“Shall we go take a closer look?” he asked.
The domed roof was dark and spotted with moss and lichens, but Christina saw that it was made of molded cement. She touched it lightly. Mid-twentieth century. Laid with reverence, but with little respect for the stonework of the Roman soldiers who had made a shrine to Minerva in the eighth century BC. Or the medieval peasants who had converted it to the worship of the Virgin Mary.
“It’s very old, isn’t it?” Felipe said.
“Um. Quaint.” She pointed to a low stone wall. “We need to talk.”
“I have much to say,” he agreed enthusiastically.
“I’m sorry that you had to find out so publically that I intend to marry Ivan,” she began.
He angled his body towards her and his black eyes bored into hers as he had so often done. “Do you?” he asked softly. “Do you really intend to do so foolish a thing, my dear?”
His words washed over her senses like a soft and seductive zephyr. They made her feelings for Ivan seem fatuous and insubstantial. She blinked at him, and the strength of her love for Ivan roared back staggering her. Felipe came fully into focus. He was staring intently at her, smiling as if they were discussing trivia. As if she would automatically do as he wished.
“I’m fond of you, Felipe,” she told him firmly. “But I love Ivan.”
“You would be a very unhappy wife if you married Sarkany,” he said. “For a start, you would not find him half as understanding as I have been about your liaisons. Don’t let that air of sophistication fool you, Chrissy, the Sarkanys are Hungarian barbarians.”
“It’s no use, Felipe. I’m sorry, but feeling as I do about Ivan, I can’t marry you. Even if the Eldest forbids our marriage, I couldn’t marry anyone but Ivan.”
His face was angry for a second before it smoothed into blandness. He put out a gentle hand and stroked her face. She instinctively flinched away from his touch. “Are we not friends still?” he crooned, his voice a blend of hurt and cajolery.
“We have been friends a long time,” she said, sure now that he was trying to bespell her, had perhaps been doing so most of her life. She held on to the thought of Ivan as she fought Felipe’s enchantment. “But I am not going to marry you, now that I have found my destined husband.”
“You’ve changed, Chrissy,” he said sadly. “And not for the better. Don’t you think you owe it to your House and mine to think this injudicious infatuation through? Has our match not been settled for sixteen years?”
His glib voice rolled on sonorous and persuasive. Christina held the thought of Ivan’s face and voice as he had said, ‘You are mine, I intend to keep you.’
“Ivan will challenge you,” she warned him. “He has claimed me by right of capture.”
“Such a claim has no meaning in relation to a dragoness born,” he shot back.
“And yet Ivan will fight you in sky and on land for the privilege of keeping me. It’s no use, Felipe. I can’t roll back time and never have met Ivan.”
This time he let her see the real fury at back of his soothing words. “You owe me, Christina dear,” he hissed. “And you will pay. I do not release you from your pledge. If you wish to see your lover again, you are going to have to buy your way to freedom.”
Christina was truly frightened by the ugliness in Felipe’s face, but she tried a placatory response. “I’m sure that the sureties provided by our House to yours are yours to keep,” she said. “And those you gave to the House of Lindorm will be returned.”
“Will that compensate me for losing such a prize as Christina of Severn?” he asked bitterly.
She shrugged. “If you considered me a prize,” she said tartly, “You have a strange way of showing it.”
He stood up and loomed over her. His black eyes blazed. He breathed full into her face. She felt the power of his will and terror sliced deep into her. Should she take dragon, here in daylight and bend light and disappear? Felipe had never flown with her. He did not know her secret talent. She was still deciding when he continued.
“You will compensate me for your dowry, Christina, by helping me to a better.”
“What?” she stammered. “What are you talking about?”
He answered her by pulling out a Glock and releasing the safety. “We are going to take a little drive, my dear, and I will tell you on the way how you will repay me.”
Christina walked back to the car as slowly as she dared with Felipe’s gun against her spine. She got into the driver’s seat as he indicated she should., and put the Maserati in gear as he slammed his door.
“Have you lost your mind?” she asked conversationally as she pulled the sports car out of the layby.
