by Jill Jones
Before Sandringham could object, Jack darted out from behind the rocks and into the shadows of the cave, just before another shot was fired. He’d been issued a gun by the inspector, and he held it tightly in sweaty palms. Where was Keely? He didn’t want to take a chance of shooting her. What if the old man was using her as a shield?
The cavern was lit by the glow of firelight coming from the second chamber where Keely had found him knocked unconscious. As his eyes adjusted, he could see there was no one in the outer cave, so he dashed to the far wall. His heart was pounding with fear, not for himself, but for Keely. These people were killers. Was he too late?
Jack edged through the passageway, expecting another shot in his direction. The inner chamber was lit by the flare of torches set into holders in the rock wall. They smoked and flickered, creating sinister shadows in the cave. He became aware of the sound of heavy breathing. Peering around the edge of the passageway, instead of coming face to face with Alyn Runyon, he saw the sour-faced girl he’d met on the docks, struggling to reload a large old-fashioned pistol.
“I’ll take that,” he said, leaping to disarm her before she could finish the task.
Erica struggled but was no match for Jack’s superior strength. He twisted the gun from her grasp and threw it to the other side of the cave. That’s when he saw the body at the edge of the pit. “What the hell?” But the girl struggled in his arms like a lioness trying to free herself, regaining his full attention. He tightened his grip.
“Where is Keely?”
She gave him a wicked sneer. “Your whore has gone to her fate,” she spat.
Her words twisted like a knife in his gut. “You’re lying. Where is she?” He bent her arm higher behind her, knowing it was hurting her, wanting to hurt her more.
“Jack!” He heard Garrison shout from the outer cave.
“In here. Hurry!”
Garrison and Sandringham followed one another single file through the narrow passage into the room and stopped in their tracks, gaping at the macabre scene before them.
“What the hell?” Garrison echoed Jack’s earlier words.
“Welcome to the dragon’s lair,” Jack said. “Be careful. The old man’s bound to be around here somewhere.”
Erica gave a hideous laugh. “Ye’ve nothing to worry about from th’ likes of him,” she raved, clearly now out of control. “He betrayed th’ Dragon same as your whore, and th’ Dragon took swift revenge.”
“Quick, grab a torch,” Jack said to the other two men. He forced Erica to look at him and glared into her ugly little face. “Where is he?” he demanded. “And where is Keely?”
But the girl just glared back defiantly and jutted her jaw forward, clenching her teeth and refusing to speak. Jack swore beneath his breath, then snarled, “Let’s go.”
Garrison preceded them back to the main cave, where the light from the torch revealed the body of Alyn Runyon, his life’s blood seeping into the stony cavern floor. “Good God,” he said, kneeling to examine the large entry wound. “What the hell kind of gun caused that?”
Sandringham looked down on the corpse of the large old man. “From the description Brad gave our man, I’d say we have our killer.” One arm was flung over his head, as if pointing down another tunnel-like passageway. “Wonder where that leads?”
“No!” Erica shouted.
Jack looked at her and saw venom in her eyes. He knew she did not want them to go down that path, and he knew why. “Yes!” he returned with a vengeance. Turning his prisoner over to Inspector Sandringham, Jack headed toward the opening.
“Keely!” His voice reverberated on the walls of the cave. “Keely! Answer me!” Faintly but clearly, he heard the voice he loved above all others.
“Jack! Help me!”
“Garrison, give me some light,” Jack said, heading toward the sound of Keely’s voice.
The passage was so narrow he could hardly fit through it, but no demon in hell could stop him now. It was dark, but behind him Garrison managed to shed enough flickering light to show him the way. He came upon a curious wooden door, its boards swollen and wet. It hung on large, rusted hinges, and it was latched with a heavy bolt.
Behind it, he heard Keely sob, “Jack, hurry! The water’s rising.”
