Heritage (The Slendervale Series Book 2)

by Sean Mannette

  “The Red Dragon is a piece of history, Slendervale’s history, and I’ll not have you steal it away from me.” Gillman stood tall, almost proud, and was defiantly holding a finger aloft at Adam’s face. “Before any of us, the Red Dragon had come to our shores, and made history. My father owned the dagger when I was a boy, before it was stolen away from us. It’s mine.”

  Adam said nothing, momentarily taken aback by the expression of such incredible passion from such an unlikely man. Alisha, however, gave a low chuckle, deep in her throat.

  “Your father was a degenerate fool, Gill. The dagger was taken to pay his creditors. Such a prize did not belong in the hands of such a weak specimen.”

  Adam was shocked at the animosity. It was out of character for Alisha and definitely seemed out of character for Gillman. And of all the reason they could have been here, Adam would have imagined that art, of all things, would have been a polite and civil conversation.

  “Get out!” Gillman thundered. Adam stood motionless, staring.

  Alisha stepped out of the conference room confidently, flashing a sardonic smile at Gillman as she passed. Adam had no idea how it was possible for her to be so calm in a situation that had spiraled so greatly out of control.

  “OUT!” Gillman thundered again, this time at Adam directly. The squat man was shaking with rage, his bulbous face cast in an ugly shade of red. Adam backed out of the room, unable or unwilling to turn his back on the man. Gillman watched him with every movement, his eyes wide and white froth bubbling from the corner of his wide mouth.

  The ride back to the Tower was passed in complete silence. The journey seemed to take a lifetime as Adam, no longer enraptured by the views of the city, pondered over the events of the meeting. Gillman wasn’t a man he was displeased to have provoked. There was something about him Adam found distasteful, that set his stomach to churning. Not to mention his connection with a non-profit organization that Adam’s own wife had revealed was anything but honest. Still, he was sorry that his actions would disappoint Francis, who had given him a shot at this as a favor.

  Adam had hoped that his work would endear him to Francis, as well as allow him to express the gratitude he felt for the assistance that Francis had given him. Instead he had bungled the whole thing, and apparently cost Francis something he wanted. And at the end of it all, Adam was still amazed that the strongest emotions he had seen from both Gillman and Alisha had been evoked by something so simple and impractical as a piece of artwork.

  Adam and Alisha entered the Tower, passing by the snoring dwarf without comment. The elevator remained non-threatening in Alisha’s presence.

  When it opened, Adam found himself looking up into the face of the same man he had nearly killed just days before. Fearful eyes immediately averted themselves from Adam’s gaze, marring the perfect cheekbones of his face.

  “Varro!” Alisha exclaimed, apparently restored to her customary superficial happiness. “I haven’t seen you in days. Please, you simply must meet Adam. He’s Francis’ new star.”

  Varro pushed one of his shoulders up as though he were squeezing past and slid around them, back to the wall, leaving plenty of space to walk through.

  “Varro.” He nodded a greeting to Adam. He stayed as far away as the hallway permitted him, which was at least enough for a second person to squeeze through.

  “That was Varro. Rude little thing, didn’t even stay for a chat. He’s a model of some sort. I believe he knew your late wife, Adam.” Alisha chattered on as though nothing unusual had happened.

  Still, Adam gulped. He could feel the frenzy building within him again, as it had before Madam Ubasa had successfully coaxed him off of Varro’s body. The thrumming was back in his ears, and his face began to grow hot.

  “My wife is not dead,” Adam said, barely managing to keep the anger out of his voice. Judging from the shocked expression on Alisha’s face when she turned her head toward him, Adam had not been as controlled as he had thought.

