by Lyn Horner
Grateful for his understanding, she smiled and hurried into the long-unused dining room, closing the doors behind her. Drawing her cell phone out of her coat pocket, she tapped in the digits scrawled on Lara’s note. Two rings brought an answer.
“Hello,” a man’s deep voice said.
“H-hello, this is Charlotte Dixon,” she nervously replied. “I’m calling for Lara Flewellen.”
“Hold on.” He repeated her name, presumably to Lara. After a brief delay, she came on the line.
“Charlotte, it’s Lara. I’m so glad you called. I’ve been worried about you.” She sounded extremely relieved.
“Why were you worried about me, Lara? And what’s so urgent?”
“The situation is too complicated to explain over the phone, and it might not be safe. For now, I’m sorry to inform you my uncle is dead.”
“Oh, no!” Char grabbed the nearest chair, pulled it out from the long table and collapsed onto it in shock. “H-how did he die? When?”
“He was killed in a car wreck several months ago, and it wasn’t an accident. He was murdered.”
“Sweet Mother!” Char couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you certain?”
“I’m very certain. I’ll explain how I know when we meet, and that must be soon. Now, in fact. Are you at the Cantrell estate?”
“Yes, and I can’t leave the girl I care for alone.”
“That’s not a problem. My companion and I are staying at a hotel on Long Island. We’ll come to you. It shouldn’t take us more than twenty minutes to get there.”
“Very well, I’ll see you then.” Feeling like the world was closing in on her, Char disconnected and went to tell Tristan he would have to leave.
He rose from the couch the moment she entered the living room. “You’re as white as snow,” he said. Frowning in concern, he rushed to her side and put his arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s been a d-death in my friend’s family. Sh-she needs to see me. She’s coming over.” She pivoted to face him. “I … I must ask you to go.”
His frown deepened. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I don’t like leaving you to deal with a grief-stricken woman by yourself. And she had a man with her yesterday. Who is he? In fact, who is this woman? You told me you don’t have any close friends. Is she a friend of your mother’s?”
Char turned away. “Y-yes, and of mine. I haven’t seen her in a while and I forgot about her when I told you that,” she said, rubbing her icy hands together.
“What about the man?”
“I-I’m not sure. He might be her husband.”
Tristan stepped in front of her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe it’s the ex-cop in me, but I suspect you’re not telling me the truth,” he said, hazel eyes probing hers. He emitted worried vibes mixed with suspicion.
She gave a brittle laugh. “Don’t be silly. I simply want to comfort my friend and I’m sure she’d rather not have to meet you, a stranger to her, right now.” She pressed close and pulled his head down for a kiss, but didn’t let it grow heated. “Please, you really need to go.”
He frowned and let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, have it your way.” Cupping her face, he kissed her until she was clinging to him. Then he released her and strode out, closing the door more forcefully than necessary.
Listening to his car round the fountain out front and drive away, Char hugged herself, wishing she could have let him stay. She had little time to lament his absence before Marilee called out for her.
“Coming,” Char called, dashing up the stairs. Minutes later, she had just brought her charge down on the elevator when the doorbell chimed. Marilee squealed and pointed at the door. “Someone wants in.”
“Yes, darling, we have visitors. Just a minute,” Char called loudly, steering the wheelchair into the living room and parking it. Going to the door, she hesitated then swung open the heavy oak panel. She stared in shock at the couple standing there. The tall, dark-haired man was ruggedly handsome and rather intimidating in a black leather jacket and faded jeans. But it was the woman who held Char’s unswerving gaze.
Wearing a hooded, thigh-length coat woven in a bold southwestern pattern over black leggings, she was beautiful – except for the jagged pink scar running down her right cheek. She also leaned on a cane.
“Hello, Charlotte,” the dark-haired, scarred beauty said, tossing back her hood. “I’m Lara and this is Connor O’Shea.” She patted her escort’s arm and smiled. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice.”
