Don't Slay the Dragon (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 1)

by Rachel Lucas

  Another officer was removing all the smaller furniture from the room to make more room for the experts to do their work. The desk and chair were being taken out, to where I had no idea. They had also removed the remnants of the computer and had covered the bookshelf.

  I stared at the fragile wall as it began transforming into a terrifying nightmare. The black and silvery dragon took up most of the wall. Those chilling red eyes still gripped me, haunting me. The wings were again open wide, showing its full power and strength. The long, scaled neck arched high, razor-sharp talons grasping. The searing flames shot from its nostrils and mouth, so real you could almost feel the heat radiating from the portrait.

  I stood frozen as inch by inch the wallpaper was removed from the left side of the wall. As the forensic tech peeled back the layers, you could see where the flames were being directed. There was a small figure bracing her back against the searing inferno. A small woman, fighting to survive the onslaught. You couldn’t see much more than a shadow of her figure, just the hunched outline of her bowed body. At first she seemed to be just a blurred figure, but as the technician pulled back another strip of wallpaper, I noticed something else and stepped forward for a closer look. The woman stood braced against the flames, and gathered in her arms was a small child with flowing orange hair.

  I had to get out of the tiny, cramped room before I lost my mind too. I maneuvered around the members of the forensics team and attempted to make my way into the living room. It was the same there. Dull, striped wallpaper being peeled back searching for more. More of what was in that small room. More frightening demons? More signs of insanity or evil? Every square inch of the wallpaper was being stripped away in the living room.

  Furniture was haphazardly shoved aside or completed removed from the room to be carried outside to the small lawn. It was probably starting to look like a yard sale out there. I had to see how much further through the small trailer it went.

  The kitchen had very little wall space. It was mostly thin cabinets and appliances. Further down the hall I watched as the wooden paneling was being removed foot by foot. There was no way to get down to the other end of the trailer, the hall was so crowded now with people and debris. I could see down to Barbara’s bedroom though and could tell that her room was going through the same process as the rest of the trailer.

  Somehow I made my way outside and sat down on the narrow wooden steps leading to the back door next to Barbara’s room. The air was chilly as the sun was setting early, but I didn’t mind the crisp evening air after the strain of discovery going on inside of the trailer. I closed my eyes and wished I could erase the startling images. Brief glimpses of words flashed through my mind. Tiny script and carefully printed words along the floorboards and door frames. Over and over again.

  Atrus Dracona. Atrus Dracona. Atrus Dracona

  How long had it taken Barbara to paint, write and scribble all the things on those walls? When had she done it? Was it as old as the night of the séance? As recent as right before her death? What a horrifying insight into her world, her madness. Psychologists would have a field day with what was inside that trailer. Dr. Ross would consider it a gold mine.

  I looked up at the trailer next door to see a frightened-looking Mrs. Robins staring out her window at all the traffic going on in and out of this trailer. To her it must have looked as though they had found another dead body or something. Metal kitchen chairs, lamps, books and other odds and ends now cluttered the small yard. Other smaller objects were already getting swallowed up by the too-long grass.

  I tried to give her a tired but reassuring wave, to let her know that it was going to be okay, but she just ducked back behind her curtains and disappeared.

  I don’t know how long I sat there, numbly staring into the dusky light, shivering into my thin jacket, before I felt a presence next to me.

  “Are you ok?” Logan asked as he sat down next to me on the steps.

  What to reply? How could I process all this? I think I was still in a state of shock.

  “Have they found anything else?” My voice came out a hoarse whisper.

  “They’re still processing the trailer,” he replied. His elbows were propped on his bent knees and he was looking out into the growing dark just like I was. He was silent for a moment before he spoke. “They haven’t found wall murals anywhere else but in that room in the front of the trailer. They’re stripping the other walls in that room right now. No pictures, just words.”

