“A ghostly chicken sounds more my speed than Anne Boleyn. But, frankly, I’m not interested in looking for either of them, thank you very much. I have a feeling I should be grateful that you and Alex didn’t put your heads together over the list.”
“Hey, scary things have their place, especially if you’re a guy. Some of my best dates have been to scary movies.” Karl gave her a saucy grin. “I happen to be very good at being big and reassuring.”
“I’ll bet so.” Angelina laughed. “Fortunately, I won’t have to put you to the test. I only have two more tasks and neither is creepy. I can’t wait to see the crypt. I love touring European churches. Their artwork is unbelievably spectacular.”
Karl’s voice held a ripple of laughter. “That’s a good description of the artwork at Santa Maria della Immacolata.”
She smiled. “I’m sure that I’ll enjoy it then. It’ll be the perfect way to finish our trip.”
~*~
Drake thumbed through the photos he’d taken of Andrew Hamilton’s sister, Jessica. Selecting the clearest one, he circled her face and wrote a message in red ink.
~*~
Peter was sitting on a garden bench with his arm around Laura. The world was calm and silent. The only sound was a singing bird. Feeling content, he concentrated on the way the breeze was playing with Laura’s red hair. Suddenly, the silence was shattered.
“Laura. Peter.” Twinkles called. “Can you come here for a moment?”
Peter looked at Laura with a worried frown. The day had been a whirlwind of activity, and he could tell she was exhausted. He didn’t blame her. After finishing their business at the marriage bureau, Poppa had taken them to purchase their wedding rings. Peter had used the opportunity to pick out his groom’s gift for Laura while Poppa distracted her.
When they’d returned to Montana, Laura had been bustled into a room to try on her wedding dress. Meanwhile, he’d been roped into helping Poppa bake the wedding cake. Once the cake was in the oven, Sam had grabbed them to go over their wedding vows. After that, Dan had nabbed them to help make bouquets and boutonnieres. Whenever he and Laura tried to take a break, someone else pulled them aside to help with another task.
After posing for the engagement photos that Twinkles insisted were “absolutely necessary,” he had taken one look at Laura’s tired face and whisked her stealthily out of the house. He’d been hoping for an hour of peace, but looking down at his watch, he realized they’d only been given ten minutes.
“Peter,” Twinkles bellowed from the porch. “Laura. Where are you? I need you.”
Groaning, Laura rolled her forehead against his shoulder. “I thought having an impromptu wedding would nix the complicated planning. Instead, all the preparation is getting crammed into hours rather than months.”
Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s because Gil and Twinkles are determined to make our wedding spectacular. One Gil could be reasoned with but not two.”
“Peter! Laura!” Twinkles yelled.
“Do you think we could ignore her?” Laura asked with a cocked brow.
His lips twitched. “Do you want her coming after us with fire in her eye?”
“Not really,” she said with a weary smile.
“Don’t worry, love,” Peter murmured, tucking her hand in his. “It’ll all be over soon, and then you’ll get a nice, big reward for all of your patience.”
“What reward is that?” she asked.
“Me, of course.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”
“Peter! Laura! I really need you,” Twinkles yelled.
Peter squeezed Laura’s hand as they walked toward Twinkles. Immediately, the old woman bustled them into the living room.
“Poppa has a surprise for you,” Twinkles gushed. “You’re gonna love it.”
Peter saw Gil, Dan, Sam, Sue, and Poppa standing shoulder-to-shoulder with big smiles on their faces.
Beside him, Laura’s face was full of confusion. Looking around, she said, “I don’t understand—”
Suddenly, a man and a woman stepped out from behind the row of people.
Laura’s eyes widened. Her face took on a radiant glow. “Mom,” she shouted. “David.” Running forward, she engulfed the newcomers in a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
The silver-haired woman laughed. “I couldn’t miss the wedding of my only daughter, could I? Speaking of which, when are you going to introduce me to your groom?”
Swinging around, Laura grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him forward. “Mom, David, this is my fiancé, Peter.”
