Read Keepers of the Lost Garden (The Lost Garden Trilogy Book 2) for Free Online Page B

were a prideful and powerful bunch. So learned and experienced in some ways and simple in others. Ultimately, they were shielded from the plight of the real world. Exposed to it only in small increments at a time. Not really enough to know the harsh realities of what mortals faced, the fears that could grip them, some warranted and some not. The Chosen One challenged their very purpose. Jealousy aside, he was coming and he was going to do the job that the Daughters themselves could not do.
    She swung her feet now to the cold, flagstone floor. She allowed the cold to seep into her bare skin, scattering the weight of sleep from her body.
    It had been thirty years ago, perhaps, that she knew the Chosen One had finally been born. For the vague image in her dreams, the man with no name and no face suddenly had both. He was known as Knight and he was a hell of a good-looking man. She knew, thirty years ago, that a countdown had begun. An unknown timer in the sky had been set and the fate of Earth was in the hands of this simple mortal. Then again, perhaps he wasn’t so simple.
    She stood and dressed, feeling a sickness in the pit of her stomach. She was too old for this shit.
     
    * * *
     
    She flicked on the lamp switch next to her bed. The light illuminated a small room, comprised only of a desk, a computer, a small sofa and an original painting from Michelangelo. A dear man.
    She sighed, thinking about him and their whirlwind affair one summer in Venice.
    She slid her feet into slippers and padded over to the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom was barely large enough for her tall frame. The bedrooms and bathrooms were all small for a number of reasons. First, they were carved out of solid stone, so space, time, and manpower were a factor. Second, she never wanted herself or her Daughters to ever become too comfortable. They were here to protect and to serve, whether the world knew it or not. Each of them had to be ready to defend at a moment’s notice.
    This latest nightmare had her still shaking. As she reached for the shower lever, her quivering hand slid off twice before she was able to grasp it and give it a turn.
    The winds of change were upon them. There was nothing else to do but weather the storm. Or die trying.
    Dying. It was a word that was rarely uttered by the Daughters. An irrelevant word to any immortal, but now, she tasted it, tried it on for size, and realized that she was ready to die. She had lived long enough. She had been, for many centuries now, in a deep fatigue that even the healing oil could not erase.
    As steam clouded the small room, she stripped down to her bare skin. The image in the mirror, ghost-like and hazy from the steam, was still trim and taut. Her daily workouts never ended. She should be the most fit person on Earth, if she counted all the workouts this body of hers had suffered through.
    She stepped into the pleasant hot jet of water.
    This was not a convent. Her Daughters did not sleep on wooden slats and did not shower in cold water. They were allowed some accouterments.
    She stood there for quite some time and tried to let the heat of the water reach and soothe her tired muscles. It was a relief that would never come, no matter how hot the water was, or how long she stood under its penetrating spray.
    Equipping their mountain fortress with modern plumbing had been a nightmare. It was a project that had started hundreds of years ago and only came to fruition during the last century. In fact, the fortress was in an almost constant state of construction and renovation, as progress swept through the twentieth century. The Daughters, who were trained and skilled in all manner of advancements, could only do so much. Although the Daughters had extensive training, they had brought in truckloads of workers, all blindfolded and drugged for secrecy, to build this modern fortress deep within the Mountain of God. They were paid well and suffered through the months of near darkness and isolation from