by Denise Lynn
She heard him muttering. The sound came from her right. He was too close. As slowly and quietly as possible, she moved cautiously to her left.
“We just want the translation.” His footsteps stopped. “Give it to us and we’ll leave you alone.”
Not hardly. These manuscript pages came from more than a simple book.
The pages were sections from another manuscript, a druidic grimoire that supposedly never existed. A supposition totally off base.
She knew for a fact that the Dragonierre’s Manual did indeed exist. For nearly four centuries it had been in the possession of the Drakes—her estranged husband’s family. She’d seen it several years ago.
How had these pages become separated from the manual? It was kept locked away in a safe. Did Braeden know that a few of the pages had been nabbed? Or had the manual she’d seen always been incomplete?
The package’s arrival before the daily mail call meant they’d gone to a lot of trouble to ensure the pages found their way to her desk. They’d somehow bypassed all the security measures and broken into her office to make the delivery.
She’d been set up. The why was pretty obvious—there were few people who could actually do the translation. The who was what worried her. Was it human or something more sinister?
Either way, was it aware of her connection to the Drakes and the value of the manual? What evil was planned with the translation?
If what she’d heard about the manual was correct, the spells and rituals were powerful. In the wrong hands the magic could be used to literally bring down nations.
“I can stay out here all night,” said the man, sending her heart into another frenzy.
He was so close now that she could probably touch him. Instead, she curled her fingers around the cold, hard steel in her pocket.
After the threatening phone call she’d received before dawn this morning, she’d slipped the gun into her coat. However, this wasn’t the danger she’d expected.
“It’s a nice clear night. It’ll get real cold soon.” She heard him zip up his jacket. “It won’t bother me none. I can wait.”
His darkly ominous tone didn’t convince her of his professed patient character.
The man sighed heavily and then said, “You’re a smart girl. You know he’ll eventually get what he wants. One way or another, he’ll have the power with or without your help.”
She clamped down on her tongue, determined to hold back the gasp trying to claw its way out of her throat. Dread crept down her spine as she realized they knew full well the secrets these pages contained.
Just as she’d feared, whoever was in charge of this venture was out for nothing more than power and evil. Offering either up to them was not an option.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
To her surprise, the man’s hot breath brushed her ear. Alexia jerked away from him. “No.”
He grabbed her arm, preventing her from pulling out her gun. “I’d say your choices are rather slim. Give us what we want, or we’ll take it.”
Unable to break free of his hold, she stalled for time to think. “I only received the pages today. There hasn’t been time to go over them. I have nothing to give you.”
He jerked her closer until she had to tip her head back to look up at him. The glare from an overhead light pooled down on them. A latex mask covered his entire head. The only part of him visible beneath the grotesque caricature of a lion were his eyes and mouth.
He stared at her through beady, bloodshot hazel eyes. His thin lips curled, his breath felt like the fires of hell against her face. “Oh, blue eyes, I have everything I need—you and the pages. He’ll be more than able to convince you to finish the job.”
Even with her high-heeled boots on, he towered over her. The man tightened his grasp, making her wince. She swallowed. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what type of convincing they’d use.
Alexia forced down her panic. If she allowed herself to lose control, she wouldn’t stand a chance of escaping.
She’d give her eye teeth for a good idea right about now, but all she could think to do was buy time. “You’ll need more than just me and the pages. It’s not like I have every word and symbol in every language memorized.”
He dragged her behind him as he headed back toward the museum. “You just show me what books or stuff you need and we’ll take ’em along.”
“It’s after hours. The building is locked.” Since she wasn’t a permanent staffer, she didn’t have a key, just a small office in the basement.
“No problem, babe.” He laughed. “You think a little thing like a lock will slow me down?”
She wasn’t going with him. Alexia dug in her heels and fought frantically to get him to release her arm. It was like trying to shake off a mountain lion.
He stopped and faced her. “You’re wasting my time.” To add emphasis to his words, he tightened his grip until tears formed in her eyes. “I’m not letting you go.”
Alexia gritted her teeth to keep from flinching. She was not going into the museum with him, and she had to act before he met up with his accomplices. She’d rather die.
In the end, she might die, but not without a fight. She stiffened her spine. “And I’m not going with you.”
Before he could finish another laugh, she kicked him. The hard heel of her boot caught him in the kneecap. She wished it could have been higher, but she’d take what she could get.
He gasped. His eyes widened and she planted the end of the three-inch heel into his kneecap again. And that was all she needed, because he released her arm.
Before he could grab her, she whirled away, pulled the Beretta from her pocket, slid the safety off with her thumb before pointing it at his chest. Her lack of experience would require both hands for a good aim, but she wasn’t letting go of the package in her other arm. No matter what her instructor insisted, one-handed would have to do. He was close enough that she only had to calm herself and hold the gun steady.
He shook his head. “That’s a joke, right?”
Alexia shrugged. “It’s a real gun with real bullets, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The man took a step closer. “You aren’t going to shoot me—I can see it in your eyes.”