Char nodded. “Come in, please,” she said, shaking off her stunned silence. Stepping aside, she watched Lara limp inside, hanging onto the man’s arm. “Would you like to sit down in the living room?”
“Wherever you want us is fine,” Lara replied.
Leading the way, Char paused beside Marilee’s chair. “Sweetie, these are my friends, Lara and Connor.”
“Just call me Conn,” he said, winking at the young girl.
“You’re big and scary,” Marilee declared in her childish voice, with eyes as round as saucers. Then she pointed at Lara. “And your face is scary too.”
“Marilee! Don’t say that. It’s not nice,” Char scolded, aghast. Seeing Lara’s pained expression, she said, “I’m so sorry.” She also noted how Conn’s arm slipped around her, showing their close relationship.
Marilee started to cry. Regretting her harshness, Char bent to give her a hug. “Don’t cry, darling. I know you didn’t mean to hurt Lara’s and Conn’s feelings.”
To her surprise, Conn crouched in front of the girl. “Hey, it’s okay. Nobody’s mad at you, honey.” Producing a man’s neatly folded handkerchief, he gently dried her tears.
“You’re not?” Marilee said, sniffling.
“Naw. You’re right, I am kind of big and scary.” He grinned and chucked her under her chin. “But Lara’s not really scary. Her face got cut in an accident. That’s why she has that little scar.” He glanced over his shoulder at Lara, who stood watching him with a loving look in her eyes. He smiled at her.
“She walks with a stick,” Marilee said, drawing his attention. “Is that cuz of the ac-aci-dent?”
“It sure is. Her leg got hurt. The cane – that’s what the stick is called – helps her walk.”
“My legs don’t work. I’d like to walk with a cane.”
Conn ruffled her fine blonde hair. “I wish you could, honey,” he said in a husky voice. Rising to his feet, he bent and kissed the top of her head.
Touched by his kindness, Char had to clear her throat. Gesturing at the couch, she said, “Please have a seat. I need to fix a snack for Marilee. Then we can talk.” With their agreement, she guided her charge down the hall to the kitchen. After Marilee ate her snack of apple wedges and cheesy crackers, Char settled her to watch one of her favorite cartoon movies in the playroom, with her Micky and Minnie dolls in her arms.
Char found Conn pacing slowly across the living room while Lara sat on the couch. Apologizing for making them wait, Char perched on the padded chair Conn pushed over to face the couch. He took his place beside Lara.
Accepting her apology, Lara said. “First, I promised to explain about Uncle Malcolm. I was with him when the brakes on his car failed. We rammed into a tree.” Sighing, she reached for Conn’s hand. “Malcolm died instantly and I was injured.”
“I’m very sorry. I didn’t know your uncle well but he seemed like a good man,” Char murmured.
“Thank you. He was. His car was examined after the wreck, and I learned the brake line had been cut and the transmission tampered with. Someone meant to kill him and possibly me as well.”
Char sat dumbstruck for a moment. Then the reason behind Malcolm’s murder and Lara’s close call became clear. “This has to do with the … .” She stopped and glanced at Conn, wondering if she dared say anymore.
“It’s alright. Conn knows everything. And yes, Malcolm’s killers are after the scrolls we guard. They sent letters thre
atening his life if he didn’t give them the ruling scroll he guarded.”
“The scroll you now guard.”
“Yes, and the Hellhound leader – that’s what we call them – sent his goons after me. If it weren’t for Conn they would have captured me as they did my sister Sara.” Swallowing hard, Lara dipped her head and said in a barely audible voice, “I don’t know if she’s alive or dead.”
“How awful for you.” Leaning forward, Char touched the other woman’s hand, encountering a tide of grief that almost took her breath away. She quickly drew back.
Regaining control, Lara continued, “One of the Hellhounds also kidnapped and tortured Dr. Michaela Peterson. Do you remember her from the last conclave?”
“Of course.” Horrified to hear of Michaela’s suffering, Char asked, “Is she still in their clutches?”
“No, thank the Great Goddess! One of Conn’s friends, Dev Medina, was able to rescue her. They’re in a safe place, a place where we want to take you.”