“I’m happy to meet you both,” he said. “Having you here will make things perfect.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Laura’s mother said. “Down through the years, Laura’s told me good things about you. I might’ve known you two would end up together.”
Smiling, Peter entwined his fingers with Laura’s. “It was meant to be. I promise to make your daughter very happy, Mrs. Nelson.”
“Please, call me Dorothy,” she replied. Smiling, she said to Laura, “Darling, you neglected to say how handsome Peter is.”
Peter felt himself blush.
Laura giggled. “He is pretty cute, isn’t he? Mom, how did you and David get here?”
“A Wave Trapper portal, my dear,” Poppa replied, walking toward them. “It was simple as pie. I knew you’d want your mother, and I also knew you’d want your big brother to walk you down the aisle.”
Laura kissed Poppa’s cheek. “You old dear. Bless you.”
Just then, Jay cried. Dorothy and Laura went across the room to admire the baby. While they were focused on little Jay, Peter smiled at David. David didn’t smile back. Peter grimaced inside. Laura’s protective, older brother was obviously not happy about the wedding.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Peter said, offering his hand. “Laura’s said a lot about you.”
David took his hand in an iron grip. “Funny. She hasn’t mentioned you much at all.”
Immediately, pain tore through Peter’s arm. The injuries to his wrists were severe, and the pressure David was putting on his hand was almost unbearable. Peter knew his bandages were hidden by his long-sleeved shirt. He also knew that David didn’t realize the pain he was inflicting.
David tightened his grip.
Peter winced. He could mention his injuries, but he didn’t want to appear weak. Trying to keep the pain from showing on his face, he returned the pressure to David’s hand as best he could.
“I’m sure you have questions for me,” Peter said calmly. “I’m willing to answer them all.”
David narrowed his eyes. “I do have questions, and I’ll get my answers before I agree to this marriage.”
Clasping his other hand over Peter’s wrist, David squeezed. To a casual observer, it looked like David was initiating a hardy, two-handed handshake, but Peter knew differently. The pressure David was exerting was obviously intended to illustrate that he meant business. Peter felt his wounds ripping open. He saw black dots dancing in front of his eyes. In spite of the pain, he tried to keep his face calm. He tried to keep as much pressure on David’s hand as he could.
“David, what are you doing?” Laura bellowed from across the room. “Get your hands off him!”
Looking over, Peter saw Laura sprinting toward them. Before he could speak, she shoved her brother violently aside.
David looked shocked. “Sis—”
“Don’t sis me, you big bully.” Laura snarled. “You leave him alone. If you can’t behave yourself, go home. Peter’s a wonderful man, and I love him.”
“Sis—”
“Your big-brother scare tactics were OK when I was just a girl, but I’m a woman now, and you have no right to question Peter. Sit down in that chair and shut up. And if you’ve broken open his wounds, I swear, I’ll pummel you.”
A heavy silence filled the room as David sat.
Redheaded Laura was usually even tempered, but when she became angry, she ma
de up for lost time. Her anger wasn’t just imposing; it was intimidating.
Peter studied her furious face as she carefully rolled up his shirt sleeve. There was fresh blood on his bandages.
Laura’s face hardened. She whirled toward David. Peter could tell that she was going to slap him. Quickly, he grabbed her arm. “No, love,” he said. “David didn’t know about my injuries. Leave him be.”
“But he hurt you!”
“Unintentionally. I could have said something.”
“Why didn’t you, you stupid galoot?” Laura cried. “If your wrist is badly torn, I’ll never speak to you again.”
Peter stroked her cheek. “That could make things difficult, seeing I plan on being married to you for the rest of our lives, but I suppose we can learn sign language to help us squeak by.”
Laura’s face softened momentarily. She gave a watery chuckle.
David cleared his throat. “Laura, I didn’t realize he was hurt.”
She turned on him, her anger reviving. “That’s because you’re stupid. I’m still mad at you, David. Shush up, and stop trying to get out of the hot seat. You deserve to squirm.”
