The Keepers: Christmas in Salem

Every Christmas Eve—for centuries now—the Mycroft family had hosted a party celebrating faith, life, belief and love. The guests were of many faiths and many species—the requirement for the human guests, of course, was that they were among the few who knew about the Other community and respected its code of silence.

The world had come a long way from the days of the Salem witch trials—but not far enough. Knowing that your next-door neighbor was a vampire wouldn’t sit well with those who pictured vampires only as vicious bloodsuckers. They could never comprehend that the average, modern-day vampire was an upstanding member of the community—just one who had to survive on a great deal of slaughterhouse blood. Thankfully, due to the council and the widespread alliances that had been formed over the years, that commodity was readily available as long as you knew where to shop.

The minute she got inside, Sam leaned against the door and exhaled.

It was going to be a trying day and an even more difficult night, and she resented the hell out of that. Ever since she had been a small child, she had loved the Christmas season. But this year …

There was the darkness. And the suggestion that it might be caused by a vampire, and that she was failing in her duties as Keeper of the Vampires.

And now …

Daniel was back.

“Think of him as no more than a pesky fly that needs to be swatted,” she said aloud.

But even so, there were other problems. Her cousins were distracted, the cousins who should have been helping her.

This was the year Katie Sue was waiting for the love of her life, a selkie who could only return to land once every seven years. Talk about your long-distance relationships, Sam thought. But in truth, she was slightly jealous. Katie Sue was the selkie Keeper and she didn’t give a damn. She was in love with a selkie, and the hell with anyone who objected.

Her cousin June was just back from Europe; as Keeper of the Witches—the real witches, not the city’s many practicing Wiccans—she had been studying Celtic ways. She’d also, Sam thought, run away. She’d been madly in love, as well—only to find out the entire relationship had been the result of a spell.

And then, of course, there was her other cousin Rebekah whose greatest rival was also the man she loved, rendering any attempt at romance pointless.

None of them seemed to be lucky in love. Well, Katie Sue thought she was lucky—if seeing the one you loved once every seven years counted as luck.

She straightened. She was being too hard on herself and her cousins. They were good Keepers—especially considering the way they’d expected to have many more years to prepare and had simply been thrown into the fray when the International Council had been formed. They were just … Well, they had their own secret demons living in their souls, but they were able to step up to the plate when they needed.

And so what if Daniel was back? She still had matters to attend to. Mycroft House, first of all. There was a party tonight, darkness or no darkness, and she intended to be ready.

She looked around. The house was beautiful, and she allowed herself a moment’s pride.

It was an old house, of course. One of the oldest in Salem. The ceilings were low, and there were no closets in the upstairs bedrooms—the original settlers had used wardrobes and trunks. Back then, bedrooms were not elegant places of repose as they were now. They were where you slept when you weren’t working. The original house had consisted of a central hallway running front to back, a left room and a right room downstairs, and two bedrooms upstairs, along with a cellar and an attic. An addition in the early 1800s had given it a back wing and an upstairs apartment. Right now a gorgeous pine tree sparkled with lights to her right, while a menorah flickered from the mantel. Hard to know when to light the candles when you had a day without sundown. Both religious and secular adornments filled the house, which was colorful and festive—and demonstrated a respect for just about every belief out there.

She’d baked cookies and cakes, so the air was filled with the wonderful aromas of sugar and cinnamon and all things good.

She was ready.

Except, of course, for the last errand she had to run before welcoming her guests for the evening.

She was still leaning against the door when it began to open. She moved away quickly, startled for a moment, even a bit frightened, and then belatedly aware that it had to be her cousin June.

“Hey!” Sam said, jumping back and throwing the door open.

“Oh, good,” June said. “You’re still here. I was afraid I’d get here and you’d be gone already and I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“I was about to head out, but thank you for coming over. I really do have to run out for a bit. You’re a doll for helping out, and I really need you. This group … You never know how soon people will start showing up. Give Johnny Fields a call. I pay him to keep the ice and snow off the walk. You don’t need to do anything, really, except verify that he’ll be here and do it. There’s a ridiculous amount of food in the kitchen. Everything’s ready to go—juice, eggnog, ‘special’ Bloody Mary mix and regular Bloody Mary mix. I should be back in plenty of time, but in case I’m not, you can go ahead and start serving.”