“Not in the least,” he assured her silkily.
Did he think she was enchanted by his words, as she was beginning to believe she had been for years and years? Or did he think she was cooperating because of the gun? She decided to play the unfolding scene as if she were bespelled. “I don’t know why you are threatening me.” she said petulantly.
He chuckled. “Let us say, my dear, that one way or another, you will do as you are instructed.”
Christina put the car into third and let the clutch slip. “If you burn out the gear box,” he said clearly, “I will put a bullet in your clever little brain.”
“Relax,” she snapped back. “I know how to drive. Where are we going?”
“All in good time.”
On either side of the road, the vineyards extended up and down the slope in tidy rows. People wandered purposefully between the staked vines tying up a tendril here, snipping off another there. They paid no attention to the flashy little Maserati zipping around the twisting lanes. Christina hoped for some bulky piece of farm machinery to appear in the road as it meandered its slow way to its destination. Of course, the narrow road was empty. Not even a dog was sharing the asphalt this morning.
“If you think that I can tap into the Lindorm Fund,” she said conversationally. “I can’t. I can buy and sell securities, but I cannot remove monies to any but the accounts approved by the Eldest.”
Felipe laughed unpleasantly. How had she ever thought him the most agreeable of men? “I know,” he said. “You’ve told me often enough in the last year.”
She had? She had no recollection of doing so. What else had she told him? For the first time, death seemed the likeliest outcome for her. She pulled hard on her talent, trying to throw up a shield of light to deflect the potency of his spell without actually going stealth. “So what is it you want?” she asked as casually as her rapid pulse would permit.
“You are going to get me into the Vault,” he said calmly.
“What Vault?” Christina was genuinely confused.
“The Treasury of the Guild of Dragons. That Vault.”
“I hate to tell you this, but I don’t know anything about the Treasury or the Vault,” she replied truthfully.
He was silent as if mulling over her words. “Well, maybe they didn’t bother to tell you anything about the Chateau de la Ghilde,” he said slowly. “But that doesn’t matter in the least.”
“Of course I know about Guild Headquarters,” she said pushing indignation into her voice. “But I have never been there. If it has a vault, I know less than nothing about it.”
“Fortunately for you, my dear, I can tell you all you need to know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It had been a chilly and boring night in the Vault. He had remembered to bring water, but had thought that food was probably inappropriate. The vault was supposedly hermetically sealed, but fortunately that was not the case. A drafty current of stale air swirled through the cell from some unseen cracks in the limestone. It was pitch dark even to his dragon sight. Occasionally, Ivan had used his cell to illuminate the space, but he was conserving his batteries.
He had taken a perch on a domed chest as far out of the sight lines of whoever opened the door. The trouble was that the cell had been constructed in order to make sure prisoners
could be seen. The original door might have been a solid chunk of wood pierced by a grille, or it might have just been bars. He thought the former. In the twelfth century, iron would have been a great deal harder to come by than a thick slab of oak. But this meant there was really no hiding place in the Vault.
Outside, the silence was broken only when the guards greeted each other and changed over. He could hear their footsteps and their voices through the door. Hopefully, he would hear the attempt to enter the cell and not be taken by surprise. He would have time to take dragon and deal with the killer. It would have been idiocy to wait in dragon form. Staying in dragon used too much energy to be sustainable for the days he might have to hang about without eating.
Lindorm had said that he thought the villain would try to use the stultifying boredom of sentry duty. He would make his attempt late in the shift. If Lindorm was correct, and Felipe was the dragon he was waiting for, he knew who was on duty and the length of the shifts — or thought he did. Lindorm said someone had rifled through the papers on his desk where he had placed a mock schedule to deceive Felipe. Possibly that valet of Felipe’s. Possibly Felipe himself.
The hours ticked past. Lindorm sword bearer succeeded Lindorm sword bearer on a variable schedule, quite different from the one that Felipe had studied, so Ivan could not use the changes to guess the hour. His watch lit up when he pressed a button, but he did not care to check too often. It was difficult, despite the anxiety of lying in wait for a desperate criminal, not to fall asleep in the stuffy room. Several times he got up and did calisthenics to keep from growing stiff.
