by Jill Jones
Well, that secret was out of the bag, Jack thought darkly. No one could doubt Keely Cochrane had somehow become acquainted with the stranger who had paid her uncle a visit yesterday. What hell she would catch from Runyon for this indiscretion Jack could only imagine.
Concerned, he did his best to make his visit look “official.” He took out a card and handed it to her, aware that all eyes were on them. “I understand your uncle is away, Miss Cochrane,” he said in a voice loud enough that all could hear. “I am here on official police business, and I thought that in his absence, perhaps you could answer some questions.”
Keely stared at him blankly a moment, and then she understood and attempted to play along. “Oh, yes, the Keeper, my uncle, told me you might return with more questions. Wait…wait just a minute.” She disappeared through the door again, and Jack wondered if she would take the opportunity to run away from him out the back door. But she reappeared momentarily, her apron having been left in the kitchen. She smoothed her hair in a nervous gesture.
“Come outside,” she said to Jack, then turned to those in the room who continued to gawk. “Free refills in the kitchen. Please, serve yourselves. I will return shortly.”
Jack saw her gaze bore into the girl’s for a moment, and he heard the sarcasm in her voice when she said, “Thank you, Erica. Thank you ever so much.”
Then she turned her anxious face to him and said, “Come along.”
Chapter Ten
“What on earth are you doing here?” Keely lashed out once they had reached a place along the street where she thought they would be out of earshot. “Uncle Alyn will be furious.”
“I thought you weren’t afraid of your uncle.” Jack stood several feet away from her, a respectable, professional distance, but Keely heard a more personal note in his voice.
“I…I’m not,” she protested. “Not truly. But your coming here is going to put me in a pretty pickle.”
“But you called me, didn’t you?”
Keely’s head jerked up in astonishment. “Aye,” she said. “But how did you know?”
Jack showed her the cell phone. “When a call comes in, the number of the caller shows up here. It’s a little device that comes in handy from time to time. Like today.” He replaced the phone on his belt. “Why did you call, Keely? And why did you hang up? Is something wrong?”
Was something wrong? Only every single thing in her life, she thought, her heart leaden with despair. And with Jack’s unexpected appearance, it had all gotten worse. It had been a terrible mistake to make that call. What had she been thinking?
“You should na have come here, Jack. Now we’re both in that pickle.”
“I was coming anyway, before you called.”
“Why? What has happened? Did ye learn who killed Genny?”
“No, but I heard something about your traditions here on the island I didn’t much like. I heard that even though outsiders are not welcome, sometimes a person is forced to marry a particular outsider, someone picked by your uncle, whether she wants to or not.” He paused, and Keely averted her gaze. The way he described their tradition, it indeed sounded…heathen. When she didn’t speak, he continued. “I was wondering…is that why Genevieve ran away? Was she being forced into a marriage she didn’t want?”
Keely felt the blood drain from her face. Now that she was in those shoes, she could understand that maybe it was at least part of the reason for Genny’s flight. But should she tell the stranger? “Where…where did ye hear this?” she asked, raising her chin.
“About your…ah, tradition? From some of the locals on the mainland. Seems some of your secrets aren’t so secret after all. Then I saw your uncle this morning in Penzance, and those locals seemed to think he was on just such an errand, that he was off to search the nearby villages for a mate for someone here on Keinadraig.” His statement was posed as a question, and his eyes searched hers, probing to know if she was that someone.
This time she could not look away. She saw in his eyes something that touched her heart. This stranger, this man from a place far away, seemed truly to care about her. His questioning was not the nosing about of a police investigator. It was not about Genevieve. It was about her. She did not know why he cared, but it was clear he wanted to know if she was being forced into a marriage she did not want.
Keely’s already fragile world cracked further as Jack’s questioning forced her to face the reality she had been trying to ignore. That was exactly what was about to happen to her. At any time now. Uncle Alyn would soon be on his way with a man he’d bribed to become her husband. It could be that in a matter of days, her fate would be sealed for the rest of her life. If she obeyed the laws, followed tradition, she would soon wed the man chosen for her, bear his children, and grow old in the village without ever having any choice over her own life.
