📎 A/N. Hello dear friends. I hope you are all doing well. As usual things are very hectic, so I do apologize for being behind with responding to all your lovely comments. I do appreciate every single one of them, but life is somehow getting in the way at the moment.

This chapter is a little long, so I have separated it into two parts. I hope you enjoy it. If you do, don't forget to vote!

This chapter is dedicated to my father who is very ill and valiantly fighting a chronic autoimmune disease.

Take care.

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As much as it went against his investigative nature, Ryker held his tongue and remained quiet. A volley of questions bombarded his over active mind. One after another until he simmered on a low burn.

No matter how much he tried cajoling Keira, she wouldn't divulge the sudden and urgent need to meet with Deacon. What had been most surprising was the phone conversation, informing Deacon they were on their way back and to clear his calendar for the remainder of the day.

Ryker had to hide a smirk at how the demand would have been received from his adopted parent. It wasn't often that Deacon had anyone, let alone a witch, dictating terms. What had him on high alert was her terse tone during the scant phone conversation. It was clear she was pissed at Deacon. For what, he didn't know but was eager to find out. His only consolation was that her ire wasn't directed at him – yet. More surprising was that the ancient and powerful Vampire did nothing to retaliate against the way in which he was being ordered.

What the hell is going on? I've seen others lose their life for less.

Ryker stole a glance at the striking woman holding on for dear life in the passenger seat. A few wisps of flame red hair had managed to pry itself from the severe bun at the crown of her head. Except her hair, the rest of her was meticulously in place. Her clothes, while expensive, were understated and non-descript. The brisk and standoffish persona that she projected ensured that she came across as unapproachable and distant.

She was an enigma. In the short time he had known her he couldn't help but see beyond the walls she erected around her. It was if she were deliberately underplaying her true nature.

Ryker had been more than shocked when her sister had suddenly materialised. He was still trying to come to terms with how they could possibly be sisters. Sure, they looked alike; but where Dayna was vibrant and loud, Keira was restrained and reserved.

He had spent the better part of the day trying to reconcile her outward appearance to the person that hid in the shadows. She took no prisoners, that was clear; and to be honest, he actually enjoyed pushing her buttons. The woman gave as much as she got, which only made him the more curious about her motivations.

The problem was, he couldn't quite put his finger on what that was.

It's quite possible she's a compulsive liar and crackpot, he thought. After all, what sane witch thought she was hundreds of years old and believed the devil was real?

He was about to break the silence when his phone beat him to it. Ryker glanced at the caller ID on the dash and answered.

"Sheriff Kincaid."

"Hey boss, you far away?" asked Deputy Alan Trudeau.

His voice came through the cars speakers a little too loud, and Ryker glanced across apologetically at Keira, who had visibly flinched at the booming sound. He turned down the volume before he replied.

"Could be a while. What's up?"

"The historical society want to know when they can open to the public again. Mildred's been on my case all day."

"Have the analysts released the scene yet?"

"Um... not that I know of."

"Well, that's your answer then."

"They're getting quite antsy about it. Are you close to getting back to the station? Maybe you can speak to them when you get back."

Ryker understood why the society was champing at the bit to reopen. Being the height of tourist season, every day's takings counted. However, his Deputy knew the rules; it appeared enforcing them was another issue. "I'm a while away. Get Mitos to deal with them."

"He did," Alan said, "and it set Mildred off. I think she's going to lodge a complaint. She took exception to him advising her to take her cankles and silly bird's nest hat home."

Ryker chortled under his breath. He had to agree with Mitos's assessment of her water retention problem in the lower part of her legs. "But Mildred doesn't wear hats," he said, imagining how irate she would have been.

"She wasn't. I think she was just having a bad hair day."

Ryker groaned. Wilber Mitos was, by far, his oldest Deputy. He was a year shy of retirement, and it was well overdue. While he was a good law enforcement officer, his cantankerous nature had ensured most people steered well clear of him. And those that didn't, wished they had.

"Look, Alan, you're an officer of the law. You're used to dealing with this stuff, sort it out."

Alan let out a deflated breath. "Sorry boss, it's just been a little more manic than normal. I hope yours fared better. Did you get anything from the autopsy results?"