He pressed his full weight against the wood, which eased the latch in its holder, and with a quick shove, he released the barrier. The door flung painfully against him as cold sea water flooded past him and up the passageway. With it, the water washed a wet but alive Keely into his arms. He had no time to enjoy the surprise, however, for the water was hurrying to seek its level, and they could be caught in the passageway.
“C’mon!” He took her by the shoulders and pushed her in front of him. Together they followed the incoming flow of water up the steep, narrow tunnel until the tide no longer threatened to drown them as it leveled out when it reached the cavern floor.
Keely whimpered when she saw the body of her uncle at her feet, his blood mingling with the muddy sea water. Jack turned her away from the grisly sight and into his arms. Behind her back, he untied her bonds.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”
Then he looked past her and saw a wall of villagers at the mouth of the cave, brandishing torches and staring at the appalling scene openmouthed. Behind them, men in uniforms formed a human barrier to their escape.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Keely shivered from the cold and wet. She was weak from terror and exhaustion. But she had never been so overjoyed in all her life. She was in Jack’s arms again.
A miracle had happened. She did not know how he’d found her, but she thanked God and all the Saints for her deliverance…and the man who had done the delivering. She huddled in the cradle of his arms and allowed his warmth and strength to surround her and infuse her with new hope. She knew the truth at last, as horrible as it was. But with Jack’s help, Keely knew she could now get on with her life, free from fear.
Taking comfort from that thought, she melted even further into Jack’s embrace. But suddenly, to her confusion, he eased her away from him. Why? What was wrong? She looked up at him, perplexed, then turned to see what he was looking at.
There, at the mouth of the forbidden caves, was every man, woman and child who lived on Keinadraig. Shock registered on their faces. And horror. And fear. Keely’s heart began to thunder all over again. Did any of them know the horrendous truths that she’d just learned? Were any of them killers, too?
As far as she knew, they were good, hard-working people who, like her, had been kept ignorant of the dark side of the Dragon’s laws. They believed their safe, secure and prosperous island remained that way because of the Dragon’s promise and their own willing obedience to the Dragon’s laws. They’d never questioned either the promise or the laws.
As far as she knew.
She was, however, no longer certain of anything concerning Keinadraig. There could be others among them who knew of the Healer’s dominion and the Keeper’s grim duties. Others who had killed, as surely as Alyn and Ninian.
But she could not be the only innocent. The others who were unaware of these things deserved to know the truth, and Keely intended to fully enlighten them. Right here. Right now. She took a step toward them.
“Seven hundred years ago, our people suffered the terrible destruction of a plague that was brought by a stranger to Keinadraig,” she said, emboldened by a righteous anger. “A woman who had lost many loved ones, in her fear and grief, was said to have seen the figure of a dragon rise up from the flames in the circle of stones, and was said to have heard the mythical beast sing forth the laws that would protect them from it ever happening again.”
Keely took another step in their direction and felt Jack touch her elbow. She darted a reassuring smile in his direction but shook her head for him not to interfere. She must face them all now. They must know. She looked back at the faces of her neighbors and kinsmen. Most were frowning. Some looked fearful. All wer
e silent.
“That first Healer, Maram, was a wise woman, for whether she actually heard the Dragon speak or not, she created laws that kept the people of Keinadraig safe for hundreds of years. Because for hundreds of years, the Dragoners have dwelt in isolation, and people who dwell in isolation cannot contract deadly diseases from the outside world. It’s that simple.”
“‘Twas na Maram who made th’ laws,” objected one old woman. ‘Twas th’ Dragon.”
Keely had never been so sure of herself, or the truth, in her life, although her heart pounded at defending what the rest would deem heresy. She stood her ground and reached for Jack’s hand. “There is no Dragon,” she told them boldly. “‘Tis nothing but a symbol for our people and our beliefs.”
“God save ye, child,” said another fearfully.
“Tell me, who among ye has ever seen the Dragon?” she challenged.
A murmur rustled through the crowd, but no one claimed to have seen the beast. “‘Tis na for us t’ see,” said William Reedy. “‘Tis seen only by th’ Keeper, and th’ Healer.”
