Heather Graham - The Keepers

She forced herself to stay still as he took a step closer to her, pointing a finger and touching her just above her cleavage.

“You are the Keeper. But you’re overstepping your bounds. You’re supposed to step in when we can’t handle a situation ourselves. In this case, I was handling the situation just fine.”

She shook her head. “I can’t trust you to kill a vampire,” she said, her words soft.

“You have to trust me.”

“A vampire has committed murder,” she reminded him.

“That’s not proven,” he insisted. “Look—we’re on it. Give us a chance, Fiona. Good God, learn from your parents. They were amazing, because they understood delegation.”

“My parents are dead,” she reminded him angrily.

She was surprised when he seemed to soften, when something in his eyes became gentle, almost tender.

“I’m sorry. Please, give me a chance … as a cop—and as a vampire. I will get to the bottom of this, but none of us will be in good shape if we get the city abuzz with rumors, and all the underworld starts getting edgy and worried. Please.”

She nodded. “I don’t want a panic erupting, either, but that’s the point. I have to keep watching—that’s what Keepers do,” she reminded him. She was overwhelmed by the sense that she needed to get away from him. She didn’t want to be this close, didn’t want to be noticing his physique or realizing that his scent was extremely evocative. She wanted to be irritated from a distance; she wanted to solve the problem herself, because she was the Keeper.

“I have to get home,” she heard herself say a little nervously.

“I’ll drive you.”

“I have my own car,” she told him quickly.

“I’ll walk you to it,” he told her.

“I’m all right. This is my city.”

“And like every city, it has crack houses, drug addicts and plain old thugs. I’m a cop—I do my job even when the denizens of the underworld aren’t out causing trouble. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Honestly, Jagger, I’m a Keeper.”

“And a Keeper—just like a vampire, werewolf, shapeshifter, pixie, pooka, leprechaun or even a lamia—can be taken by surprise. Why the hell do you think our kind had to escape the old world, then flee places like Salem, to find a place where we could blend in? We’re all vulnerable, Fiona, despite whatever strengths we have. We’re all vulnerable—in so many ways.”

He took her arm as they walked down the street. She wanted to wrench from his touch, but …

The lady doth protest too much, methinks, she thought.

But she was so acutely aware of him!

They reached her car.

“Good night, Fiona,” he said, as he opened her door for her.

“You’ll keep me apprised—of everything going on? From a cop’s standpoint and a vampire’s?” she inquired.

He nodded.

“I have to follow up and investigate. You know that.”

“Have some faith in me, please,” he said.

“I’m having faith. But I’m using what I’ve got, too, that’s all.”

“I’ll report in daily,” he said.

“Yes, you will.”

He smiled suddenly.

She frowned, looking at him. “I don’t see anything to smile about in any of this, Jagger.”

“Oh, certainly not. Not in the situation.”

“Then?”

“You just have to have the last word, don’t you?” he asked.

She didn’t reply, just slid into the seat, and he closed the door. She stared at him and turned the key in the ignition. He stepped away quickly as she gunned the engine, then started to ease out onto the street.

A good exit, she told herself.

Except that she could hear his husky laughter even as she drove away.

Fiona had just slipped into the long, soft cotton T-shirt she loved to wear to bed and crawled under the covers when she heard the tap on her door that announced Caitlin’s arrival. Her sister knocked, but didn’t wait for an invitation.

“Well?” Caitlin demanded.

The room was dark, but with the hall lights on, Fiona could see her sister’s anxious face.

“It’s done,” she said.

“Thank God,” Caitlin breathed. “For some reason the media have been trying to hide the details of Tina Lawrence’s life, but finally—one of the anchors started reading her police sheet, and … I literally shivered. Can you even imagine? The best vampire is a bloodthirsty beast and—”

“Caitlin, please. We know plenty of vampires who are fine citizens. And let’s get serious. There’s no more violent beast out there than man, when he chooses to be,” Fiona argued.

Caitlin sighed softly. “Look, I know that they’re your charges, but … well, I just don’t believe there’s ever been a truly good vampire.”

Jagger DeFarge.

The name came unbidden to Fiona’s mind.

She realized that despite her earlier misgivings, she believed that he was a force for good. After all, was anyone really all good or all bad? Everyone, every being, every creature, came with a form of free will, and free will led to behavior that was good, bad and everything in between.

“Jagger DeFarge was there,” she told her sister. “He was already attending to the matter, as he should have been.”

Caitlin sniffed. “Was he? Or did he decide he had no choice, once he saw you?”

“Caitlin, please. I have to have some faith in his ethics and his commitment to our laws. The vampires, like all creatures, are supposed to police their own, and I believe that they will do so. I also went to see David Du Lac, and I know that the higher-ups among the vampires are deeply concerned. Caitlin, they like their lives. They’re not going to risk everything they have, all to protect a rogue.”

Caitlin looked at her gravely, the softly glowing hall light making her appear angelic.

“I’m just worried,” she said. “Worried … for you.”

Fiona rose and walked over to the door, where she took her sister into a warm hug. “I understand.”

They stayed close for a minute, sisters who had seen the worst. Then they broke apart, and Fiona smiled. “I’m fine, honestly. Have some faith in me, if not the vampires. The truth is, I need your help.”

“My help? We’re talking vampires. Not my thing, remember?” Caitlin said.

Fiona nodded. She had been born with the sign of the bat, a tiny birthmark at the base of her spine. Caitlin had been born with the sign of the mist, shapeshifting. She loved her sister’s birthmark, which was magical, changing continuously, though most who saw it thought it a trick of the eye.

Shauna bore the mark of the werewolf Keeper, the wolf, howling at the moon. No tattoo artist had ever created a work of such perfection.

Their friends had marveled at the marks on those rare occasions when they’d been revealed by a low-cut bathing suit. They hadn’t tried to hide them, had merely shrugged them off, leaving their friends to wonder how and when they’d come by them.

Before Fiona could reply, Shauna popped up behind Caitlin.

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