Heather Graham - The Keepers - Christmas in Salem

He didn’t.

“I was called back,” he told her.

“Oh?” she demanded. She was the Salem Keeper of the Vampires. If anyone had been called back, she should have known about it.

“My father,” he explained.

His father. Great. His father, who hadn’t approved of a vampire dating a vampire Keeper. Her parents hadn’t approved, either, of course. But they had kept their disapproval fairly quiet, telling her that she had to make her own decisions about life.

She shouldn’t have had to take on the Keeper role for years, but the International Council had been formed and her parents—having managed the area exceptionally well since their arrival in response to the insanity of the witch trials—had been called to be part of that council. That left her generation, the younger generation, to take on their responsibilities far too soon.

Justin Riverton, Daniel’s father, was a pillar of the community. Or had been. Like her parents, he was now serving on the International Council. Everything, all those departures, had happened at around the same time. Daniel, fresh out of law school, had been swept up in the whole council thing, and now, while he didn’t sit on the council, he worked for it, going from place to place to settle vampire affairs whenever trouble arose and no local Keeper was at hand.

But the real issue was the age-old taboo against Keepers having relationships with their charges.

That was changing now in many places—newer places than Salem, where the old ways died very slowly.

She knew that everyone had considered what she and Daniel shared to be nothing but a fling—a silly school thing that would end. They were both excellent students, bright and responsible from an early age. When it was time for them to end it, they would end it.

Despite that prevailing belief, Sam was pretty sure that both her parents and Daniel’s had conspired to keep them apart. And, she was forced to admit, her attitude might have had something to do with it. Maybe she’d pushed too hard in her desire for some kind of passionate declaration from him. She’d wanted him to tell her that what they had was too unique, too incredible … too passionate … for him to turn his back on her and leave.

Hadn’t happened.

So the fact that he was here now was doubly galling. Not only was she embarrassed not to know he was on the way, his presence meant that the council believed she couldn’t keep her affairs, her responsibilities as a Keeper—her charges—in order. That what was happening here was somehow her fault.

Which was ridiculous. Vampires might be exceptionally fond of darkness, but they were not known to have any special powers to create it.

“Well. Nice to see you,” she said. There was no reason for her to remain on the ladder—she’d changed the bulb. If she didn’t come down, she would look like a coward.

Sam was the oldest of the new generation of Keepers now in charge of Salem’s Otherworld. It wasn’t an actual title or position, but with all the changes that had taken place, she was more or less the “Keeper of the Keepers.” She was supposed to be calm, cool, stoic—wise at all times. Looking like a coward—or appearing unable to handle Daniel’s sudden reappearance in Salem on Christmas Eve—just wouldn’t do.

She willed her hands not to shake as she started to descend. Maybe that wasn’t such a great plan. She was tall, nearly six feet. But Daniel, though only about six-three, seemed to tower over her. And he was standing way too close to the foot of the ladder. He might have moved to give her a little more personal space, but he didn’t.

“Uh, good to see you, but I have things to do, so …?” she said.

He smiled—well aware that he was blocking her path back to the house. “It’s nice to see you, too. I wanted you to know that, and that I was back in town. I guess we both have things to do.”

“Thanks. Now if you don’t mind, you’re blocking my way into my house,” she told him.

Ignoring her, he asked, “Still the best tour guide in the city?”

“You know I love my heritage,” she told him.

He grinned and said in a very proper tour guide voice, “In the winter of 1623, a fishing village was established by the Dorchester Company on the shores of Cape Ann. The settlers struggled with the windy, stormy, rock-strewn area, and then a man named Roger Conant led a group to this fertile spot at the mouth of the Naumkeag River. At first they called it Naumkeag, the native word for ‘fishing place.’ And then they chose Salem, for shalom , meaning ‘peace.’” He shrugged. “Well, after so many years of peace—years of infamy, too—now we have … this. This darkness.”

“Is it dark?” Sam asked, her voice dripping sarcasm. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He stared at her. “I know that you’ve noticed.”

“Good. Then you don’t need to be concerned.”

“It’s most likely not a vampire matter,” he said.

“Which is great—you’ll be even less necessary.”

“I never wanted us to be hateful toward each other,” he said quietly.

Good old Daniel. Always controlled. She wanted him to be hateful—to rage against the powers and circumstances that had separated them. Apparently she wasn’t going to get her wish.

“I’m not being hateful,” she said with a shrug. “That would require me to actually feel something about you. Please, don’t be concerned on that account—I do not hate you. Frankly, and not to be rude, I really don’t think about you at all.”

What a lie! She missed him every day of her life. Every single day she hurt, trying to figure out exactly what happened, how it had happened …

“Actually,” he said. “That was … a smidgen rude.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just busy. Seriously, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

He stepped aside. “I’m staying down the street,” he said.

The Riverton house had sat empty now for some time, ever since Daniel’s parents had joined the council and he had followed, leaving her behind.

“How nice that you still have the house,” she said.

He smiled, looking down at her. It was that slow, easy, somehow rakish smile that he had always given her. There was something in that smile that seemed to speak of a unique, sensual relationship, of things shared that were incredibly special and wonderful. She saw all that and more in the smile that he gave her… .

Her—and probably dozens of others.

“Happy Christmas Eve,” he told her.

“Thanks. You, too.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon?”

“At your party, of course. I got the invitation. I remember your family’s Christmas parties—I’ve missed them.”

How the hell had he gotten an invitation?

Because he was on the damned mailing list. The e-vites had gone out automatically.

Great—just great. He’d not only walked back in on her today—she would see him again tonight.

Oh, joy.

Sam managed to escape him and hurried along the path to the house, willing herself not to trip. It was a cold winter. Plenty of snow had fallen already, snow too easily turned to ice. She would not embarrass herself in front of him by slipping on the ice and landing flat on her backside.

As he walked away, the stupid Santa began singing again: “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.”

She somehow managed to refrain from yelling at it.

Forget Daniel Riverton , she told herself. She would do exactly that.

She had to.

Okay, just take a minute , she told herself. Take a minute; take a deep breath. Stop shaking. They had been so crazily, ridiculously in love. They’d spent all their time together. And once they’d gone away to college, they’d managed to slip away on regular “excursions,” once just to Boston, once to New York City and one glorious time to England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. There was nothing she hadn’t loved about them together, sleeping together, waking together, shivering through horror movies, traveling and meeting interesting people along the way.