Keeper Chronicles: Awakening Read Online Free Page B

into the trees and toward the keeper’s house that overlooked the cove. Lorek and his daughter lived there in the converted b-n-b. Just beyond that, the Meceta Head Light twirled golden and strong. No problem there—at least none he could see from a distance.
    As he drove his Jet Ski up onto the beach, he noticed the bluish glow of halogen headlights stopped in the center of the elegant Cape Creek Bridge. Normally, a pair of headlights wouldn’t catch his eye, but if they belonged to Moore’s patrol car, he needed to know. She might be hurt. Or worse.
    Gabe took some rope from the compartment beneath the Jet Ski’s seat and secured his ride to one of the nearby pine trees. The high tide had gone out already, but it still didn’t seem prudent to risk his only mode of transportation washing out to the ocean. That finished, he took another moment to change into his Park Services uniform. Only having a gun for defense left him feeling naked. He pulled back the slide to check that a round was loaded and let it snap back with a click. Might as well get this over with.
    The trail leading away from the beach and up the cliff was deserted, the thunder a distant growl. No more demons should be spawned in this area, but that didn’t mean that one hadn’t sunk past Lorek. Crouching, Gabe inhaled slowly, letting his sharpened sense of smell take over. Pine. Salt. Brine. Mold. Animal droppings. Musk from a skunk. A hint of beer from discarded cans.
    He jumped up and started running down the path toward the bridge.
    The last scent had been faint but unmistakable.
    Human blood.

Chapter Three
    Rebekah laughed and tucked her chin-length black hair behind her ears. She and Dylan sat on the faded green sofa in front of the fireplace: she with her legs tucked beneath her and her back to the armrest; he angled sideways, his body pointing toward her. For the last hour, he’d been inching closer, until now their knees touched.
    “I’m being completely serious. I’d never seen him before—must’ve been drunk or had Alzheimer’s or something—but when he ran across that stage buck naked in front of the fine women of the Amherst Horticultural Society during our first paying gig, I knew that was the name I wanted for the band.”
    “Silver Streakers?” she guessed, arching an eyebrow.
    “Yep.”
    She started laughing, then stopped when a sharp chill stole her breath. Shivering, Rebekah rubbed her arms. “I’m freezing; I think we need more wood.” The last time she’d felt so cold was the day her mother died.
    When she moved to stand, he put his hand on her knee and squeezed. “Don’t get up. Allow me.”
    “I can’t. You’re a guest.”
    “Nonsense. I’m like a stray puppy you’ve kindly allowed in your home to dry by the fire.” Dylan stood, went over to the wood rack, and took off two decent sized logs which he carefully laid on the fire. “It’s not your fault the tow company can’t get out till the morning. I refuse to be a burden since you’ve so kindly opened up your home to me.”
    A surge of warmth helped chase away the cold chill. Rebekah hoped it covered the blush heating up her cheeks. He sat back down next to her, even closer, as the rain continued beating a pleasant staccato against the porch roof. “Your life must be so exciting.”
    He shrugged and leaned forward, the tips of his fingers grazing the top of her knee; the shiver she felt that time had nothing to do with the temperature. His fingers teased the tips of hers as if asking for permission. “Not really. I spend more nights sleeping in my car than I do a bed, and the largest audience I’ve drawn was at this dive in Oklahoma that had midget wrestling. For some reason, I don’t think people came to see my performance. But enough about me. Let’s talk about you, instead.”
    “Well,” she said, her fingers caressing his of their own free will, “I’m pretty simple. I’ve run this little bed-n-breakfast since my mother passed away six