  “I spoke out of turn. I’m sorry, Adam.” Her voice held her sorrow in just as mocking a tone as her happiness usually was. Adam couldn’t quell the blood that was rushing in his ears, but there was something unsettling in her eyes that stopped him from responding. So unsettling, in fact, that it stopped him in his tracks. She continued on for two steps before realizing she was alone. Alisha turned back toward Adam, her expression blank. Adam was sure he saw it, just for a moment, lingering behind her eyes. After a moment, he started again and proceeded down the hallway beside her, shocked into silence. Adam was deathly certain, that for the briefest of moments, he had seen genuine laughter in her eyes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “He was insulted by Adam’s remarks. After that, Gillman was impossible to work with.” Alisha waited for Francis’ response, the air heavy with anticipation. She had just finished giving her version of the events. It was, of course, heavily intended to make Adam look incompetent.

  Francis pondered her words thoughtfully, still never breaking eye contact. “And this… Outburst, of Adam’s. You say he was insulting Gillman for caring about the dagger?” Alisha bowed her head, allowing her black, glossy hair to almost completely cover her face.

  “More that he was insulted for being sent on business involving the auction, sir. I don’t think it was about the Red Dragon in particular, but rather the business of the day.”

  Francis nodded sharply, twice, then strode toward the window. He gazed thoughtfully down at the cars below him, watching their bustle and haste the same way a man might observe a colony of ants in an ant farm. After a moment, he folded his hands behind his back and drew in a long, slow breath. Glancing over his shoulder, he returned to the business at hand.

  “Thank you Alisha,” he turned his attention once more to the busy city streets below him before continuing. “You may return downstairs. I believe there are some matters in our foreign holdings that require your immediate attention.”

  With that she was dismissed, having hardly a clue as to how her story had been received. Francis had been like that recently. He was holding his cards closer to his chest with each passing day, giving only orders. Alisha couldn’t stand it any more than the rest of them.

  As she reached the door on the far side of the office, Francis called out to her.

  “And send Adam in. I wish to speak with him.”

  Adam stood waiting in the hallway outside Francis’ office. He was shifting his weight between his legs, swaying slightly back and forth with nervousness. He disliked being back at the Tower. Something about it set him on edge. Adam supposed it was because of the constant reminders of his wife, or perhaps the issues with the elevator. Either way, it was a burden for him to be back under its roof, and the fact that he was awaiting what he assumed would be a very angry boss was only making things more difficult for him. The door creaked open and Alisha slipped out, leaving barely enough of a crack to see into the room beyond. Adam bounced over to her,, feeling his heart keeping time in anxious, pitter-patter beats.

  “He wants to see you,” she said. It sounded ominous to Adam, despite the sing-song voice in which said it. She went on to pass him by, but Adam intercepted her.

  “Is he upset? What did you tell him?” He asked, taking a few steps backward as Alisha moved forward to call his bluff.

  “I’ll tell you one thing, Adam. Francis doesn’t like little rehearsals out in front of his office. Whatever he is feeling now would be ten times worse for you if he was under the impression that you were trying anything.”

  Adam shook his head fiercely. He wasn’t about to let her little games get to him. Francis had given him free access to a room. He had helped with the investigation. Adam wasn’t about to give up all of that simply because the teacher’s pet wouldn’t let him copy her homework.

  “I need to know what it is that I’m walking into,” Adam said firmly. “That’s the kind of favor that always gets returned.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, before he had even thought them
. They didn’t sound like him, he knew. Alisha’s eyes flashed with something as she smiled up at him.

  “I know you wouldn’t intentionally do something to upset Francis.” Her shark smile was now accompanied by a knowing look. She skipped past him and moved out of sight around the corner.

  Adam supposed there was nothing else that he could do except face the music. Technically, he supposed, the whole thing was his fault. He moved through the heavy oak doors that separated the hallway from Francis’ office.

  Francis was waiting for him in his customary spot in front of the large southern facing window. “Adam,” He called out over his shoulder. Adam was relieved, as there was still some fair amount of warmth in his voice. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

  Adam had been in a situation like this before, he remembered: he had been called into the principal’s office when he had first started high school. He had been caught setting up something of a mobile convenience store on school grounds. He had been selling chips, candy, cans of soda, and other common items at a significant mark-up. It had arguably been his most successful business endeavor.