  I finally looked into his dark blue eyes, too bone-weary to ask what words were found on the walls. He put a comforting arm around my shoulders and answered my unspoken questions.

  “The words ‘Atrus Dracona’ are repeated over and over. The letters for the words are in every size and shape. It’s a repetitive act found commonly to someone in a manic state, or perhaps schizophrenic. There’s only a few other words.” I could hear him take a deep breath beside me, as if gauging how much to tell me.

  “What else, Logan?” I had to know. “What else is written?”

  His voice was quiet when he spoke.

  “Help me. Protect me. Save me.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  She swaggered into the room as if she owned it, an un-lit cigarette dangling from her mouth. She gave me a sullen glare under hooded eyes then walked over to sit not on a comfortable, over-stuffed chair, but on the edge of a nearby low table. She leaned over and braced her elbows on her spread knees, her hands dangling between them,

  “How’s it hangin’ Cate?” She asked off-handedly.

  “Hey Maxine.” I sat in my usual place, trying to look relaxed and casual, even though I felt far from it. With Maxine you had to tread carefully. “How are you being treated these days?”

  Her eyes darted over to the two-way mirror then back to me, her lip curled in distain.

  “Martin only lets me smoke twice a day.” She pulled the un-lit cigarette out of her mouth and rolled it between her fingers. She threw another nasty glare at the two-way mirror. She seemed to be staring straight through the thick glass at her nemesis. I knew she was calling Dr. Ross by his first name to irritate him. “I don’t get to smoke this until I’m done with you. Just the kind of thing you’d expect from this hellhole. Let’s get this over with Cate, I’d like to have my smoke.”

  Her impatience was obvious. I knew from experience that you did not push Maxine. She’d be just as likely to push back. She wasn’t one of the family members I wanted to deal with right now, but she could be very stubborn about letting me talk to one of the others.

  “Well, I’ve been working on your case,” I began carefully. I saw no visible reaction from her. I might as well have brought up the weather. “I’ve been working with the detectives assigned to it. I think we’re making a lot of progress.”

  She stood up and started a measured walk around the room as I talked. Around an over-stuffed couch, past another low table, brushing past a planter with a big, plastic fern. Nothing seemed to interest her in the room until she reached the two-way mirror.

  “So, what do you want, a medal or something?” I could see her expression in this side of the mirror. She wasn’t really paying attention to me as much as she was trying to see through the glass. “Like anything you do is going to get me out of this stinking prison.”

  I watched as she tapped on the glass, once, then again. When she was certain she had the full attention of everyone on the other side of that mirror, she gave them all an obscene gesture. She barked a dry laugh at her own cleverness.

  “I really am trying to help all of you, Maxine.” I offered.

  She completed her circuit of the room then came back to sit on the table again. She seemed to prefer the hard surface to the softer chairs. Or maybe it was just her way of showing rebellion to her environment. Again, she rested her elbows on her knees and continued to roll the cigarette between her thin fingers, back and forth, back and forth. I couldn’t even tell if she was listening to me.

  “I’m having them go
back and review all the toxicology reports, the evidence and the autopsy,” I continued. “We’ve gone back to the trailer and we’re going over every square inch of it.”

  Did I see a flicker in her expression? How far down this road did I dare go?

  “You’re just wasting your time,” she stated off-handedly, but I could tell she didn’t mean it. I could see a spark of genuine interest there, so I continued.

  “I don’t think they intentionally missed things during the initial investigation, but they weren’t nearly as thorough as they’re being now. I was there at the trailer with them just the other night. I was walking through, just looking around.” I paused as I watched her hands stop. She seemed to be waiting for me to continue. “I was in Lisbeth’s old bedroom. I had good memories of sitting in that room with her, drawing and talking. I hardly recognized the room now. It’s just a computer room, kind of bare.”

  Maxine was more motionless than I’ve ever seen her. Maxine was always so vocal and sarcastic. The eerie silence wasn’t like her. I was trying so hard to keep my voice casual, to not let on how much I was watching her. I glanced at her thin chest to make sure she was still breathing. There was a subtle rise and fall, but little more.

