Keeper's Finder: Keeper's Kin, #0

By Beth Alvarez

Becoming a Keeper means a second life. Turning them down means death.

 

Josh never expected to wake after the car crash. Never mind waking up dead. The Keepers—an elite underground society of vampires—want him. Accepting means survival. Refusal means certain death. If not for his girlfriend, the choice would be easy.

 

Charlotte barely had a chance to grieve Josh's death before he reached her from beyond the grave. But if Josh swears the Keeper's Oath, he'll be cut off from interaction with the mortal world—forever.

 

All they have is the grace period before the Keepers demand his decision. Three days for them to come to terms with his death and resurrection. For Charlotte to decide if she can live without him. For Josh to make his choice.

Live eternity alone, or die with her by his side?

 

Although part of the Keeper's Kin universe, Keeper's Finder can be read alone—complete with a satisfying ending.

The Keepers are waiting...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Alvarez
• Release date: Sep 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781393018278

Beth Alvarez

Beth Alvarez is an Illinois native living in Memphis, Tennessee, along with her husband, daughter, a Siberian husky, and a very mean cat. A visual arts major, she formerly worked as a freelance graphic designer. Against all advice, she makes her own book covers.Reading The Hobbit led Beth to fall in love with fantasy at age 8. She later developed a love for vampires and the supernatural, which is unsurprising, given she never outgrew the goth phase.In her free time, Beth enjoys drawing, hitting the road in her beloved Mustang, sipping tea, sewing for her Asian ball-jointed dolls, and making her prior-Marine husband spar in the kitchen for sake of writing more convincing combat scenes.She can be contacted via her website, where you can find her personal blog, and also sign up for bonus content and advance notification of new and upcoming titles:http://www.ithilear.com/newsletter.html

Book preview

Chapter One

At twenty-three years of age, there were few things Joshua Rook was sure of. That he was dead was, unfortunately, one of them.

The screeching tires and shattering glass still echoed in his ears, but the only sound here was the steady tick of a dusty grandfather clock.

He sat up on a dark-upholstered chaise, rubbing the back of his neck and blinking against the disorientation spinning in his head. Musty books and stale air assaulted his nostrils as he turned his head to look around.

Aside from the tall bookshelves behind an oversized desk, the sitting room looked like part of a funeral home. He'd seen a place much like this when his grandfather passed, two years before. Red carpet and antique furniture could have been interesting anywhere else, but here it was as bland as the artificial potted greenery scattered around the room.

Only one thing about the arrangement was off: there was no casket.

Josh held out his arms and inspected himself. The dress shirt and tie he wore seemed right for funeral, but he didn't think it common practice to lay corpses in waiting rooms before a visitation.

Or for the corpse to be moving.

Just to be sure, he pressed his fingers to his wrist and waited. Seconds ticked by.

No pulse.

Ah, you're awake.

Josh jumped and spun in his seat to face the stranger in the doorway.

The old man removed his derby hat and hung it on a rack beside the door.

He was a distinguished fellow. Tall, thin, and dressed in a full suit, complete with a narrow black tie in a Windsor knot. Josh eyed that for a long moment. He'd just taught himself that knot; he'd used it the day before, hoping to make a good impression at a job interview he'd waited too long for. It had gone well. Not that it mattered now.

Josh lowered his eyes and put his fingers to his wrist again. Am I really...

Dead? the old man asked, his face unchanging. Yes, I'm afraid so.

Josh's shoulders slumped. Are you the funeral director?

The old man's thick white brows rose as he chuckled. Certainly not. My name is Thaddeus, and I've been dead much longer than you.

So he was here to guide him to the afterlife. Josh bowed his head. His chest ached; the lack of a heartbeat was both uncomfortable and disturbing.

I realize this is difficult for you, Thaddeus said, pacing across the small waiting room to take a seat behind the cherry wood desk. It's certainly not an ideal situation, but sometimes we make do with what we are given.

Josh swallowed against the thick, dry feeling in his throat. It was oddly tangible; now that he thought about it, everything was tangible. If he was dead, nothing more than a spirit, why did he still feel the fabric moving over his skin?

Regardless of the situation, I'm pleased to have the opportunity to speak with you, Thaddeus went on in a cordial tone, sorting papers on the desk for a moment before he lacing his gnarled fingers together. Joshua, isn't it? Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?

I thought you people would know all about me, Josh replied hesitantly.

Thaddeus appeared either surprised or amused, his brows climbing again. Do you remember us bringing you across?

