Flight From Death

As Ralph examined the quality of the construction, Patrick returned with the blueprints. He spread them out on the desk and Ralph and Alex pored over them. I had no clue what I was looking at—I knew what blueprints were, but they weren’t something I’d ever paid attention to. In the Dragon Reaches, the families building their dreyeries weren’t exactly forced to log in their plans with the government.

  “So . . . over there . . .” Ralph pointed to the area where the two back bedrooms began. “That was the original confines of the basement. You dug through there, and expanded what . . . a good twenty-five feet. And you expanded . . . thirty feet in the other direction. This was quite the undertaking.”

  “I’ve got the money, the house is gorgeous . . .” Patrick almost sounded defensive.

  “No argument from me on that. Okay, let’s start at the edge where the original basement ended. We’ll set up equipment and see if there’s anything there. You didn’t find any bones, did you?” Ralph motioned for me to take the TRU over to the wall near the door leading into Alex’s room.

  Patrick shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. I haven’t really looked through the attic, though, to be honest. I’ve been so focused on the renovations down here. As I said, my friend Nathan owned the house and I bought it from his family, so I didn’t really expect anything to be out of the ordinary.”

  Alex turned around. “Tell us about Nathan. Did he die here? What was he like?”

  “Yes, he did. Died in the master bedroom.” Patrick cleared his throat. “Nathan . . . how can I put this? Nathan had two sides to him. One side, I admit, was a conniving bastard. The other side? He could be a real charmer.”

  “That sounds like a psychopath to me,” Alex said.

  “Not really—he wasn’t deliberately cruel. Nathan was a financial genius, but I’ll be honest, part of that genius was invested in knowing how to manipulate others. Nathan’s primary focus was money and power. During the eighties, he was a whiz at day trading and, unfortunately, he was also good at convincing others to go in on his investments. Sometimes they panned out. Other times? Not so much. Usually Nathan emerged richer, even though a number of his acquaintances didn’t make it through unscathed.” Patrick shrugged. “He was ruthless when it came to money but had a real soft spot for his family and those he considered friends.”

  “White dragon,” I muttered.

  Patrick gave me a quizzical look. “What did you say?”

  “He was like a white dragon. The whites are the worst when it comes to money and greed. They’d topple your financial interests in a second if they thought it would mean more for them, and then eat you for dessert if you complained. But they are extremely family-oriented, most of them, and usually protect their own.” I shuddered, thinking again that the Wing-Liege was right. It was a good thing I’d come Earthside. Greanfyr and his clan were tight, and though what I took wasn’t sentimental or very expensive, the very fact that I stole it was enough to set the entire dreyerie rampaging for my head.

  Patrick stared at me. “It’s really easy to forget that you’re a dragon until you come out with something like that. But yes, I suppose . . . Nathan was like that.”

  “You said he got sick? That he was losing weight at the end and couldn’t eat?” Ralph was frowning at his camera.

  “Yeah, that’s what I understand. By then, we weren’t talking too much. I told you, Alex, that I understand why you refused to turn me when I asked. I’ll be brutally honest—I’m glad that I managed to find someone willing to do it. I don’t regret my choice. But I do understand why you wouldn’t want the responsibility on your shoulders. I say that because Nathan asked me to turn him. I refused. We had a falling-out, but his family—they knew what had happened, and after he died, they thanked me for not agreeing.”

  Alex studied Patrick’s face for a moment. “Why did you make the decision?”

  “The truth? Nathan was scary enough when he was alive. The thought of a man that greedy who had vampiric powers scared the hell out of me. Even though he loved his family, the way he treated his enemies and those he thought were standing in his way . . . I decided no, I wasn’t going to loose a vampire like that on the world. So I told him no.” Patrick sat down on the love seat. “I guess I’m a hypocrite . . .”

  “No, you aren’t. Patrick, the last time I turned somebody, she ended up doing exactly what you were afraid Nathan would do. I never had a clue she had that in her, and it broke my heart. I swore that I’d never chance helping another friend become a monster. You’ve stayed true to yourself. I wish I had trusted you enough to say yes. To be the one to give you the gift.”