June was as pretty as a picture; she looked like a gorgeous gamin. Of all the cousins, she was the tiniest. She was also …

Eyes wide, June interrupted Sam’s thoughts. “Okay, but please hurry. I’m not the hostess you are.”

June was just a little overwhelmed, Sam told herself again. She tried so hard to appear refreshed and happy to be home, but coming back had been hard for her.

She loved her craft and her witches. Despite popular belief, even the real ones tended to love the earth, nature and being kind to their fellow man.

Sam offered her a smile. “You’re friendly, beautiful and a sweetheart. You’re the perfect hostess. The older ladies from the Baptist church sometimes show up early, but they’re sweethearts and easy to talk to. The Catholic crew tends to come late, and it’s hard to figure exactly when the Protestant groups will arrive. Rabbi Solomon comes really early sometimes, too. I don’t expect any of the Others to arrive too early, but every once in a while the leprechauns are feeling feisty. Don’t let them goad the Baptists. Okay, I’m off. I’ll be back quickly, I promise. I just have to pick up that Christmas mix CD from Mica and the cold-cut platter from the grocery store.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” June assured her, though she didn’t sound terribly convinced.

Sam turned and fled the house—and her too-vivid memories of Daniel’s return.

She was already in the historic district—Mycroft House was a federal landmark property. All she had to do was hurry down Essex Street to reach Ye Olde Tyme Shoppe, the establishment owned by her friend, Mica Templeton. Mica was a witch—a real witch, not a Wiccan. There was a world of difference. One was a state of being, while the other was a religious choice.

“Hey there,” Mica said. She had just been locking one of the cases where she kept beautiful locally crafted jewelry. “I was starting to worry that you weren’t going to show up.”

“Sorry. I’ve been running late all day. I forgot I’d promised to do a speech this morning for the Brattle Corporation board—they’re looking to open an office in Salem. They’re an internet company, and they’ll bring us a lot of great jobs, so … Well, yeah, I know, it’s Christmas Eve, but I gave the speech anyway.”

“Did you take them through the cemetery and do one of your dramatic scenes, then tell them that the poor condemned during the trials weren’t even allowed Christian burials?” Mica asked, and grinned. “Then tell them all to take care, because you never know who from history might be wandering the streets?”

“Of course not. I only do that at Halloween,” Sam told her.

“And I’m getting ready to close up for your party—where you should be already. This is pretty much it for the holiday season, but I did a lot of business.”

Mica usually did a lot of business. She carried gorgeous handmade capes and cloaks, a truly artistic line of shirts and spells, potions, herbs and other paraphernalia for the local Wiccans and tourists alike. Plus the jewelry. At Christmas she added beautiful one-of-a-kind ornaments, along with candles and garlands—and, for the local Jewish community, elegant menorahs.

“I need that CD you were making for me.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry I couldn’t get it to you sooner.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to stop at the grocery store on Essex, too,” Sam assured her, studying Mica as she went to get the CD.

Her friend was a very pretty woman, with bright blue eyes and pitch-black hair. She turned half of the shop into a haunted house at Halloween. Creatures came out to “attack” the shoppers, who were saved by the “witches who guarded the woods.”

Mica returned, holding on to the CD a little too tightly as she studied Sam.

“You’ve seen him, right? You know he’s back in town?”

“You mean Daniel, right?” Sam said. “Yes, I’ve seen him.”

Mica nodded. “He’s even better looking than I remembered.”

“He looks the same. He’s good-looking. So what? So are a lot of men.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why haven’t you dated any other men in the past two years?”

“Looks aren’t everything,” Sam said.

That caused Mica to laugh. “No, of course not. But Daniel is also intelligent, funny, concerned for humanity, charming… .”

