Passions of the Ghost (16 page)

Still it came on.

He set the arrow in place and bent the six-foot-six-inch bow with all his mighty strength. He had been practicing ever since he was a boy, and been inspired by stories of the Welsh bowmen, who were so deadly during the skirmishes in their leafy green forests. For Reynald, there was something mystical about the longbow, with its legends and superstitions. He’d persisted with his attempts to master it, although his father laughed at him and said it was the weapon of peasants. “Learn to wield a sword, boy! Forget the bow and arrow!”

But his father did not realize the potential of such a weapon. Reynald saw a time when the English lords would be sending their own bowmen to Wales so that they could learn the deadly accuracy of their enemies. If a man could gain some edge over his opponents in battle, then it was worth the effort.

“You have not the talent for the longbow,” Angharad’s voice whispered in his ear, sending him back in time to a year ago, when he’d been practicing at the butts, and she had come by. She’d spoken in her usual way, with no regard for his lordly status. Angharad said what she thought, without fear or favor, and that was why so many disliked her.

“Perhaps not,” he’d answered her, “but I hope one day to be proficient in it.”

“You haven’t the mind for it,” she went on. “When the crucial moment comes, you will always miss. You think too much, my lord, and a bowman cannot afford to think with his mind, only with his hands and his eyes and his heart.”

Why was he remembering their conversation now? Why were the doubts circling him when he least needed them? Angharad was probably dead, he reminded himself. He must put her out of his mind and concentrate on saving the living.

Reynald stood and waited, feet planted apart, his bow drawn back, and his arrow pointed.

The dragon was close now, its huge body shading the sun, its talons outstretched as if to receive him into an embrace. Reynald looked up into the creature’s face—the long snout, the obsidian eyes. He stared into those eyes, but he saw nothing there to make him believe this foe would offer him the slightest kindness. There was only hatred, and death.

The Ghost’s muscles began to shake with the tension of holding the bow steady, but he forced them to still. Waiting, waiting, until the precise moment when the underbelly was visible. Exposed.

You will miss.

“I cannot.”

You think too much. You will miss, my lord.

The dragon was so close now that he knew he could wait no longer. He released the arrow. It went hissing through the air. But even as he watched its deadly flight, Reynald’s experience told him that he had missed, and there was no time to nock another arrow.

He felt a terrible sadness.

The black eyes appeared to mock him. And then the dragon opened wide its mouth and vomited out deadly gobs of flame. If he thought of anything in that last moment, it was of Morwenna, the girl who had tried to assassinate him all those years ago, and her fall from this very same tower. He thought he heard her voice, screaming.

And then there was nothing.

Jez had arrived late at the pavilion to watch
the mock-battles. He’d thought about going to visit Nicco to see if he could do any better than Amy when it came to discovering the whereabouts of the Star of Russia, but he’d changed his mind. Nicco wasn’t a fool, he’d laugh in his face. And if he thought for one moment that Jez was planning to steal his treasure, he’d be on the first flight back to Moscow.

Anyway, Jez didn’t feel like putting up with Nicco’s ego this morning. The news about O’Neill had considerably shortened the time he thought he had to deal with his creditors. If O’Neill was watching him, hoping for a slip-up, then he needed to be extra careful. And yet, at the same time, he needed to be quick, to get things moving if he wanted to keep his fingers and toes attached.

Amy had been with Rey at the joust, too. Jez kept his distance from them. He was still coming to terms with what Amy had said to him; he was still feeling hurt and angry. But he was also aware of a growing acceptance. When they were children he’d protected her, but she’d been there for him, too. All these years she’d been there. If Amy had ever been indebted to him, then she’d well and truly paid it off.

She didn’t need him anymore. She was a big girl, who could stand on her own feet. She’d shown that last night when she dealt with Nicco.

Despite himself, Jez smiled, remembering Nicco lying flat on the floor. Amy had upset Jez’s plans, and at the same severed their professional relationship, but she’d done it spectacularly, and in a way he’d always remember with pleasure and pride.

After the earth tremor, they left so suddenly that he didn’t have time to speak to her, but he set off in the direction he expected the two of them to have taken. Back to their room. Shame to interrupt them, he told himself mockingly, as he stepped out of the elevator, but it couldn’t be helped.