  Alex was about to say more when Ralph let out a yelp.

  “Fucking hell . . . something just pinched me.” He swung the camera around to face the brick of the back wall. “Holy crap—look at this.” Backing up, he motioned for Alex and me to join him.

  As we stared through the lens of the camcorder—which was on the full-spectrum mode, and which could record in total darkness—we saw a misty shape taking form near the back wall. It was large, and dark, and as I glanced up over the camera, I realized that I couldn’t see it without the lens. Maybe there was something to the ghost-hunting gear.

  Suddenly remembering my part, I held up the TRU and watched as the temperature in the area began to plunge. “Temperature drop of ten degrees in the last twenty seconds.” Actually, it was ten-point-three, but the point-three seemed meaningless with that big of a drop.

  Alex held out the EVP and we all quieted down. Patrick had joined us, and he was staring at the figure with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

  “Who are you? Can you tell us your name?” Alex slowly began to move forward and was now in range of the camera.

  “Alex, I’m not sure I’d do that if I were you—” Ralph’s warning came a hair too late. As Alex approached the area where the misty figure was forming, it reared back and lunged at him, knocking him off his feet, then headed directly toward us.

  Ralph stood frozen as it barreled toward us, but I jumped to the side with Patrick following me. We went rolling to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, just as Ralph went flailing back as the thing blasted him. A voice, deep and resonant, filled the room.

  “Get out. Get out now!”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Bloody hell.” Alex had lightning-quick reflexes and was on his feet before the rest of us. “What the hell was that?”

  Ralph groaned, rubbing the back of his head, but then he scrambled for the camera. “Oh please, don’t let it be broken!”

  Patrick gave me a hand and I accepted, gratefully. I wasn’t hurt, but the startlement of being run down by a ghostly renegade had dazed me slightly. I brushed myself off and shook my head.

  “Well, that was fun. Not.” Patrick offered me a chair and then slid into one next to me. “Is that my ghost? Is that Nathan? What does he want? Why is he so pissed at me?”

  “All questions that we hope to answer in due time.” Alex picked up the EVP and brought it over to the desk.

  Ralph, satisfied the camera was still working, joined us. “I’ve dealt with a few ghosts before but I will tell you right now, whatever that was, I don’t think it was your friend Nathan. In fact, I don’t know if that’s a ghost at all.”

  “Demon?” Alex asked. “I know that demons exist. I’ve seen a few of them over the years.”

  “No . . . I don’t think it’s a demon, but I’m not sure what the hell it is.” Ralph frowned. “I’m not saying that Nathan isn’t around, but . . . I don’t think that was him. We need to know more about this house, including what was on the land before it was built and who owned it before Nathan.”

  “That I can’t help you with.” Patrick frowned. “However, the town has a directory of historical houses. They keep pretty good records on the history of the area. You and Shimmer can go there in the morning. You’ll find it at the Port Townsend Historical League’s offices.”

  “Check. We’ll do that first thing. Do you know when they open?
We’ll need the address.” I glanced at the clock. It was a modified digital clock, not only giving the time in regular format, but it also had the hours listed in military time. There was a date indicator on it, as well as when to expect the sunrise and sunset. “Did you make that?”

  Patrick shook his head. “I’ve got some pretty clever friends. I commissioned it from one of my mechanically minded buddies.” He brought up a browser on the computer. “I’ll look up the info you need.”

  As Patrick tapped away at the keys, Alex wandered over beneath the clock and stared up at it, a bemused look on his face. “Ralph, can you make me one of those? Or rather, two? That would be handy to have around the office, as well.”

  Ralph shrugged. “Should be a piece of cake. I’ll do it next weekend.”

  “Found it.” Patrick scribbled down the address listed on the browser. “The Historical League opens at ten A.M. and they close at four.”

  “Is there anything else we need to do before we go to bed?” Ralph glanced over at me. “Besides getting you to a swimming hole?”