He heard a heavy thump followed by a soft voice. Not Felipe’s but that warned Christina’s. Ivan could hear the metallic noise of a key being placed in the ancient lock, and then Chrissy’s voice reciting flawlessly the words of power. A sense of betrayal fought with disbelief. Chrissy was the traitor? He could no more immolate his mate than he could set fire to the Schloss Sarkany.
The lock gave, there was no one in the doorway where Ivan pointed his gun. Then Christina stumbled in pushed by an unseen hand. She fell to her knees before Ivan’s dumbfounded eyes.
“Put your gun down, Sarkany,” Felipe’s voice ordered. “Or I will shoot her where she lies.” He suddenly materialized holding a Glock on Christina.
Ivan set his Beretta down on the nearest chest. Felipe retrieved it and stuck it in his belt.
Christina spoke, “What did you do to Oskar?” she asked.
“Shut up. Not one word,” Felipe barked.
A rumbling rattle echoed off the limestone walls. It drew closer and stopped outside the Vault. A man in a dirty blue overall, his face covered by a black balaclava peered in. “Not very big is it?” he said.
“Silence, fool,” snapped Felipe.
Balaclava stiffened and then recovered. He nodded obediently. Ivan was dividing his attention between Christina who was still huddled on the floor and also on the two villains. Still he missed the moment when Felipe vanished. The pinprick in his shoulder caught him off guard, but his hand closed powerfully over the hand holding the hypodermic.
“Let me go, Sarkany,” hissed Felipe. “Or I will shoot Christina. Believe me, nothing would give me greater pleasure.”
Ivan let go. His body was growing cold. He fell forward onto the floor and the world went away.
* * *
“You let Felipe take Christina out?” Thorvald demanded.
Inge Lindorm bridled at his tone. “Of course I did. They deserved some privacy while she explained about Ivan.”
“How long ago did they leave?” he asked.
She checked her watch. “Not more than an hour ago, more or less. What is the matter with you?”
“I have miscalculated,” he said. He went into the hall and bellowed. “Sword bearers, front and center!”
* * *
While he was out, someone had tied his hands behind him with painful thoroughness. Ivan turned his head. He was sprawled on his belly on the floor of the Vault. Chrissy had disappeared. He let his lashes veil his eyes as Felipe stepped back into the cell. Felipe ignored him.
Balaclava was on his heels. They each seized a chest and carried it out. They didn’t speak. Where the hell was his mate? Had Felipe shot her full of whatever drug was making it so hard for Ivan to think? Surely he would know if she were dead?
Felipe’s and Balaclava were moving quickly as they walked in and out of the Vault, briskly opening the chests to check their contents and then carrying them out. The reason for Balcazar Mendez’s singular inability to make money was explained. The idiot had no feel for value. He could not tell he was risking death to steal counterfeit. Nor could his companion, whose rank odor confirmed he was the Grand Duke’s actual killer.
Ivan on the other hand, was sensitive both to valuables and to the real sentiments of people. Oh, he might find it hard to read his woman, but he suspected that was nature’s way of leveling things between male and female. Felipe’s ill will he had no trouble detecting. It was unclear as to why he was not already dead. Felipe intended murder. Ivan closed his eyes again and played dead, hoping that Christina had gotten away.
Felipe opened one of the chests and began to swear. “Where is that fucking bitch?” he shrieked.
Balaclava came into the cell and gaped at Felipe. “She didn’t come past me, boss,” he said.
“You see her here, moron?” Felipe snarled.
“No, boss,” Balaclava said sullenly, making it clear that he didn’t like Felipe’s tone.
“Fuck it,” Felipe growled. He kicked Ivan in the ribs. “Get up. You’re coming with me. Let’s see if your brother will pay to get you back.” Another brutal kick. “Get up, Sarkany.”
Ivan moved sluggishly and pretended to be far more drugged than he was. His head ached, it was true, but he wasn’t as dizzy as he intended to act. He opened his eyes and adopted an unfocused gaze he hoped would deceive Felipe. Maybe he would leave him in the Vault? Felipe kicked him a third time. “Up,” he snarled.
