Keeper of the Dawn

said. “But...I think that, being what we are...maybe our dreams mean something. Maybe there was a reason why I saw you right before I met you.”

She moved away from him, shaking off his hand when he touched her shoulder. Sleek and beautiful, she rose and walked to the window, moving the drapes aside to look down on the lawn below.

“Maybe it means we’re supposed to stay away from one another,” she said.

For a moment he froze where he lay.

Maybe she was right.

Yet he couldn’t accept that. He stood and walked over to her, setting his hands on her shoulders and pulling her back against him. “I can’t believe that,” he told her, whispering into her hair. The spun magic of the golden strands teased his lips. He’d never felt anything as intensely as he felt this need to be with her, to know that she lived and breathed in the world.

She turned into his arms, looking up at him. “I won’t believe it,” she said passionately.

He touched a lock of her hair, mesmerized, humbled, as he smoothed it back. “After tonight...”

“Tonight I wasn’t ready. I’ll never let that happen again, Mark, I swear it. But I can’t step aside now. You know I can’t. The birthmark that denotes my destiny...the things I’ve discovered I can do... I am meant to be a Keeper. I can’t walk away from that, and you know it. You can’t protect me all the time or from everything. You have to see the truth of that, Mark...please.”

He smiled. “Brodie still watches out for Rhiannon, and you couldn’t convince him not to.”

“And she watches out for him, as well. We all have to have each others’ backs, Mark. It’s part of being who and what we are.”

He wanted to deny her words. He wished that she was sensible and prudent and willing to stay safely hidden away at Castle House until they found the root of the evil plaguing them now.

And then he realized that she wouldn’t be the golden spitfire who had so swiftly commandeered his flesh and blood and soul if she were that woman.

He nodded slowly. “But we make a pact. No one goes running off alone for any reason, and we share everything we learn.”

“Deal,” she told him.

He cupped her head in his hands and tenderly kissed her lips. For a moment something shimmered between them that went far beyond the physical.

She returned the kiss. And then the kiss deepened and was joined by touching. And kissing went from lips to flesh and touching abounded. They stumbled a bit, holding on to one another as they crashed back down upon the bed, their bodies already entwined. They laughed at their own clumsiness, kissed and stroked....

And made love again.

Finally they lay together, fell asleep, and when Mark woke to the hint of daylight that teased through the drapes, he realized that he had not dreamed, he had merely held tightly to a dream all through the night.

Chapter 10

“So, tell me about yourself,” Greg Swayze said.

“Tell you what?” Alessande asked him.

“Anything,” Swayze breathed, as she sat across the table from him at the Mystic Cafe.

Rhiannon was working, strumming soft ballads quietly from the dais at the end of the room, while Hugh Drummond, the owner and local werewolf Keeper, kept vigil behind the counter.

Mark and Brodie were at work, but soon after she had arrived and joined Swayze at his table, Barrie and Mick had come in to buy coffee and claim a table nearby, and soon after they’d arrived, Declan had also come in with Sailor. They’d made a point of stopping by to say hello to Swayze and Alessande.

“Anything?” Alessande repeated now. “Okay...my family is originally Norse, but I was born and spent my childhood in Scotland. I love where I’m living now—I’m in the Valley—and I do a lot of gardening when I’m not working. And, frankly, I haven’t done much acting. I just love your screenplay so much—that’s why I wanted to be involved in the film somehow.”

“Thank you. Death in the Bowery is a project I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time. My folks came from New York City, so I’ve been reading about the history of the city from the time I was a child. I got the idea for the plot from reading about some gruesome murders that occurred at the time and were never solved. But the story’s not about going for the gore factor, it’s about people. It’s about overcoming prejudice. Back then there were people living in mansions the size of a full city block, while there were others eating garbage and living among the rats—desperate just to survive.”

“You’ve painted that picture perfectly with your words,” she assured him.

“And you are my ideal Jane Adams,” he told her.

“Well, honestly...I think I’d be happier with a smaller role. I love the role, but I really don’t have the experience to...” She decided not to push that point at the moment. Instead she decided to see what she could find out about the other members of the production team. “It seems as if everything’s falling into place. The director, the costume designer, even the producers...” She smiled. “Imagine having Alan Hildegard involved.”

Swayze nodded. “Believe it or not, I was as stunned as the next person when he came on board. He’d read the screenplay and loved it, but he couldn’t get backing from the Horrific channel—it’s certainly not the kind of thing they do, and they have him pretty well tied up—but they can’t control what he does with his own time and money, so the next thing I knew, he had me all set up through Blue Dove and Gnome Entertainment, and if you ask me, I think he’s got a stake in one or both of those.”

“And you wound up becoming friends with his whole family. That’s pretty cool.”

“I don’t know about being friends, exactly, but they’re all supporting the project financially as well, so—all of them have a say in casting, so it’s not as if I can make the decision anyway. Honestly, I’m lucky as hell the director is even giving me a say. The biggest problem I’m having right now is that they want a rewrite of the end.”

“A rewrite?” Alessande asked.

“They want a twist. They want the villain to win at the end—a statement on truth, Alan says.” He shook his head in amazement. “I wasn’t stupid when I signed my contract. I kept control over the material. They’re still pushing, though. Alan keeps pointing out how many serial killers have gotten away with their crimes over time. And how the victims—so many of them society’s disenfranchised, lacking someone to make a fuss when they disappear—have met their ends without being noted.”

“Oh,” Alessande said.

“Don’t worry. They can’t change it without my say-so, and so far nothing they’ve said has convinced me to give it.” He looked at her anxiously and put his hand over hers. “Will you still be on board, no matter what?”

“Of course. If the ending is rewritten, you’ll be the one to rewrite it, correct?”

“Yes—though I like it the way it is.” His hand still lingered on hers.

“I’m sure we’ll all be on board,” she said.

“‘We’?”

“Yes. My friend Sailor auditioned, too—remember?” She nodded toward the table where Sailor sat, sipping tea and talking to Declan, who was facing them. It was nice, Alessande thought, how well the group was looking after each other. It was good to feel so safe.

And yet, that thought also made her feel guilty, because she should have been there for Regina.

“Right, Sailor Gryffald,” Swayze said. “She did a great reading. And she also has the look we’re after as well, that kind of blond innocence that can cover a world of strength. And that’s the perfect description of Jane Adams. Despite the miserable circumstances of her birth and the squalor in which she’s been raised, she believes in the goodness of people. But, she’s not stupid. She knows that evil is out there—she’s seen it. Yes, Sailor would do very well in the role. Except, of course...there’s you.”