Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series) (7 page)

The depth of the closet was more walk-in style than any of the others in the house. I searched the shelves, found old hat boxes filled with memorabilia, rather than hats, and several dust covered photo albums. I tossed the albums onto the floor for later viewing and slowly turned full circle, searching the walls for a small hook that held a key. Again, I was disappointed. I gathered the albums and shut the closet door.

Bundled in my arms, the thick leather-bound books grew heavy as I made my way downstairs. I stumbled onto the sofa when Mrs. Douglas surprised me by entering the room on silent feet. My pulse raced and my fluster must have shown because she smiled and said she’d be going home. I said goodbye and watched as she left the same way she’d come in.

At the door, she turned, gave the books a quick, but strange glance and then said she’d be back in the morning. I smiled, offered a slight wave and wondered at her reaction. Was there a secret I shouldn’t know? Had I become completely barmy to think there was danger here other than Gran’s demise? Good golly, if I wasn’t careful, my relatives would try to commit me to the nearest funny farm.

Uncertain over what had happened to Gran, a slew of questions had become my newfound friends. I didn’t like it one bit and poured a glass of wine, chugged it down like water, and poured a second. I picked up the glass, decided sipping was healthier than chugging, and headed back to the living room.

All was calm and quiet, Drake soothed me by merely being nearby. I spread the books out over the coffee table, checking to see if they were labeled by date. The earliest book of the bunch was encased in dark brown leather, edged in gold, and was heavy. I hauled it onto my lap, crossed my legs and settled in to view the photos.

My mother and father stood arm-in-arm. She was a tall woman with a great smile, brown hair and green eyes, and had a happy expression on her face. I realized how much I resembled her and was nearly her height. My father looked about the same as he did now, but without the wrinkles and slackness added to his skin. His hair was darker than my mother’s and his blue eyes were filled with happiness. Words scrawled underneath were in Gran’s handwriting and were brief to say the least. Just their names and the date the photo was taken. It was four years before I was born. I studied the picture, wondering what my mother was like. The brief description left me feeling that Gran hadn’t thought much of her, though she’d never said as much.

I flipped through the next few pages, realized many of the people were strangers to me, but then, I hadn’t been born yet, either. After I’d arrived and my mother had passed on, I’d lived at the estate until I was old enough to go to boarding school and hadn’t been included in the close family circle due to my father’s inability to be a family man, but an adventurer instead. I’d had a nanny until I reached school age and then I was packed off to St. Augustine’s private school in Boston.

By the end of the first album, I’d become a tad pensive. How much family life had I missed? A lot, I guessed from browsing the pages of our history. Anger, an unusual state of affairs for me, simmered alongside a goodly amount of resentment. According to the descriptions and names of those in the pictures, I knew this was my kin, how could my father have prevented me from knowing about this proud family? The next couple of books were filled with old photos of hunting parties, fish caught and held up for display, and crowds of folks lounging on the property, dressed in party attire. No one had ever spoken of these events, and the more I browsed the photos, the more cheated I felt.

I slumped back against the sofa pillows and slid the book from my lap. Had my life been so bad? Hadn’t I met people from all over the world and made fast friends with them? I’d been invited to spend long weekends with families of publishing magnates, senators, and film stars in places like New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles. I’d even gone to the Cayman Islands and stayed at a Congressman’s estate with his daughter for a few weeks on a spring break from Harvard. Would I have had those opportunities if I’d been here on the estate my entire life? Likely not, but would Drake and I have become closer? Could I have been more aware of what was truly happening to Gran if I’d lived with her, or if my father hadn’t been such a wanderer and we’d been a real family? Eventually, I’d ask those questions and see what his answers would be.

The mantel clock struck the hour and was joined by a rap on the door. I jumped off the sofa, sent books flying and knew Cullen had arrived. Shit, I wasn’t ready. I looked down at my clothes, saw my disarray and wished I’d been more cognizant of the time.

When a second rap sounded, I rushed over and invited Cullen in. His eyes took in my attire, a displeased look crossed his features, and I said, “Don’t get upset, I’ll be right back.”