"I'll fill you in tomorrow, I'm not sure when I'll be back at the station," Ryker said. "Just make sure you keep your partner away from Mildred."

"10-4 boss."

By the time he managed to finish his conversation with Alan, they were pulling into the small parking lot behind city hall.

As she emerged from the car he noticed her resolve. If he thought she was tense before, she was bordering on statue rigid now.

"Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

Keira stood tall and pulled down her suit jacket to straighten it, all the while not meeting his gaze. Her lips set into a grim line, and she turned to face him. He was rattled at the uncertainty and fear reflected in her eyes.  Ryker was torn between reaching out to her to assure her everything was going to be fine, and turning tail and running a mile. If she was this nervous about the conversation, he was positive he wasn't going to like it.

"Fine, just feeling a little ill from your inability to keep to the speed limit," she said with a weak smile. He wasn't fooled, the emerald eyed witch was trying to make light of the situation.

***

As it was almost the end of the public opening hours of city hall, the building was relatively quiet, with only the employees floating around the deserted floors. When they reached the Mayor's outer office, Ananya, Deacon's petite secretary, looked up from her monitor and peered over the rim of her glasses at him.

"Hey gorgeous, how's my favourite ladakee today?" he asked as he strode across the room.

Her wrinkled face, weathered by time, scrunched into a scowl as she glared at him. "It was going fine until a little while ago. He's in a right mood," she said nodding towards the closed door beyond. "And it began just after he found out you were coming to see him."

Ananya folded her arms across her chest and sat back in her chair. "What have you done now? Whatever it is, you'd better fix it."

Ryker shrugged. He was in the dark as much as their ward. "For once, it's not me." He nodded towards Keira, who was standing silently beside him. "If you want to take it out on someone, I'd go with her."

"Me?" Keira said with indignation. "I've got nothing to do with it."

Ananya leaned forward and peered over her glasses at Keira. "So you're the stuck-up witch," she said.

Keira visibly stiffened.

Ryker groaned aloud. He should have kept his mouth shut. "That's not what I said, and you know it."

Ananya waved her hand dismissively in the air. "All I know is you were rude not to bring her here to meet me before you ran off this morning like I said. For all you know, I could have been dead before you got back. I'm not getting any younger."

She turned to Keira and broke out into a full smile as her pristine false teeth shone brightly against her dark skin. "My dear, as Ryker clearly has no manners, I will just have to introduce myself. I'm Ananya Gupta, Deacon's long-suffering secretary. If there's anything you need to make your stay comfortable, just let me know."

"Pleased to meet you too," Keira said as she looked questioningly between Ryker and Ananya. "Ryker didn't mention we were supposed to swing by here first.  I suspect, he might have been too busy planning the new land speed record to remember."

Ananya burst out laughing. "I like this one," she said looking at him.

Ryker rolled his eyes. Ananya had admonished him for the exact same thing, ever since she was a child, fresh off the streets of Calcutta where he and Deacon had found her.

"Can we go in?" he asked before the two women could gang up on him.

Ananya cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but in that mood, I'm not sure of your chances of getting out alive, or not dead in your case."

Ryker made his way over to the door and held it open for Keira to go first. As they walked into his office, Deacon's voice could be heard deep in conversation. He closed the door and indicated for Kiera to follow him.

As they took a seat on one of the couches along the far wall, he noticed Keira's curiosity peaked as she couldn't help but overhear the phone conversation.

"It's Japanese," Ryker said quietly. "Odds are, he's talking to the mayor of Salem's sister city, Ota." He stopped and turned into the discussion. After a moment he turned back to Keira and nodded. "Yep, he's speaking to Matsubara, the current mayor.  Should be interesting to see what excuse he uses this time."

"Excuse?" Keira asked.

"Matsubara has been trying to get Deacon to come for an official visit."

"And what's wrong with that?"

Ryker scratched the back of his neck and glanced over at Deacon. "Let's just say Tokyo is not somewhere Deacon, or I could ever step foot in again."

"Let me guess. Girls, money or your dangerous driving?"

Ryker placed a hand over his heart, feigning pain. "You wound me."

"So which was it?" she pressed.

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "All three if you must know."