  “I was looking at the wall, at some of the pictures Barbara had framed there. I was looking at that old flowered wallpaper when I noticed that a part of it was peeling away.”

  The cigarette snapped in two and fell to the floor. In gradual stages she stiffened, her back as straight as a ruler, her arms dropped to brace against the tabletop. Her shoulders squared, her head came up, and I braced myself for who I might be dealing with next.

  I stopped talking, waiting for some sign as to who I should address. She didn’t move except for her eyes. They were a deep forest green and they darted between the two-way mirror and me. The look in those eyes was haunting, hopeless, expectant. Should I open up this Pandora’s Box?

  I gauged the distance between where I was sitting and the door leading out of this room. How fast could I get to it if I needed to? She was between me and the door. How foolish had I been to have allowed that? I knew better, but I was so focused on what I was about to say, I’d let my guard down. I hope this wasn’t a mistake I was going to have to pay for.

  There should be a member of the hospital staff on the other side of the door, but would they be able to get in here fast enough if something happened? I knew that Dr. Ross was watching all this. Would he call in help if I were in danger, or would I be the sacrificial lamb so he could better see what the different family members were capable of?

  I took a slow, shaky breath and prayed I wasn’t pushing this too far. There was no telling who I could be dealing with.

  “I pulled back the wallpaper and I saw what was underneath,” my voice had lowered to a near whisper without me realizing it. “Did you know about what was underneath the wallpaper?”

  There seemed to be an internal war going on within her. Who was struggling to come to the surface? Was it Vesper? Was it Bethany, the Memory Keeper? Was she the one that knew about the secrets that lay beneath the wallpaper? Was it Slayer, the protector? Was he trying to keep Bethany from coming out? Was Lisbeth there? One of the others?

  She seemed to be yanked to her feet, like a marionette pulled too quickly by its strings. At first, her limbs hung limply, as if her muscles had given out on her. Then, inch by inch, her body seemed to vibrate. Her breathing deepened then began to speed up until she was almost hyperventilating. Her eyelids were heavy over slate-gray eyes. They stared at me intently as that breathing continued. Rapid puffs of air in and out. Anyone else breathing like that would be ready to pass out, but not her. She seemed as solid as a rock.

  I felt out of my element, this was someone, something I did not recognize. She was directly in my path to the door now. I tried not to panic and tried to think of what to do next. Think, Caitlyn, think.

  Dealing with family members, the two things I had always relied on were my past history with them and my instincts. In a split second decision, I decided to jump off the deep end and gamble on my instincts.

  “Do you know what was underneath the wallpaper?” I asked again, trying to make my voice sound stronger. No reply, only that quick, raspy breathing. “Do you know what was underneath the wallpaper?” I repeated, this time more forcefully. My voice was gaining strength.

  I watched intently for any change or reaction. Those dark eyes bore into me. I had to do something. I had to get some kind of reaction. I rose to my feet somewhat unsteadily, hoping I could gradually work my way around her to clear my path to the door. I hated to do it, but sometimes direct confrontation was the only way.

  “Who’s here with me?” I demanded. Not a sound in the room but that breathing. In and out, deep and quick. That sound was going to drive me crazy. I’d end up committed in here with her if I didn’t get it to stop. “Who’s here with me?” I almost didn’t recognize my own voice as it rose in pitch.

  I started a slow circle around her, as much to gauge her reaction as to get closer to the door. Her body stayed perfectly still except for her breathing. Nothing else moved, nothing but her eyes. She followed my movement with those penetrating eyes. They were completely focused on me, as though I was the prey and she the hunter.

  As soon as I felt as though my path to the door was clear enough, I pushed again.