“Aye, and those who betray him and feel the heat of his breath and the needle of his claw,” chimed in Mrs. Parsons.
“Do ye believe the Dragon went to London and shot Genevieve?” Keely asked the woman directly.
Mrs. Parsons fidgeted uncomfortably. “I do na like such talk. ‘Tis likely t’ draw th’ wrath of th’ Dragon down upon us all.”
But Keely would not let her out of it. “‘Twas na the Dragon who shot Genevieve, Mrs. Parsons. ‘Twas my own uncle, Alyn Runyon.” She heard a gasp of universal denial.
“That could not be. Alyn was here…”
“Was he?” Keely asked. “Think back. When Genny first ran away, I was so distressed I did na notice much, but not once until he called for her excommunication three days later did I lay eyes on my uncle.”
A buzz passed among them, but Keely interrupted their conjecture. “I know my uncle did it, because he told me exactly how he managed to follow her, and how…he murdered her. He used the gun he kept in his desk at the Council office. Some of you have seen it. It’s now in the hands of the police,” she said, indicating Inspector Sandringham, who stood on guard over a handcuffed Erica Sloan, who sat on the floor, hate almost seeping from her pores. Keely shuddered upon seeing the girl, but returned to her story, determined to follow it to the end.
“Not only did Alyn murder Genny, he attempted to murder another person as well and blame the killings on him, as if he’d turned the gun on himself. His second victim was someone who had never broken any law of the Dragon but who had befriended Genny when she was frightened and alone.”
She paused and let her gaze wander from face to face. “Is this the way of the Dragoners? That we would kill our own because of laws that are so outdated they no longer have meaning in our lives? There has been no plague for centuries. The outside world is filled with wondrous things that would help us, not harm us.”
“But ‘twas a stranger who killed the Keeper,” William Reedy said, pointing at Jack.
Keely shook her head. “No,” she said sadly. “He, too, was killed by one of our own.” She turned to Erica who sat glowering on the damp floor. “Erica, our new Healer, shot Alyn in the back.”
“‘Twas my right.” The girl spoke loudly enough for them all to hear and stood up. She looked bedraggled and ridiculous in Ninian’s robe, like a child playing at being a grown up. But her face was ripe with fury. “‘Tis th’ duty of th’ Healer, not th’ Keeper, t’ decide th’ fate of those who betray th’ Dragon. He was t’ leave this brazen whore t’ die behind th’ sea door, but he weakened and was going to set her free. He, too, betrayed th’ Dragon. He deserved t’ die.”
Her words, and the passionate defiance behind them, sickened Keely. Did Erica really believe, as Ninian had, that traitors must die, or was she just hungry for power? “What Erica speaks is the truth, according to the Dragon’s laws,” she told the shocked villagers. “Because of these tragedies, I have learned a dark secret of the Dragoners, known until now only by the Keeper and the Healer. Although we have all believed ‘tis the Keeper, the head of the Council, who rules Keinadraig, in truth, the Keeper answers to the Healer.” She paused to give them time to let this fact sink in, then continued. “This was why Genevieve ran away. She learned that as the new Healer, she would have to call for the death of someone who broke the laws. She did not have it in her to commit murder.”
One of the brighter young men spoke up, his eyes registering horror as a new understanding hit him. “If it is th’ Healer who gives th’ orders, are ye saying Ninian called for the death of her own daughter?”
Keely felt her throat tighten at Ninian’s ultimate betrayal of Genevieve. She looked down at her hands, let out a long sigh, and then returned her gaze to the young man’s face. “Aye,” she said quietly, ignoring the single tear that ran down her cheek.
The raid on Keinadraig took place at dawn. By nine o’clock, the bodies of both Ninian Sloan and Alyn Runyon had been transported to the morgue for autopsy, and Sandringham had the entire village under house arrest until he could question each person about their possible involvement in the murders. Guards were posted around the perimeter of the island. No one other than people on official business was allowed off of or onto the island, although media helicopters and boats hovered nearby.