In all honesty she’d never shot anything except a target at the local gun club’s shooting range. And she’d only done that out of pure necessity. Alexia suggested, “Perhaps you need to look again.”
He started to reach inside his jacket.
She took a deep breath before pulling back on the trigger. The reverberation shivered through her, but she held her stance, and then heard a satisfying whoosh as the bullet tore through his leather jacket.
“You bitch!”
She spun and raced for her car, not caring how badly she’d injured him. From the curses he spouted, she assumed he’d live.
His angry shouts brought his buddies to his side just as she reached the car. Before they could catch up with her, she wrenched the door open, tossed in the padded envelope and her gun, threw herself into the driver’s seat, started the car and took off, tugging at her seat belt as she drove.
A quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed that while she may have shot the man, it hadn’t stopped him. He held his arm and screamed at the other two as all three of them raced for their light-gray four-door.
Alexia drove with no destination in mind. There was little doubt that they’d soon be on her tail, but where could she go? Not to her sister’s—she wouldn’t put Maureen or the kids in jeopardy.
To the police? No. What would she tell them? That she was in possession of an ancient Druid text containing secrets to powers unimaginable? They would either ask if Halloween had arrived two weeks early or think she was a kook.
Alexia checked the rearview mirror again. No headlights shimmered off the mirror. So, now what? Her relief faded. Where could she go?
Outside of two twenties in the pocket of her jeans, she had no other cash on her and her cards were in
her desk drawer—at home. Alexia swore. Of all times to start leaving home without plastic, why on earth had she picked this month?
She rolled her eyes. Simple. She hadn’t wanted the temptation of a credit card when she was saving every dime for her upcoming trip to England.
She had to go home. Alexia frowned. What if they knew where she lived?
Sweat dampened her back from the sinking feeling that someone might be waiting for her at her town house. But she had to take the chance.
When she pulled into her neighborhood, she flipped off the headlights before turning onto her street, then pulled into the first empty space along the curb. Heart pounding, she rolled down the window and peered toward the middle of the block at her town house.
Over the rush of her pulse she heard nothing unusual—a door slamming, a horn honking from the next street over, two cats fighting in Mrs. George’s yard. Everything she’d expect to hear around midnight.
She scanned the line of parked cars. While she didn’t see the gray four-door, a dark limo and a flashy red Rolls Phantom were parked outside of her place.
Neither of the two cars belonged to her neighbors. Both were too impractical, too elegant for this end of town. A pickup truck, Jeep or any SUV could’ve been ignored.
Then she saw a light come on in her bedroom. Scenes from every late-night horror movie she’d seen raced through her head. She’d have to make do without the credit cards, because there was no way she was going in her town house.
She rolled the window up, then eased her car out onto the street. As she put the car in reverse, she noticed two men running out of her town house. One leaped into the back seat of the limo, the other jumped behind the wheel of the Phantom. Both tore off in the opposite direction down the street.
She hesitated. Would it be safe to—
The town house exploded. A shower of glass and bricks rained on the street. She stared, frozen in shock. Torn between rushing to check on her neighbors and driving as far away as possible, Alexia remained immobile.
The Wilson family, who lived on one side of her place, were on vacation, so that left the Hazels. The three occupants stumbled out of their home and crossed the street to another neighbor’s.
A swirl of ice-cold fear snaked down her spine. She had no idea where the men had gone. No clue who they were or what they’d been looking for. If they’d been searching for the manuscript pages, why blow up her home? Surely they’d want the pages intact.
She had to get away before they found her. Mrs. George, the neighborhood busybody, would be able to tell the police everything they needed to know.
Unwilling to risk being seen, Alexia hit the gas pedal and backed down the street to the first crossroad, then took the long way around the block.
She groaned in dismay. A tank of gas and forty bucks wouldn’t get her very far. There was one place she could go, and even knowing that was her only option, she had to brush away a tear. With a frustrated cry, she headed toward the expressway.
The thugs who’d attacked her probably expected her to run to Braeden. But where else could she go?
Nowhere.
Alexia turned onto the southbound ramp. If she drove through the night, she could be in the mountains of East Tennessee just after breakfast—assuming the men didn’t catch up with her.
Even before they crawled into his office with the news, Nathan knew the three imbeciles thought they had failed. But his only intent had been to send Alexia running to Dragon’s Lair and back into her husband’s arms. With a little prompting on his part, it’d succeeded. Where else could she go once her home had blown up?
Still, there was no point in letting anyone else in on his scheme. So he waited, knowing they’d eventually summon up the courage to tell him that three strong men had been unable to kidnap one small female.
Nor was there any point in slipping into her mind again. When she did finally make her way to Dragon’s Lair, he didn’t want to risk the Drakes knowing who was behind their troubles. No matter how carefully he covered his tracks, it would be far too easy for one of them to go traipsing through Ms. Reve’s mind and catch a trace of him.
That was the last thing he wanted. Too many mistakes had already been made through the centuries. People had paid with their lives for errors in judgment.
