The Keepers
Part 9
by Elizabeth

~~~They're near. They're so close I can taste it. Such power!~~~ 
     ~~~Damn it, they should long since be dead!~~~ 

The menace neared the source of pure mystical energy 
it was picking up on.  It turned to bear witness to 
three young people sitting at a table, conversing 
and drinking.  Two were male, one was female.  The 
males appeared to share some sort of familial bond 
with each other, and with the girl. 

~~~So the Unholy have at long last risen!  the 
menace rejoiced.  It appears that The Elder's return 
to power does have its benefits.  With them on my 
side, The Elder will die a horrible death.~~~ 

~~~And Mankind will die along with them!~~~ 

********** 

"So you two were partners on the police force?"  
Rhea chuckled. 

"Paranormal Crimes division."  Mike confirmed.  
"There's a weird, pseudo-psychic bond we share that 
got us in...that assignment's a tough one to get." 

"We call that connection The New York Groove," Jim 
added, "so we were the Brooklyn Boys to everyone in 
the office." 

Rhea shook her head, still laughing.  "Cool!" 

"Yeah it was," Jim remarked, "at least until..." 

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. 

Mike gazed evenly at Jim.  "It wasn't your fault, 
Jimmy." 

Jim would not meet Mike's gaze.  "How can you say 
that, Mikey?  I fucking shot you.  I killed you!" 

"How did it happen?"  Rhea asked gently. 

Jim opened his mouth, then shut it.  He picked up 
his cup of coffee and took a long swig.  His hands 
were visibly shaking. 

"It was at the station."  Mike answered softly.  "We 
were there doing some paperwork, and over at the 
booking desk one of the uniformed cops was bringing 
in a suspect.  The guy was an unlicensed 
lycanthrope...an alpha male.  He broke loose and 
took a hostage...she was a rookie that Jim and I 
were pretty fond of.  The perp had shifted halfway, 
so it was even worse.  One scratch meant infection." 

"Mike and I drew our guns, along with a couple of 
other detectives in the station."  Jim added in a 
barely audible whisper.  "We were looking for a shot 
without hitting the girl." 

Rhea frowned.  "Guns?" 

"Silver bullets."  Mike explained.  "Standard issue 
for anyone in the P.C. division." 

"Anyway, Mike and I got into the Groove," Jim 
continued, "and were trying to figure out how to get 
out of the situation."  Jim paused; staring off into 
the distance at something only he could see.  "Mike 
saw an opening at the same time I did.  Thing is, he 
saw a chance to knock the guy flat and disarm 
him...I had a clean aim at the guy's head." 

"For some reason, we got cut off from each other."  
Mike continued.  "We slipped out of The Groove and 
one hand didn't know what the other was doing.  Jim 
fired at the same time I dove at the guy." 

"I nailed the perp and the hostage was fine."  Jim 
picked up.  He remained silent. 

"The bullet reached the perp through my chest."  
Mike finished for him.  "It killed me instantly." 

Rhea gasped, instinctively reaching out to twine her 
fingers with Jim's. 

He squeezed her hand and faked a smile.  "Thanks.  
Anyway, that's the whole sad story." 

"I had no idea," she breathed. 

For a moment, the trio sat in companionable silence. 

"My big stupid cousins."  Rhea remarked 
affectionately, lightly smacking Jim's shoulder. 

He smiled, feeling somewhat comforted.  The whole 
experience of reliving that terrible day was a bit 
much for him, but with Rhea's grin and musical 
laughter, he felt stronger somehow.  More powerful. 

At that moment, something began eating at Jim's 
consciousness...a sense that something terrible was 
about to happen.  It coiled heavily in his gut like 
a slimy serpent, moving with minute and terrifying 
twitches. 

"Mike."  Jim said sharply, extending a hand towards 
his brother.  He didn't speak further, only felt for 
The New York Groove and moved into it with a 
practiced efficiency he had not forgotten in the 
five years Mike had been dead. 

Mike recognized the tone of Jim's voice.  He 
followed suit and fell easily into The New York 
Groove.  When he felt Jim's consciousness wrap 
around him, he knew exactly what to do. 

He reached for Jim's hand, grabbing it fiercely. 

The moment their flesh touched, the world fell to 
pieces at Rhea's feet. 

********** 

Julia looked between the two men in confusion.  "You 
two know each other?" 

Stanley nodded.  "That we do, my darling girl.  I 
know who he is...and what he is." 

Understanding filled her.  "Oh my God...you're one 
of them, aren't you?" 

He finally looked back at her and bowed his head 
regally.  "Avatar to The Soulbearer, at your 
service." 

Julia choked back a sob, blinded by the reality of 
the situation she had just been thrust into. 

"Please, Julia."  Gene whispered, kneeling beside 
her next to the hospital bed.  "There isn't much 
time.  He truly is dying, and with the death of 
human Passion will come the end of Man.  There is no 
need for ceremony this time.  My power with that of 
my brother will be enough to complete the 
transformation and transfer." 

A warm, wrinkled hand covered her own.  It felt 
strangely dry.  She didn't need to look up to know 
that Stanley was gazing at her with pleading eyes. 

"Give an old man his last wish," he croaked, "and 
let me have that lovely body of yours for all time." 

Deep in the core of her being, she felt the icy 
touch of darkness and knew she was not the only one 
to feel it.  Far off, that cold brush also reached 
the heart of flame. 

Time was short, but she knew what was in her own 
heart. 

She knew what she had to do. 

As Stanley gently pulled her toward him and Gene 
laid a hand on each of their shoulders, she nodded 
in consent. 

There was a brush of dry, cracked lips against hers.  
Warmth poured into her flesh as those lips became 
firm and smooth, moving against hers with a more 
vigorous urgency. 

Her world was filled with the soft scent of roses as 
she lost consciousness.