“Mrs. Douglas, I’m so glad to see you,” I said as I flew off the sofa and hugged her. The woman had been Gran’s housekeeper for many years, and I’d grown up thinking of her as family.
“I’m so sorry about Essie. She tried to hang on as long as she could, in hope that you’d get here before she passed.” Mrs. Douglas looked me over, shook her head, and said, “You’re tired, why don’t you sit and relax, I’ll bring a tray in for you.”
“Don’t go to any trouble. I’d just as soon eat in the kitchen as long as you keep me company,” I answered.
“If that’s what you prefer, I’d be happy to do so.” Mrs. Douglas wrapped her arm around my shoulders and we strolled toward the kitchen.
Seated at the table, I waited for what I knew would be delicious fare. Mrs. Douglas, a rail thin woman with graying hair wound into a bun on the back of her head, was the best cook ever. Many a time she served Gran and me wondrous meals, followed by home-baked cookies and milk. We’d watch the sun set and enjoy the light snack on the rear patio. I’d never been disappointed over the meals she prepared, and wasn’t now.
A bowl of hearty vegetable stew and thick slices of wheat bread were set before me. I asked if she would join me, but Mrs. Douglas shook her head.
“I’ve already eaten. Mr. Douglas and I had this for our lunch. I stowed some away so there’d be enough for your supper.”
I grinned, dipped a corner of the bread into the thick gravy and ate like I’d not eaten in days. It felt that way, even though I’d had a snack on the plane. Food is comforting, in life and in mourning, and I knew I’d feel better once I’d eaten. Mrs. Douglas spoke of the days when I’d visited Gran. She went on about Gran’s love of Dragon Hill and that her one wish was that I would take over the estate upon her death.
Surprised to hear that she knew of Gran’s wishes, I put the spoon down, sat back in the chair and asked, “She really said that?”
“She did. I would never lie about a thing like that. Essie was determined to keep Dragon Hill intact. She knew your father was a wanderer who’d never been happy to stay put for long. He wanted to know, and see, what lay on the other side of the hill, the world, even.” She shook her head. “And then there’s Charles. Essie figured he’d cash in on Dragon Hill as fast as he could. She made sure he couldn’t do that, Linty.” With a slight harrumph, Mrs. Douglas finished drying the stew container.
“How’s that?”
“She made a new will on her deathbed that gives you everything, of course.” Mrs. Douglas lifted the teapot, refilled my cup, and set the cozy over the pot when she’d returned it to the thick knit warming pad. She fumbled in her pocket and withdrew a folded envelope that she slid across the table to me.
A bulging, cream colored, vellum envelope sat next to my bowl. It had my name scrawled in Gran’s handwriting on the front. I touched the paper, ran my fingertips over the smoothness of it, and was reluctant to open it lest it contain words that would reduce me to a tearful idiot. I hadn’t had much time for that sort of thing and wasn’t about to fall apart in front of anyone again, as I had with Mr. Smythe.
Slipping her coat on, Mrs. Douglas said, “Go ahead, take it, you can read it later. If you have any questions, give me a call.”
I slid the envelope into my sweatpants pocket and finished the bowl of stew before it grew cold. As Mrs. Douglas placed the bowl and silverware in the sink, she said, “If you want me to keep house for you, just let me know.”
“Please, consider the job yours. It’ll take a few days for me to acclimate, but I’d like you to stay on,” I assured her. No way could I manage the house and grounds alone. “Do you know who’s been keeping the grounds? They’re in terrible shape.”
“Essie let them go to wrack and ruin. She’d become a tad paranoid these last months and wouldn’t allow the lawns and flowerbeds to be cared for. She thought the less people who came here, the better. I have no idea what prompted that mindset, and she never said. Maybe it’s in the letter.” Mrs. Douglas dipped her head and then left with a promise to return with groceries in the morning.
Chapter 3
A cool breeze ruffled my hair as I left the house. I gathered my jacket close and ambled along the path and across the yard. It had stopped raining, and while I didn’t look forward to getting caught in an unexpected downpour, I needed fresh air. Evening had cast shadows that lurked in places I hesitated to explore. In making the rounds of Gran’s property, I’d slipped in the mud, slid on wet grass, and landed hard when I lost my balance.