“And he left me.”

“Hmm. If I remember correctly, you told him to go.”

“Look, Mica, the International Council was forming and everything was changing. His parents were against the relationship and so were mine. Everyone frowned on Keepers seeing their charges.”

“Sleeping with their charges, you mean,” Mica corrected.

Sam glared at her.

“You were totally in love with him. You’re still in love with him.”

“Mica …”

“And he’s still madly in love with you. I can see it. The two of you really need to cut out the noble crap. I can burn the right incense for the two of you, you know, and say all the right prayers.”

“They’d better be prayers and not love spells,” Sam warned her.

“Never,” Mica promised her. “You two don’t need a love spell.”

“And I don’t need him. We’re dealing with far more serious matters,” Sam said.

“The darkness,” Mica murmured. “Sam, there’s no reason to think a vampire is behind it. I know Dracula is referred to as the ‘Prince of Darkness,’ but that doesn’t mean anything. We both know how much novelists love to go crazy making up legends so they can sell more books. I mean, the vamps—especially the ones here in Salem—have practically been angels for years now, other than an isolated incident here or there. And those are always handled perfectly by the Keepers, of course. But—” Mica suddenly stopped speaking, looking at Sam with wide eyes.

“But what?” Sam demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t you dare look at me like that and then say nothing’s wrong!”

“Well …” Mica said.

“Well, what?” Sam demanded.

“There is August Avery,” Mica said.

“What about August?” Sam asked, her eyes narrowing. August was a young vampire, a senior in college. Like many his age, he’d taken a bit of a twisted path, experimenting with drugs and causing his share of trouble around town. But none of it had been more than mischief, really, and Sam was sure he was just struggling to find himself the way kids often did.

“He was probably just being August,” Mica said.

“By?”

“Well, he was in here muttering about the fact that only vampires know what eternal darkness really means,” Mica said.

Sam stiffened. “I’m going to have to talk with him,” she said. “And, Mica—” she said, pointing a finger at her friend “—you have to tell me when someone says something like that. This darkness is real, and whatever’s causing it, it’s nothing to play around with.”

As she spoke, the little bell above the shop door tinkled. She swung around to see who’d entered.

Daniel Riverton.

“Daniel!” Mica cried happily. “I’d heard that you were back in town.”

Leave it to Mica.

“Great, just great,” Sam muttered.

And while Mica rushed forward to give Daniel a welcoming hug, Sam took the opportunity to hurriedly escape the shop.

And another encounter with the love of her life.

The love of her life who had deserted her—even if she had told him to go.

Chapter 2

Samantha Mycroft, head high, nodded Daniel’s way as Mica rushed forward to greet him.

Sam left the shop; he heard the little bell tinkling—a toll in his heart—as she went past.

“Daniel, so good to see you. What a lovely Christmas Eve gift you are for our community,” Mica told him.

If only Sam saw it that way, he thought.

While he was here—had been sent here—because of the darkness, there had been little on his mind except for Sam.

But then, there had been little on his mind besides Sam in all the years he’d been gone.

He knew there were people who believed that love at first sight wasn’t real, that everyone had any number of potential matches in the world.

But from the moment he had seen Sam, when they had both been little children, he’d known that she was meant to be in his life. And as he’d grown, he’d known that she was the girl—and then the woman—who was what romantics called a soul mate, the one person he was meant to be with for his entire lifetime.

Life, however, had gotten in the way.

“Mica, it’s wonderful to see you,” he told her.

She drew back and looked around. “Well, um, sorry. I guess Sam moved on. She’s in a hurry today—big party at Mycroft House, of course. And it’s left to her now to make sure the tradition continues and all goes well.”

“She hates me, Mica,” he said flatly.

“No! No, of course not. She’s just hurt, and, okay, maybe a little bit mad.”

