by Jill Jones
She must go now and face those dragons.
She doubted she would ever come back.
Jack’s little telephone rang, bringing the embrace to an abrupt end. He spoke for only a moment, then hung up and turned to Keely, his voice sounding hopeful. “It was Garrison. He thinks Brad might be coming out of the coma.”
He touched her hair. “You’ve had a rough morning. Why don’t you lie down for a while? Garrison asked me to come to the hospital. I’ll go see what’s up, then bring you something to eat. In the meantime, lock your door, and…don’t answer the phone.”
Keely nodded and forced a smile, but her heart was breaking. After he left, she went into the bathroom and looked at her face in the mirror. It was strained, pale as if she’d seen a ghost. Mayhap she had. The specter of the gun rose up to greet her again, and she turned from the mirror, summoning courage for what she must do.
Wasting no time, Keely went into the bedroom and changed into her old clothes. With regret, for they had been a treasured gift from Jack, she folded and tucked her new ones into the bag and zipped it closed, leaving it behind. Knowing she couldn’t walk back to Keinadraig, she searched Jack’s suitcase and found an envelope containing two hundred dollars in American money. She took only half, and tried to think of it as a loan.
In the small sitting room, she found a pen and some writing paper. She must make him understand that he must not come again to Keinadraig. It could mean the death of them both.
“Dear Jack,…”
When she finished, she laid her room key on the table next to the note, glanced around one last time, and left, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Outside, afternoon traffic teemed in the streets, and Keely felt the rise of panic within her. Could she do this? Could she manage to find her way back to Keinadraig alone? Beneath the covered entryway of the hotel, taxis stood in a line. Keely knew a taxi could take her to the train station. She wished she’d “borrowed” more money from Jack. Would she have enough?
“Keely?” She heard a deep voice from behind her and whirled around in surprise.
A man dressed almost entirely in black, with black hair, a beaked nose and dark glasses beneath a high-crowned hat, approached her. She did not recognize him, but he looked like a human version of a raven. Keely froze.
“Do I know ye?” she asked.
Before she knew what happened or could cry out for help, the man took her by the arm and forced her into the back seat of a waiting automobile. She struggled against him, but a strange odor assailed her nostrils and her world turned black.
Jack hated like hell to leave Keely alone. She was in a terrible state, shocked, he was certain, at seeing Genevieve’s body, and in particular at the gruesome scrape on her neck. He wished again he had not taken her to see Sandringham so soon after. She’d nearly fallen apart when he’d forced her to look at the murder weapon.
But she’d wanted some time alone, and he could understand that. And he needed to be there for Garrison, and Brad, if indeed he was regaining consciousness. Garrison had claimed he’d seen Brad’s fingers twitch. Jack hoped it was true, but he feared it was just a father’s desperate wish for his son to come back from the virtual dead.
Fifteen minutes later, Jack leaned over Brad’s bed, watching his friend closely. He saw no sign of consciousness. “Did you tell the doctors?” he asked.
“No.” Garrison’s voice was heavy. “I could have been imagining things,” he admitted. “His vital signs are monitored at the nurse’s station. If there had been any significant change, I’m sure they would have come running.”
“Maybe.” Jack had been around too many hospitals to believe the staff of any of them was above making mistakes. But he didn’t say anything, because he believed in truth that Garrison had been imagining things. Looking at him, Jack saw a man who had aged years in just a few days. His eyes were streaked with red, and his face was gaunt. Jack wondered why, if he’d really seen some sign of Brad’s recovery, he had called him instead of the nurse’s station, but understood suddenly that Garrison needed Jack in the same way Jack had once needed him. As family.
“When was the last time you ate?” Jack asked.
Garrison turned away. “I don’t know. I haven’t felt much like eating.”
