The Dragon Lord

by E. G. Foley

  Focus! he scolded himself. The sooner he made sure Beacon House was secure, the sooner he could bring Dani and the others inside, where they’d all be safe. I hope.

  For a few more quiet paces, Red and he continued down the third-floor hallway, but suddenly, Jake froze, hearing muffled voices coming from somewhere nearby. He held up his hand; at once, Red crouched down into battle mode.

  Lifting a finger over his lips, Jake motioned to the Gryphon to keep silent and follow, then began moving toward the sound with the utmost care, practically tiptoeing.

  The whispers were coming from behind the closed door of a nearby guest bedchamber. As Jake approached, the indistinct murmurs crystallized into a range of different voices, oddly high-pitched and, well, silly-sounding. He furrowed his brow.

  His senses on high alert, he clasped the doorknob and slowly turned the handle, heart pounding.

  Ready to use his telekinesis on any foe he might find within, Jake yanked the door open without warning, and suddenly, the room went quiet.

  Red peered over Jake’s shoulder and sniffed the air, which held a sweet, delicious whiff of…

  Gingerbread?

  A grin broke across Jake’s face. Of course! How could he forget? Of all the guest chambers that lined the third floor of the mansion, this must be the very room where he had put the gingerbread village and its two cookie clans last Christmas—here at Beacon House, where he knew all the little gingerbread people would be safe.

  Well, he had to stow them somewhere, considering a wayward Christmas elf called Humbug had dusted them with enchanted sugar stolen from Santa’s workshop—or rather, Mrs. Claus’s kitchen—that made them come alive at night.

  That explained why the tiny folk were up and about at this hour. Despite their sweet natures, the gingerbread people were as nocturnal as vampires. By day, though, they lay around, quite as inanimate as the average lemon macaroon.

  Now, nearly a year later, Jake stared into the bedroom, amazed at how their pastry village had grown. Blimey, they’d been busy! A bustling gingerbread city now filled the cozy bedchamber, no doubt with help from Mrs. Appleton.

  Jake clutched his chest in relief, but couldn’t help laughing at himself, prowling in here ready to battle the Dark Druids. This completely nonthreatening cookie-land was the last thing he’d expected to see.

  It was then that the gingerbread folk noticed him. A collective gasp arose from their tiny voices all around the room.

  “Well, bless my candy buttons!” a wee voice said. “Is that Lord Jake and his noble Gryphon?”

  “Everybody, look who it is!”

  Jake crouched down in the doorway, afraid of stepping on anyone as the gingerbread folk rushed to see him. The next thing he knew, a crowd of gingerbread men and women mere inches tall stampeded toward the door, each one individually frosted with icing faces, colorful hair, and candy-jeweled clothes.

  It was amazing how loud such small folk could be, considering they barely came up to his shoelaces.

  “It’s so good to see you again, young man!”

  “What are you doing here at this hour?”

  “Shh!” Jake said. “Thank you for the welcome, but you need to be quiet. There may be trouble afoot.”

  Instantly, they all stopped shouting and murmured anxiously amongst themselves.

  “What sort of trouble, dear giant boy?” a candy-helmeted soldier asked.

  Jake caught himself before saying too much. He did not wish to terrify them. Life was scary enough when you were only a few inches tall and quite brittle.

  “Well”—he chose his words carefully—“there was…a spot of bother at Merlin Hall earlier tonight, and I just wanted to make sure everything was all right here. Have you heard any odd noises in the house tonight? Any strangers arriving over the past few hours?”

  “No, sir,” the tiny soldier replied. “I’ve been on sentry duty all night and haven’t heard a thing. Of course, we only patrol the third floor. I can’t confirm the status of the rest of the house.”

  “I understand. Thank you.” Jake nodded. “I’ll look around.”

  “Anything we can do to help, monsieur?” one of the fancy French courtier cookies asked.

  Jake shook his head and rose. “That’s all right. Red and I can handle it. The city looks smashing, by the way. Love what you’ve done with the place.”

  “Tasteful, isn’t it?” the iced courtier jested.