Char stared at her. “But I can’t go, I can’t leave Marilee alone.” And what of Tristan?I don’t want to lose him.
“Where’s the girl’s mother?” Lara asked. “Surely she can take care of her child under the circumstances.”
“Johanna, I mean Mrs. Cantrell, is out of town on vacation. She won’t be back until a day or two before Christmas.”
“That’s another week,” Conn said, wearing a stern frown. “We can’t wait that long. It’s not safe here for you and Lara. I won’t risk it.”
Glancing back and forth between the two, Char reluctantly said, “I’ll call Mrs. Cantrell. Excuse me.” Once more seeking privacy in the dining room for what she feared would be an unpleasant conversation, she called her employer’s cell phone. Johanna didn’t answer. Char left a message, asking the woman to call her as soon as possible, saying it was urgent. Then she rejoined Lara and Conn.
They waited and waited, with Conn growing more impatient by the hour, although he hid it in front of Marilee. It was early evening when Johanna Cantrell finally called. By then her daughter was tucked in for the night.
Char and her guests were gathered around the kitchen table, drinking coffee. When her cell phone rang, she stayed put, deciding Lara and Conn might as well listen and learn what she was dealing with. She barely got to say hello before Johanna snapped in her ear.
“Well, what’s so urgent? I don’t appreciate being disturbed while on holiday.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Johanna, but I have a family emergency. I need to leave as soon as possible. Can you arrange for someone to stay with Marilee while I’m gone?”
“What? Listen here, young woman, I pay you a good wage to care for my daughter. If you’re trying to coerce me into giving you a fat raise, it won’t work.”
“I’m not after more money,” Char denied, insulted by the accusation. “I simply have no choice. I must leave.”
Johanna shrieked furiously, threatening a lawsuit if she didn’t perform her duties. Char held the phone out, allowing Conn and Lara to hear.
“I refuse to drop everything and cut my vacation short. Do not disturb me again!” Johanna shouted and hung up.
“Good Lord! That woman isn’t fit to call herself a mother,” Conn said, face red with anger. “We can’t wait around while she’s off having a good time. If the Hellhounds show up, not only will you and Lara be in danger, so will Marilee.” He pinned Char with a probing gaze. “Do you know anyone who might be willing to stay with her?”
“I … I don’t know.” Char rubbed her face tiredly. Rising from her chair, she said, “Please, I need time to think. Can you give me over night at least?”
Conn started to argue but Lara stopped him. Pushing to her feet, she gave Char a hug. “Of course we can. This has been a lot for you to take in. Sleep on it. We’ll see you in the morning.” Signaling Conn, who scowled darkly, she tapped her way to the front room with him to retrieve their coats.
As soon as they left, Char locked up, set the security code and mounted the stairs to her room. Her mind was in a whirl. She didn’t know what to do. Conn was right, if they lingered here they might put Marilee in danger, although she had no idea how the so-called Hellhounds could know her whereabouts. One thing for certain, she couldn’t ask Sally to fill in for her indefinitely.
She could call the private nurses agency that had referred her to Sally, but interviewing candidates for the job took time which she didn’t have, and she refused to leave Marilee in the hands of someone she didn’t trust. There was also the little problem of Johanna Cantrell, who had a right to approve her daughter’s caregiver. Not that she truly gave a flip about Marilee, but the witch was vindictive enough to carry out her threat to sue. She wouldn’t get much since Char had very little, but her reputation would be ruined.
Beyond all those considerations was the oath she’d sworn to protect the treasured scroll in her keeping. If she violated that oath by refusing to obey the High Guardian – Lara since her uncle’s death – the scroll might end up stolen. The ancient relic had been passed down through countless generations of her mother’s ancestors. She couldn’t live with herself if she let it fall into dangerous hands.
And then there was Tristan. Their romance had just blossomed. If she left now she feared she would never see him again. The thought brought on tears as she lay in bed. Smothering the deluge in her pillow so as not to wake Merilee in the next room, she longed to throw off all her responsibilities and stay with Tristan. But she couldn’t.