The sound of the phone being placed into its cradle snapped his attention back to the reason they were there. He swung his head around to discover Deacon was watching him intently. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something wasn't right. He could normally sense how Deacon was feeling. Right now, his walls were impenetrable.

"You manage to put him off?" Ryker asked, referring to the conversation with the Japanese Mayor.

Deacon nodded. "For now." He then exhaled and pushed back his chair and stood. "We'd better get this over with."

Ryker was on high alert as he watched his friend make his way toward them.

"The only problem is, I don't know where to begin," Deacon said as he sunk into the chair opposite theirs.

"How about you start with how you knew my mother," Keira said quietly. "I suspect that Ryker is having difficulty taking my word on my age."

"To be honest," Deacon admitted, "if I didn't know better, I'd probably doubt your word as well. It's unheard of for anyone other than vampire's and were's to live that long."

"Wait. What?" Ryker interrupted. He was sure he hadn't heard this correctly.

Deacon made a slight bow of his head at Keira. "Forgive me, I know ladies normally don't like divulging their age, but I'm sure you'll forgive me this indiscretion." He then turned to Ryker and said, "I first met Annabeth Subrinski, Keira's mother, in 1665. Keira was born at the end of that decade, and her sister a short time after that."

Ryker's head snapped to Keira, who was clutching onto the pendant around her neck. This wasn't possible!

However, the moment her eyes met his, he knew it to be the truth. The weariness reflected in her eyes gave it away. He was stunned on why he hadn't noticed it before. It was a look only someone who had seen history unfold, and witnessed the same mistakes repeated one too many times, could achieve.

Deacon sighed and settled back in in the chair. "We met during the great plague of London. Annabeth, always the healer, was ministering to the inflicted, as well as fight an uphill battle to teach the poor how to be more hygienic and quell the spread. You have to remember; London was a dirty, unkempt city at the time. Everywhere you went, vermin were everywhere. It was a city imploding on itself. The rich didn't care, they'd already abandoned the city to their clean country estates."

"Why were you there?" Keira asked.

"The chaos gave us an opportunity to over indulge. It created a feeding frenzy for vampires. We could feed at will. In hindsight, we were no better than the gentry who left the city in ruins," Deacon said. He raised an eyebrow. "Would you believe that many of us were employed by the parishes as 'Searches of the dead'. Our duty was to inspect a corpse and determine the cause of death. No one really noticed when we added to the count and declared it the result of the plague."

Declan let out a cynical laugh; Ryker had heard some of this story before and knew Deacon was remorseful for his past actions. "What was worse, was that searchers were entitled to charge a small fee from relatives for each death they reported. So we took the poor sods' lives and charged their family for it."

"Didn't people start wondering why healthy people suddenly turn up dead from the plague?" Keira asked.

Deacon shook his head. "We were careful. As tempting as it was, we didn't feed on those that weren't ill. We chose people who were in the early stages of the disease, anything after that, and our bodies would react violently to the tainted blood."

"So how did you know my mother?" Keira asked.

"For a big city, we seemed to run into each other at every turn. At first, I was reluctant to go too near her. There was no doubt in my mind who, and what, she was. I could just feel it. Just as I can with you," Deacon said.

Deacon paused and shifted in his chair before he continued. "At the time, there was a heightened level of animosity between the different supernatural factions. There had been sufficient generations since the door had been sealed shut, that the majority of the witches had no idea why there was a natural inclination to distrust vampires. By then, it had become a thing of legend. An ancient folk tale to scare children if you will. The only two groups who knew the real story were the Crossroads Covens and the Primordial Vampires like me, who survived 'the culling'."

Ryker was confused but, none the less, held his tongue. No doubt Deacon would explain it in due course. He already knew Deacon to be one of the Primordial Vampires - the original of their kind. In addition to being faster and stronger than a turned vampire, only Primordial's had the ability to turn someone into a vampire. So what's this 'culling'? he wondered. Holding his question, Ryker focused back on his friend's explanation.

"Everything changed early one Tuesday morning as I was making my way down Market Lane," continued Deacon. "The sun wasn't yet over the horizon and, as usual, Annabeth was coming and going around the city tending to those in need. I spotted her and was about to turn and leave when I noticed her shouting and banging on the front door of a rundown building. It was then I realised a young child had somehow fallen partway out the open window of the second story of the house she was trying to get into. The moment she detected my presence she demanded, in no uncertain terms, I scale the building and get the child safely back inside."