She looked into Jack’s handsome face, etched now with concern, and knew what she truly wanted. She wanted to have a choice. In a mate. In her life. Before she had met Jack, before Genny had run away, perhaps she would not have questioned her uncle’s decision and choice for her life. Now…
“My uncle has, shall we say, gone shopping,” she replied bitterly, “for a husband for me.”
She saw the concern in Jack’s face turn to anguish. “Is that what you want, Keely?” he asked.
Keely felt as if she were standing on the edge of the precipice of her deeply cracked world, staring dizzily down into a dark unknown. Fear clutched her. No, marriage to some man Alyn dragged to her doorstep was not what she wanted. But what could she do about it? She realized she was trembling.
“No,” she murmured. “‘Tis na what I want. But…”
“I will take you away from here, before your uncle returns.”
There it was. The choice she’d just claimed she wanted. And she was paralyzed with fear at the very idea. Fear. The dragon in the darkness. Beads of sweat broke out on her brow. What if she left with Jack? She could never return to Keinadraig, of that she was certain. She would leave behind forever everything and everybody she’d ever known, all sense of security and belonging. She would go into a land she had been taught was evil, into a world she was little prepared to face. Could she survive?
But the raw fear that clawed at her heart was more than the fear of leaving the island or of making it in the outside world. It was fear of the old legend. Fear that she, too, would meet a fate as terrible as Genevieve’s. That she would die for breaking the laws of the Dragon, and that she would cause Jack’s death as well.
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and spied Erica, innocently skipping rope but getting just a little too near, close enough to hear their conversation. She gave Keely a meaningful look and began to skip in time to the song she sang:
Away, hide away, on this distant shore,
Let ne’er a stranger in thy door.
Keep your secret safe, hidden in the mist,
And let no one leave when he’s Dragon kiss’d.
Suddenly, Erica Sloan and the ancient ballad and her uncle Alyn and the prying eyes of the Dragoners she could feel even now watching her from behind curtained windows represented all that Keely had begun to dislike about Keinadraig. She resented being controlled by her uncle, the Keeper, a well-meaning but uncompromising leader whose weapon was fear. She had no freedom of choice, whether it be of a husband, a livelihood, a home. All were decided by the Keeper.
Erica’s singing grew louder, more insistent as she rolled into another verse.
“Oh, mother mine, cried the sweet Diane,
Marry me not to that old, old man.”
“But daughter dear, it’s the Dragon’s way,
Tis the Dragon’s choice, and you must obey.”
“Walk with me,” Keely said to Jack and started down the cobblestones toward the harbor. Blood thundered in her temples, and her mouth had gone dry. But her feet were decisive, and they took her directly to where Jack’s boat was tethered. She stared at it bobbing on the gentle tide, s
eeing not a boat, but the abyss.
She looked behind her at the handful of villagers peering at them hungrily, as if they expected the Dragon himself to come forth at any moment and inflict punishment on them. She looked at Erica and saw a smirk of contempt on the girl’s plain face.
And then she looked at Jack, and she saw hope.
“Take me away from this place,” she said, breathing the words over the painful constriction of her throat.
With that, Keely Cochrane stepped from the dock into the boat, going over the edge as the crack in her world at last gave way.
Do it! Erica’s gaze followed Keely as she walked beside the tall stranger, heading in the direction of the harbor. Go with him. Betray the Dragon and go to the fate ye deserve.
With every ounce of her will, Erica urged Keely to make the same mistake her sister had made. They both deserved to die, for neither respected the Dragon’s laws. And if she left, Keely would die, as would the stranger, for it was written in the ancient book she’d found on Ninian’s top shelf.
A gratified smile crept onto her lips when she saw Keely step off the dock into the boat. Her heartbeat picked up as she watched the man untie the line and start the engine. She scarcely dared to breathe as the entire town witnessed Keely leave with the stranger.