  “Who is it that’s here with me right now?” I was grateful my voice sounded as strong as it was. I needed all the courage I could get right now. “Talk to me. I know you can. Tell me what you saw underneath the wallpaper.”

  Silence. The jerky breathing suddenly stopped. Her stare was still entirely focused on me then she turned her head ever so slightly. Almost mechanically.

  “Who are you?” I nearly shouted in anxiety and frustration.

  A ghost of a smile played on her lips. She was enjoying my discomfort. Then I heard a low, hallow whisper.

  “Myst.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I had never met Myst before, only heard of it once, referred to by one of the family many years ago. It was right after Lisbeth’s initial diagnosis, when the doctors were trying to study and document the many entities. Many of the different family members I was as familiar with as I was Lisbeth. I knew many of their different quirks and personality traits. I knew their history and their purpose. There were just a few I knew by only by reputation, I had never actually met them. Myst was one of these.

  I scraped through my memory, trying to remember anything I could about it. I did remember that Myst was neither male nor female. It wasn’t a person or a personality as much as it was a thing, a presence, an apparition. It wasn’t as if I ever sought it out, but it had always seemed to be elusive. In my visits with Lisbeth, both in the past and now, I had been so busy keeping up with the family members that were obvious and apparent that I’d given little thought to Myst.

  Now it seemed to be staring right at me, its eyes unblinking and cold. I had no experience in how to handle it. I wasn’t even sure if it could or would communicate, or how it might choose to.

  “Who sent you?” I asked carefully. No answer, just that cold, blank stare. I tried again. “Why are you here?” My words echoed back at me from across the silent room. “We’ve never met before, so I know someone must have sent you for a reason.”

  I glanced in vain at the two-way mirror, knowing I was going to get no help from the audience on the other side. This was exactly what Dr. Ross wanted, a freak show.

  “Talk to me, Myst. Why are you here?” It wasn’t going to make this easy for me. Was it even possible to get a reaction out of it? “You’re here for a reason, I know it. Did Lisbeth send you here?” Nothing, no reaction. “Slayer?” Still the empty but icy expression.

  Think, Caitlyn, think! Myst appeared when I was talking about the trailer, when I was bringing up the mural beneath the wallpaper. Who might know something about that? Was it…?

  “Did Bethany send you?”

  “Yes,” cam
e the raspy whisper. Just the one word, no more.

  “The Memory Keeper sent you. Why?” No answer. “Why did Bethany send you?” Silence again. This wasn’t exactly going to be a lively conversation. Fine, I’ll just have to carry this on one-sided. “If I’ve never met you, then it must be because you have a special purpose. Maybe Bethany needed you for something specific.”

  Bethany kept the memories for the family. Even though she was frail and fragile, she was trusted with one of their most prized treasures, their memories. Could it be possible that there were some memories even she wasn’t capable of handling? The different levels within the family members were so complex.

  “Bethany must have wanted you to tell me something, show me something,” I guessed. I wasn’t sure where to draw the line between being persistent and pushy. I had no history with Myst, I had no idea what it was capable of, what kind of threshold it had. Whatever purpose it was here for, it had something to do with that room in the trailer.

  “Bethany sent you because you know what’s underneath the wallpaper in that room, don’t you?” Was it my imagination or was there a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch above its right eye? I kept going. “You know about it, or maybe even seen it. Haven’t you?”

  There was that twitch again, I was certain of it this time. I must be getting through. I must be reaching it on some level.

  “Talk to me, Myst, what do you know about that room? What do you know about Barbara? Did you see what she painted underneath that wallpaper?” A long, soul-deep gasp escaped the frail chest. Suddenly, the air around me seemed to sizzle and vibrate. The emotion coming off of the small body several feet away from me was tangible. Careful, Caitlyn, I told myself, I could be entering into some very dangerous territory. I had to be cautious, but I also had to know what it knew.

  “You know what’s underneath that wallpaper, don’t you Myst? Were you there when she did it? Did you see her paint-?”