"So what did you do?"

Deacon smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I did what any sane person would do when being commanded by Annabeth; I did what I was told. After the boy was put safely back in his bed and the window was secure, Annabeth invited me for breakfast. That was the beginning of one of my most prized friendships. Throughout the ordeal of the year that followed, I came to learn that she was one of the Amesbury Coven witches. The only Crossroads Coven in England, and one of the oldest covens across the globe. She knew my past and didn't condemn me for it. It was such a relief to be able to converse with someone and not have to worry if I was divulging secrets I had sworn to keep.  I could talk freely with her. It was through this friendship I learnt restraint. She made me understand that while I needed blood to survive, I didn't need to take a life to do so."

Deacon paused, and Ryker could see his eyes glazed over as he remembered the past. After what seemed an eternity Deacon continued.

"About a year after we met, the plague slowed. I lost count of the number of bodies that littered the street—the stench still haunts me to this day. Finally, the death tally reduced enough that the Gentry returned to London. It looked like there was light at the end of the tunnel. Annabeth, however, wasn't so sure. She was convinced something else lurked in the shadows, and she was right."

"What happened?" asked Ryker. He was fascinated by the unfolding tale. This was a part of the story he hadn't been told.

"The great fire of London," Deacon said solemnly. "It not only eradicated the disease, but it also took the lives of the majority of witches and gifted that hadn't succumbed to the plague."

Deacon brought his head up to face Keira. "Your mother was devastated. It didn't matter how many lives she saved, she was convinced she should have done more. Once the ash had settled, so to speak, she left the city and returned home. It wasn't long after that she met your father and life returned to normal. Over the next few years, our paths crossed more than once."

"The last time I saw her, you were but a child no older than five, and what a headstrong child you were," he said chuckling at the memory. "Some of the coven were preparing to travel to the new world. They had received word that the doorway was unguarded."

"What happened?"

"As within many of the indigenous population at the time, the local protectors were being either killed or run off, by the new arrivals and a new coven was needed to take their place; one that would fit in with the local puritans," answered Deacon.

He sighed, sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I think she had known her fate before she left. It wasn't until many years later I understood her cryptic farewell."

Ryker heard a restrained whimper beside him and turned to discover Keira's eyes had welled with unshed tears. The rehashing of old memories was taking its toll. "Is that why you came to Salem?" she asked in a broken voice.

Deacon rubbed his jaw and let out frustrated sigh. "At first, I was in denial. I heard what had happened to your mother, and I suppose I rejected the message it heralded. The next hundred years were a bit of a blur. I roamed aimlessly from continent to continent. Somehow, I always found myself gravitating to an ancient doorway. At first, I thought it was a coincidence; but, over time it was clear there was a pattern. Alongside each of the Crossroads Covens' was a small coven of primordial vampires. They had appointed themselves as the protectors of the earth witches and, without their knowledge, watched over them. It wasn't until I returned to England and visited Stonehenge, that I realised that Annabeth's coven was no different. Unbeknown to them, three of my kind stood vigil and had for a millennium."

Deacon then glanced across at Ryker. The pained expression reflected in his adopted parents face kept Ryker from firing questions at him. As much as it was against his nature, Ryker held off from is natural investigative predisposition, and allowed Deacon to continue his walk down memory lane.

A faint smile emerged from Deacon as his face softened. "It was about this time I stumbled upon this reprobate," he said, indicating Ryker. "He'd been newly turned and left for dead by his sire after he refused to kill an innocent family who had the misfortune to live in a house that she coveted. Once he recovered, I took it upon myself to provide the guidance and the skills he would need to survive in the community he found himself."

"I wouldn't go that far," Ryker remarked, attempting to add a bit of levity to the situation. "I had plenty skills, and managed to teach you a thing or two along the way if memory serves. Don't forget about that lesson in Casablanca with those identical twins."

Keira rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure that's the skills he was referring to," she said. "And I don't really need to hear about your sordid past."