Laura pushed Peter into a chair and began removing his bloody bandages. “Gil,” she said, “get me the first aid kit.”
Nodding, Gil rushed from the room.
Everyone was extremely quiet. From the strained atmosphere, Peter knew that seeing Laura enraged was unsettling for them all—especially since it was obvious that Laura had a storm of tears waiting to burst free.
In the deafening silence, Laura threw the bloody bandages to one side.
Peter winced at the sight of his mangled wrist. He didn’t mind the pain, but he knew the sight of his freshly torn, bleeding wounds was going to have a bad effect on Laura. He was right.
Laura grabbed David by the front of his shirt and pulled him forward. Glaring at him, she hissed, “You doubt Peter’s love for me? Do you? Just look at his wrist. When Drake held us captive, he chained Peter to the wall but left me free so he could hurt me. I’ve seen pictures of a woman that maniac tortured, and the pictures weren’t pretty. Peter knew what I was in for, and he struggled to break loose from his cuffs so he could protect me.”
“Sis, I—”
“Shut up and listen,” Laura spat. “Peter knew he was mangling his wrists. He knew he was losing a dangerous amount of blood. He knew it could mean his death if he continued to struggle. But he still tried to break free. And I’ll have you know that even though he was chained to the wall, he defended me and defeated Drake.” Laura’s voice broke. “Just try telling me that a man like that isn’t worthy of my love. Just try telling me that a man like that—who protected me at the cost of endangering his own life—won’t stand by me through thick and thin.”
David was silent.
Dabbing at his bloody wounds with the discarded bandages, Laura said in a suffocated voice, “Peter’s wounds were just starting to heal. He’s going to have horrible scars for the rest of his life.” She glared at David. “I want you to look at his injuries. They’ll tell you how much he loves me. And I’ll tell you what, David, I love Peter with all of my heart. If you can’t accept that, go home. Poppa can walk me down the aisle.”
David put his hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Shh. I understand. I didn’t before, but I do now.”
Gil came back with the first aid kit.
Peter watched as Laura bandaged his wounds with a gentle touch. When she was done, her torrent of tears came. Laying her head on his knee, she sobbed. Feeling a lump rising in his throat, Peter stroked her hair.
Laura’s mother knelt beside her. “It’s OK, baby.”
“No, it’s not,” Laura cried. “I almost lost him, Mom. On the way to the hospital, I thought I had.” She shuddered. “I was holding Peter in my arms when his eyes rolled back. He went limp. I thought he was dead. I was so very close to losing him. So very close.”
As Laura’s sobs increased, her mother looked up at Peter. Nodding, he pulled Laura gently to her feet, and holding her close, he took her from the room.
~*~
After Marc finished his ice cream cone, he and Crystal decided to swing by and see the Komodo dragons. As soon as they spotted them, they both began singing, “Puff the Magic Dragon.” In the middle of the song, Crystal’s voice trailed away.
Marc chuckled. “Forget the words?”
She didn’t reply. Her forehead was puckered, and her eyes had a faraway look in them. Recognizing her changing mood, he rummaged in his pocket for the small notebook he’d brought along in case she had another math inspiration.
As he handed the writing supplies to her, she scribbled, Drake Procerus.
Looking at him in a dazed way, she murmured, “Could it be that easy?”
“What?”
“His name—could the clue to Drake’s true identity be in his alias? In Middle English Greek, Drake was Drakon. In Latin—Draco. In Italian—Drago. In all those languages, the medieval meaning of Drake was dragon. It can’t be a coincidence. But what kind of a clue is dragon? And to which dragon is Drake referring?”
25
That evening, Phoebe lay weeping on her bed when she heard Alex knocking on her door. Curling into a tight ball, she ignored him. She was hoping he’d give up and leave her alone, but his knocks kept persisting. After several minutes, she brushed her tears away and climbed out of bed. When she opened her door, a heavenly aroma invaded her bedroom. Alex had obviously cooked a special meal, and it smelled delicious. Her stomach growled.