I left him standing in the doorway, while I raced upstairs, freshened up and threw on a dress that I’d left hanging in the closet the last time I’d visited Gran. Thankful for small reprieves, I combed my hair, ran lipstick over my lips and stood gawking in the mirror for a moment. This would have to do.

He flipped through page after page of photos as I descended. His attention seemed especially intent upon one or two photos. Before I could get a gander at them, he closed the book and turned to me, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. It seemed I passed muster and was glad of it.

We’d left the property behind and careened over the narrow road. At one point, I gripped the armrest and said, “Do you think we’ll arrive at our destination safely, or do you always drive like a madman?”

He glanced over, gave me a cool grin and said, “If you hadn’t been tardy, we’d be on time.”

Okay, so I’d been reprimanded, big deal. I shrugged and stared out the passenger side window. “No need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“If you’d have been ready as I asked, we wouldn’t be rushed,” he remarked.

Still feeling bitchy over my father’s lifestyle, and how it had affected mine, I took my irritation out on Cullen.

“If waiting was too much of an imposition for you, why not take me back home and leave me to my own devices for the evening?”

Tension filled the car. I’d been cranky to the one person who’d treated me well since I’d arrived, other than Mrs. Douglas, that is. Contrite, I murmured, “Sorry, just tired. Where are we going for dinner?”

“I think you’re more than tired, but we can discuss that later. Tonight you and I are on a fact-finding mission, so get your head together and pay attention. A man named Arwin Perkell will be the guest of honor at a dinner party. Listen to what he says when he has conversations with others. You’re an unknown at the party, attractive, and well spoken. He’ll find you interesting, especially since you are assumed to be the new dragon keeper.”

He thought I was attractive? Really? The rest of his words slowly sank in, and I gaped at him as he smoothly negotiated a sharp curve in the road that led into a deep valley, where an enormous mansion loomed, imposing on the entire area. 

Windows blazed with light, cars were strewn willy-nilly across the estate in a haphazard manner. Apparently no one cared who parked on the lawn or where they left their cars. I imagined how the grounds keeper might cringe in the morning when he had to groom the property to return it to a pristine condition.

We left the car near the edge of the grounds, sauntered across crushed stone, and walked into an ostentatious vestibule that made me gasp. Gilded walls reminded me of mansions that I’d seen on a tour of Newport, Rhode Island. Velvet furnishings were accentuated by petite marble-topped tables, and rich tapestries hung everywhere.

I felt the grip of Cullen’s hand tighten on my arm as he whispered, “Show time. Keep your wits about you and don’t gasp again.” He turned to the man on his left, who ogled me as I stepped back, and gave him a cool smile. “Good evening, George.”

I peeked around Cullen’s elbow and stepped forward. Before introductions could be made, George gave Cullen a brief glance and centered his attention on me as he said, “I see you brought the dragon keeper.” He leaned forward, offered me a razor-sharp smile, and took my hand in his. His crepe paper skin gave me the willies, and left me with a sense of having touched a long-dead corpse. His features were sharp and bony, the skin covering them stretched tight.

He led me away from Cullen and we walked around the glittering room as he explained his lineage and the centuries of his ancestors’ lives depicted in the numerous paintings hanging on the walls. Every painting included a dragon, looking intently out at the viewer. Large, small, or tiny, a dragon had been inserted, even though it took time to find the small ones. We stopped in front of a painting that nearly caused me to gasp. Drake was in full war mode, his golden eyes afire, and his fangs bared while his claws ripped through an advancing army. He was vicious, angry, and menacing. I loved him anyway.

“This is Drake the Conqueror. He was a fierce dragon who aided my family in the fifth century. With his help, my ancestors brought many a battle to a final end. We, of course, were the victors. Unfortunately, Drake is no longer with the remainder of our dragon collection that is kept under lock and key, but resides at Dragon Hill, instead.” His words were followed by a sniff, and I turned to see the gleam in his eyes as he stared at the painting of my dragon.

I’d begun to speak when we were approached by a servant who whispered in George’s ear. The old man turned his head sharply and gave the servant a terse nod. “Come with me Ms. Dragon, I wish to introduce you to my guest of honor.”