Rey was slumped against the wall outside Amy’s room, and Amy was struggling to get the big bastard to his feet, but he was much too heavy for petite Amy.

“Rey,” she was wailing, “please, come on. Wake up.”

“What happened?” Jez said, as he ran toward them.

Startled, Amy turned, and then relief filled her face. “Jez, oh thank God.”

Amy held Rey as best she could, to stop him sinking farther toward the floor, while Jez propped his shoulder under one of Rey’s arms. “He weighs a bloody ton,” he muttered, trying not to stagger as he waited for Amy to fumble her door open.

“He collapsed.” She was wide-eyed and frightened. “Lay him on the bed. Rey?” Leaning over him now, her hands brushing his face, his chest, fluttering about like crazed moths. Amy was in a state.

Jez took her fingers in his and squeezed them, then pushed her gently aside. “Let me,” he said, and proceeded to do a check of the big man’s vital signs. “He seems okay,” he said. “Maybe he just passed out. I can slap his face for you, if you like, to bring him around…?”

She gave him a glare. “No, I don’t like.”

Jez gave the big man on the bed a curious look. “Why did he faint? What did you say to him?”

“Nothing. He went quiet, but I just thought he was remembering the…the past, then he collapsed. Rey?” she whispered, her fingers gentle as she stroked his cheek. “Wake up.
Please.
”

“I’d better call for the doctor.” He moved toward the phone, and picked up the handset.

“Jez, I don’t think we can. Rey isn’t supposed to be here, and if they ask for details, then…They’ll find out he doesn’t exist.”

There was something going on. Something other than his sister’s grand love affair. Carefully, Jez set the phone back in its cradle.

“Amy, come clean. Are you involved in a scam of your own? Is that it? You’re running your own operation, and you didn’t want to tell me about it.” Suddenly he was excited, thinking he hadn’t lost her after all.

Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at him as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “No! I’m not. I told you, I’m not interested in scams or cons or anything like that. I don’t do that anymore, Jez. I don’t want to.”

His mood swung back the other way, and Jez knew she was right. He’d let himself believe it because he wanted to. For an uncomfortable moment he remembered his father’s face, that last time he went into prison. Confused and lonely, uncomprehending of the feelings his children had toward him. Jez had thought then: “You don’t even know what you’ve done to us, do you, you stupid bugger? You can’t see past your own nose.” Now, uncomfortably, he wondered if he was just as self-centered as the man he despised.

“If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me anyway,” Amy was saying, peering into Rey’s unconscious face as if she’d like to give him mouth-to-mouth.

“Oh?” Jez replied without much interest.

“We need a key. The key that opens the door from the room with the paintings into the underground tunnels. Coster has it somewhere in his office—or at least, I suppose he does. We need to open the door and go down there.”

Jez considered her request. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t want to know anyway,” she grumbled. “And if I did tell you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Amy, if you’re going to be mysterious…”

“We have to find the dragon.”

The voice was Rey’s. As he spoke, he opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but Amy wouldn’t let him. After a brief struggle between them, Rey pulled her down to him, kissed her hard on the mouth, then sat up while she was still getting her breath.

“The dragon,” Jez repeated calmly, but it was an act. Now he was really worried. It sounded as if Amy was involved in some dangerous shit—God, he should have known it!—and he wasn’t going to leave her alone with this character again. He’d be glued to his sister’s side from now on, O’Neill or no O’Neill. In fact, maybe he could get the inspector to arrest Rey for him, and get him locked away somewhere safe. Safe for Amy, that is. It might even give him some points with O’Neill, or he could make a deal…

“Rey, he won’t believe you,” Amy said, her lips still tingling from his kiss. She could see from the expression on Jez’s face, and the glances he was giving Rey, that he was going into protective mode. He was working out how he could get Rey arrested and taken away, without putting himself or Amy at risk.

Rey stood up, and she only just stopped herself from reaching out to stop him. But he didn’t seem dizzy or unsteady on his feet, and when he didn’t fall over again she relaxed a little. She’d never been so scared in her life as when he collapsed against the wall. She’d been calling his name, but it was as if he couldn’t hear her, despite his eyes being wide open, and then he’d just fainted. He was so big and heavy. If Jez hadn’t come along to help, she didn’t know what she would have done.

A sock hit her in the face. Rey was going through the mess of clothes on the floor, searching for something. Another sock floated through the air, then a pair of panties.