Be that as it may, he was here on a mission. He wished that Sam could understand that the council hadn’t sent him to usurp her territory, just to help in whatever way he could. In truth, the council members didn’t believe that a vampire was guilty of causing the constant darkness. But, he wondered, was that only because they didn’t want to believe? Possibly. In any case, he’d been sent to help, and the logical place to start was with Sam, because she wasn’t just the Keeper for the vampires, she was the backbone for the new young community of Keepers.

“She refuses to talk to me,” he said.

“Well, you didn’t come back to talk to her, did you?” she asked, staring at him. “You’re here because of the darkness.”

He shrugged. “I’m here with a different perspective on life, too. But yes, I’m here because of the darkness. The council sent me.”

“Ouch. Sorry, but that has to make her resent your being here right from the get-go.”

“I know, but she’s got to get past that. The darkness is out there,” he said. “We all, as a community, have to find a way to stop it. It can only be a harbinger of something far more sinister. The whole world could be at risk.”

“But it’s only in our area,” she said.

“For now,” he told her. “So I’m no fool and I’m sure the two of you were talking about me and why I’m back, so what were you and Sam saying?”

“Daniel, I’m friends with both of you—that isn’t fair.”

“Spill, Mica.”

“I can’t. Really.”

He held her eyes, his gaze steely, and finally she sighed and spoke again.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “There’s a kid who’s been walking around saying stuff, behaving as if he might have something to do with what’s going on—even though I’m sure he doesn’t. August Avery. Do you remember him?”

“He’s really not a kid anymore, Mica. We’re only about five years older.”

“I think he’s just being rebellious. We’ve all said wild things now and then.”

“Thanks, Mica,” Daniel said.

“Wait! What are you doing?” she demanded as he walked to the door.

“Going out to support my Keeper,” he told her softly.

“Oh, no! She’ll know I told you.”

“See you at the party,” he said, and hurried out of the store. He stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at the sky. Christmas Eve, middle of the day—and the darkness was nearly complete.

Christmas Eve, yes. And he’d seen Sam. His heart ached.

Essex Street was busy with last-minute shoppers—both Others and humans—and even with the ominous darkness, people were stopping to hug and wish each other a happy holiday.

Because Christmas was about love, he thought. Forgiveness, love, family, sharing …

A beautiful season, no matter what religion one believed in.

A beautiful season in which …

He paused in the middle of Essex Street. Salem had witnessed laughter and tears, love and prejudice. Now bright, colorful lights were ablaze in the street at noon.

He looked up to the sky. “Christmas is about another chance, too, isn’t it?” he said aloud. He thought about Sam and her sleek auburn hair, her brilliant green eyes. He thought about the way they had been together, both of them opinionated but able to argue and laugh, debate and fall into one another’s arms until …

Until the end.

And then they had both just walked away.

“All I want for Christmas …” he said softly as he started walking, “… is Sam.” Because he knew now that they weren’t responsible for solving every problem in the world.

They were only responsible for doing their part, and then—he prayed it was not too late—for living as if it were Christmas every day of their lives.

Sam needed to find August Avery before the evening festivities began. Because if he didn’t show up at the party, she would spend the whole time wondering what he was doing.

Afraid of what he was doing.

Christmas music seemed to be playing from everywhere. Speakers above the open pedestrian mall rang out with “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” One of the “haunted” houses was playing “Santa Baby,” and the giant werewolf in the window was dressed in a Santa suit.

That reminded her that she needed to check in with Victor Alden—the werewolf who played Santa for the party every year—and make sure he was ready to go.

She was actually reaching into her bag for her cell phone when she realized that she was standing right in front of Father Mulroney.

“Samantha!” he said cheerfully, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. “Merry, merry Christmas Eve.”

She offered him a weak smile. She loved Father Mulroney. Everyone did. She had never met anyone as open to different beliefs and convinced of the all-encompassing nature of God’s love as Father Mulroney. His heart had room for everyone and he looked for the good in every situation.

“Hi, Father, wonderful to see you. You will be at the party this evening, right?”

“I would never miss an occasion where so many hearts come together in good cheer to celebrate the joy of the season,” he replied.