Annoyed at my clumsiness, I grumbled over it and stood up, wiping my hands on my sweatpants. A slight movement caught my eye and I turned to the left. Nothing was visible, other than the sway of branches in the breeze. I listened for the thud of feet, a word spoken, or the rustle of overgrown garden debris. Still nothing. I shrugged and trudged on into the family cemetery in the small valley past a thick grove of fir trees behind the house.
Headstones leaned this way and that. For a hundred years or more, the Dragon family had dwelled on this land. Proud owners of Dragon Estate, my great-grandfather and generations of Dragon’s before him had been travelers who’d bought rare pieces of art, furniture, and more and made a fortune doing so. From the Far East and throughout Europe, antiques and dragon statues were purchased and all had provenance. All told, our family history was rich with dragons and their lore, but not one dragon had ever been sold. My grandmother, a strong-willed woman, had married and kept her own name. She clearly liked her own heritage better than her husband’s. Though Grandpa had joined the family’s antique searching business, he’d never been allowed to participate in the dragon collecting that took place and had died of heart failure when my father and uncle were youngsters.
I ran my hand across lichen-covered gravestones. Each one sported a lovingly carved dragon that sat above the epitaph. The stones badly needed cleaning. I added the chore to my mental to-do list of things that required attention. As I wound my way through the cemetery, an odd feeling kicked in and I kept lookout for a sign that I wasn’t alone. I sensed that someone lurked just beyond the trees as I walked among the dead, and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t caught unaware.
Cold air, the sweet scent of spring foliage about to come forth, and darkening skies sent me scuttling inside where heat from the fireplace would warm me to the bone. I’d discarded my jacket, pulled the letter from my pocket and hunkered down in front of the flames to read what Gran had penned before she went to meet her maker.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I peeled the envelope open. I’d been annoyed when she called me in Boston, and I’d forever regret it. The fact that she’d fallen seriously ill so quickly and hadn’t let me know, set my nerves on edge and left me rattled. Why had she kept her illness from me? Had someone prevented her from doing so, or was I allowing my vivid imagination to run wild? Probably.
Gently, I unfolded the stationery. Its creamy smoothness soothed my nerves. Unsure of what I’d find on the pages, I began to read Gran’s slanted, shaky scrawl.
My dearest Linty,
There is much to say and little time, so I will tell you what I can before it’s too late. I became ill over a period of time, by whose hand and how it happened, I’m uncertain. There is much amiss here at Dragon Hill, you must beware. Pay close attention to Drake, he will help you in your quest to fend off those who will do you harm. You must find out who has killed me, for someone surely has. I die, not from sickness in my old age, but by the hand of a murderer. Be careful, sweet child, I wish not for you, what has happened to me.
Trust no one, but Drake. He will steer you in the right direction, for he is powerful, and as brilliant as are you. Though I’ve protected you from his knowledge, I have faith in knowing you’ll use common sense, and my wealth, well. Others will try to wreak havoc in your life. Don’t let them. Be strong, allow Drake to guide you. He knows his purpose and is waiting for you to acknowledge his true self.
Gran’s writing then became erratic scribbling that
I found difficult to read, and I set the letter aside. Some of her words made no sense, and I wondered over the soundness of her mind. Startled by the phone when it rang, I glanced at Drake, who stood statuesque and unmoving, and hurried to answer the call.
“Linty Dragon,” I said.
“Ms. Dragon, I wondered if I could speak to Essie for a moment.” The rich timbre of his deep voice echoed in my ear. His accent was that of a Scot, a well educated one who enunciated each word clearly, with little burr attached to it.
“And you would be?” I enquired softly while wondering who this man was and what he wanted of Gran. Didn’t he know she was gone?
“My name is Cullen Vaughn. Essie and I have known one another for several years.”
“She’s never mentioned you,” I murmured.
“Be that as it may, could I speak to her?” he asked with a sense of urgency in his voice.