"Why not? I thought you Brainiac's were always up to learning something new."

She ignored him and turned back to Deacon. "Is that when you came to Salem?" she asked.

Deacon shook his head and fixed his gaze on the stack of magazines on the table that separated the two chairs. "I would have liked to say I did the noble and right thing, but that would be a lie. It took me another fifty years to get up the courage to step foot on American soil; and a few more after that to make it here. It was then I discovered that, unlike the others across the globe, there was no protection. I have no idea if they ever did, and to this day I wonder if things could have turned out differently if I followed your family and stood vigil as they tried to prosper in a foreign and strange land."

"Don't blame yourself," Keira said, "it was mother's choice to do what she did, and no amount of vampire protection could have stopped her."

For a long while, Deacon stared at Keira, the conflict and self-loathing clear for all to see.

Ryker, understanding Deacon's need to air old ghosts, long since dead, had allowed him to tell his story uninterrupted. So many things now made sense. While they had travelled extensively since their first visit to Salem, they seemed to gravitate back to it on a regular basis. He now understood Deacon's initial insistence they keep their distance from the local witches, while at the same time, knowing who each one was.

However, what had him on high alert with an uneasy feeling shooting through his body, was the references to a doorway and an implication that something sinister lurked just behind, waiting to push through at any moment.

Ryker decided his need for answers now overrode Deacon's need to vent and opened his mouth to speak. He was cut off by Deacon, who rose from his chair and began to pace the room.

"The witch trials across the globe were orchestrated to deplete the witch population; more importantly, anyone who could tap into the crossroads power. We all knew it; and, at the time, like fools, we thought it wasn't our problem. We were free, and that's all that mattered."

"Whose, this royal 'we'?" asked Ryker. "Because this is all news to me."

"Primordial vampires," Deacon answered. "As with the Crossroads witches, it was knowledge we chose not to hand down to anyone outside those directly affected. We couldn't risk anyone trying to free the master."

The fact that he was deliberately kept in the dark hit Ryker like a tonne of bricks. It was irrelevant that he had no idea about what.  "The bit that I'm still not getting is this secret that you all seem to be hiding. Let's forget about the fact that you didn't trust me enough to share it with me in the... oh... let's say anytime within the last two hundred years!" he said, raising his voice in anger.

Deacon raked a hand through his hair and said, "Ryker, you need to understand, we made an oath to protect us all. It was safer you didn't know. What I had failed to appreciate was that this wasn't enough. Annabeth made me realise that unless we protect the witch population, we are the authors to our own demise. If he breaches any of the doorways, we will be either the first casualties or compelled to do the masters bidding. Trapped in our own minds, unable to anything not directly command; in perpetual agony and torment as the masters will overrides our own."

Keira nodded. "Which is why we need to find the rest of the coven and keep them safe while we find out who's behind these killings," she said.

"It can only be the Order," Deacon said, as he stopped his aimless wander and stood to face her.

Ryker had enough. He spoke many languages. Had received a number of university degrees over the years, just to pass the time. But for the life of him, they were speaking in tongues. Not one word made sense. He bolted up from his position and boomed, "Enough! Before you two go off on your little jaunt, into whatever strange place you're headed, I suggest you put it in park and tell me what the fuck you are going on about. What is this door? Who are you so afraid of? And what, or who, is this order."

Ryker glared at Deacon and pointed at the chair he had vacated. "Sit."

He then turned to Keira. "I know, without a doubt, I am not going to like whatever you two are about to tell me. I suspect, however, that it relates to whatever you were trying to tell me last night." Ryker then headed towards the wet bar, reached for a bottle of Glenfiddich and three glasses. "If it is, I am going to need something to help me get through this," he muttered.

Ryker poured a shot in two of the glasses and filled his to the brim. He picked it up, took a gulp and nodded to Keira. "You can begin by telling me about this damn door."

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📎 A/N. Wait? What? How could I possibly stop it there... where's the rest??

Fear not, I am working on the next chapter and, provided nothing major gets in the way, should have it up in the next day or so. It will only be a short chapter but will answer Ryker's questions... maybe *evil laugh*

Don't forget to vote and let me know what you thought. :-)

Till' next time...

Take care and be safe.

❤ ℳ