Passions of the Ghost (19 page)

Nicco returned to his room. He’d spent a
pleasant hour in the bar, chatting up a fashion model with big plans and little talent, and basking in her hopeful smiles—he’d told her he knew people in the business. He invited her up to join him, but she’d suddenly turned evasive and made some excuse about needing to take a cell phone call.

Women are all bitches,
he thought sourly,
and Amy Fairweather is the biggest bitch of all
.

He’d hoped to be able to persuade Jez into forcing her to be nice to him. Jez was like him, willing to reshape his principles to suit his situation. But it seemed that Jez was now in league with that big bastard, and was no longer willing to sacrifice his sister to benefit his friendship with Nicco. Maybe riffraff had something Jez wanted? He couldn’t imagine any other reason.

Nicco would have to think of some way of getting Amy alone. She needed to be shown he wasn’t a man to be easily forgotten, just because it was now expedient for Jez to do so. She’d humiliated him, and that couldn’t go unpunished. Nicco was good at extracting revenge. It was one of his secret little pleasures…along with expensive jewelry.

He hadn’t quite dared to take the Star of Russia with him into the bar, although he would have liked to have seen the model’s eyes pop if he showed it to her. Now he needed to hold it in his hand again, to finger the magnificent diamond that had once belonged to the greatest queen the Russians had ever had.

Nicco took the key from his pocket, went over to the drawer, and unlocked it. The silver box was just where he’d left it, and he smiled. In his secret thoughts he rather fancied he and Catherine were of similar minds, both enjoying a variety of lovers, both ruthless and ambitious. She’d probably approve of his owning the ring.

Nicco flipped open the lid. And stared.

At first he couldn’t believe it was empty. He reached inside as if the ring had become invisible, and he might still be able to feel it. His movements became more frantic, and he started searching toward the back of the drawer, but his fingers found nothing but empty space.

With a cry, he pulled out the drawer and emptied it onto the bed, banging it up and down until one of the side joints broke open.

Nicco began to rampage through his room. Searching wildly, throwing items around, swearing all the while in Russian. When he had searched every possible location he stood, panting, amidst the wreckage.

He had no choice but to accept it.

The ring was gone.

He tried to think. Someone had come in, seen the ring, and taken it. Maybe one of the cleaners had found it; surely that was the most likely explanation? He would complain to the hotel management and…But Nicco didn’t want it known he had the ring in his possession. He would find the staff member himself and
make
them return his property—before he killed them.

He was on his way to the door when some elusive memory stopped him in his steps. The last time he had the ring on him was when he went to see Jez. It had been hidden in his jacket pocket, but he couldn’t resist reaching in and running his fingers over it. Caressing the hard stone as he stared at Amy, and letting his imagination roam into the dark places he normally hid from others. He’d been so caught up in his fantasies of pain and perversion that he’d forgotten to be cautious.

Had Jez noticed?

Amy had been pestering him about the ring. He’d accepted her story that she was obsessed with the sort of jewelry she could never afford to own. He’d accepted a lot of things. Suddenly he knew he’d been a gullible fool. Jez had thrown his sister out as bait, and Nicco had taken it. They hadn’t been interested in him—they’d been after the Star of Russia all along.

Jez had the ring. It was the only explanation that made any sense.

Nicco gave a vicious smile. It would be a pleasure getting it back, especially when he explained to Jez, in detail, what he’d done to Amy. Just before he killed him.

Amy was right about Coster, but it gave her
no great pleasure. The man listened to their story, then smirked in their faces.

“What about the earthquake?” Amy said, trying not to show her desperation. “Explain that, then?”

“The tremors weren’t serious. I’ve been on to some government seismologists in Cardiff by cell phone, and they’ve assured me that it wasn’t an earthquake. It didn’t register on their instruments at all. When the weather clears they want to come out here and do some tests. I don’t know what they’ll find, but I’m certain they won’t find any dragons.”

He laughed out loud.

“They won’t find the dragon, because it is no longer under the ground,” Rey retorted, his face like stone, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked formidable, and Coster’s smile slipped.

“I know I’m going to regret this, but I have to ask. Where is it then?”

“Out there,” Rey said, nodding toward the window. The day had long since turned to night, and it was dark outside. “The dragon is waiting. We must prepare ourselves for an attack. If we don’t…we will all die, just as we did in 1299.”

Coster gave him a bemused look. “I tell you what,” he said at last, turning to his desk and fiddling with the papers on it, “leave this with me. I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

There was nothing more they could do.

“I don’t like this,” Amy murmured, as they walked away. “He’s going to call the police.”

“How will they get here through the snow?” Rey said, striding ahead in his usual lordly manner. “The roads are closed, Amy, and their horses would be lost in the drifts.”

“Horses, huh? Well let’s hope it stays that way.” She found herself talking to his back and hurried to catch him up. Why did her role always seem to be following her man? First Jez, now Rey. Amy was sick and tired of being the follower; she wanted to lead for a change.

“Where are we going?”

“I need to fetch something,” Rey said, without slowing down or turning to look at her.