I stared at the mantel clock and said, “I’m afraid she’s gone.”
“When will she be back? It’s imperative that we speak,” Cullen insisted.
“Unfortunately, she won’t be back. She passed away earlier today.” My voice hitched and tears flowed again as I uttered the words.
A sharp, indrawn breath was the only sound he made before the line went dead. I stared at the phone and shook it, which seemed to have become a bad habit, and one that didn’t help. I held it against my ear and said, “Hello? Hello? Mr. Vaughn?” Annoyed at the phone, the man, and the fact Gran had died before I’d reached her, I slammed the instrument into the charger with finality, turned to Drake and began to rant.
“Can you believe it? He hung up on me. How rude was that?” I didn’t think Drake would answer, and I was right. Dragons can’t talk, they just sit and gawk at you as inanimate statues will. I returned to the sofa, burrowed into the pillows, and hauled a woven throw across my lap before picking up the letter to continue deciphering Gran’s scrawl. Clearly, she’d been weak, unwell, and hadn’t been able to write legibly for long periods of time. The letter seemed to have been done in stages with the writing on each page clear for a while before ending in difficult-to-read chicken scratch.
Hours later, I’d made my way through a few more pages. I’d used a pencil from the corner desk to scrawl notes in the margins of what I thought she meant when her words became sketchy. I took the phone to the sofa, plunked down and hit redial. An Edinburgh phone number filtered across the screen. If Mr. Vaughn was Gran’s friend, as he had claimed, he might be able to shed some light on Gran’s letter. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?
The phone rang and rang, but no one answered, and no answering machine picked up, so I hung up. Thinking for a few seconds, I then dialed Mrs. Douglas’s number. She answered on the first ring.
“Is everything all right, Linty?” Mrs. Douglas asked with a touch of anxiety in her voice.
Wondering why she’d be anxious, I asked, “Were you present when Gran wrote this letter?”
“It took her quite some time to get her thoughts down, especially as she grew weaker and weaker. But, no, I wasn’t there, I simply knew she was writing to you. You’re all right, aren’t you?”
Another thought occurred to me and I asked, “Have you ever met Cullen Vaughn?”
A silence ensued as Mrs. Douglas hesitated. It went on so long that I thought she might have hung up and I asked, “Mrs. Douglas, are you there?”
“Yes, yes, Linty, sorry. I don’t know what they had in common, but he visited your Gran and she appeared to like him. She didn’t trust him at first, but as each visit came and went, they found common ground through their love of dragons. Why do you ask?”
“He called earlier, sounded as though he urgently needed to speak to Gran, and when I gave him the sad news, he hung up without a word. It gave me a start, but if Gran was acquainted with him, then he was probably just taken aback by the fact she’s passed on.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll be at the service, then. It’s quite late, and I’m off to bed, I’ll be over in the morning and we can talk then if you wish,” Mrs. Douglas said.
I glanced at my watch, realized it was after eleven o’clock and quickly apologized for rudely calling so late. “I seem to have lost track of time, Mrs. Douglas. I’m sorry for calling at this hour. Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hung up, tossed back the throw, and paced the room.
I’d caught my second wind and sleep had no place in my life as the mystery before me started to unfold. Who had murdered my grandmother? What was I becoming enmeshed in? Could I trust that anyone would be able to guide me? Did I have hidden powers? If so, what were they?
My pent up energy caught Drake’s attention as I paused to stare at the gorgeous creature. I could have sworn his long tail flicked a bit at the end, and I smiled. It wasn’t the first time I’d thought that. Even as a child, Drake had fascinated me, he’d seem to whisper thoughts and engage in stories that I figured were due to my overzealous imagination, and not from that of a statue. I ran a fingertip over his spine and watched his eyes glow once more.
“Do you have powers? How strong are they, and what do you have in store for me, my dragon friend?” I asked in a soft whisper. Memories of the times Gran had caught me lugging him around flooded me. I smiled and took a trip down memory lane.