Nor could she go to sleep. Tired of tossing and turning, she rose and roamed the dark mansion in bare feet. Feeling the spirits of past residents, as she had many times, she wondered what they would do in her place.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tristan called the next morning just as Char was preparing Marilee’s breakfast. Answering, she asked if she could call him back in a few minutes. He agreed and once her charge was busy eating in the kitchen, she returned his call. He picked up immediately.
“Hi, angel. How are you? Did everything go alright with your friend yesterday?”
“I-I’m fine and it went as well as could be expected,” she said, stepping into the hall, away from curious little ears.
“That’s a relief. I’ve been worried about you. In fact, I almost drove back out there last night to make sure you were okay.”
“Thank you for your concern, but you didn’t need to worry,” she said, sounding stilted to her own ears.
He hesitated, no doubt hearing the same thing in her voice. Then he said, “So, when can I see you again? I miss you already.”
“I’m so sorry, Tristan,” she forced out past the lump in her throat, “but I can’t see you again.”
“What! What do you mean you can’t see me again?” he demanded. “Does this have something to do with your mysterious friend?”
“I-I can’t explain.” Her throat clogged with tears. “I’m very sorry. Goodbye.” She hung up and pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling the sound of her misery. She mustn’t weep in front of Merilee. Several minutes passed before she managed to dry her eyes and return to the kitchen.
The doorbell chimed a short time later. Realizing it must be Lara and Conn returning as promised, she pasted a smile on her face and opened the door. “Good morning,” she said, doing her best to hide her gut-wrenching anguish.
“Morning,” Conn replied.
Lara merely frowned, studying her closely as they stepped inside. “What’s wrong, Charlotte?” she questioned, laying a hand on her arm.
“N-nothing’s wrong. What makes you ask that?”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s your red eyes and lost puppy expression.” Changing the subject, she asked, “Where’s Marilee?”
“She’s in the playroom.” Char pointed down the hall. “Why?”
Ignoring her question, Lara turned to Conn. “Why don’t you go keep the little princess company while Charlotte and I have some girl talk.”
He frowned as he unzipped his leat
her jacket, but then one corner of his mouth quirked up. “If you say so, darlin’. Just don’t talk too long. We have decisions to make.” Dropping a quick kiss on her brow, he strolled toward the playroom.
Lara gripped Char’s wrist, sending a wave of concern through her. “Come with me.” Limping into the living room, she pointed at the couch. “Sit.”
Char felt like a child being taken to task by the school principal, but did as she was told. Lara removed her coat, tossing it over an arm of the couch, and sat beside it, swiveling to face Char.
“Now, tell me why you’ve been crying. Is it because you regret having to part with Marilee?”
Looking away, Char nodded once. “That and … other things.”
“What other things?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” Bending her head, she let her shoulder-length hair swing forward, hiding her face behind it.
“But you need to and as High Guardian, it’s my duty to advise you if I can.”
Lifting her head, Char gazed at her, doubting she could offer any advice that would ease her heartache over losing Tristan. But meeting Lara’s encouraging smile, she drew a deep breath and launched into her tale of woe.
“There’s a man I’ve been seeing. I spent the weekend with him. That’s why I wasn’t here when you stopped by on Saturday. We’ve only known each other a short time but …” Swallowing hard, she looked away. “… I’d hoped our relationship might grow into something more. Now, since it seems I must leave here, I don’t expect to ever see him again.” Her voice wobbled and pressure built behind her eyes. She struggled not to break down crying again.
“I see,” Lara said slowly. “Do you love the man? Do you believe he loves you?”
Shrugging, Char cleared her tight throat. “I don’t know. As I said, we haven’t known each other very long.”
“That doesn’t matter if your hearts have chosen one another. Believe me, I know from experience.” She laughed softly and reached out to gently clasp Char’s hand. Her love for Conn radiated from her golden eyes and from her very soul.