  I thought for a moment, then shook my head. “Not that I can think of. I’d prefer to get into the water before much longer. It’s already two A.M., and I don’t want to be seen changing into my dragon form. I’ll do that in the water, but it’s much better if I go now. Do you mind, Alex?” I tried to keep the eagerness out of my voice, but it was no use.

  Alex smiled softly. “I think we can make time. While Ralph keeps up work here, I’ll take you to the beach. Then I’ll return and help Ralph until it’s time to pick you up.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to go get into my swimsuit—I can change form with my regular clothes on, but I would rather not. It’s a quirk I have.” I dashed up the stairs to the main floor, then up to my room. As I entered the bedroom, I paused. The dresser had been mighty unfriendly and I had no clue if whatever it was that had been playing with the drawers was the same thing we’d encountered in the basement.

  “If you’re around, just back off while I change, please.” While challenging a ghost—or whatever it was—didn’t seem like the brightest of ideas, I felt like I had to say something to acknowledge that we knew it was there and had gotten its message.

  I unzipped my luggage again and pulled out my swimsuit, quickly changing out of my jeans and tank top. As I slid on my suit—a pale violet one-piece meant for swimming more than sunbathing—I kept a close eye on the dresser, but the drawers remained shut. However, the entire time, I felt there was something watching me.

  I rigged my hair in a high ponytail and then pulled on my jeans and top again, over my suit. As I grabbed my jacket and tote bag, I glanced back at the room. “I’d really like to know why you’re here and what’s making you so angry. We can’t help you if we don’t understand. And we want to help.”

  As I hustled down the stairs, I tried to stay alert. We hadn’t been hurt yet, but we had been attacked, and that was enough reason to keep our eyes open. I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping, either. Not with both Alex and Patrick out for the day. The others were in the living room, waiting for me. Patrick and Ralph were starting to set up cameras as Alex and I headed out to the Range Rover. The moment I stepped out the door, I took a deep breath. It felt safer out here. As I shut the door and fastened my seat belt, it occurred to me that whatever was in there, it wasn’t going to want to leave. Which meant that we were going to have to force it out.

  • • •

  The route from Patrick’s house to the lighthouse at Fort Worden was a simple one. Alex turned the way we had come on W Street, then left when we hit Fort Worden Way. Within a few minutes, we were on Harbor Defense Way, driving between the beach and the park. The thought that I would be back in the water within minutes set my whole body to tingling. I opened the window and stuck my head out, closing my eyes as the tang of the saltwater breeze hit me.

  “You really need this, don’t you?” Alex wasn’t making fun of me. In fact, when I looked over at him, I could tell he was stone-cold serious.

  “Yes. I do. If someone wanted to torture me, they’d only have to keep me away from the water. It’s part of my nature, Alex. Water dragons aren’t just dragons who like to play in the water—the essence feeds and recharges us. The water calms us down when we’re stressed, and revs us up when we need energy. The waves are part of our nature, part of our . . . soul . . . if you want to get transcendental.”

  He gave a little nod. “I’ll make certain you get out as often as you can. Puget Sound isn’t exactly open ocean, but the water comes in from the Pacific, and there are plenty of places deep enough for you to swim. I don’t think I realized how much this means to you. I suppose I never thought about it really.”

  Touched by his concern, I let down my guard for once. “Thank you so much. And don’t beat yourself up. There’s no reason why you should have thought about it—it’s not like you’ve hung around with blue dragons a lot. I’m still boggled by the fact that the Wing-Liege is . . .”

  “Buddies with a vampire? You know what they say about strange bedfellows. Only take the bed out of the equation. I don’t swing that way.” He laughed, then, lightening the mood. “I met Lord Vine many years ago when I was on safari. I told you I traveled the world. Well, I was high in the Alps. It’s foolhardy for a vampire to go out where he might not find shelter during the day, but I was with a friend who understood my nature. He saw to it that I was protected during the daylight hours.”

  “You met the Wing-Liege in the Swiss Alps?” That made sense, in an odd sort of way.

