Legend of the Sorcerer (13 page)

C
ai stood on the rear deck and watched Alfred give directions to the three-man crew he’d hired to renovate the potting shed. He tried not to think about the blank monitor sitting on his desk, the cursor blinking at him like an irritating accusation. He couldn’t sleep. He was too tired to think. And when he couldn’t think, he couldn’t create.

He fell into bed at night exhausted, only to have nightmares of that woman being beaten, and when he focused closely on her face, he saw only Jordy staring back at him. Alfred was also there, snapping in and out of his Arthurian mode, casting prophecies with that bony finger. Threading through it all, the madwoman responsible for the whole thing appeared. Faceless, nameless, in a dark shroud, telling him he could end all this agony if he would only bring her the pearl.

He’d wake up sweating and crawl out of bed to the haven that was his computer. He craved the alternate world of his own creation, seeking the solace and escape it had always provided him. But he found, like Jordy’s sculpting, his own art had abandoned him in his time of need. A cruel trick indeed.

Alfred had been more even-keeled since he’d met Jordy.
His new goal of having her work on Crystal Key kept him mostly focused. Still, Cai worried. Alfred was becoming attached to Jordy. It was perfectly understandable, Cai thought with aching frustration, but she
would
eventually leave.

His eyes narrowed when he saw Alfred wave his cane and begin to expound to the startled crew. He moved to intervene, then spied Dilys running to the rescue. He puffed out a sigh of relief. He didn’t think he could handle another confrontation. He’d tangled with Alfred over this every day, since he’d escorted Jordy back to Mangrove four days ago.

She’d promised that she would only stay long enough to finalize the preliminary plans for the pieces Alfred wanted to commission. He had no doubt she’d keep her word. But, he knew his grandfather. He was a very persuasive man. He’d seen the looks the two of them had shared when she’d come back yesterday morning. He knew their special bond was deepening every moment they spent together.

The phone rang and jolted him out of his thoughts. He seriously considering letting the machine pick up. He answered on the third ring.

“Hello, Eileen.”

After a smoky exhale, she jumped right in. “What does it say about a man’s social life when he automatically assumes the only person who would call on a Saturday is his editor?”

“The same thing it says about editors working weekends.”

Eileen’s hoarse laugh filled his ear. “I’ve gone over your revisions on Book Two and everything looks fine. It’s on schedule. But I need to give Lawrence a date on the partial for Book Three. He’s got it tentatively scheduled, but he wants to see some of it before meeting with the new team from marketing. He’s really happy with the new cover concept
for the second one, by the way. Maybe we can get Jordy to think about contributing to your next cover as well.”

Jordy, Jordy, Jordy. How had she so quickly found her way into every aspect of his life? Irritated, but knowing this was a safer topic than the proposal he hadn’t made a page of progress on in the past week and a half, he said, “She’s a sculptor, not an illustrator.”

“I don’t care if she’s a librarian who doodles in book margins. She’s hot and Lawrence likes her work. I can have the art department talk to her directly.”

“Don’t do that.”

The pause was slight, but told him he’d blown it. “Oh? Trouble in paradise? I thought she was getting all chummy with Alfred. Isn’t that a good thing? She’s keeping him out of your hair, so you can concentrate on your work.”

“It’s more than that,” he muttered.

There was a sharp inhale, followed by a long, contemplative exhale. Eileen could say more with a simple drag on a cigarette than others could in an entire speech.

“I see.”

Having Eileen on his case about work was one thing, having her involved in his private life at this point was another. “Listen, I have to get back outside with Alfred. I’ll call you back soon with a date.” She was still exhaling when he hung up. It rang again almost immediately. “C’mon, give me a break.” He snatched up the phone. “Listen, Eileen, I need some—”

“Mr. L’Baan? Special Agent Kuhn here.”

Cai swore silently. He’d rather deal with Eileen. Hell, he’d rather deal with Alfred. “What can I do for you?”

“We’ve done additional traces on that last e-mail. She used a service provider out of London, but the call originated in the same area of Wales as the others.”

Well, duh
, Cai thought uncharitably.

“The trail ended there. Another alias and phony address.”

None of this was surprising. It had been the same with the others. “Thank you for letting me know, Kuhn.”

“You’re welcome, and it’s Special Agent Kuhn.”

Cai had to resist the urge to hang up on the pompous jerk. “I still think we should discuss my idea about contacting her. What have we got to lose?”

“Mr. L’Baan, we have special training in these matters and I believe we have this under control, but I appreciate your concern.”

“Well, I hope the woman who’s suffering God knows what kind of torture right now as we swap ridiculous formalities shares your confidence,
Special Investigative Agent
Kuhn.”

“This is no time to lose your cool, Mr. L’Baan” he said tightly. “Rest assured everything is being done to locate the woman.”

“Not everything. We could still—”

“If you receive anything else you will inform us immediately. Still nothing regarding proof of the second threatened kidnapping?”

Cai controlled his temper. “Nothing.”

“We’ll take that as a good sign. I’ll be in touch. When you hear something, contact me immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” Cai disconnected, replacing the phone carefully. It was that or rip it out of the wall.

Dilys chose that moment to enter his office. “Himself is needing your attention,” she said shortly. “He’s in his gardens. I’m bringing out tea.” She left without waiting for a reply.

She knew Cai would do his duty by his grandfather. He wished he could go away somewhere, worry only about himself for just a little while. The guilt hit him immediately. He rose to go find Alfred.

On the walk there, he stared out at the gardens and thought about what Jordy had said about finding a haven where she could finally work, and the lengths to which she’d go in order to be there. For her, it was here, on Crystal Key. This had always been his haven too, but it wasn’t right now. He had to admit, if such a place were to pop up this instant, he’d move heaven and earth to go there. So he did understand.