  But he had been caught, and while he had been afraid at first, the principal had warmed to him over the course of their discussion, eventually letting Adam go with a warning. That same chummy aura that now permeated Francis’ office had been the first indicator all those years ago that everything was going to be okay.

  “Adam,” Francis began once more. “I don’t suppose you’d say no to a drink.”

  “No, I don’t think I would.” Adam said warmly. They remained silent while Francis removed the cover from the globe and poured out a few fingers of scotch. Adam braced himself as the liquor burned pleasantly down his throat. The fire now kindling in his belly sent warmth to all his extremities, and Adam unsuccessfully tried to reign in a shudder. Francis filled his glass again, scrutinizing him with his bright green eyes.

  “So Adam. Maybe you’d like to tell me how the meeting went.” Francis said with a false causality. Adam was hardly fooled.

  “I would have thought you’d already heard a full version of events from Alisha. I don’t see why our accounts would disagree.” The courage given by all strong drinks was beginning to buff Adam. He could tell simply by the danger of his response.

  “She did. I’d like to know your thoughts.” Francis wasn’t letting up with his eyes, either. Adam was having a bit of trouble trying to find the best play. If he came clean, Francis would undoubtedly be upset, but if he lied, the discrepancy between his and Alisha’s stories would have the same effect.

  Francis let out a short cough to interrupt Adam’s thought process, spurring him to speak.

  “You’re a busy man,” Adam started, his own thoughts stalling him as much as his words were meant to stall Francis. “So I guess I don’t understand. I mean, if you were hoping to save time by sending us to the meeting instead, it’s always going to be chipped away by having long talks about it. I am happy to represent you, sir, but if that’s your plan, it would be better to go yourself.”

  The silence was deafening to Adam, who was sure at this point that he had finally made a mistake. Francis stared down at him from where he stood, frozen. Then, just as Adam was certain he had insulted him, Francis cracked a smile. Its warmth and amusement flooded over Adam, cleansing his sins like a baptism.

  “You’re safe, Adam. I couldn’t ever forgive myself for letting go of such a valuable bullshitter.” The words were said with enough joviality that Adam found himself laughing along with Francis. He felt Francis' hand patting his shoulder reassuringly. “But knowing what happened is necessary to knowing how to proceed.”

  “Proceed?” Adam was genuinely curious. “Gillman didn’t budge. You’ll have to outbid him.”

  “I think you can see why that isn’t ideal, Adam. And when I see a solution that isn’t ideal, I look for other options. They are always available for a man of sufficient power and imagination.”

  “Well,” Adam gulped. “He wasn’t happy. I didn’t realize that the meeting was about an auction. I assumed…” Adam trailed off, at a loss for words.

  “You assumed it would be some facet of my business here. That you would be working on a real estate deal, or a municipal zoning issue, or a board seat.” Francis’ tone was patient, almost fatherly. Adam nodded.

  “Archleone’s is the premier auction house in Slendervale. He has good relationships with anyone of means in this city; hell, anyone on the East Coast. There are a lot of items that go to auction there that you can’t get in the rest of the country. The Red Dragon is one of those.” Adam considered that for a moment.

  “My wife, she wrote a few pieces about Art Galas. She said that people do all kinds of things, sketchy things, to make money on the art they collect. Is it something like that? You’re buying the dagger because you know you can make it worth more in a few years?” Adams words were halting, as he tried to connect his reasoning alongside his words.

  “No, Adam.” Francis' tone increased in gravity. “I am not planning on ever selling the Red Dragon. It would be difficult, even if I worked with all the right people. There are stories that are too old, too frequent, and too well-circulated for me to fight. Rumors that the dagger is cursed.”