Not knowing what to expect, or how to extricate myself from his clutches, the creepy man drew me forward. My senses sharpened as we neared another tall, gaunt gentleman, whose flaming red hair stood out in a similar style to that of Albert Einstein, his intense bird-like, brown eyes missed nothing. I felt I’d been cast into a horror film with the walking dead. He, too, was pale and had a look of death personified. Geesh, what had I gotten into here?

“Perkell, so good to see you,” George said with a smile that creased his cadaver-like skin. “This young woman is the new dragon keeper of Dragon Hill, Lynn Tegan Dragon. Ms. Dragon, I present Arwin Perkell.”

The introduction held some type of importance that I found intriguing. Why did he feel the need to say I was a dragon keeper? No one, as yet, was supposed to know that I had been made the new keeper by Gran, or had I simply been the last one to know? Well, shit, someone had opened their mouth, and Smythe’s name came to mind.

Perkell’s dark brown eyes pierced mine as he shook my hand. “Ah, Ms. Dragon, I’m happy to meet you at last. Sorry to hear of Essie’s untimely death. You must be distraught, my dear.”

“Indeed, I am,” I murmured and then said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I gave him a smile that cost me dearly to summon. Wading through a bog would have been easier than understanding what made these people tick. The ability to charm people and accomplish a goal hadn’t been an issue in my short lifetime. I could make a deal in no time flat when it came to what I knew best. Restoration and restructuring ancient tomes, and bringing them back to life, was how I made a living. This was a whole different set of circumstances. I quickly glanced around the room and found Cullen’s stare on us. He gave me a slight nod that I took to mean I was doing fine. Doing what fine? I hadn’t a clue.

George faded off into the crowd. I turned my attention to Perkell, who had now tucked my hand into the crook of his bony arm as we walked through the crowd toward a waiter. He offered me a glass of champagne and then took one for himself. I pretended to sip, but had no intention of missing one single nuance since I knew Cullen would question me later.

“Where did George go and what’s his last name again? I seem to have forgotten,” I asked. Though I’d never heard George’s last name, I wanted to gather my own information.

A smile was all I got as Perkell glanced about and then settled his gaze on me once again.

“Tell me, Ms. Dragon, what do you have in common with your dragons?”

“I-I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr. Perkell,” I stuttered.

“You have Drake, don’t you? I would like to acquire him. As a dragon keeper, you must know you have the power of the dragons behind you. All of them are rare, the last of their collective, and have mystical abilities that you could make a fortune from. Why not allow those of us who would like to do so, acquire them?”

Irritation settled on me like a mantle as I considered his game. Memories flooded back, ones I’d been trying to remember since I’d arrived at Gran’s estate but couldn’t quite get a handle on. There’d once been a thick, heavy book of dragon lore stored at the house. As a child, I remembered sneaking into the room where the tome sat alongside the dragons, and carefully reading its ancient pages. I’d fallen in love with rare and old books in school and had a deep appreciation for that particular book. From a young age, I’d made it my goal to become a book restoration expert. Early on in my career, so many of the books I’d encountered were in such sad shape they had to be carefully scanned and stored on computer drives for fear the original would fall completely apart and be gone forever.

As memories swamped me, Perkell’s eyes grew wide. I dipped my head and pretended to take a sip from the glass that slightly shook in my hand. Not only had I read the pages, I’d eventually been caught out by Gran and reprimanded for touching the ancient volume. I had no idea at the time why she was so angered by my attempt to read about the dragons, but even then I knew  there was more to the book than she’d ever let on. I’d become more adroit at finding ways to read it, when she caught me a second time, and removed it from the room. Was that why the door at the end of the upstairs corridor was locked?

I drew a deep breath and answered Perkell sweetly, “The dragons are not for sale, for gift, or to be shared with anyone. As dragon keeper, it is my responsibility to keep them safe and protect their magic.” I’d shocked Perkell and myself with that remark. I suddenly realized that I knew each dragon had magical capabilities as well as I knew my own name. The memory had asserted itself in my mind the moment I remembered the book and its contents. Dragons were more than folklore, they’d been owned by families all over the world, but had somehow become encased in the shells we took as carved statues. My head reeled with this latent knowledge. Where their power had come from was still a mystery, but if the dragons were unleashed, I was certain there would be hell on this earth.