Jack would rather have waited and shared lunch with Keely, but he could not leave Garrison like this. How long, he wondered, would the man be able to keep up this passive, hopeless bedside vigil? Knowing Garrison Holstedt as a man who preferred action, Jack was surprised he hadn’t picked a fight or two with Brad’s doctors when they failed to bring him promptly out of a coma.
“Buy you lunch. How bad is the cafeteria food?”
Jack and Garrison slid their trays along the chrome bars of the cafeteria line, selected their food, and found a place to sit in the crowded hospital dining room. Garrison picked at his food. “So, did you learn anything after you left yesterday?”
Jack’s face grew warm. He should have called Garrison and let him know what he and Keely had found out about Brad’s encounter with Genevieve Sloan. But then, he and Keely had become…distracted. Avoiding that aspect of yesterday’s activities, he explained to Garrison how it was that Brad Holstedt became acquainted with Genevieve Sloan.
Garrison looked troubled. “You don’t think he picked her up to…”
Jack gave him a dark look. “You know Brad. What do you think?”
Garrison looked down at his meal. “I don’t think so.”
“Knowing Brad, he was helping a damsel in distress. She was a runaway, Garrison. Scared to death, according to the bartender. Ripe pickings for the wrong sort. She was lucky Brad got her out of there before some sleazeball came on to her.”
“I’d rather it was a sleazeball lying in that bed upstairs instead of Brad,” Garrison replied grimly. Then he looked up at Jack, scrutinizing him for a moment. “What about that other girl? The one you brought to the hospital yesterday? How come she was with you?”
That girl.
How was Jack going to explain that after last night, Keely Cochrane was no longer just “that girl?”
He did his best to remain objective as he filled Garrison in on Keely’s background and the plight she was in when he came to her rescue.
“Another damsel in distress?” Garrison remarked caustically.
“I suppose you might say that. But also someone who might shed some light on the crime. She identified the body, then I took her to see Sandringham earlier.”
“Does she have any idea who the killer might be?”
“She…uh…thinks a ‘dragon’ did it.” Jack wasn’t surprised at the skeptical look on Garrison’s face.
“Uh, huh. A dragon. Do you mind if I ask, what dragon?”
Jack enlarged on what he’d told Garrison earlier, describing what he knew about the strange cult-like customs on the island of Keinadraig, about the kiss of the dragon, and the superstitious beliefs that bad things happened to those who broke the dragon’s rules.
“And the girl believes that nonsense?”
Jack felt his blood heat a few degrees. “First of all, don’t call her ‘the girl.’ Her name is Keely. Keely Cochrane.”
Garrison eyed him shrewdly. “What’s going on between you and Miss Keely Cochrane?”
Jack heard the fatherly concern in his voice. “I rescued her,” he stated, “offered her a way out of that…lifestyle.”
“And now you’ve fallen for her.” Garrison cut to the heart of the matter with an air of incredulity. “Good God, boy, you’ve only known the woman a few days.”
Jack started to protest that he hadn’t fallen for her, but he knew it would be a lie. He had fallen for her. But he didn’t like Garrison’s tone. “I just want to protect her, that’s all.”
“Humph. That’s what you told me Brad was doing when he picked up that girl.”
“Genevieve.”
Garrison glared at him. “Yeah. Her. The dead one. If Brad hadn’t been such a damned idealistic fool
, he wouldn’t be near death himself.”
Jack was aware of the stares of other diners who couldn’t help but hear Garrison’s raised voice.
“Get a grip, Garrison,” he said, stabbing at the roast beef on his plate. “If Genevieve was running away from a cult, whoever killed her might be after Keely as well.”
“That would be the dragon, I presume.”
Jack couldn’t be angry at Garrison. His loss had been great, and he’d had no one to talk to since the tragedy, no place to vent his anger and frustration. “Look, Garrison,” he said more gently, “I know this is hard. But for God’s sake, don’t make it any harder. The dragon is simply a metaphor for the cult. I don’t know if someone from the island is responsible for Genevieve’s death. I wouldn’t have believed it before this morning. But after seeing that someone had scraped the ‘kiss of the dragon’ off of her neck, I think we can’t dismiss it as a possibility…”
“Do you think Keely is in danger?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you?”