The boat disappeared between the quays, and Erica wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. There could be no turning back now. Keely had cast her fate, and Erica was not sorry to see her go. Now she would be the favored one in her mother’s eyes. She would receive the looks of love and words of praise Ninian had reserved for Genevieve and Keely. Now, her mother could no longer withhold her permission for Erica to become her apprentice, as she had after Genevieve had left. Bitterness burned at the back of Erica’s throat that Ninian had dared consider that Keely should become the Healer instead of her. How could she? Keely was not of their line. Did no one respect the laws anymore?
Erica saw that the villagers who had watched Keely leave were now walking in small groups up the hill, heads bent in gossip and speculation. Although it was midday and most should be about their chores, she guessed that instead they were going to the pub to discuss this shocking turn of events. The only pub in town belonged to Keely. Or had belonged to Keely, Erica realized with grim satisfaction. Now that Keely had left, she owned nothing.
But who would run the pub? Who would inherit the business? Keely had been only thirteen when she’d taken over. Erica was already fourteen. A plan began to take shape in her mind, and she turned and hurried up the hill in order to reach the pub before the others. She dashed into the kitchen and donned the apron Keely had taken off only a short time ago. She quickly took stock of the food that Keely had left in various states of preparation and pulled together a tray of sandwiches which she carried into the main salon as the villagers began to pour in, hot and thirsty, and not just for ale.
Mrs. Parsons approached Erica and patted her head. “Poor babe,” she murmured in consolation. “First your sister, and now our dear Keely. ‘Tis madness that must have claimed ‘em. Does your mother know?”
Erica stiffened. She was happy that Keely had run away, but she dreaded telling Ninian. Her mother had been almost as fond of Keely as she had been of Genevieve. “Nay, Mrs. Parsons. Mum is na feeling well, and I daren’t disturb her sleep. She’ll learn of th’ betrayal soon enough.”
The older woman’s eyes were solemn. “Aye, for sure. Poor Ninian. ‘Tis tragic indeed.” Then a glitter came into those eyes. “We heard that Keely knew th’ stranger when she saw him. How d’ye suppose she knew him?”
Erica placed the sandwich tray on the bar. “Help yourself,” she announced as if she already owned the place. “There’s plenty.” Then she turned to Mrs. Parsons and leaned close to her.
“I saw her in th’ grove with him yesterday,” she whispered, watching her words go to work in the old gossip’s mind.
“Th’ grove! Ye do na say! Oh, dear, dear.” Mrs. Parsons paused, then asked, “Did ye see what they did in th’ grove?”
Erica allowed a knowing grin to cross her lips. “Oh, aye. But I should na carry tales. ‘Tis na nice.”
Others had overheard and gathered around, eager to hear. “Tell,” said one old man. “We must know th’ truth. Did she betray th’ Dragon, right here on th’ island?”
Erica’s pulse began to race. Never had any of these people paid her much heed. She had always been Genny’s little sister, Ninian’s second born. A late in life child. An accident.
She straightened her back. Well, no more. She was Ninian’s only child now. Soon she would be the Healer. From this day forward, Erica Sloan would be respected by the Dragoners. Sought out for her wisdom and secret knowledge. She would begin at once to prove to them her worthiness.
“Aye,” she answered with a sad shake of her head. “‘Tis true. I saw it with my own eyes. She did na just happen upon him in the grove either. She took him there, after they trysted in the sacred caves.”
Erica heard a communal intake of breath and gathered courage to continue. Filled with a new sense of power, she toyed with the eager villagers, stretching out her tale. She told of how she’d seen the stranger first arrive, and how she’d followed him and watched him climb deliberately to the stone circle, where Keely awaited him. She reported seeing a raven release the boat’s line and set it adrift, and saw heads nod in grave understanding. Everyone knew that the raven was the Dragon’s lieutenant. The Dragon had known of the stranger’s presence from the start and had begun seeking its revenge for his trespass.