Joshua remembered bits and pieces about his death, though trying to call them to mind made him shudder. He recalled the noise and the force of the impact, but everything after that was a haze. He shook his head.

The old man frowned. Then what would you know about the organization?

This wasn't what Josh had imagined when his grandmother told him he'd be questioned outside the Pearly Gates. His brow furrowed and he shifted back, suddenly wary. Am I going to hell?

At that, Thaddeus burst out laughing.

Josh stifled rising irritation.

I apologize, the old man said. He cleared his throat and smothered another laugh. Allow me to explain, as I see you truly have no idea what is going on. We are not so dead as that, young man. I believe some would call us damned, but most prefer the term undead.

If his heart had been beating, Josh thought it would have skipped one. His stomach heaved, proving itself fully functional. Like zombies?

Thaddeus snorted. Zombies are both repugnant and fragile, and they do not retain a modicum of intelligence past death. No, young man. Nothing like zombies. Vampires.

Josh stared back in silence for a long time. Then he rose, crossed to the window, and reached for the curtains.

I wouldn't do that, if I were you.

He pulled them open a sliver. Sunlight lanced over his arm, hot as a brand, scorching his flesh through the thin linen of his white dress shirt. Josh shouted, jerking backwards and letting the curtain fall back into place.

Thaddeus turned his attention back to the papers on his desk. Imagine that.

Biting his tongue to keep from cursing, Josh unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and rolled it up. A narrow stripe of blistered flesh greeted him. He released his breath in an angry hiss. I thought vampires were nocturnal!

Generally speaking, yes. Thaddeus shrugged.

Then why is the sun up?

Why are you peeling back the curtains? What do you expect to see?

Josh opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. What had he expected? Some familiar landscape to orient himself with? A mass of clouds or fiery brimstone to prove the old man was lying?

If you're inclined to investigate further, there's a mirror in the hallway. It's useless to us, but does provide the benefit of revealing if any of our kind come to visit. The elder vampire tapped a few papers on the desk to align their edges. I find there are two kinds of fledglings; those who panic, and those who try to rationalize their condition. Which are you, I wonder?

Oh, he felt like panicking. He couldn't run outside, not if the light burned him, but he might be able to figure out where he was. Or if he had a reflection. Everything inside him urged him to run to the hallway to see if his reflection was there. Instead, Josh swallowed hard and returned to the chaise. Panic wouldn't help him. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down.

A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of the old man's mouth. I see.

A hallucination, Josh decided. It was the most likely explanation, perhaps brought on by trauma. He'd heard about those kind of things from his mother; as a nurse, she brought home all sorts of strange stories.

None so strange as the living dead, however.

The accident, Josh managed. He dragged his tongue over his lips and wished his mouth weren't so dry. I was in a car crash. That's related to this, isn't it?

After a fashion. Thaddeus frowned now, reaching for a pen. It was most unfortunate. You were the only casualty in an accident involving a gentleman driving under the influence. A frightful mess. You would not be here if one of us hadn't been looking for you.

Josh stared back at him. Why would anyone have been looking for him? Never mind a vampire. If there were vampires. I don't understand.

You were brought across at the cusp between life and death. It happened on the scene. Had a Keeper not been present before the paramedics arrived, you would have been declared dead before they ever cut your seatbelt to get you free. There was a grim sort of amusement in the old man's voice. Of course, this did prevent certain protocols from being followed. Given that the alternative was a more permanent sort of death, it was decided we may as well turn you and have a chance to speak.

A chance to speak? Josh scrubbed a hand through his dirty blond hair and stifled a laugh of disbelief. Forget talking. I have to see my family!

I'm afraid that's not possible.

Neither was being a vampire. Yet here he was, rubbing the blistered skin on his forearm. It still burned, proof enough for him he was alive—whether or not he had a pulse. Why not?

Thaddeus grimaced and tapped his pen against the paper. It's been several days, Mr. Rook. Your family has already held a closed-casket visitation and—as far as they know—had you cremated.

Josh's shoulders sagged and he was suddenly grateful he was already sitting. So he was dead. Really dead, in more ways than one.

He raised a hand to his mouth and ran a finger over his teeth. The razor tip on one of his canines slit his fingertip. He jerked, pulling his hand back. A tiny droplet of crimson welled in the cut.

Sorrow wrenched his heart and he pressed one palm to his chest. Again, he grimaced at the aching lack of a heartbeat.

Why? he asked in a whisper when