As he neared the steps leading up to the garden, he heard Alfred expounding on Merlin’s merits as a great magician. It mattered not that his audience was made of stone. Cai found Alfred, cane lifted high like a staff, orating with clear, elegant prose to a group of marble fairies.

Cai’s love for the old man ached in his chest and burned behind his eyes. He owed him everything. Everything.

Alfred wasn’t a burden, he was a gift.

To remind himself of that fact, Cai quietly took a seat on the nearest bench, to listen, and to learn.

“If things were different,” Jordy tapped fish food into the bowl, “I’d move to Crystal Key in a heartbeat.”

Fred swished around, catching the falling flakes in an awkward sideways grab.

“I know. I’m supposed to be in Warburg right now, getting on with my life.” She’d called her landlady earlier that day and asked her to water her plants for another week. She smiled, thinking of her. Mrs. Isaak was a sharp-tongued woman who didn’t hesitate to share her opinions on anything, frequently and without provocation. For whatever reason, probably because it went against public opinion, she’d taken a shine to Jordy. She gave her a good deal on the rent and, in return, Jordy patiently listened to her daily rants without interruption. Mrs. Isaak had offered to bag up her mail and send it to her. Of course, she’d
added in her raspy voice, the postage would be added to next month’s rent. Jordy had thanked her for her consideration.

The Mangrove Hotel manager, grateful for her help with the camp, had given her a break on the room for a week, but it still put a serious dent in what she laughingly called her budget.

There was still a lot of work to be done on the preliminary sketches for Alfred’s dragon. She smiled as the warm thrill raced over her again. He’d approved of what she’d done so far and his sincere enthusiasm had her actually believing she could pull this off.

Alfred had been certain, so much so that he’d offered to pay her a small advance up front. She’d refused, but, in typical Alfred fashion, he didn’t give her much chance to argue. And, truth be told, the money was a godsend. The check from the publisher wouldn’t be coming right away.

She tried to view it as motivation and not be intimidated by the deadline she now had. And Alfred wanted more when she finished this. She kept that promise locked away in her heart, but there was no denying that the small seed of hope had been planted.

In the meantime, she focused on details. She’d have to find someone to fire her pieces until she had a place for the kiln she had in storage. Next she’d convert her tiny living room into a makeshift workshop. She tried not to think of Mrs. Isaak’s reaction to the dropcloths and wrapped bundles of clay, not to mention the tools that would likely litter the tables, sinks, and every other available surface in the place.

It was all coming back to her. She could do this. With Alfred’s encouragement, she’d find her way. This time, she wasn’t alone. The feeling of security he gave her should have been alarming, relying as she was on someone else.
But it was different this time. It was teamwork of the best kind. And it was real.

The sketches were only a start. There was still the clay to face: sinking her fingers into it, smoothing her fingertips along the cool, damp surface, finding the curves, discovering the angles, letting the creature out.

Jordy stood at the balcony door and thought of the potting shed, that perfect little cottage set on the edge of wonderland. A wonderland created by a delightfully eccentric old man and watched over by an equally enigmatic younger one. It caught at her heart and made her pulse race. But her destiny didn’t lie down that path.

She turned away and picked up her sketch pad.

She had work to do.

Thousands of miles away, on the windswept moors that ran along a Welsh river, a scream went unheard as another victim was taken.

“A
lfred, you really shouldn’t have done all this.” Jordy gaped at the amazing transformation he’d wrought to the potting shed in only three days.

He’d had the roof freshly shingled. The graying stone walls, previously covered in island vegetation, had been scraped clean and repainted a pale shell pink. The splintered, rotting window frames had all been replaced, and the glass panes were shining. He’d even started a small garden plot alongside the small stoop. The stone walkway, once thick with weeds and uneven stones, had been cleared and reset. As a finishing touch, a woven doormat had been laid on the stoop.

“Nonsense,” he said, beaming with pride. “It had to be done.”

She turned to him, trying to keep the shine of excitement from her eyes. She’d made a promise to herself. She had plans. “It’s wonderful, but I told you, I can’t come to work here. I’m going home in a week.” She talked over Alfred’s response, rushing the words so she could pretend this wasn’t killing her. “I’ve been working on your dragon and I think I have the concept finalized. I don’t want to do much detailing, since I prefer to let that emerge as I create. I’ve worked out a schedule and even a tentative delivery
date. It will be better for me if I have a deadline to work toward. We’ll have to decide on shipping and such, but seeing as you get most of your pieces shipped from Wales, I’m sure we can come to a suitable arrangement to get the dragon here from Virginia.”

Alfred listened patiently, then spoke as if he hadn’t heard a word. “You should be able to move your things in by week’s end. I’m having the interior worked on, putting in a small bathroom and running a stronger electrical line. I wanted you to look at this today before they start so you can give me your input on the lighting.” He moved to the door. It too had been refinished. “Naturally, you’ll stay in the house, but Dilys can show you your room when we’re done here. Perhaps later, after tea.”

Jordy saw that he was leaning more heavily on his cane than usual. She wanted to believe he was just playing on her sympathy. But as she watched him work the knob on the door with difficulty, she frowned. She rarely thought of Alfred as being frail, but today it was hard to ignore the obvious signs. “Here,” she said, stepping forward and gently moving his hand aside. The knob turned easily. She didn’t say anything, but casually took his arm as they stepped over the raised entry board.

That he allowed her to take some of his weight as they crossed to the middle of the room alarmed her further. Once he had his cane carefully positioned on the uneven flooring, he let go. As he described his plans, she studied him. He seemed a bit pale, but he had on a wide-brimmed straw hat today, so it was hard to say for certain in the dim natural lighting.