Jack heard the apprehension in his voice. Garrison Holstedt did not want to lose his other son. “I don’t know. I don’t think so,” he added, hoping he sounded surer of it than he felt. He thought about Keely alone in the hotel room and looked at his watch. He’d been gone much longer than he’d planned. “I’d better get back to her. Even if she’s not in any real danger, she is incredibly innocent about life in the twenty-first century, and she could land in trouble inadvertently. It’s like she’s come from another time.”
“She’s not your responsibility, Jack.”
Jack stood and touched the older man on his shoulder. “Neither was I yours.”
Keely awoke to the steady drone of a car’s engine and the sound of the highway sizzling beneath the wheels. She was bound and gagged, lying on the back seat. Terror seized her when she remembered what had happened. Who was the raven-man, and how had he known her name? Where was he taking her? Keely swallowed and shut her eyes against the tears that stung there.
The Dragon had found her.
In her mind, she heard Erica’s threatening words, spoken over the telephone. Soon ye will die.
She had thought it just a mean prank then. Now, she was certain the girl had told the truth.
But how did she know? Was she part of this, or was it truly the Dragon at work?
“Mind yer speed.” A man’s voice filtered from the front seat. “Don’t want th’ police stoppin’ us t’ inspect our cargo.” He laughed.
The car slowed. “Guess there’s no need t’ hurry,” another voice said. “The Reave gave us three days. We was lucky t’ ‘ave snagged her th’ first try. He’ll be pleased.”
“We was lucky she came out alone. Wonder where th’ bloke was?”
“Don’t know, but ‘e was easy enough t’ find, eh?”
“Just a few phone calls t’ th’ hotels around, and bam, we had him. Wonder if him and her…”
A sniggering laugh. “Wot d’you think? Wouldn’t you? She’s a real nice piece, that. Too bad we can’t taste it.”
Keely’s heart beat so hard she thought the two men might hear it. What were they talking about? Who was the Reave? It sounded to her like someone had hired these two evil men to steal her away. Or perhaps even kill her. Bile ate at the back of her throat. Were these Genevieve’s killers?
“Suppose we should’ve tried for him as well? Maybe he’d a been worth a few more quid in our pockets.”
“Too risky. Besides, it wasn’t him they wanted. Just th’ girl. If he’s smart, he’ll keep his nose out of this.”
Another laugh, derisive this time. “He probably won’t. Not if he’s doin’ her. He’ll probably come after her like some lovesick whelp.”
A long silence, then, “I wouldn’t want t’ be him if he walks onto that island again.”
Jack. They were talking about Jack. Oh, God, what was going on here? That island. They must be talking about Keinadraig. Were these men Dragoners? But their voices were unfamiliar, and their speech not that of her people. They spoke of “that island” as if it were a dreaded place to them. No, these men were not from Keinadraig. These men were strangers, sent by someone to return her to the island.
Strangers in service to the Dragon?
That could not be.
Keely felt as if she were adrift in that void again, the black abyss of her nightmares. She was falling, falling toward some fiery unknown terror. She was defenseless, unable to stop the forces that drew her back into a world once familiar but now more evil than anything she had ever known. And she was alone. She could not call out for the one person who might save her, for in so doing, she would destroy him as well.
Fear, confusion and despair assailed her, but she struggled to remain calm. She was defenseless, but not witless. She fought to keep those wits, for they were all she had that might save her life. Those wits warned her to pretend she was still unconscious but to remain awake and alert to whatever came next.
Her captors turned on the radio. “Think we’ll wake her?” she heard one of them say.
“Wot difference does it make? She’s not going anywhere.”