“Rey, what are you—”

He gave a grunt of satisfaction as dragged his sword out from under some towels and began to buckle it around his waist.

“What happened to you a moment ago?” she asked, watching him uneasily. He had the look of a man preparing to do battle, and she was reminded uneasily of what he’d said, about the lady allowing her lord to go off to fight with a smile on her face, neither of them admitting they might never see each other again.

“I was remembering,” Rey said, meeting her eyes and fixing her with a look that meant he couldn’t tell her in front of Jez.

“Remembering what?” Jez didn’t have any such qualms. “The dragon? Tell me about the dragon, Rey. Is it a friend of yours? Is that why you want the key, so that you can go and visit it?” His eyes narrowed and he smiled. “Its name wouldn’t happen to be Dorothy, would it?”

Rey looked at him sideways, as if Jez was the one who was insane.

“I want the key—” he began.

“No, Rey!” But Amy was wasting her breath, he couldn’t be stopped.

“—so that I can find the dragon, and kill it.”

Jez’s mouth pursed. “Hmm,” he said, “not your friend then.”

Amy lost any temper she had left. “Jez, really, this has nothing to do with you. Just go. You must have important things to do, people to avoid, plane tickets out of the country to buy—”

“I’m not leaving,” he said, and she knew he meant it. This was the Jez she remembered from her childhood, protective, watching over her, and while it was lovely to see him again, it was the worst possible moment for him to reappear.

Rey had no such qualms. “Then you will have to come with us,” he said. He strode toward the door, then paused and turned back to face Jez. He looked grim and serious, his hand resting on the handle of his sword, his back straight. “How fast can you run?” he demanded.

Jez eyed him warily. “I used to be the sprint champion of our school when I was ten years old. Does that count?”

The Ghost smiled without any trace of humor whatsoever. “Good, because you might need to run for your life.”

Amy followed him out the door, hoping that Jez would stay put, but he was right on her tail. Her nightmare was getting worse, and they hadn’t even found the dragon yet.

Reynald took the stairs. He knew he had no
time to waste, and this time he was determined to listen to his own heart rather than the well-meaning advice of others. He had never fainted before in his life, and the fact that he’d done so now, while remembering the dragon, made him suspicious that the dragon had something to do with it.

He had his suspicions about the dark apparition with the light, too. At the time, he’d thought it appeared to be Julius, then he’d grown wary and realized it wasn’t. Julius would never do something like that. Whoever…
what
ever it was, was cunning and devious enough to lure them into a dangerous place and try to kill them.

Was that the dragon’s doing, too? Was such a creature capable of getting inside his head and sending him into a swoon? Was it able to re-create itself as a spirit, to protect itself from those it knew were the most dangerous? Seven hundred years ago, when he’d fought it for the first time, Reynald had believed he was pitting himself against a physical monster. Now he knew there was far more to the dragon than that. Like the witch from the between-worlds, this creature was magical, able to perform feats no mortal could begin to imagine. To have lived so long it must have a strength and cunning far beyond anything he’d faced before.

But he had no choice. Running away and playing the coward was not in his nature. Whether this was the task that had been given him or just an unpleasant consequence of his return to the mortal world, he had to save these people, to save Amy and her brother and, if it was possible, to save himself.

Behind him, Amy and Jez were arguing again. The verbal sparring seemed to be a part of their relationship, and he sensed that it helped them to cope with their emotions. He knew that Jez didn’t believe him, but he didn’t care. Jez could come along, or Jez could stay safe in his room, but Reynald would do what he had to.

“We
need
the key, Jez,” Amy said, and without turning to look, Reynald knew her pretty face would be all flushed and cross.

“You’re not going down into the tunnels with that character,” Jez retorted, his whisper just loud enough to be heard. “I won’t let you.”

“I am. With or without you. Now, are you going to get that key?”

“I shouldn’t have waited,” Rey said, silencing their bickering with a glance over his shoulder. They stared back at him, Amy looking worried and Jez stubborn. “I will smash open the door. There is no time to find the key.”

“But Rey—”

The ground began to shake.

A potted plant on a wooden stand fell over at the bottom of the stairs. As Reynald steadied himself with one hand against the wall, the voice spoke inside his head. He recognized the strange husky tones with a mixture of triumph and dread.