Amy was slipping behind him again, but this time she did it through choice. She was admiring his long legs and broad shoulders. She knew he was all muscle, every gorgeous inch of him.

With a start, she realized they’d come to the door that led down into the tunnels, and froze as Rey put out his hand to push it open.

“Oh no…”

He glanced back at her. In that moment there was no emotion in his eyes—they were as cold and gray as castle stone—then they changed and warmed. Like quicksilver. Amy realized that she had done that, she had changed him.

“Stay here,” he said gently. “Wait for me. I will not be long.”

“Do you swear it?” she whispered, darting a glance past him into the shadows. Even though she knew the dragon was gone, she almost expected to see it waiting.

“Aye, I give you my word, damsel. I am going to fetch something I left in a safe place when the witch first brought me back from the between-worlds. I am not going to fight any dragons. Not yet.”

Amy nodded shakily, and watched with a sinking heart as he disappeared down the stairs and into the darkness.

I’ll give him twenty minutes, and then if he hasn’t come back I’m going after him…

The longbow wasn’t far away. Reynald remembered the niche where he’d stashed it and the arrows on the day that the witch brought him back to life and sent him here.

To occupy his mind as he walked, he tried to formulate some sort of battle plan. It was obvious that Coster didn’t believe him and wasn’t going to take any part in preparing for the dragon. So that only left himself and Amy, and perhaps Jez. The Ghost knew that if he could draw the dragon to him and encourage it to concentrate its fiercesome energies on destroying him, then it was possible he could save the others.

Whether or not he could save himself, however, was another question.

A further turn and some more steps, and he reached the fissure in the wall. Reynald reached inside and gave a sigh of relief. The longbow was just where he’d left it. He ran his fingers over the smooth wood and linen string of the bow, as if he was greeting an old friend. And then he reached in again, hunting around for his arrows. They had been made for him by the best Welsh fletchers he could find, with ash shafts and gray goose feathers. The arrowheads were steel-tipped and deadly, able to pierce armor.

His hand closed on two arrows. Only two? His heart sank. He’d forgotten he had so few remaining. That only gave him two chances to strike the dragon where it mattered. That was, if he had time enough to aim and shoot the second arrow after he missed with the first.

You failed last time.

Maybe it is not meant to be.

Reynald knew he couldn’t afford to think like that. He couldn’t let the doubts and uncertainties of the past return to cause his hand to shake and his eye to falter. His life, Amy’s life, depended upon him.

Reynald straightened, the longbow and arrows clasped firmly in his hand, and turned back the way he’d come.

There was someone behind him.

He had already raised his fist to strike, when his eyes told him that it was a disheveled and dirty woman with long, fair hair.

“Good God, it’s you!” she cried. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or angry.”

He recognized her. It was Miriam, the authority.

She must have seen the confusion in his face, because she explained. “I followed you all down here and became lost. I’ve been wandering around every since. Appalling place! I thought I’d never find my way out, and then I heard you talking to yourself…”

“I was not talking to myself,” he said in disgust.

“You were. I’m grateful for it. I mightn’t have found you if you weren’t.”

He gave her another searching look. It horrified him to think of her lost down here. A grown man could go mad in this place, and yet, despite her grubby appearance, the woman was calm.

“You are unharmed?” he asked tentatively.

“Thirsty and hungry, but other than that, I’m quite unharmed. I used to go caving when I was younger and fitter. This place is nasty, but it’s a picnic to some of the tight spots I got myself into. Lead on then!” She waved her hand bossily at him. “We’ll miss the dragon-calling, and I particularly wanted to see it. Coster told me he’s got some folklore specialist in from the wilds of Wales. Very old ritual. Complete nonsense, of course,” she added, with a sly glance up at him, “or are you expecting to see a
real
dragon?”

“Aye,” he said grimly, “I am.”

After that she trotted along behind him in silence, although Reynald knew it couldn’t last for long. The woman was in love with the sound of her own voice.

“I can see the fascination with them,” she mused. “Dragons, I mean. The ancients were afraid of anything they didn’t understand, so I suspect blaming a dragon was as good a trick as any when there was a suspicious death. They worshipped nature, the trees in the forest and so on. On a dark night, a fallen tree might look like a waiting dragon…”

“You would do well to take refuge, lady, when the time comes.”

“Oh no, I don’t think so. I want to see
everything.
”

“Then do not say I did not warn you.”

She chuckled. “I won’t.”

Reynald reached the final set of steps and began to climb them toward the room with the door.

“You know of Julius,” he said, a thought occurring to him. “Do you know of Angharad?”

“You mean from the time of the Ghost?” she asked, but didn’t wait for him to answer. “Angharad. Hmm, it sounds Welsh. No, I don’t think I have heard her mentioned in connection with Reynald de Mortimer. Was she important?”

“She was a woman with a sharp tongue and wise counsel, who lived and died long ago. And no, she probably wasn’t important, except to me.”

“I thought you were going to tell me that Angharad was the dragon’s name,” the woman tittered. “A Welsh name for a Welsh dragon.”