  They all laughed, and Jake grinned, feeling more hopeful. “Goodbye for now. I’m going to head downstairs and check the lower floors. Better move back.”

  He waved the gingerbread people away from the door and waited until they all had cleared off to a safe distance, then he stepped out of the room and gently pulled the door shut behind him.

  “Becaw,” Red remarked, standing in the hallway looking puzzled.

  Jake wasn’t quite sure what the Gryphon meant, but he shared the sentiment behind his pet’s wonder-struck tone.

  Proceeding stealthily down the hallway, Jake ignored the row of creepy paintings on the wall. Most were portraits of past Order luminaries; their eyes seemed to follow him as he passed by on his way to the stairs.

  Soon, Red and he had sneaked down onto the second floor.

  Here, once more, they encountered nothing out of the ordinary. Just more of the guest chambers like the ones upstairs.

  But, revisiting the second floor, one thing was certain. Jake would never forget the night he had first met Celestus—the night Dani had been hurt so badly that she nearly died. She did die for a moment, in truth. Jake had seen her ghost trying to leave her body, and he had ordered her in no uncertain terms to get back in there.

  She had. Then Derek and he had sped the lass here, to Beacon House, where Mayweather had sent at once for “the doctor.”

  The mysterious blond physician had arrived with uncanny speed, and after healing Dani, had revealed himself in his true form, wings and all, before disappearing again.

  And now, tonight, Celestus had saved them once more.

  A true miracle.

  Shivers ran down Jake’s spine when he thought of the angels showing up tonight to fend off the Nightstalkers. It seemed connected somehow to that horrible shadow demon he had seen on the wall of Westminster Palace.

  “This isn’t your fight—yet,” Celestus had said. That certainly seemed to suggest that, in the future, it would be.

  For now, Jake shook off the unnerving question of just what the angel had meant, and told himself to pay attention.

  So far, Beacon House seemed secure, but they weren’t done yet.

  Red and he checked a few rooms on the second floor at random, then crept down the center hallway till it ended at the landing atop the grand staircase.

  The landing overlooked the stately, wood-paneled foyer, which was empty.

  A grandfather clock tick-tocked loudly in the silence beside the front door. A pendulous crystal chandelier hung over the foyer directly across from the landing where Jake stood, its candles unlit.

  The only illumination in the high-ceilinged space came from a small, punched-tin night lantern that glowed atop a slim table by the wall.

  With a nod to Red, Jake proceeded down the creaky Tudor staircase, wincing every time the ancient wood groaned beneath his feet. The staircase was made of dark, ornately carved walnut and, unfortunately, the red carpet runner did little to muffle the noise.

  Red jumped silently the rest of the way to the floor below, but Jake had no choice but to tiptoe. He clenched his jaw, certain that any Dark Druid forces who might’ve invaded the house would have heard him coming by now.

  Though nothing unusual appeared, Jake stayed on his guard, ready to use his telekinesis to ward off any enemies that might pop out of the shadows at him and Red.

  Upon reaching the first floor, he sped across the entrance hall, keeping his footsteps quiet. He peered first into the parlor, then crossed to check the enchanted library.

  Jake was wise enough to take only a bri
ef peek into that room. The last thing he needed was to wake up the tiger-skin rug and have the thing start roaring at him, or disturb that crazy magical harp that tended to start strumming all by itself. He poked his head in just for a moment, then quickly withdrew, pulling the door shut again.

  “Nobody in there, either,” he whispered to his Gryphon. “I think we might just be in the clear.”

  He shouldn’t have said it.

  He realized that in the next heartbeat—when someone suddenly screamed right behind him.

  CHAPTER 19

  A Startling Arrival

  Jake whirled around as Mrs. Appleton and he nearly gave each other apoplectic fits.

  The stout old housekeeper was wrapped in her robe, a frilly nightcap covering her gray curls.

  Eyes wide, she dropped her cup of chamomile tea at the sight of him. Although Jake managed to catch the falling teacup with his telekinesis, he couldn’t catch its contents. The tea spilled onto the floor while the butler came running out to the landing in answer to the housekeeper’s shriek.

  “Hold, right there, you burglar!” Mayweather roared, and when Jake looked up, he found the frail old man in his pajamas pointing a shotgun at him.

