Keepers of the Blood
By Alice Tang
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About this ebook
Lilah has been a good girl all her life. She plays by the rules, never pees on the floor, and always obeys her masters. She's fair. She's well-fed. She's a specimen. Yes, Lilah has it all—but a chance encounter with a mysterious creature in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park will set Lilah on a path to unsettling inner discovery. Is her city life enough to bottle the animal inside?
Alice Tang
San Franciscan "city bitch" and author of bite-sized fiction.
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Keepers of the Blood - Alice Tang
Prologue
The wild dogs tell me that there is nothing wild about city life, but I think that is not true. Take my masters for instance. They tasted The Blood long before I ever did. Truthfully it was my masters who introduced me to The Blood, even if maybe it was all by accident. Life was very different then. Before meeting the creatures of the night. Before tasting The Blood. Before I was shown that path deep inside me, hidden and seldom traveled, that led to an unknown and secret place.
*
My masters, they dubbed me Lilah Girl. And while I have met many others of my kind, from the beginning I knew that I was different. I am what they call a specimen.
My humans are not the only humans who call me this. It means that I am fair and desirable, and it makes my heart soar to be a specimen because it makes my masters most proud.
My home is at the top of many winding stairs near the Golden Gate Park. Masters call it the Golden Gate when they do not want me to know we are about to go for walkies. But I know. My masters are good masters. They brush me and say to me that I am the Apple of Their Eyes, which means that I am a good girl. And while my masters are both kind in heart, they could not be more different.
Firstly there is Daddy. Unlike Mommy, Daddy makes work at home from his computer. He will sit typing in his big chair and say to me, Where’s my girl?
and that is when I come lay on his feet because it is what he likes. Daddy’s body is hard and warm, and his wavy blonde hair smells vaguely of ocean salt. The coarse hairs on his face feel good to lick. He laughs when I do this. I love Daddy. And I suspect that Daddy is a specimen, like me, because when we go on walkies, lady humans make bright eyes at him and I can smell a hot musk between their legs that is not dissimilar from the smell of Mommy and Daddy making sex.
Daddy takes me for walkies every day, before the sun peeks out from behind the hills. Mommy says that he is out of his mind
for taking walkies so early, and if that is true, then I am most grateful he is. Twilight time is my very favorite time to walk in the park, when the paths I know so well are distorted by a dancing mist and the world itself is blanketed in a crisp, rejuvenating dew. The world is still making sleeps, and I can hear farther and smell deeper. My nose prickles under