Angharad the dragon? The thought of it was as ridiculous as Miriam Ure’s wig. So why did his stomach start to squirm and his head start to hurt?

“Beautiful weapon you have there,” the woman was still yammering. “The longbow really came into its own after the Ghost’s day, but he’s credited, you know, with raising its profile among the Norman and English aristocracy. All the King Edwards were very fond of it. And without the longbow, where would the English have been at Falkirk, Crécy, and Agincourt?”

Reynald wasn’t listening. There was something wrong, but he couldn’t work out what it was.

You have not the talent for the longbow. You have not the mind for it.

That was Angharad, and although at the time he had not considered it purposely done, now he wondered. It was as if she had searched his inner self for weakness then set about working on it. As if she had wanted him to miss that fateful day.

Angharad…

“Most people forget what a victory Falkirk was, they only remember Agincourt, but the longbow was just as important—”

Reynald reached out to open the door, suddenly keen to escape her company and find somewhere quiet, where he could sort through his confused thoughts and memories.

As the door swung in, Amy jumped up in surprise, and he nearly crashed into her. She’d dragged a chair over to the door and been sitting there, waiting. Her relieved gasp turned to eyes-wide amazement when she spied Miriam.

“Ms. Ure!”

“I must look a sight,” said Miriam, with a grimace. “Been down there for hours. Horrid place.”

Amy nodded in agreement, speechless.

“I’d better go and get cleaned up.” She gave Reynald a pat on the back. “Thank you again for your help. I don’t agree with your dragon theory, but I’m glad I met you.” And with that she set off across the room, heading for the door to reception.

“She was down there all by herself?” Amy said weakly.

“Aye, she found me.” Reynald shook his head in disgust. “She said I was talking to myself. And she does not believe me about the dragon-calling. I have the satisfaction of knowing she will be proved wrong, but there is no pleasure in what will happen after that. She will die, and many others with her.”

“I suppose one thing we have in our favor is that the dragon hates you so much that it’s likely to try and get to you first.” Amy shuddered and hugged her arms about herself. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“You are thinking practically instead of emotionally; that is good.”

“No, it’s not good. We should leave now, Rey, before anything happens.”

But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, and she knew it even as she spoke the words.

“I cannot leave, Amy. I can’t abandon these people. I do not think you would want a man who could.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers, and she felt the scars and calluses. Two of his fingertips were as hard as iron. “But you are right about the dragon hating me the most. The creature will come to me first, it will not be able to help itself, and that is what I want. It will give me a chance to kill it.”

“That’s why you needed the bow and arrows?” Amy nodded to the weapon he held in his hand.

He smiled. “You must pay proper respect, damsel. This is the Welsh longbow, and a formidable weapon. I have been practicing with it since I was a boy, but I am nothing to some of the men I have seen using it. They can fire ten arrows in a minute, at a distance of close to four hundred yards.”

“Your fingers,” she said. “I just realized why they’re so callused.”

Reynald held them up. “Aye, I use them to draw back the string to shoot the arrow. If you want to destroy the livelihood and the pride of a Welsh archer, then take him prisoner and cut off his drawing fingers.”

Amy shuddered. “You’re good at it then?”

He smiled. “’Tis said by others that I am the best archer in England, but I do not claim so. I am certainly not the best in Wales. But I am training my garrison in the use of the longbow, and I hope one day their skills will protect my lands from those who wish me ill.”

“You must go home, Rey,” Amy said quietly. “They need you.”

I need you.

But she was already pushing her sadness away, dredging up her wry humor. “What do you need to attract the dragon to you, so you can turn it into a pincushion?”

“I will be standing on the north tower.”

“Okay then…what about a spotlight?”

“A spotlight?” he repeated.

“Don’t worry, Jez can do that. It means you’ll stand out very nicely when the dragon arrives.” She hesitated and her matter-of-factness faltered. “How can you be so sure it’ll come?”

“I am. It will come, Amy, never doubt it. We must prepare,” he said.

“I know. I’ll have to find Jez.”

As he followed her across the room, it occurred to Reynald that he was walking behind Amy. For the first time in his adult life he was following a woman, and for the second time in his life—since Angharad—he was prepared to do as she told him.

The dragon lay quietly in the darkness. Every now and then she gave a shiver, for it was cold after the warmth of her chamber, deep in the earth. But what did a little snow matter when she was free! And soon she would take back what had been stolen from her.

Reynald had to die, and this time she must be certain he stayed dead. His woman, too, with her laughing green eyes and fiery hair. They must both die.

Above her, the pine branches were still covered in green needles, giving some shelter, but elsewhere the trees were bare and would not regain their leaves until the spring. When that happened, she told herself, she would fly over the tops of them, as she used to. She would glide on the wind currents, and gaze upon her lands, stretching as far as she could see in every direction.

The dragon shifted and sighed, scratching her talons into the frozen earth, burying herself deeper to keep out the icy wind. She didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, but she was lonely. There were no more of her kind remaining in the mortal world—the witch had gathered them all up. There was only her.