Keeper of the Dawn

“And you’re a terrible liar,” Alessande said.

That caused Brigitte to frown for a moment. But then she smiled again, slowly. “Do you really think that you could destroy Sebastian? He’s more powerful than you can possibly imagine. You will all die—and I will be lifted up. I will be a queen,” she told them.

“Where is Regina Johnson?” Alessande demanded again.

Brigitte was thoughtful. “I don’t know.”

“You do know,” Alessande accused her.

“No, you can torture me from now to the Apocalypse, but it won’t matter. I really don’t know where Regina is right now,” Brigitte said.

Alessande looked as if she was about to pounce. Brigitte shrank back into the couch, but before Alessande could address her lie and smack the woman, she stood and walked away.

Mark rose and went over to join her.

“I know what I said before, but can I torture her anyway?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Alessande...”

“Yeah, yeah, that would make us as bad as she is.”

“I’m not sure that’s really my point right now, but I don’t want to lose her. I have a better idea. We’ll leave her with Rhiannon and Brodie, and go get Alan and Charlaine. Let them talk to her.”

Alessande arched a brow. “That just might work—I guess.”

Mark turned to Brodie. “I’m going to take Alessande out for a bit, see what we can dig up.”

“You won’t dig up anything,” Brigitte said confidently. “I am the priestess. I am the head of the cult, and you will be sorry you ever crossed me.”

“Take care,” Rhiannon said. “And don’t worry about our friend here—she doesn’t have the strength of a two-year-old at the moment. And I can always rip out her throat if I choose to.”

“No violence, hon,” Brodie warned.

“I say cuff her, at least.”

“I will turn into a crocodile and eat your heads,” Brigitte promised.

Alessande laughed. That had probably been the greatest insult Brigitte could have received, with its implication that she couldn’t even shift her way out of handcuffs.

Mark and Alessande left then, taking the Charger and heading toward the Hildegard mansion.

As they navigated the canyon, she looked through a grove of trees atop a cliff to a scene that seemed oddly familiar. “Mark!”

“What?”

“Stop. Please, stop.”

He pulled off the road. She got out of the car and walked through the trees, feeling a chill settle over her as surely as if they’d been hit by a sudden ice storm.

“What is it?” Mark demanded, catching up to her.

“Look,” she said, pointing. “The road to reach it must be just around on that bend we passed. Mark, it’s —”

“The church from the wedding,” he finished.

She swung around and stared at him, the chill deepening. “You saw the same church, didn’t you? In your vision?”

He nodded.

She swallowed, noticing the strange look in his eyes. He wasn’t afraid, but it was the look of a man facing the unknown.

“I’m going to investigate,” he said. “You need to—”

“What? Are you crazy? I am not waiting in the car and we are not splitting up.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t going to suggest that. I was going to say that you have to be very careful. And I mean very careful.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

“Give me your hand. Let’s walk up there. If we drove, our engine would warn anyone that we’re coming.”

She agreed with that. As they approached, however, she pulled him back. “Maybe one of us should shift,” she suggested.

He looked at her dryly. “Well, I can do a large wolf or a bat. If there is a legitimate clergyman up there, I think either one would be extremely disturbing to him.”

“Ferret?” she asked him. “I can curl around your neck and watch from there.”

“I like the sound of that,” he teased.

She started to tell him that he needed to be serious, but then she realized that he was joking for her sake.

“Should we call the others first?” she asked softly.

“We’ll just take a look right now,” he said. “Come on, oh talented Keeper-to-be.”

She smiled, transformed and crawled up his body to settle around his neck.

Touching him in any way, she realized, felt good. And it made her feel secure to curl around his neck and absorb his heat as they moved up the hill.

The church was beautiful. It was small, but built in the Gothic style, like New England churches. It was whitewashed, with stained-glass windows. There was a graveyard next to the church and stretching around the back.

Mark paused and read the welcome sign aloud. “‘St. Ann of the Little Flower, erected 1893,’” he said. “‘Welcome all of Faith. Father Lars Gunderson, pastor.’”

Gunderson. Lars Gunderson. He was an Elven! She knew him from council meetings.

“It looks like a perfectly nice church and nothing more,” he said. “I’m going in.”

He walked up the brick path to the front steps. When he opened the door, he paused, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness, then looked into the interior.

Alessande could see that it was indeed the church she’d seen in her nightmare. The central aisle led to a large and richly decorated altar, with sacramental objects sitting on it. A golden cross took pride of place in the middle.

The windows allowed light to streak through, taking on the colors of the glass.

And a blood red runner ran down the aisle.

Mark started walking toward the altar.

“Maybe I was here when I was a kid,” he said softly. “I do feel that I know this place.”

“Hello, welcome to St. Ann’s.”

As Mark turned, Alessande saw that a man in priestly garb was walking toward them. She studied him quickly, then ducked beneath Mark’s jacket, peering out but taking care to remain hidden.

“Welcome, welcome. I’m Father Lars Gunderson—Father Lars to my parishioners and friends, and I hope I can call you a friend,” the priest said.

Mark offered him a hand. “A friend, yes. I’m Mark Valiente. I saw your church from the road. It was so beautiful, I had to investigate.”

“Yes, she is pretty, isn’t she?” Father Lars said. “I’m lucky to be assigned here.” He stopped, looking curiously at Mark. “You’re staring rather strangely.”

“Am I? Sorry. I’m just a bit in awe. I’m from this area, and I’ve never noticed the church before.”

“We’re up on the hill, hard to see from the road. We have a fine supply of parishioners, though. And we do our best to give back to the community.”

Mark dug in his pocket and produced one of his cards. “Father, in all honesty, I’m a cop. And we’ve been having some trouble in the Valley, girls disappearing—”

“And dying,” Father Lars said gravely. “I’m not barred from reading the papers, you know.”

“Of course. I’m just curious. Have you had new parishioners lately? Or noticed anyone unusual hanging around or...had any break-ins, anything like that?”