Heather Graham - Keeper of the Dawn

“I’m not trying to offend you, and you know it. You brew the best tea in the country—maybe in the world. You’re like a beacon of caring and wisdom. But you’re gentle. And you could have been up against were-creatures, vampires and God knows what else—not to mention very vicious human beings. How did you intend to save yourself in that situation?” Sailor demanded.

“I was going to teleport,” Alessande said, indignantly.

“You can’t teleport when you’re unconscious,” Sailor argued.

Alessande shook her head, desperately wanting to deny the seriousness of the situation, but the truth was she knew she might have gotten herself into trouble—serious trouble—and she should be grateful to the cops who had come to her rescue. She had just gotten it into her head lately that she had to be more proactive in protecting all Others—along with the human race. And that, of course, was because of Regina, because she’d been forced to see firsthand once again what could happen to the young and innocent—especially the young and innocent among the Elven.

Like the rest of the world, L.A. was filled with all manner of creatures most of humanity knew about only because of legend—and movies. Creatures that most humans didn’t even believe in. Keepers—like the Gryffald cousins—were human beings, but...more. They had special powers aligned with those of the particular paranormal race they were tasked with protecting, and were generally born into longtime Keeper families. They bore special identifying birthmarks. It was as if their role had been predetermined by a divine power.

There were areas in the world where the Other races seldom desired to live...too hard to blend in, not enough for them to do.

L.A., however, was a haven for Others. Because it was a movie town, monsters and strange creatures abounded on-screen and, frankly, offscreen, given how many...unique individuals tended to migrate there. As a place to “hide in plain sight,” nothing filled the bill like Hollywood. That meant that the area was densely populated by Others, so there had to be a commensurately large number of Keepers.

Elven, like Alessande, were fairly recent arrivals in the New World; they were creatures of the earth. Ocean voyages—that much time away from trees, from the rich soil—would have killed them. Alessande had only left the Old World herself when transatlantic flight started to become commonplace.

She was an ancient, one hundred six years old, though she knew she appeared—in the human world—to be about thirty. She’d seen a great deal of the wickedness the world had to offer—wickedness dealt out by both human beings and Others.

Despite everything she’d encountered, everything she had lived through, she had chosen to heal, to advise.

But, damn it, she was an ancient! She should have been able to overcome whatever drug had been given to her.

She’d been aware of everything as it had been going on, and to some degree she had been able to fight the drug, though she had feigned complete passivity.

But...they had drugged her, and it had definitely affected her. Would she have been able to escape at the last second?

Now she was at the Gryffald family estate, a small collection of historic homes on a nice little hill in Laurel Canyon, collectively named the House of the Rising Sun. Sailor’s home was the main residence, and it was called Castle House, while on either side were the guesthouses: Gwydion’s Cave, where Barrie lived, and Pandora’s Box, where Rhiannon made her home. When their fathers, Keepers all, had been called away on international business, the cousins—Sailor, Rhiannon and Barrie—had been thrown into a game that was ages old, though mostly new to them, since they hadn’t expected to take their places as Keepers for years to come, yet the land had been deemed for Keepers for decades. The property had originally belonged to a magician billed as “Merlin,” real name Ivan Schwartz, who had been helped by the Gryffald cousins’ grandfather. Schwartz had added the guesthouses to his estate so that the Keepers could live on his property if they chose. Before he died, Ivan had sold the estate to the Gryffald family for such a pittance that for all intents and purposes it had actually been a gift.

Of course, it came with a catch. Merlin was still around, haunting whichever house he chose. He was a very polite ghost, often extremely helpful, and totally respectful of the inhabitants’ privacy, so in actuality he was a perfect tenant.

At the moment, though, Alessande was glad he wasn’t haunting Castle House.

Keepers had watched over various communities of Others at least since the ancient days, before accepted magic had ended and the world had become a place where the unusual was feared and anyone different, even if they were human, was considered an enemy to be burned at the stake or otherwise destroyed. Because the cousins’ fathers had been considered some of the wisest and most effective Keepers in the world, they had been called up to help form a council so that Others around the world would have guidance—and laws—to help them all live productive lives without attracting the kind of notice that would lead to a return of the bad old days.

Every Other—from the gnomes and leprechauns to the were-folk, vampires and shapeshifters—lived by the Code of Silence, keeping the very existence of the Otherworld secret from humanity. The Code was broken only occasionally and for very special human beings. Even the rashest Others, those with little respect for laws of any kind, upheld the Code, because the Code meant survival. Without it, they could all be doomed. While many in the Other community had powers that made them far stronger and far more lethal than human beings, the human population of the world was larger by perhaps 99 percent, and therefore the Others were vulnerable to persecution and death should their existence ever come to light.

Jonquil, Sailor’s big ragamuffin of a mutt, whined softly and licked Alessande’s fingers. She smiled and scratched the dog’s head. If only the world were made up of such creatures as this. Jonquil seemed to instinctively know kind people from the cruel ones.

Sailor was doing very well as an Elven Keeper now, though when Alessande had first known her, she hadn’t taken her position seriously at all. But that current knowledge gave Alessande a measure of confidence when she was speaking with her Keeper.

“I was always aware of what was going on,” she said. “I know that I appeared to be unconscious, but there was a part of me that was there. I believe I could have teleported when the right moment came.” Elven were strong, even if not as strong as vampires, and while they couldn’t give the illusion of being someone—or some thing —different, as shapeshifters could, they were able to teleport, moving through space, very handy in escaping dangerous situations. No one yet knew the science of it, but being an Other often meant that there just weren’t logical answers. No one really understood how shapeshifters managed to appear to be birds—and then fly away.

“ Believe isn’t good enough when your life depends on it,” Sailor said sternly. She looked at Alessande. “Don’t get me wrong. I know I wouldn’t be where I am today, knowing what I know and doing my job with my mind focused on my responsibilities, if not for you. But, Alessande, I have to agree with Brodie and his vampire partner—you were risking your life, and you almost lost it.”

Alessande smiled; she loved Sailor, and knew her Keeper was being completely sincere. Alessande had been both healer and coavenger when Sailor had fallen ill to the Celebrity Virus, then had brought justice to its perpetrator—since the plague’s spread had been intentional. Alessande knew what she was doing when it came to dealing with the world’s—and the Otherworld’s—evils.