Keely was glad for the music. It gave her mind something to hold onto for what seemed an eternity of a ride. At last, she felt the car slow and then make a sharp turn.
“You remember where he said t’ take her?”
“Same place we always make our pickups. He’s t’ have th’ money ready.”
Moments later, the car came to a stop, and the driver turned off the engine. The raven-man opened the back door and dragged her to a sitting position. “C’mon,” he said, taking her arm roughly. “Let’s go.”
Keely’s arms and legs were numb, and she stumbled, nearly falling. “Jeez,” the man uttered, then lifted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried her into what appeared to be the back of an old warehouse. He put her feet on the floor again, leering at her suggestively, but he did not touch her.
Keely tried to clear her mind that had gone as numb as her limbs. Through high windows, she could tell it was almost dusk. She smelled the scent of salt air and heard sea birds in the distance. Around her, crates and boxes of all sizes and shapes littered the area which was dimly lit by a weak bulb that dangled from a line overhead.
The raven-man approached a door at the far side of the room and knocked in an irregular pattern. Keely saw a small partition at the top of the door slide open, and a pair of eyes peered out at them.
“We’ve brought your goods,” he said in a low voice.
She couldn’t hear a reply from behind the door, but moments later it swung open. A tall, plain woman with unkempt carrot-colored hair gave Keely a nervous glance, then nodded to the men. “Bring her in.”
They led her through the door into the back of an old cottage. On one side was a small bedroom, on the other, a kitchen. Ahead of them, down a short hall, Keely could see two other rooms opening one on either side. The home was modest but not in the least sinister, except for what was taking place here. “Place her there,” the woman said, indicating a chair in the kitchen. “I’ll ring th’ Reave.”
The Reave. There was that word again. Keely’s senses were on full alert now. Who was this stranger, this Reave who had apparently ordered her abduction?
The woman returned in moments. “He’ll be here shortly.” She gave Keely an unmistakable look of regret, as if she were sorry she had to do this to her. That look froze Keely’s blood all over again.
She heard the front door open, then close shut again. Footsteps sounded heavily in the hall. A man entered the kitchen. He wore the clothes of a fisherman and smelled of the sea. His hair was windblown, and his blue eyes were lined at the edges from years of squinting in the sun. Keely’s first reaction was one of immense relief. It was the man to whom she and Genny had delivered their loads of fishes many times over the years.
Mr. Spearman.
But Mr. Spearman did not smile. Indeed, he avoided looking at her at a
ll. He handed a brown envelope to the raven-man. “Count it. Don’t want any misunderstandin’ here.”
The man counted a thick stack of bills. “It’s all here.”
“Need I remind you of th’ penalty for talking?”
The raven-man gave the fisherman a cynical grin. “We’ve been doin’ business for years, Spearman. Good business. D’ye think we’d bugger it up now?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jack rode the elevator up to the fifth floor with Garrison, and as the two turned down the hall toward Brad’s room, a nurse suddenly bustled through the door. Her face lit when she saw them.
“Mr. Holstedt!” She hurried toward them on white squeaky shoes. “Thank th’ Lord you’re here. The doctor sent me to find you.”
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Garrison rushed in her direction and Jack followed only a step behind.
“Oh, it’s a miracle. He’s coming back to us.”
Jack could scarcely believe his ears. Garrison pushed past both of them and raced to Brad’s door.
“You mustn’t get him excited,” the nurse called a warning from behind him, but Jack was sure Garrison never heard it.
Jack entered Brad’s room only seconds later. Garrison was already at the bedside, but the doctor signaled Jack not to come nearer.
“He’s in and out,” he told Jack. “His condition is still very grave. He must not be disturbed. He must come out of this in his own time.” He glanced in Garrison’s direction, smiled slightly and shook his head. “I wouldn’t have believed he would come out of it at all. In a way, I think it’s because he knows on some level his father has been here pulling for him. Funny how sometimes families who really care can make all the difference.”
Families who really care.