I want to laugh but can’t. I have no sense of humor. “Did she tell you that?”
The child shakes her head. “No, it’s written in Grandma and Grandpa’s special book. Mommy holds the all-time record for most vampire kills before the age of eighteen. She said she would have gotten you, too, if she’d found you before she quit.”
What the hell? “You must be mistaken. Your mother said she never became a Keeper.”
“She lied.” The child smiles smugly, as if to say: Put that in your pipe and smoke it, old man. “That’s only what she and my grandparents told everyone—so Mommy could secretly rid the world of violent, dangerous bloodsuckers.”
Wow. Just…wow. If the child is telling the truth, then that means my librarian has been keeping secrets. Again, I want to laugh but cannot. I always assumed they called themselves the Keepers because they were trained to keep humans safe.
During the Great War over three hundred years ago, Clive knew that our side—which was fighting to tame wild vampires—might not win. He wanted humans to be equipped to save themselves should the worst happen. In secret, he recruited several human families and trained them how to kill vampires. Again, no one knows how many or who. According to what I read in Keeper records down in Miriam’s vault, the families did not have knowledge of each other. A smart move on Clive’s part, because should one family be captured, they could not be tortured to disclose the names of the other Keepers.
In any case, I am beginning to suspect that the name Keeper really refers to their penchant for keeping secrets. I doubt Clive knew his little human army was out hunting vampires on their own for non-defense reasons. If he had, he would have killed the librarian, like he killed her parents about six years ago. I suspect he wanted to get rid of them the moment he regretted his decision to allow humans to run this world in lieu of us, the apex predators.
“Mr. Nice was on the list, too,” the child adds. “Right behind your name, the Executioner.”
“Well, how fortunate we are that your mommy quit hunting our kind when she did, or you wouldn’t be here now, would you?” If I had died, then there would be no child.
She shrugs.
“In any case, your mother cannot kill Mr. Nice. You must tell me where she went.”
“I don’t know.”
I cannot tell if she is lying. “If you did know, it would be very important to say the truth. What if I told you that Mr. Nice has something magical, and I need it? It could help a lot of people.”
“His cape collection?” she asks.
“No. Although that is fairly impressive, I hear. But this is something far more important. It is in his blood.”
The child looks at me, perplexed. “You want to make an army, don’t you? Mommy told me that the man who made you used his blood to make really strong soldiers because he wanted to make a super-army. She said that the older a vampire is and closer to the first vampires, the faster they are.”
“For a five-year-old, you know a lot.”
“Mommy’s a librarian. She knows everything and says that I should, too, because knowledge is the only real power.”
Well, then clearly the child has never experienced the Carolina Reaper. It’s a pepper so hot that it paralyzes your entire face for ten whole minutes. “There are many powers in this world, child. Believe me, I know, since I am one of them. But if you truly care for your mother, you will put your trust in me and tell me what you know.”
“You’re the Executioner, why would I trust a vampire who doesn’t love anyone? Even the Beast found a way to love Bella. You can’t even love your own daughter. You won’t even say my name.”
The oddest sensation washes over me. It’s a displeasure that is not anchored in logic or laws. I haven’t lost my memories, so I know what sadness feels like. This is different. It hits me in a place so deep within my body, I question if it isn’t a figment of my imagination.
Pain. It is pain. Not emotional, but physical. I am stunned by this occurrence. How is it possible that her words could cause my gizzards discomfort?
“Child, I do not say your name because…well…” I do not know, really.
She drags a fist beneath her eye to wipe away her tears. “You don’t love me because I’m not like you.”
“No, no, no, child. I don’t love you because I have no heart. I love no one.” There. That should make her feel better.
She begins to bawl.
Oh, wonderful. “Look, Stel—you, I may not be capable of giving affection or fatherly advice, but I can give you something far better: loyalty. People love each other all the time, yet they stab each other in the back, they put their own interests first. Couples divorce, mothers marry men who are not fit to be fathers, husbands have affairs with younger women. Brothers steal from brothers. Sisters spite sisters over jealousy. I have been alive for over four hundred years and can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that love does not mean a person will do you no harm. But loyalty?” I shake my index finger at her. “It is priceless. It means that come what may, I will value your well-being above my own.”
The child rolls over on the gurney and buries her face in the pillow to sob. I can tell she is confused. My words contradict what she has been taught.
I brush her long blonde hair from the side of her head. “No need for tears, little one. You have my loyalty, and so does your mother. I will always protect you both.” Even if I am incapable of loving you. Even if a part of me wishes I could. But I know it would only end in tragedy. I loved the librarian once. With all
