Heather Graham - The Keepers - Christmas in Salem

“No! No, of course not. She’s just hurt, and, okay, maybe a little bit mad.”

Be that as it may, he was here on a mission. He wished that Sam could understand that the council hadn’t sent him to usurp her territory, just to help in whatever way he could. In truth, the council members didn’t believe that a vampire was guilty of causing the constant darkness. But, he wondered, was that only because they didn’t want to believe? Possibly. In any case, he’d been sent to help, and the logical place to start was with Sam, because she wasn’t just the Keeper for the vampires, she was the backbone for the new young community of Keepers.

“She refuses to talk to me,” he said.

“Well, you didn’t come back to talk to her, did you?” she asked, staring at him. “You’re here because of the darkness.”

He shrugged. “I’m here with a different perspective on life, too. But yes, I’m here because of the darkness. The council sent me.”

“Ouch. Sorry, but that has to make her resent your being here right from the get-go.”

“I know, but she’s got to get past that. The darkness is out there,” he said. “We all, as a community, have to find a way to stop it. It can only be a harbinger of something far more sinister. The whole world could be at risk.”

“But it’s only in our area,” she said.

“For now,” he told her. “So I’m no fool and I’m sure the two of you were talking about me and why I’m back, so what were you and Sam saying?”

“Daniel, I’m friends with both of you—that isn’t fair.”

“Spill, Mica.”

“I can’t. Really.”

He held her eyes, his gaze steely, and finally she sighed and spoke again.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “There’s a kid who’s been walking around saying stuff, behaving as if he might have something to do with what’s going on—even though I’m sure he doesn’t. August Avery. Do you remember him?”

“He’s really not a kid anymore, Mica. We’re only about five years older.”

“I think he’s just being rebellious. We’ve all said wild things now and then.”

“Thanks, Mica,” Daniel said.

“Wait! What are you doing?” she demanded as he walked to the door.

“Going out to support my Keeper,” he told her softly.

“Oh, no! She’ll know I told you.”

“See you at the party,” he said, and hurried out of the store. He stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at the sky. Christmas Eve, middle of the day—and the darkness was nearly complete.

Christmas Eve, yes. And he’d seen Sam. His heart ached.

Essex Street was busy with last-minute shoppers—both Others and humans—and even with the ominous darkness, people were stopping to hug and wish each other a happy holiday.

Because Christmas was about love, he thought. Forgiveness, love, family, sharing …

A beautiful season, no matter what religion one believed in.

A beautiful season in which …

He paused in the middle of Essex Street. Salem had witnessed laughter and tears, love and prejudice. Now bright, colorful lights were ablaze in the street at noon.

He looked up to the sky. “Christmas is about another chance, too, isn’t it?” he said aloud. He thought about Sam and her sleek auburn hair, her brilliant green eyes. He thought about the way they had been together, both of them opinionated but able to argue and laugh, debate and fall into one another’s arms until …

Until the end.

And then they had both just walked away.

“All I want for Christmas …” he said softly as he started walking, “… is Sam.” Because he knew now that they weren’t responsible for solving every problem in the world.

They were only responsible for doing their part, and then—he prayed it was not too late—for living as if it were Christmas every day of their lives.

Sam needed to find August Avery before the evening festivities began. Because if he didn’t show up at the party, she would spend the whole time wondering what he was doing.

Afraid of what he was doing.

Christmas music seemed to be playing from everywhere. Speakers above the open pedestrian mall rang out with “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” One of the “haunted” houses was playing “Santa Baby,” and the giant werewolf in the window was dressed in a Santa suit.

That reminded her that she needed to check in with Victor Alden—the werewolf who played Santa for the party every year—and make sure he was ready to go.

She was actually reaching into her bag for her cell phone when she realized that she was standing right in front of Father Mulroney.

“Samantha!” he said cheerfully, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. “Merry, merry Christmas Eve.”

She offered him a weak smile. She loved Father Mulroney. Everyone did. She had never met anyone as open to different beliefs and convinced of the all-encompassing nature of God’s love as Father Mulroney. His heart had room for everyone and he looked for the good in every situation.

“Hi, Father, wonderful to see you. You will be at the party this evening, right?”

“I would never miss an occasion where so many hearts come together in good cheer to celebrate the joy of the season,” he replied.

Her smile faded. “Oh, Father, I’m not so sure about this year,” she said.

He looked at her quizzically. He was a lean man with snow-white hair and bright blue eyes, and he reminded her of Father Time.

“You mean the darkness?” he asked her.

“Yes. It’s frightening and disturbing—and I don’t know what it means,” she admitted. “Father, everyone is worried about the darkness,” she added.

“Well, it would be wonderful to find out exactly what is going on,” he admitted. “But I’m not worried about the darkness, Samantha. Someone will get to the bottom of it.”

“Yes, soon, I hope,” she murmured.

He set his hands on her shoulders. “True darkness can only exist in the heart, Samantha. Let your heart be light, and that will do away with the darkness.”

For a moment she thought that the day actually became a little brighter.

“You do what you need to do, young lady,” he told her. “But remember—light burns from within. It’s in the heart and soul of all of us.”

Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she told him. She refrained from saying, Oh, Father Mulroney, I’m just not feeling that light.

And she had to go, because time was running short. She had the CD, so now all she needed was the cold-cut platter—and to find August Avery.

“See you in a bit,” she said, trying to sound cheerful—as if a light were shining deep in her heart.

She hurried by him.

Ten minutes later she’d picked up the cold cuts, and though she was only a matter of blocks from her house, she wished she’d brought her car. The platter seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

Like the darkness.

Her cell phone started ringing when she was still a block away from home. She couldn’t possibly reach it and had to figure that whoever it was would leave a message, so she could just call back once she’d dropped off the food and headed back out to find August.

When she reached the house, arms straining, June was ready to greet her at the door. She passed the singing Santa—who was using Peggy Lee’s voice and singing “Santa Baby”—and made it up the steps to the porch.

“Thank heaven you’re here. What are you going to do about the problem?” June asked.

“Problem? What problem?” Sam asked worriedly.

“There’s—there’s been a bite!” June said in horror.

“Where? Who?”

“Some tourist was watching a band play on Salem Common when all of a sudden she started screaming. She was rushed to the hospital about ten minutes ago,” June said. “I was trying to reach you.”