  “So it’s about Gillman.” Adam grew more confident in his answer as he talked. “You can’t get to him the way you want to, so you’re fighting him another way. It’s some kind of family heirloom of his, and by buying it out from underneath him you can provoke him.” Adam nodded with the last. With what he had gathered from Gillman, it might have even been a tactic that Francis had employed before. The emerald eyes sparkled.

  “I’ve done it before. It’s more effective than you can imagine, when public favor is needed, to provoke an enemy into coming after you first. It is also a way you can meet them on your terms, entrap them. But no, that isn’t why this was important enough for me to send my number two.”

  Adam wrestled with other thoughts, unable to come up with a sufficient explanation. Alisha was undoubtedly valuable to Francis, so why put her time on the line like that?

  “The Red Dragon is something I want. I have a well-rounded collection, to be sure, but the Dragon is bigger than that. I would trade every painting– the Dalí, the Durer, even the Van Gogh– for that dagger.”

  “But… Why? I mean…” Adam gestured at nothing with empty hands. He gave up with a shake of his head, unable to fully articulate his confusion.

  Francis slid around the desk with a grace that was almost unnatural. He sat down in the leather chair beside Adam. Straightening his tie so it fell properly on his seated form, Francis began to whisper.

  “The Red Dragon has a very old history, understand. One which began in Renaissance France. This was long before the days of John Dee, before even Agrippa. The practice of witchcraft was punishable by death at that time, even amongst those who would later be considered above suspicion. The Church ruled throughout Europe without dispute. The terrors they inflicted were unspeakable, and the world was just beginning to come out of its awful grip. During all this time there were still men, women, entire families even, who rejected the principle that some man in a funny hat was the representative of some silent, invisible deity.”

  Adam leaned forward, spellbound by Francis’ words.

  “The church held almost all the power, even over kings. Countless hundreds of thousands of people, millions by some counts, died at their hands for daring to believe differently while the world was drawn into darkness. The brilliant science and philosophy of the ancient world withered and died under the watchful gaze of the Church, refusing to acknowledge anything pagan.

  “Before their White Christ, we knew the earth was round.” Adam’s eyebrows shot up at this. Francis continued. “Yes. They had even calculated how large it was in Alexandria. Our understanding of science, math, natural history was all systematically ‘lost’ by a Church whose greatest minds were focused on bickering about how many angels could fit on a pin head.” F
rancis scoffed, and Adam found himself scoffing alongside him.

  “There were those who learned, and taught, and sought community in secret. They knew the mysteries of the Old World, and sought to save what knowledge would otherwise be extinguished. They believed that pagan gods had once given man dominion over the world, and had encouraged his doubting and curious mind to explore and seek answers.

  “As the close of the first millennium approached, it was a group of these men who decided that for their freedom, and the world’s, they would have to use every means available to them to disrupt the church. A powerful French courtier under the Merovingians ordered for Le Dragon Rouge to be made. The Red Dragon, an athame which was constructed in secret, over the course of a year and a day. The dagger was made to exact specifications based on ancient methods, astrology, and the orbit of the moon. The courtier had but one goal,” Francis paused dramatically. “The destruction of the Catholic Church.”

  Adam’s knowledge of history was far from his strongest suit, but he was fairly certain that the Church had survived, very much intact, into the second millennium.

  “What happened?” Adam finally found his voice.

  Francis was silent for several moments, staring past Adam to the large mural of the world map on his wall. His face was stoic, impossible to read, but it seemed to Adam he was living the story he had just woven. Just when Adam thought to ask his question again, Francis began speaking. He spoke in a whisper so low that Adam had to lean in close to make out the words.

  “They were betrayed. A secret organization within the Church had infiltrated them, waiting until the last possible moment to collect as many co-conspirators and other dissidents as they could before they acted. The church ended the Merovingian Dynasty, killed most of the pagans, and took possession of the Red Dragon. Those few that were able to escape the wrath of the Church fled north to England and Ireland, and settled there.”