keep calling you Phantom Lover.” 
Why
can’t I remember what Urkani called him? And who quietly laughed from behind
them?

“Names aren’t important.”

“You’re not Drakar, are you?”

Shadows ceased as one.  Even
her hero abruptly halted.  “How do you come by this name?”  His voice
brooked no argument.  No vestiges of sympathy remained, his voice suddenly
harsh.  Fear gripped Emily.  She sensed coiled power.  His chest
rumbled. 

Woman’s intuition clanged and
clonged: this was not a being to ignore.

“Visions, according to
Aunsgar.  I’m plagued with them since arriving in this Godforsaken
realm.”  Tears spilled.  “One bullshit incident after another, and
now, Peter threatens to shoot off my hands.”  She couldn’t hold back the
choked sobbing.  Nor the uncontrollable quaking suddenly seizing her small
frame.  Burying her face into the Lumynari’s chest, her free arm wrapping
more tightly around his back, his steady heartbeat soothed her pain and
humiliation.  And fear. 
Never
, had she felt so safe as she
did this second, right here, right now.  “Are we . . . almost there?”

“We cross the main bailey
now.  I have promised you, the human will never harm you again.  Nor
will Drakar.  Hush now, we must hear the arrows so we can hide behind your
flesh.”

Emily smacked his chest.  And
howled.  She’d forgotten about her broken pinky.

“Give me your hand.”

“No. Don’t touch it.  You said
you fixed it.”

“Hold your hand up to my mouth,
Keer’dra.”

“No.  You’ll eat it.”

Stifled choking sounded from behind
them.

“When will you ever obey?”

“When will Hell freeze over?”

“
Keer’dra.
”

“I do not obey men.”

“I am not a man.  I am
Lumynari, a Shadow Master, the son of Hades and Shadow.”

“Do you always offer a resume?”

His voice turned to a growl. 
“Lift your hand in front of my face so I may ease your pain.”

“If this is a trick . . . and I
pull back a stump . . . I’m snapping off your fangs.  And no, the Tooth
Fairy won’t visit.”

Raucous laughter this time. 
She tried seeing behind her; her head pounded too much to give it true
effort.  Against her better judgment, she complied and, ever so slowly,
raised her hand to his mouth.  His murmuring voice touched her deep
within.  Again, she inhaled the spicy scent of him.  It was becoming
her aphrodisiac. 
If I lick him, will he taste as good as he smells?

He made no attempt to hide that he
was watching her, reading her mind, his sensuous mouth quirking in a partial
grin.  Holding her gaze, he blew hot air on her pinky.  She shuddered. 
She’d die before revealing her toes curled.  “My lips hurt too.”  Her
eyes widened, realizing she’d mumbled this out loud.  She dove her face
into his chest, but not before seeing the sexiest smile and arched luminous
brow.  “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she mumbled against him.  “Tired.”

“Rest against me, little one, I
will be your strength for now.  We’re almost there.  We travel the
old fashioned way, versus using magicks.  For your sake, not ours.”

“I’m okay with the magic carpet, if
you prefer floating.”

“Magic carpets don’t exist,
Keer’dra.”

“Oh, oookaaay, son of
Hades
.”

“Imp.”

They stayed to the shadows,
darkness they’re companion.  Even Emily sensed rippling fear to their backs,
the lower bailey having been vacated some ten minutes earlier as the one
carrying her made his way towards the keep by way of the winding cobbled
roads.  An iron gate was pulled open, hinges well oiled, or so Emily remembered
watching with detachment, the task be executed as she’d conversed with
Finnegan.  Made more sense to keep it squeaking; better able to stop someone
from sneaking around.  Finnegan had laughed and knuckled rubbed her head—then sputtered
an apology, shocked at himself for taking such liberties. 
Strange thoughts
for a time like this.

“Your mind wanders in order to
shield you against pain and shock, Keer’dra.”

  She opened her eyes long
enough to see a guard trying his best to look brave. 

Dezenial heard the hammer of the
guard’s heart, smelled fear-sweat as it oozed through his battle-ready
attire.  Shadow Master fought back a grin when Vaide hissed at the guard,
the man losing his bladder. 

“Play nice, Vaide.”

“As you command, my liege.”

Dezenial smirked. 

They circled the large fountain,
void of water, and came around to the sweeping half-moon stone steps.  Castle
doors imploded.  Several faces appeared, arsenal docked with arrows and
bolts.

“Down your weaponry, Prince Aunsgar
of Mt. Grwenwood.  I return your queen without issue.  Unless you
deem otherwise?”

“Impossible for your kind to know
such a word,” Urkani stated.  His arrow aimed for the Lumynari’s head.

“Urkani. He saved me.  Move
aside.  I . . . command it,” Emily weakly called out.

“You
command
it, Keer’dra?”

“Hush before I command your
beheading.”