Ivan didn’t have to fake difficulties in rising with his arms bound behind his back. But he added an extra wobble as he stood up. Balcazar Mendez shoved hard at his swaying form and Ivan fell against Balaclava who pushed him erect.
“Don’t give me any trouble, Sarkany, or I’ll drop you here.” Felipe brandished the Glock. He poked it into Ivan’s gut. “Where is she?”
“Dunno,” Ivan slurred the words and tried to look vacant. He pivoted unsteadily as if he expected to see Chrissy behind him.
“Fucking bitch. Let’s get out of here. You’re coming with us, Sarkany.” Felipe gestured to the door with his gun. “Move,” Felipe snapped. He turned to Balaclava. “You, get started. I’ll catch up.”
Where the hell were the Lindorms? Ivan had failed to deal with Felipe, but surely the other dragons should have intervened by now? What had gone awry? And what had become of Christina?
Obediently, Balaclava leaned on the handle of the trolley and began to trundle the overburdened cart along the limestone corridor. It rumbled and squeaked and the stone walls amplified the sound. Ivan could read Balaclava’s disgruntlement with Felipe, but he couldn’t figure how to make use of it. Yet.
Felipe slammed the door to the vault shut and tried to turn the key. Ivan could have told him that the closing spell had to be spoken first. Instead he stood unhelpfully, looking as vacant as he dared. He swayed a little.
“What’s the matter with this fucking door, Sarkany?” Felipe punctuated his question with a poke at Ivan’s neck with the pistol.
Ivan didn’t have to fake his grunt of pain.
“Say the fucking spell, asshole.”
“Spell? What spell?” Ivan asked looking around him as if the spell would materialize.
Felipe hit him in the temple with the gun butt. “Lock it, asshole,” he said.
“Okay,” Ivan slurred the word a little, then mumbled the opening spell. Naturally this had no effect.
“What the fuck?” said Felipe. He threatene
d Ivan again.
Ivan repeated the opening spell louder but no more clearly. “Try it now,” he said.
The Key would not turn. “Fuck it.” Felipe motioned for Ivan to precede him and they set off.
Where the hell was Chrissy? She was better off well away from Felipe and his gun. Otherwise there would be two dead dragons, not one. Ivan wasn’t sure that he believed that Felipe expected to ransom him. The Spaniard so obviously thought that no one would be able to pin the theft on him. But if Chrissy had gone for help, where were Lindorm and Hugo?
Even with Ivan walking unsteadily and having to be prodded, they swiftly caught up with Balaclava and the heavy trolley. Felipe motioned Ivan ahead and helped to push the cart along. Ivan had to walk a bit faster now, as the two villains kept ramming the base of the trolley into his Achilles tendons.
A rusty delivery van stood alone at the rear of the castle. Its shabby black paint forlornly advertised drain snaking with a surreal photo of a mammoth plumber and a miniature toilet. Except for the color, it didn’t look like the flashy convertible Balcazar Mendez had shown up in at the Chateau. But as a decoy, it was perfect.
“Get in.” Felipe said waving his Glock in Ivan’s face.
Ivan painfully climbed into the back of the vehicle. It was something of an ordeal without the use of his arms. The floor was gritty with dirt and smelled like sewage. There was a big space in the middle. All the tools and detritus of the plumbing trade had been piled against the sides of the van.
“Lie down on your stomach,” said Felipe.
“Have a heart,” said Ivan. “Let me sit up.”
“I could just shoot you here,” said Felipe silkily. “I really don’t care.”
“Okay. Okay.” Ivan lowered himself to his knees, rolled to one side and then over onto his belly to spare his bound arms. He heard the chests being hoisted in beside him and then the trolley being tossed on top of them.
“Remember, I can see you back here,” Felipe said. “I can shoot you from the front, Sarkany. You lie still like a good boy, and you may live to see that brother of yours again.”
Dragon's Pleasure (BBW / Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 3) Page 19