Her smile faded. “Oh, Father, I’m not so sure about this year,” she said.

He looked at her quizzically. He was a lean man with snow-white hair and bright blue eyes, and he reminded her of Father Time.

“You mean the darkness?” he asked her.

“Yes. It’s frightening and disturbing—and I don’t know what it means,” she admitted. “Father, everyone is worried about the darkness,” she added.

“Well, it would be wonderful to find out exactly what is going on,” he admitted. “But I’m not worried about the darkness, Samantha. Someone will get to the bottom of it.”

“Yes, soon, I hope,” she murmured.

He set his hands on her shoulders. “True darkness can only exist in the heart, Samantha. Let your heart be light, and that will do away with the darkness.”

For a moment she thought that the day actually became a little brighter.

“You do what you need to do, young lady,” he told her. “But remember—light burns from within. It’s in the heart and soul of all of us.”

Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she told him. She refrained from saying, Oh, Father Mulroney, I’m just not feeling that light.

And she had to go, because time was running short. She had the CD, so now all she needed was the cold-cut platter—and to find August Avery.

“See you in a bit,” she said, trying to sound cheerful—as if a light were shining deep in her heart.

She hurried by him.

Ten minutes later she’d picked up the cold cuts, and though she was only a matter of blocks from her house, she wished she’d brought her car. The platter seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

Like the darkness.

Her cell phone started ringing when she was still a block away from home. She couldn’t possibly reach it and had to figure that whoever it was would leave a message, so she could just call back once she’d dropped off the food and headed back out to find August.

When she reached the house, arms straining, June was ready to greet her at the door. She passed the singing Santa—who was using Peggy Lee’s voice and singing “Santa Baby”—and made it up the steps to the porch.

“Thank heaven you’re here. What are you going to do about the problem?” June asked.

“Problem? What problem?” Sam asked worriedly.

“There’s—there’s been a bite!” June said in horror.

“Where? Who?”

“Some tourist was watching a band play on Salem Common when all of a sudden she started screaming. She was rushed to the hospital about ten minutes ago,” June said. “I was trying to reach you.”

“Ten minutes—how do you know all this?”

“No, no,” June said. “It’s already on YouTube and Twitter. And the local news is all over it, too.”

“Over a bite? Calm down, June. Tell me slowly. Maybe it was a dog bite, or a crazy squirrel, or a bird swooped down and—”

“No, it wasn’t a dog, a bird or a crazy squirrel,” June said, staring at her evenly. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

She set the platter on the table next to the turkey Sam had cooked and the two women rushed past the Christmas tree in the formal parlor, the menorah on the mantel and the Nativity scene to one side of the archway and into the family room. The flat-screen TV was on; June had obviously been watching. There was Salem Common, white with snow and filled with people. The Believers, a local group, had been playing Christmas music, but according to the reporter on scene the show had stopped abruptly when a young woman had suddenly begun to scream loudly, leading to chaos. She had received what was by all accounts a human bite; the young man sitting next to her had suddenly lunged closer and bitten her.

“Did you record any of this?” Sam asked June tensely.

“Of course,” June assured her.

Sam glanced at her. “Thank you. You’re thinking like a Keeper,” she said.

June hit the remote. The local station had been airing live from the concert even before all hell broke loose, and they’d done a good job panning the crowd, allowing Sam to slow the recording and search faces.

She gasped. There was August Avery. A handsome man in his early twenties, he was in a wool coat, watching the concert, hands in his pockets. The girl next to him smiled at him, and he gave her a smile back. August bent as if he was about to whisper in her ear, his eyes light, his fingers moving back a lock of tawny hair.

And then the screaming began.

Sam swore. “All right, June, I have to leave the rest of the party prep to you—I’m off to find August,” she said, then turned to rush back out of the house.

She opened the door and crashed right into Mrs. Livia Peabody, a local scion of the Baptist church.

“Sam, dear, the house looks beautiful! Am I the first to arrive? I’m always the first—and let me say, perhaps I will also be the first in heaven.”