Initially, she’d gently admonish me for taking Drake off his pedestal and urge me to put him back in the stately spot he held in the room. When she caught me doing so as I grew a bit older, she would become angry. I’d giggle, thinking that I’d hear him snicker as well, and then do as I was told. The moment Gran would leave the room, I’d talk to Drake and imagine his response. Had I truly imagined it, or had our bond been apparent way back then? In a whisper, I asked him now if he’d snickered all those years ago, but there was no answer in return.
Once, when I was ten years old, Gran caught me trying to carry Drake outside. She scolded me severely, took the dragon from me and sent me to my room for the remainder of the afternoon. Even that didn’t stop me from using Drake as a playmate, I simply became more cautious when doing so and never tried to take him outdoors again.
“When I was young and foolish enough to carry you around like a pet, did you speak to me, or was it the fantasy of a child with no one to play with?”
A soft whisper floated through my mind as he said, “Never fear, Linty, I have always been here for you, and am now. We will unveil the truth of your talent and Essie’s demise. Other secrets will be revealed for you to do with as you wish. When the time comes, I will show you the way.”
A sigh escaped me as I wondered yet again if I’d lost my mind, and then I heard Drake’s subtle laughter. This time around, he emitted a brief puff of smoke through his nostrils. Yes indeed, my dragon was real, my marbles were intact, and I hadn’t gone crazy. I grinned, ran a fingertip over his brow and was about to wander off to bed when I heard the wind howling through the eaves. A shiver skittered over me, and I glanced toward the front yard. All I could think of was that quote from Macbeth . . . something wicked this way comes.
Headlights flashed as a vehicle swung into the yard and stopped. A car door slammed and footsteps pounded up the front steps. The doorbell sounded as the clock struck midnight. With a sense of dread, I was drawn to the door, flipped the light switch and peered through the glass at the tall, dark, and dangerous looking stranger.
Through the door, I asked, “Who are you?”
“Cullen Vaughn.”
Rooted to the spot, I argued with myself over whether to open the door, or to tell this man to go away. Eventually, my curiosity won out. I glanced at Drake, perched inert on his stand, and let Vaughn in. Why would I do so? I hadn’t a clue, but there was no time like the present to begin unraveling the mystery that shrouded Dragon Hill, Gran’s death, and what the dragons ultimately meant to the family.
Locks clicked as I pulled them back and ushered the stranger into the foyer. He had an overwhelming sense of being, his stature tall, his looks dark and fearsome. Vaughn’s
rich blue eyes sparkled with interest as he took stock of me before he glanced about. Taken aback by the man, I surreptitiously glanced at Drake and saw no response to this man, so I greeted him.
“Come into the living room, it’s become quite cold and I have the fireplace going.”
“Thank you, Ms. Dragon. I appreciate you seeing me so late,” Vaughn said. He removed his black overcoat and hung it on the coat rack. It was apparent he knew the house and his way around it as he strode into the living room. I took a moment to stare at him, his attire, and the nearly black lock of hair that fell forward onto his forehead. He was handsome in a chiseled sort of way, and looked to be in his late thirties. His deep blue eyes captivated me. Similar in color to that of a cornflower, they were as intense as the rest of him. With confident panther-like grace he crossed the room and stood in front of the fire, leaving an impression of controlled strength and power. I’d met similar men in my business dealings with antique book collectors, but none with such a commanding presence. I’d tended to shy away from powerful men, as they were bossy by nature and I liked being the boss of my own life.
“Would you care for tea, coffee, or something stronger? I’m not sure if there’s any liquor in the house, but I can look.”
His sudden grin brought an incredible change to his face that caused my breath to catch in my throat.” Essie kept whiskey in the bottom of that buffet,” he said, pointing to it.
The man really did know his way around the place. I turned away. “Whiskey, it is.”
I poured it into two chunky glasses and asked if he wanted it neat or with ice. His lips tipped up in a slight smile and he said neat would be fine. He took the proffered glass and raised it. “To Essie, may she rest in peace. She shall be greatly missed.”
My throat thickened as he spoke, but I lifted the glass and agreed with him by way of a nod. We each took a swig and then sat in comfortable chairs across from one another near the fireplace.
Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series) Page 3