Page 39 of Waltzing With Witches

“Thank you, friend,” I murmur, patting the fireplace mantel.

Moira smiles at me as we settle into his office chairs. “Are you ready, Morgan?”

Am I ready? I take a moment to contemplate that. I’m not. I don’t think I ever could be.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter. “Let’s just get this over with.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MORGAN

Apprehension chokes me when I slide the VHS tape from its protective cardboard box. My fingers tremble as I push the tape into the TV’s slot. The mechanism grabs the VHS and pulls it in, a series of clicks and whirls telling me it’s beginning to play.

“Well, that’s a blast from the past,” Wren mutters.

The TV cuts on, the picture grainy and faded. Inside a stark, tiled room sits a single chair with straps at the feet, armrests, and head.

A chill steals down my spine as I grind my teeth together. Whatever this is, it looks like a torture chamber.

“The initial Keeper training is more of an unraveling,” Moira says softly. “It’s hard to watch. But this first session is a rewiring of Keepers’ brains. After this is done, they go through more formal training on the ins and outs of fulfilling their roles.”

A title pops up on the screen: Keeper Transition—A. Zeniphon.

My mouth goes dry.

The small room’s only door opens, and Evenia strides through with both hands clasped behind her, hair pulled into a high, tight bun. She stops beside the chair and lifts an arm, resting it along the chair’s back.

“Do not fight me on this, Keeper,” she growls, her tone cruel and callous.

A figure falls through the doorway onto his knees. He slips gracefully back to his feet and rounds the chair.

The Keeper.

“Don’t call me that,” he says. “I’ve already told you I have no intention of becoming a Keeper. I don’t even live within the haven system.”

Evenia drops her hands, black claws glittering as she glares at her son. “You don’t get that choice. You should have taken the keeping test long ago. You would have if you’d been living in the system like your fathers and I asked you to. This isn’t optional.”

“I won’t,” he barks, balling his fists. “I’ve identified my mate, and I won’t pull her into the life of a Keeper’s mate. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“Do or don’t.” Evenia shrugs. “Although, at some point, you’ll have to take a partner. Keepers don’t succeed without a partner; you know that.”

“You can’t force me to do this,” he spits. “I don’t want it.”

The older vampire shoves her way into her son’s face until he backs into the wall. “You can and you will, Keeper.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop behaving like a child.”

Two more figures enter the room, trolls. Muscle is stacked on top of muscle. They’re easily three times his size.

The Keeper’s eyes flick to them, then back to his mother. “You wouldn’t.”

She grins at him. “Oh, I would, and I will. You don’t have a choice in this.”

The Keeper slumps to the tiles, his voice breaking. “Mother, please. I’m begging you not to do this to me. I’ll leave the haven system. It won’t disgrace the family. Don’t make me do this. I can’t do this to her. I won’t be me anymore. I’ll have nothing to offer he—”

A slap rings out as Evenia backhands him. Blood sprays the wall as he snaps his fangs at her. She doesn’t flinch, standing toe-to-toe with him.

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