Keeper of the Night. Heather Graham

the lights.

      She was tired. And she worked in a café, for God’s sake. She should have brought home a gourmet tea to sip while she unwound, but after only a few minutes with Mac Brodie she had been too disconcerted to think of it.

      She set her guitar case in its stand and headed into the kitchen. There she quickly brewed a cup of tea and added a touch of milk, then headed back out to the living room to sink into the comfortable old sofa and lean back. She closed her eyes.

      “No, you really should come see the show….”

      There was a tap at her door. She listened for a minute without rising. She was tired. And frustrated. And, she had to admit, unnerved.

      An Elven had come to her and told her that she needed to see a vampire play.

      Why?

      It was just a play, a pretense. No vampires were out there killing people. Or other vampires, or anyone else. If they were, she would have heard about it on the news, wouldn’t she?

      The tapping became more persistent. Rhiannon forced herself to rise. It could only be one of a very few people at this time of night. Maybe Sailor had come home early and might listen to the story of Rhiannon’s night and give her some advice.

      It wasn’t Sailor or even Barrie who stood at her door. Merlin had come by to visit. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?” he asked anxiously.

      Yes, you are, she almost said, but she refrained. Merlin was a ghost. If he wanted to, he could be anywhere—perched on the end of the grand piano in the living room, day and night, if he felt like it. But he was a polite ghost, one who had learned to manifest corporeally. He had mastered the art of knocking on doors to announce his presence and behaved at all times as if he was not only living but a gentleman. He had maintained his old room in the main house, and he was careful to be the best possible “tenant.” They all loved him, but Sailor, in particular, was accustomed to living with him—both before and after his death.

      They had all sobbed at his funeral—until they realized that he was standing right there with them, comforting them in his new and unearthly form.

      “Come in, Merlin, please,” she said. “Have a seat. My home is your home, you know. Literally,” she added with a warm smile.

      Merlin had always been so good to her family, and it had been a two-way street. Her grandfather had saved him from jail when a shapeshifter had impersonated him and perpetrated several lewd crimes while posing as the noted magician. Her grandfather had been the shapeshifter Keeper and had worked with a friend on the police force—a werewolf—to prove that someone had been impersonating Merlin, and ensure that the proper person was caught and punished.

      She stepped back from the door, sweeping a hand wide to indicate that he should join her.

      Merlin stepped inside, looked around and sighed with happiness. “I’m so glad that you girls are living here,” he told her.

      He walked to the sofa and sank onto it, looking like a dignified and slightly weary old man. Which was exactly what he had been when he’d died. He’d lived a good, long life that had left him with a charmingly lined face, bright blue eyes and a cap of snow-white hair. Having him around really was like having a grandfather on the property.

      “And we’re glad to be here,” Rhiannon said.

      What a liar she was, she thought. She’d been about to get her big break when she’d been called home and been told that she was an adult and the good times were over. Her responsibilities had crashed down upon her with no time for her to think about it, to say yes or no. Suddenly all three Gryffald brothers were being sent overseas and their daughters were taking their places, and that was that.

      Of course her father and her uncles hadn’t been given a chance to say yes or no any more than she and Sailor and Barrie had.

      The brothers had been summoned to serve on the new high council of Keepers at the Hague, a council that would act as a worldwide governing body for the Otherworld and the Others.

      “Are you fitting in okay?” Merlin asked her, sincere concern in his voice.

      “Of course.” She forced a smile. None of this was Merlin’s fault. Or her father’s. He’d tried to be so fierce when he’d talked to her. You are the Keeper for the vampires, Rhiannon. They are powerful and deadly, and yours is a grave responsibility.

      At the time, of course, all she’d seen was that her band was finally getting a real break—and she wasn’t going to be there to experience it.

      Merlin nodded thoughtfully. “I was just wondering…I mean, this is L.A. It’s not as if there isn’t plenty of murder, mayhem and scandal on a purely human level.”

      “Merlin, what are you talking about?” she asked wearily.

      “You might want to talk to Barrie. There have been a few mysterious deaths lately.”

      Something hard seemed to fall to the pit of her stomach. This couldn’t involve her. Not already.

      “Mysterious deaths?” she asked.

      Merlin nodded. “They haven’t gotten a lot of coverage, because none of them have been on one of those trashy reality shows or even made Hollywood’s D list. These poor people have gone from this world unnoticed and unknown.”

      “Like you said—this is L.A.,” Rhiannon said, frowning.

      “Well, speak to your cousin, because she’s got contacts who have told her a few things. There have been three similar deaths, and all three corpses were discovered in a similarly advanced state of decay.”

      “And?” She whispered the word, as if that could keep her fears from becoming real.

      “The cops have been trying to keep the details out of the papers, but someone leaked one important fact,” Merlin told her grimly.

      “And that fact is…?” she asked.

      He winced. “I’m sorry, Rhiannon. The corpses were almost bone dry, sucked dry of…”

      “Of?” she asked, even though in her heart she knew the answer.

      “Blood,” Merlin said gravely. “Sucked dry of blood.”

       Chapter 2

      To a lot of people in L.A., it wasn’t all that late.

      But to Rhiannon, after her wretched shift at the café, nothing sounded more welcome than her bed and a pillow.

      Still, she knew she wouldn’t sleep if she didn’t try to talk to Barrie, though with any luck Barrie would already be in bed and wouldn’t answer the knock at her door.

      To Rhiannon’s dismay, Barrie was up.

      A single light was on in Barrie’s living room, where she had been sitting on her sofa and working. Her laptop was sitting on a pile of newspapers and magazines.

      Barrie definitely tended to be a workaholic.

      She had a good job in her chosen field, but she still wasn’t where she wanted to be in her career. At the moment she mostly got stories that ran under headlines—often handed to her whether she liked them or not—like “West Hollywood Woman Reveals Secret Behind Amazing Weight Loss.”

      Barrie was a crusader; she had strong opinions on right and wrong. She wanted to be where the action was. She wanted to get off the crime beat and into issue-based investigative journalism, but her Keeper duties would always have to take precedence, and that was a problem.

      Rhiannon sympathized with her. She knew how difficult it was, trying to have a real career and deal with this sudden shift in purpose.

      “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Barrie grinned and rolled her eyes. “Merlin, maybe—sometimes he forgets the time. Thought you’d come home exhausted and ready to crash.”