  “Don’t shoot!” Jake instantly raised his hands. “It’s me—Jake! J-Jake Everton, Lord Griffon! See? There! It’s my Gryphon!” He pointed one finger at Red.

  “Caw, becaw!” Red said anxiously, hurrying to Jake’s side.

  Thank goodness, when the two panicked old folks saw the mighty beast, they started calming down.

  “Well, bless my eyes, Lord Crafanc! Why didn’t ye tell us you was comin’?” Mayweather muttered, lowering the shotgun. (It was nearly as tall as he was.) He pressed a hand to his bony chest and strove to catch his breath.

  Jake’s own heart was thumping. Egads. That could’ve gone badly.

  “Sweet crumb cake, you gave me a fright!” Mrs. Appleton clutched her heart. “I was just in the kitchen gettin’ some tea! And now I’ve spilt it.”

  “I-I’m so sorry, Mrs. Appleton. I didn’t mean to scare you. My apologies, Mr. Mayweather.”

  “What on earth are you doing here at this hour, young master?” the butler demanded, glaring at Jake.

  It was strange to see the usually tidy, black-uniformed fellow dressed for bedtime in his nightshirt and slippers, a long, pointy nightcap dangling from his head. How to answer his question, though?

  “Erm,” Jake said. He hesitated to mention the catastrophe back at Merlin Hall, considering he had already scared the daylights out of the two sweet old folks. Especially when one was holding a gun. “Has there, ah, been any trouble here tonight?”

  “Not till you showed up,” the housekeeper said indignantly. “I knew I heard a thump.”

  “Er, yes, sorry—that was me.” Chagrined, Jake handed her back her teacup. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from anyone at Merlin Hall in the past couple of hours?”

  “No.” Mrs. Appleton eyed him suspiciously, still looking peeved. “Should we?”

  “Well… I’m afraid there has been…an incident.” Jake then explained the shocking disaster in the mildest terms he could manage.

  The two listened with their jaws hanging open. No doubt they had a hundred questions—so did he—but he hurried ahead to their present situation.

  “My friends and I were ordered to leave immediately for our safety, and that was nearly three hours ago. We’re cold, we’re hungry, we’re tired, and we’ve got nowhere else to go. So, if it’s all right with you and Beacon House is still secure, I’d like to bring them in. Everybody’s waiting outside: Archie and Isabelle Bradford. Dani, the girl that came here with me before—”

  “Oh, yes! The little redhead that Dr. Celestus healed?” Mrs. Appleton exclaimed, her eyes as round as her tea saucer.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jake nodded.

  “Oh, we liked her. Remember, Ol’ May?” she asked the butler.

  He nodded. “A sweet child.”

  “Two other friends are also with us—a Guardian apprentice and a witch-in-training. She’s Aunt Ramona’s own protégée.”

  “Well, by all means, bring them in! Go on.” Mrs. Appleton shooed Jake toward the door.

  “Thank you so much,” he said. “They’re waiting out beyond the garden. I’ll fetch them.”

  “Good, good. I’ll see about some snacks for you all.”

  “I’ll ready the children’s chambers,” the butler chimed in.

  “Thank you both.” Jake was so relieved. “I’ll clean up that spilled tea for you in a moment, since I’m the one who made you drop it.”

  Mrs. Appleton looked astonished at his offer. “You just get those children in here. I’ll see to this.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jake could not deny that it took a huge weight off him to hear a few comforting words from adults. Independent as he was, this night had pushed him to the limit. Every now and then, he did manage to remember that he was still a kid.

  While Jake crossed the foyer, then hurried down the main hallway of the mansion to the back door, Red fetched Mrs. Appleton a rag from the kitchen to blot up her spilled tea. Mr. Mayweather set his shotgun aside and began lighting more candles.

  Jake unlocked the back door, stepped out onto the chilly terrace, and signaled his friends with a loud whistle. When a few pale faces peeked out of the shadows, he waved eagerly.

  “Come on in!”