  “I did. I’m not sure why he was there—he told me at the time but I can’t remember now, but we were in a remote area and one evening, I happened to see him fly down into a valley and land. We were close enough that I was able to hike it over to where he was before he left. He very politely decided to leave me alive, and we got to talking. After that . . . well . . . we’ve stayed in touch over the years.”

  Alex drove to the end of Harbor Defense Way, past several campsites. Two lone RVs were parked in the camping areas, but there were no lights and no one appeared to be up and about. I stepped out of the car, and Alex walked around to stand beside me.

  He pointed to the lighthouse. “You’ll have to walk around the lighthouse out to the farthest point—that’s where the deepest water will be. You could try to cut through but if they catch you, you’ll be booted. The lighthouse is off-limits. The good thing is that nobody else seems to be up and wandering around at this time.”

  I shimmied out of my jeans and top, tossing them in the back. “I’m leaving my tote bag with you—I don’t dare take it into the water with me, and I don’t trust leaving it on the shore. So, how long do I get?” The wind gusted past, and I shivered—just a touch. I was used to the chill; it didn’t bother me so much as tease my skin.

  “Well, considering that sun rises at around seven twenty, and it’s two-thirty now, how about I meet you right here in three and a half hours? I know that’s not long but—”

  “I can come back before we leave, and that’s plenty long for a quick dip.” I paused, then darted forward to press my lips to his cheek. “Alex, I really appreciate this.” And then, before he could answer, I headed around the perimeter of the lighthouse fence, toward the beach. Though I didn’t look back, I knew Alex waited until I vanished from sight.

  • • •

  While a lot of people like the water, for a water dragon, it’s like coming home. I crossed the beach quickly—it was a thin spit of sand and pebbles—and stood at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. Well, ocean water. The Strait of Juan de Fuca cut a swath between Vancouver Island—British Columbia—and the Olympic Peninsula. It fed into Puget Sound, which filtered down to divide the Seattle-Tacoma area from several towns on the interior of the Peninsula. At some point, going north, the Strait of Juan de Fuca met with the waters from the Strait of Georgia. But it was all ocean water, tried and true, and carried the energy of the Pacific.

  Every body of water had its own ener
gy and personality. I had visited many, but mostly up in the Dragon Reaches and—a few times—down in Otherworld. This would be my first time connecting with an Earthside ocean. I’d stood on the edge of the sound a number of times, though, and the water, even in that channel, was primal. Here, I could feel the essence of the Pacific much stronger. She was a wild creature, she was, refusing to be tamed. She was alive and vibrant, and when I reached out, I could sense her song. The Pacific, more than most, had her sirens and her wiles.

  With a sudden swish, an icy wave rolled to shore to crash against my feet. I steadied myself, readying for a deep dive. I could hold my breath for a long time, unlike mortals, and once I was in dragon form, I could dive to extremely deep waters for long periods without coming to surface. My night vision was stronger than human vision, and I could see the silvery waters rushing in, illuminated against the fog. The water seemed to blend right into the mist, and the chill prickled my skin. But one thing I generally didn’t have to worry about was hypothermia—not at all in dragon form, and I was far more resistant to it than the normal human would be in human form.

  I waded deeper into the foaming waves. They were strong, breaking around my thighs. It would be easy to lose my balance, but that didn’t frighten me. To shift, I had to be out where I could immerse myself completely while in dragon form, but even if the waves did knock me down right now and drag me out to open water, I’d be all right. Really, there wasn’t much chance for me to drown, not unless somebody held my head under water for a long time. And it would take somebody a lot stronger than me to do that.

  High tide was coming in, so I sliced cleanly through the water and began to swim. Since I was going against the tide, it took me longer, but within a few minutes I was out far enough to test the depths. I dove beneath the waves and, kicking hard, worked my way out to the point where I knew I could shift. It had been so long since I’d been in my natural form that for a moment I panicked, terrified that everything would go wrong. What if the Wing-Liege had been lying? What if I could never change shape again?