Ah, it is you,
cariad.
You can feel me, too, can’t you? You know I am coming for you, Reynald.

“Prepare to die, foul creature!”

It is you who will die.

“Bloody hell,” Jez muttered, “he talks to it.”

The tremors had stopped as suddenly as they’d started. Reynald continued on his way to the antechamber. The table with the strange drinks upon it, and the little crowd of people, were gone. There were broken cups and saucers on the floor, and a spreading stain from the overturned hot-water receptacle. He paused, then changed direction, turning into the great hall.

The weapons were where he remembered, hanging on the wall by the dais. Swords and shields and pikes. He saw the crossbow and smiled. Aye, that would do. His longbow was too large and unwieldy for the tunnels, but the crossbow, although not as powerful, would be better in such confined quarters. He could disable the dragon with a well-aimed arrow, then move in with his sword for the final blow.

At least, that was the plan.

Reynald collected the crossbow, wrenching it off the wall, pleased to see there were also bolts, and that the weapon appeared to be well cared for. He laid a bolt into the groove at the top and aimed it carefully at the tapestry on the opposite wall. It was a hunting scene, with a stag and hounds and men on horses. Reynald pressed the trigger to release the bolt, and it sprang through the air and struck the tapestry, and stuck there.

He grunted his satisfaction.

“Rey?”

When he turned, he saw that both Amy and Jez were watching him from the doorway. He forced a smile. “’Tis in working order,” he said.

Jez nodded toward the bolt. “You hit the stag in the heart,” he said. “Lucky shot, huh?”

But it wasn’t a lucky shot, and they both knew it.

The Ghost slung the crossbow over his shoulder and walked quickly back through the door. Two servants were passing by—staff, as Amy called them—hurrying in the opposite direction.

“…only here,” one of them was saying. “No other part of the county has been affected at all.”

“Coster should evacuate the building. This isn’t right.”

Jez was walking backward, trying to listen to them and still follow Reynald and his sister. “It’s the dragon,” Amy whispered loudly. “This is what happens when it wakes up and starts crawling out of the tunnels.”

“Well, of course, all earthquakes are caused by dragons.”

“Oh, forget it!” She caught up to Reynald, grasping his arm in both hands, as if she wanted to make sure he didn’t get away from her again.

He stooped and kissed her brow, breathing in her scent. “You have my heart, damsel,” he murmured. “Always.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Rey—”

“This thing must be done, Amy. Perhaps this is why I am here. I must face my foe once again, and this time I
must
succeed.”

They reached the door, and Reynald bent to inspect the lock. It was strange and unfamiliar, and very shiny. He would need to break it. Determinedly, he began to slide his sword from its scabbard.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Jez muttered, and pushed in front of him. He knelt, reaching into his pocket, and brought out a small device. This he set against the lock, fiddling with dials and watching as lights flicked on and off. There was a clicking, whirring noise, and Jez reached out and turned the handle, trying not to look too smug.

The door opened with a puff of very cold air.

“Thank you,” Amy said, turning to hug her brother.

Reynald was already entering the room he remembered, with the boxes stacked against the walls and the stairs leading down underground.

“Brrr, no heating in here,” Amy murmured, following him in and flicking on the lights. They were very dim, barely throwing forth enough light for them to see their feet in front of them.

Suddenly a voice called out from behind them. “Excuse me!”

Reynald heaved a sigh. He knew that voice. Unwillingly, he turned to face her. “What is it?” he asked Miriam Ure.

She was wearing her wig again, and it slipped over one eye as she hurried toward them. “You’re not meant to go in there. It might be dangerous.”

Reynald snorted a laugh. “Go away, lady,” he advised her.

“You are very rude. I don’t know who you think you are, but as a well-known historian, I am—”

Another tremor, a smaller one, started shaking the castle. Reynald slid his arm around Amy, protecting her from the falling dust and small pebbles of stone from the roof above.

“This is dangerous,” Jez protested, glancing nervously toward the tunnel at the bottom of the stairs. “She’s right,” with a nod toward Miriam Ure. “We shouldn’t be here.”

“This shaking is the dragon trying to stop me,” Reynald retorted. “We must not allow it to succeed.”

Miriam was peering at them from the doorway. “Come back at once,” she demanded bossily.

“No,” Reynald retorted.