  A cheer arose from the direction of the Victoria Embankment. Jake grinned as his friends burst into view, racing toward him, then stampeding in through the garden gate. They came barreling up the path past the carriage house, Teddy yipping with excitement.

  When they’d dashed up the few stone steps onto the terrace, Jake held the back door for them. One by one, they filed in, everyone talking at once, asking questions, and saying how happy they were to have reached Beacon House.

  Already tying her apron strings, Mrs. Appleton looked amazed as she watched them streaming in. “Poor dears, you’re shivering! Mayweather, blankets for all of them! Oh, hullo, Miss Dani! So nice to see you again.”

  “You, as well, Mrs. Appleton.” Dani came in, red-cheeked, with Teddy on his leash. “Is it all right if I bring in my dog? He’s housebroken.”

  “Of course, dear.” Mrs. Appleton shooed her in and continued greeting the others. “Master Archie! Oh, and Miss Bradford. Why, look at you—almost entirely grown up! Where does the time go? And who’s this? Why, you must be the new ones. Well, come in, come in, my dears! You’re all welcome here. Can I get you children a snack?”

  “I think we’d all be grateful for a cup of hot chocolate or some of that chamomile tea,” Jake said. “Or even a bowl of soup and some bread, if you have any.”

  He closed the door behind Brian, who was the last to enter.

  “Why, consider it done! You know I always cook for an army, just in case.” Mrs. Appleton bustled off to the kitchen.

  “Everything go all right out there while I was gone?” Jake asked Brian discreetly while the others shuffled ahead into the foyer.

  Brian nodded. “Nothing to report. Any trouble in here?”

  “No—but I gave Mrs. Appleton a fright.”

  Brian chuckled, then the boys followed the others out to the entrance hall, where Dani was introducing Nixie to the two adults.

  “Well, don’t worry now, children. Everything’s been quiet here,” Mrs. Appleton said. “You just make yourselves at home.”

  “Could we send a message to Aunt Ramona and our parents through your Inkbug, Mrs. Appleton?” Izzy asked. “We need to let them know we’re safe.”

  “By all means, dear! You’ll find him in the library, same as always. Why don’t you go and make yourselves comfy in there while I fix you up a nice, hot meal?”

  “You’re very kind, ma’am,” Dani said heartily, and Archie nearly hugged the woman.

  Mrs. Appleton laughed. “Aw, that’s what we’re here for, dear. Isn’t that right, Mr. Mayweather?”

  “Indeed,” the old man
said grimly.

  Jake could tell by his dark expression that the butler’s mind was not on making hot cocoa, but on activating whatever other defenses Beacon House might have. Mayweather picked up his long gun and marched off to see to his duties concerning the house’s protection. Red loped after him to assist.

  “This way, everyone,” Archie said, visibly cheered up, despite his worries. Well, the aristocratic boy did like his creature comforts, Jake mused. “Nixie, my dear, and Brian, you’ve got to come and see. The enchanted library of Beacon House is one of my favorite rooms in all of London.”

  The boy genius led the way, marching across the entrance hall to the library door. But Jake dragged his feet as he followed the others, feeling wearier every moment. Then they went in.

  Through a narrow, book-lined passage where the bronze busts of great writers and artists peered down from above, they walked into a large, square, high-ceilinged room wrapped in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves done in dark wood.

  A rolling ladder gave access to a galleried walkway that wrapped around the room halfway up the walls’ height.

  Ahead, the portrait of the Order’s royal co-founder, Queen Elizabeth I, all suited up for war in her silver armor, stared down at them from above the fireplace, while the stormy sea set about wrecking the Spanish Armada in the background—with just a little help from a famous English playwright with a secret wallop of magic in his pen.

  A hint of a salt smell hung in the air, but for now, the Spanish galleons in the background rolled only slightly on the waves. That magical painting could unleash its hurricane on any intruder who tried to breach Beacon House.

  But there were other defenses, as well. Thankfully, the tiger-skin rug in front of the fireplace did not roar and attack them, since they had permission to be there.

  The magical harp on its pedestal awoke with a jangle, however. It could play screeching harmonies to drive intruders mad, but after sensing the kids’ arrival and noticing their agitated state, it began softly playing a lullaby.