“He pretended to be from the police,” Erica continued, warming to the attention that was now solidly riveted upon her. “But ‘twas Keely he came for.”
Silence. Then Mrs. Parsons spoke up. “But how did he know Keely?”
Erica fixed her with a sardonic stare and decided to share her own speculation on the matter. “Th’ same way Genevieve knew the man she ran away with. They met in Penzance when they went t’ deliver fish t’ th’ market.” She saw the old lady’s eyes widen and realized with a start that no one other than Alyn, Keely, Ninian and herself knew what had actually happened to Genny. All they knew was that she had run away and later been excommunicated for leaving.
But Erica had overheard the whole story when Jack told Keely the circumstances surrounding Genevieve’s murder. What harm would there be in letting everyone know the truth? They deserved to know, and to know that in his own mysterious way, the Dragon had taken his revenge.
“That’s right,” she continued with determination. “Genevieve was in London with a man when she died. She was murdered, in a hotel room, by a man.” She spit out every short piece of the despicable story as if it rotted in her mouth, and she reveled in the astonishment on their faces. It was high time everyone in this village knew what Genevieve was really like.
Later, after the villagers had dispersed, their heads filled with new and scandalous gossip, Erica roamed Keely’s cottage at will. She would petition Alyn Runyon to make it hers as soon as he returned. Whoever he brought to be Keely’s husband would be returned to wherever he had come from. All others were already assigned to communal tasks. There would be no one to run the pub. Erica could do it. She had proven it solidly this very afternoon. She had taken care of everyone, and everyone had shown a new respect for her.
She climbed the stairs to Keely’s bedroom, thinking of it now as her own. She took in the lace curtains fluttering at the open window, the bed covered with a lovely print spread, quilted by Sharine before she became too ill to hold a needle. Keely had even placed Erica’s doll on the chair as if in welcome. The room was light and airy, far more pleasant than her small cramped quarters at home. She went to the bed and sat on it, testing it for comfort, and she noticed Ninian’s ring on the table beside the bed. Next to it lay a small white rectangle of paper.
She picked up the card. “Jackson Knight. Private Investigator.” Beneath those words was printed an address and some numbers she did not understand. Turning it ove
r, however, she saw a number that resembled the one on the Council telephone.
Erica stared at the card, her heart racing. This was not just an omen. This was a clear message from the Dragon.
She was the new Healer, and she had been chosen to punish Keely and the stranger.
The enormity of Keely’s decision to leave Keinadraig was not lost on Jack. She sat in the bow of the boat, face to the wind, her back rigid, unmindful of her hair whipping in the brisk sea air. He suspected she was crying.
A thousand doubts suddenly assailed him. Had he been wrong to return to the island, to offer to take her away? He had known her for only one day. What right did he have to interfere with her life?
Although Jack’s experience with cults was limited, he knew that when a cult member chose to leave, he or she usually faced a substantial crisis of ambivalence and self-doubt, sometimes for years. He would not exactly describe the isolated society that dwelt on the “dragon’s back” as a cult, but there were many similarities, and he did not doubt that Keely would suffer some form of mental anguish because he had encouraged her to leave.
Even more troubling was the possibility that he placed her in physical danger. Sometimes cult members would come after deserters and try to convince them to return, using all kinds of brainwashing tactics to instill guilt and fear. Jack worried that somehow Alyn Runyon would find his niece and prey upon her already substantial fear of the dragon’s revenge to get her to come home.
Then he remembered what Keely had told him about Genevieve being excommunicated. No, he decided on second thought, he doubted anyone would try to get her to return. But what if Keely did not like life in the outside world and wished to return but could not?
Jack wondered gloomily if Keely would have been happier in the long run if he had stayed out of her life. Although he tried to convince himself his motives were altruistic, that he simply had rescued her from an unwanted fate, he suspected other, more selfish motives were behind his actions. Still, it was a crime, he argued with himself, for such a bright and attractive young woman to be trapped in a life of fear and domination. But those were his perceptions of life on the island. Were they hers?