Laughter.  “You still fail to
possess fear in the face of surrounding danger.”

“Are you dangerous?”

A sensuous light passed between
them.  “Not to you, Keer’dra.”

But before Emily could think
coherently again, they were stepping into Broc’s great hall.

“Lights,” another Lumynari hissed
loudly.  “Too many.”

“Better to see your treachery.”

“I’m in pain here, Urkani!” 
Emily turned her head into the warm chest, candlelight suddenly too
bright.  “I don’t feel well.  Just do your Lumynari thing and kill
him so we can stop moving.”

“Almost, I’m tempted to take you up
on your suggestion, but you two are bonded more than you currently understand.”

Emily groaned.  “Oh, God, not
more riddles, not now.”

“So much a contradiction to her
previous lives,” Inzyr stated in Balkorian.

Dezenial glared at Urkani. 
“Her life ebbs while you debate.”  His tone became feral.  “Shall I
take her, or do you snuff some of the burning light for my brethren?”

Save for a small handful of
torches, all candelabras were extinguished.  The great hall fell into deep
shadow.  Emily felt herself laid upon softness.

“Lady Emily?”  Garreck’s face
appeared in her line of sight.  Worry lines marred his brow. 
Abruptly, he reared.  “Colin!  Medical, now!”

“He beat me.”  She clutched
Garreck’s hand within her one good one.  His face swam.  She looked
away, feeling more ill. Broc was kneeling beside her.  “My back, stomach .
. . he kicked me so many times.”  How was it she felt so much pain in this
moment, but nothing had throbbed and screamed when she’d been carried?

“I will kill you for this!” Broc
bellowed, lunging towards the tall Shadow Master.  Reignsfeugh and
Finnegan grabbed the laird, spinning him away as, without delay, Lumynari
unsheathed sadistic looking blades.

“I would not waste my time beating
a human woman.  We have more colorful ways to amuse ourselves with
them.  This was done by
your
kind.”  Eyes ignited into red
flames, and, as Dezenial spoke, Peter was dumped at his feet.  He
thoroughly enjoyed the human cowering at the sight of his blazing eyes. 
Male power dominated, each seeking to possess the upper hand of the
moment. 

None paid attention to the woman
they thought to protect.

Fear engulfed Emily. Thick fog of
terror swept away reason and reality.  She had to hang on, fight back the
lure to pass out from pain.  Why did she hurt more now?  When she was
carried, her head throbbed, but now, it was tenfold.  Where was
Peter?  Hiding.  Crouching in shadows with his gun.  If they
turned their backs, dropped their gaze, he would come running.  At
her.  With his gun.  To shoot off her hands.  Body part by body
part.

“He’ll kill me!  Broc! 
He’s gonna kill me!  Shoot off my hands, he’s going to start with my hands!” 
Thrashing, she wrestled against Colin’s hold.

“No one’s going ta’ touch ye! 
Emily!  Look, lass!  The mohn canna’ get ta’ ye’!”

Emily’s warbling vision followed
the length of Broc’s arm.  Dezenial kicked and Peter rolled several times,
cocooned in rope from neck to ankles. 

“He’s mine,” Broc growled,
springing from Emily’s side again.  Lumynari closed in, blocking him from
his target.  “You protect him?”  Broc drew his sword.

“Lugh’s blood, look at the wee
lass. I’ll kill ‘im.  There’s enough of him ta’ go around fer’ all o’ us,”
Kavan stated.  “I say we pike his head like days of auld!  Gut him
for birds ta’ feast upon!”

“He belongs to me,” Dezenial
announced in low tones.  “I have watched through his eyes for some
time.  His intent was to kill Princess Emily.  Slowly.  After
days and days of rape and torture.”

Aunsgar dropped down next to
Emily.  “I have never seen a woman suffer such an attack to her face,” he
whispered in Elvish.  “Had she been with you, this would
not
have
transpired.”  He looked back at Dezenial.  “She is bound to
you
,
yet you return her here, to our custody.  Why?”

Awkwardly, Emily sat up. 
There didn’t seem to be an area of her head free of pain.  But in a moment
oblivious to all, she was incognizant of her wounds, of words being spoken over
her in Elvish.

“Milady, lie back.  You must
be tended,” Colin pleaded.

“You shielded me.”  She
stared, unflinching at the dark being standing proudly, facing off with Broc
and Aunsgar.  “
Run, run child to the end of the forest.  The other
will protect you.  Never fear me, little Emily.”
  Emily gave her
head a gentle shake and scrunched her eyes against dizziness.  “You were
there the day my parents were killed.”  Another memory slammed.  Her
gaze snapped open, holding his.  “Drakar!”  He nape tightened. 
“I see him,” she gasped.  “It’s his weapon.”  She winced, turning her
head away sharply to avoid visions only she could see.  “He cut off their
heads.”  Her stomach roiled from the image, seared now for all time in her
mind.