His eldest son, Marcus, had been so certain that the Drakes of the sixteenth century were the ones who would translate the book that he’d gone against Nathan’s wishes. That mistake had sent the book deeper into hiding.
However, watching his brother’s execution had done little to stop another son from repeating the same mistake a generation ago.
Jason had taken it into his head that the previous Drake couple had been the ones who would finally grant the Learneds what they had waited for so long.
And yet again Nathan had tried to convince the dimwit of his error, to no avail. In the end he’d had to kill not only his wayward son, but the Drakes, too. He couldn’t risk them living with the certain knowledge of his existence.
Not yet. Not until the grimoire was in his hands.
After all the planning and work he’d done, Nathan was unwilling to be caught now. He’d nearly risked detection himself years ago when he’d conjured up a winged beast to force Alexia’s car off the road.
That petty, yet necessary, act had served two purposes. She’d lost the child she’d been carrying, ensuring that the Dragon wouldn’t pass on his power to his child. As an added bonus, her husband’s disbelief at her explanation of the accident had driven a wedge between them.
The timing had not yet been right. While he’d been certain even then that these were the two who would eventually give him what he needed, neither of them had possessed the skill at the time to do so.
While he’d been smugly satisfied when she had gone back to school, he’d been forced to kill again. Rumors of the grimoire’s existence had been passed down through the generations much like the book itself. Most people scoffed at the rumors. But some, like Ms. Reve’s professor, were far too curious.
The man had been too sly for his own good. He’d taken advantage of Ms. Reve’s connection to the Drakes and her eagerness to obtain her degree to convince her to do a paper on the grimoire.
Nathan had been slightly amused at Ms. Reve’s attempts to change her professor’s mind. But in the end, she’d been unable to do so.
The man never lived long enough to discover that Ms. Reve’s paper was nothing more than speculation containing nothing of the facts.
Now Alexia had the ability to translate the grimoire. And Braeden Drake, High Lord and Wizard of Mirabilus, was indeed the Dragon that Nathan had long awaited. The Dragon and his mate would renew their love…at least long enough for the grimoire to be translated.
Nathan shook his head. If they knew how much he had dabbled in their love life, they would be horrified. He’d torn them apart, pilfered letters, waylaid phone calls to keep them from each other long enough for the wheels to turn.
And now, just when each thought their separate lives were finally on track, he would toss them back together.
Never in all his years of waiting had he expected love to be the most evil, albeit strongest, tool he’d employ.
Nathan opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small wooden cube. He rubbed a finger across the smooth worn oak before sitting it atop his desk. “Ah, Aelthed, our time has finally arrived.”
The box vibrated, clattering across his desk before levitating. Nathan easily reached out and captured the cube. “No, not this time, my friend.” He’d been caught unaware the first time this had happened and sported a black eye for days.
“I would think that after eight centuries, you’d be thrilled at the thought of freedom.” He placed the cube back in the drawer and shrugged. “But perhaps you’ve come to enjoy your solitude.”
He slammed the drawer shut before turning from his desk to face the makeshift altar behind him. Since the hard part of the ceremony had already been completed, he only needed
to finish the remainder now—then he’d know for certain that Alexia went to Braeden.
After righting both the small amethyst and sapphire dragons stationed at the rear center of the wooden ledge, he began to chant. Slowly, methodically, he lit two of the candles, then the incense.
He picked up a figurine, the flame from the candles bouncing off the red wax. An image of Alexia came easily to his mind as he lit the figure. “Here burns the Spirit and the Power of Alexia.”
Nathan lit the remaining candles, then completed the chant. He leaned back in his chair before swiveling to face the desk once again. He stared into the free-standing mirror perched in the corner and focused on Alexia.
The mirror clouded. Fog swirled in the smooth glass, setting his heart racing. “Ah, yes. Appear—”
A sharp knock at the office door interrupted his scrying. With an exasperated curse, he called out, “Enter.” He turned and gazed ardently at the dragons before extinguishing the candles. “Soon, you and all else shall be mine.”
Chapter 2
Alexia gripped the steering wheel of her ten-year-old Thunderbird tightly enough to dig her fingernails into her palms, then leaned closer to the windshield. This seven-hour drive had turned into the never-ending journey.
A rockslide just over the state line had held her up for more than four hours. Then it had started raining about the time she’d hit the foothills. The downpour worsened with each passing mile until she’d had to pull over until it let up enough for her to see the road ahead.
She couldn’t help but wonder who would be more upset by her arrival—Braeden or his aunt Danielle. With any luck, his aunt had stayed behind in Boston and she wouldn’t be around.
To keep boredom at bay and the family coffers filled, so to speak, Braeden and his brothers designed and built resort hotels around the world. Alexia knew from news articles and recent television interviews that the current work in progress was a secluded resort in the mountains just outside Gatlinburg, Tennessee. While she could envision Braeden and his brothers there, she couldn’t imagine Danielle Drake leaving her high-society life in Boston for the mountains.