Looking past his shoulder, she saw that he’d set the table with a lace tablecloth and fine china. Candles were winking. A bouquet of daisies graced the table with beauty—and significance.
In the living room, there was a cheerful fire burning in the fireplace, and on the hearth, Shep was sleeping peacefully. It looked as if the dog had been groomed within an inch of his life. He even had a blue bow clipped in his fur. By the sofa, fresh bandages were set out so her wounds could be tended.
Phoebe turned her attention back to Alex. He was always good looking, but tonight he looked extra handsome. He’d obviously taken extreme pains with his appearance. His blond hair was brushed neatly and rippling in golden waves. He was wearing black pants and a blue shirt that exactly matched the color of his eyes. Her nose caught a whiff of aftershave. She could tell that he’d done his best to make himself and his home attractive.
Alex was watching her anxiously. As she hesitated, hope filled his troubled eyes. Reaching a tentative, trembling hand toward her, he said softly, “Come?”
Phoebe felt a wave of anger. “I’m not hungry,” she replied in a hard, flat voice.
Alex’s eyes filled with pain. Slowly, he withdrew his hand.
She tried to slam her door, but Alex held it open.
“At least let me change your bandages,” he said quietly.
“I don’t need you,” she hissed. Scooting beneath his arm, she grabbed the bandages by the sofa and flounced back into her bedroom. This time when she slammed the door, he let her.
~*~
Drake crept through bushes, inching closer to Andrew Hamilton’s house. He smiled as he spotted the agents patrolling the grounds.
“Time to play,” he murmured.
~*~
Pulling into Tamazight’s parking lot, Marc smiled at Crystal’s excitement. She was practically glowing.
“This is so awesome,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve been dying to eat here for ages.”
“Then it’s time you went,” he said, parking his car. “I’ve never had Moroccan food before. You’ll have to tell me what to order.”
She shook her head. “You don’t order at this restaurant. They just bring the food to you.”
“We won’t be eating anything strange, will we?” He made a face. “Horse? Dog? Cat? Grasshoppers?”
“No. Just lamb, probably.” She gave him a naughty grin. “But maybe, if we’re very lucky, we’ll be served camel. Are you sure you don’t have ho
les in your socks?”
“Positive. I checked when you went to the ladies’ room at the zoo.”
As Crystal started opening her car door, he said quickly, “No, Cris, allow me.”
“I like your manners,” she said as he helped her from the car. “I could get used to being treated like someone special.”
“You are special,” he replied in a serious voice.
Marc watched as Crystal blushed and ducked her head. He suddenly realized that she wasn’t used to receiving compliments, and she wasn’t quite sure how to accept them.
Together, they walked across the parking lot to the restaurant. The building was covered in yellow plaster, and he had to admit that it exuded atmosphere. As they passed a fountain, Crystal dipped her fingers and flicked some water at him.
Wiping away the droplets, he chuckled. “You’re a menace, you know it?”
“Takes one to know one.” As he opened the restaurant’s door, she exclaimed, “This is going to be so much fun.”
Looking at her happy face, he smiled gently, thinking that Crystal was someone who brought fun with her wherever she went. She could probably turn a trip to the dentist into an enjoyable adventure—much less dinner out.
When they entered the building, pleasant music with an unfamiliar beat met Marc’s ears. After they’d removed their shoes, they were taken through a round doorway into the main dining room. Feeling like a stranger in a strange land, Marc glanced around curiously. The walls were painted red and covered with ornate decorations. When they were led to a low table, he looked at the pillows on the floor with misgiving.
Plopping down, Crystal patted the pillow next to her enthusiastically. She was exuding excitement. Marc’s lips twitched as he sank beside her.
“This is better than I’d hoped,” she gushed. “If the food and belly dancing matches the décor, we’re in for a memorable night.”
Awkwardly trying to fold his long legs, Marc winced. “I’m not sure about the seating arrangements. I already have a cramp in my leg.”
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