Erica Sloan had been taken kicking and screaming from the floor of the caves and carried bodily to a waiting launch, her captors careful to avoid the bite of her sharp little teeth. She shouted curses against Keely and Jack, against the weak will of Alyn and Genevieve, against her own mother for all the slights and injustices she had endured over the years. She was incarcerated as a juvenile in Penzance and held for psychological observation.
Garrison returned to London and Brad’s bedside, and Keely was released into Jack’s custody after answering hundreds of questions and giving the police a description of Kevin Spearman and her two kidnappers. She sat beside him in stunned silence aboard the cutter that transported them to Penzance, where Jack booked them a room at the inn where he’d stayed before.
He made arrangements with an astonished Maggie Evans to bring breakfast to their room, then led Keely up the stairway to refuge behind locked doors. Only then did he take her into his arms.
“Oh, Keely,” he whispered into her hair, his heart going out to her. She had been through such pain and horror. “I am so sorry.”
In the past week, she had lost her best friend, her home, her family, and her community.
This morning, she had lost her innocence.
Even Jack was shocked at the depth of the deception of Keely’s uncle and her best friend’s mother. But he knew the inbred teachings of seven hundred years were not easily overcome by isolated and superstitious people. In a deluded way, they had believed they were doing the right thing, he supposed. He’d seen it before among cult leaders.
The real victims were Keely and the people of Keinadraig who never knew about the deliberate executions. Their lives, their faith, had been shattered. How would they pick up the pieces? They were no longer protected by a social structure that although debased, had worked nonetheless. They, too, were innocents. He felt for them when the media finally managed to get to the island, as they would. The press would have a heyday with this story.
But it was not the people of Keinadraig that concerned him at the moment. It was the woman in his arms, the woman he’d vowed to protect and whom he’d almost lost. She had been vulnerable before. She was downright fragile now.
He must take things very, very slowly. Jack wished again he’d had some training in the exit process for people in her situation. The only thing he had to draw upon was his love for her. It would have to suffice.
“Go ahead and cry,” he murmured, knowing she must have tears in her heart.
But she did not cry. Instead, she began to rock gently back and forth in his arms, and she began humming a mindless tune. “Nay, Jack,” she said quietly a
fter a moment. “I can na cry. The sorrow is too great to bear.”
Shock stemmed tears, Jack knew. She must cry, for she needed to grieve if she was to heal from this nightmare, but tears would come in time. For now, he would be there for her, in any way he could. A knock on the door interrupted his quandary as to what would be best for her.
“Breakfast.” Maggie Evans’ chipper voice sounded from the other side.
Jack released Keely and guided her to a wicker chair next to a small round chintz-covered table, where she sat staring into space with huge, unseeing eyes. Going to the door, he took the tray from Maggie but did not respond to the open curiosity in her face. She’d get the story soon enough. “Thanks” was all he said, then shut the door again.
He placed the tray on the table and uncovered the plates. “Let’s eat,” he invited her. “You’ll feel better.” The sight of a full English breakfast made his own stomach growl, and he realized he had not eaten since he’d had lunch with Garrison the day before. No telling the last time Keely had food. But she showed no enthusiasm.
He poured some hot tea and sat the cup in front of her, but she did not reach for it. He buttered a slice of toast and placed it on a plate within her reach, but she seemed not to notice. Her eyes remained vacant, unfocused. She held herself and rocked ever so slightly.
Maybe he should call a doctor, Jack thought, alarmed. Her face was ashen, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. “Drink some tea,” he urged quietly. “Please.”
He went to her and raised the cup to her lips, and his touch seemed to awaken her from a faraway place.
“I understand now,” she murmured after sipping the tea. “I understand Maram in her grief reaching for anything she could to take away the pain.”
Jack wasn’t sure exactly what Keely was talking about, but at least she was talking. “Go on.” He knelt beside her chair and placed the tea cup in her hands, where it shook slightly, but she sipped again.