The tremor was almost stopped, and Reynald went quickly down the stairs, plunging into the tunnel. He ducked beneath a reinforcing beam, glancing back at Amy to make sure she was safe. He knew he couldn’t prevent her from coming with him, but he swore to himself that he would make her turn back before the danger became too great. Jez would help him. He knew now that Jez would protect his sister. That was the only reason he had allowed the other man to accompany them.

He peered ahead. The tunnel branched into two, and he took the left fork, negotiating the uneven ground as it began to slope downward, sending them deeper into the earth. There was an unpleasant dank smell here, and the lights were flickering and fizzing. Reynald almost smiled when Jez cleared his throat as if he was making an announcement, then produced some sort of lighting device from his other pocket.

The beam it threw out was, though small, very bright. Enough for them to see their way. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Rey,” Jez said. “You know what will happen to you if anyone gets hurt.”

“Jez, it’s true,” Amy tried again. “The dragon is waking up. We need to find it.”

“Cannot wait…”

There was a strange humming through the air, and the tunnel began to tremble. It quickly grew much worse, until the shaking was so violent that Reynald found it impossible to keep walking. Even to stand upright was difficult, and he crouched with his arms around Amy, her face buried against his neck, waiting for the tremors to stop. Choking dust billowed around them, and there was a hideous grinding noise, as the centuries-old timbers moved and stretched.

“Amy, for God’s sake—” shouted Jez.

And that was when they heard it.

The dragon’s roar.

It was unlike anything they’d ever heard before. Animal, yet with overtones of emotion that were almost human. And most of all, terrifying.

Jez had frozen, his mouth still hanging open. “What the hell was that?” The light beam in his hand jerked, swinging crazily around the tunnel. Reynald saw that his face was coated in dust, and his suit was torn at the shoulder, where he had caught it against the uneven wall.

“Do you believe us now?” Amy asked him, her voice rising hysterically.

“You mean
that
was a dragon?” But Reynald noted that his skepticism wasn’t quite as wholehearted as it had been. It sounded more like bravado now.

“No, Jez,” Amy said, shaking the dust from her hair, “it was a bat.”

“Amy, you can’t truly believe—”

She sneezed.

Reynald was already up again and walking. The tunnel narrowed in front of them. With one hand on the wall at his side to guide him, he kept the other on his crossbow. The thought of firing a bolt in the half darkness at a creature who wanted to kill him was not a pleasant one, and he knew he wouldn’t have much time. Even if he didn’t succeed, he might be able to keep the dragon distracted while Amy escaped.

As she entered his thoughts, he felt her come up behind him again, then her hand was clinging to a fold of his tunic. Several paces back, Jez grumbled to himself, the light in his hand moving jerkily from side to side.

“It’s freezing,” Amy said.

There were more stairs cut roughly into the rock, and Reynald waited for the other two to come up beside him before he moved on. Jez’s light shone down the shallow steps, barely penetrating farther than three yards and finding no end to the staircase. The darkness was so intense, it was as if it sucked up the bright beam, reducing its effectiveness.

Was this another of the dragon’s tricks? the Ghost thought, as Jez shook the device and swore, saying he didn’t understand it, that the batteries were almost new.

“It is the dragon. She is protecting herself in every way she can. Keep watch and be careful. She will have more tricks as we draw closer.”

For once Jez didn’t argue or make a sneering comment. Since the dragon’s roar, he had been far more subdued.

Carefully, Reynald began to descend the steps, not knowing how far it was to the bottom. It seemed unlikely that many people in this present time would wander down here. The place was chilly and damp, and there was a very bad smell.

“Rotten meat.”

He glanced over his shoulder, where Jez was much closer than he’d thought. “Aye,” he agreed.

“Why can I smell—” Jez began, uncertainly.

This time the roar was louder, or they were closer. It rushed down the tunnels, echoing all about them, as if it were surrounding them. Amy gasped, trying not to scream, and Jez swore again. Good English words! It was nice to know that some things had not changed, Reynald thought with a smile.

A moment later the earth began to shake again.

“How close are we?” Amy said, her fingers rigid as she clutched his tunic.

“Close,” he murmured, and reached around to touch her and give a comforting squeeze.

It has been too long, Reynald. Come to me and let me kill you again. I have been hungry for your flesh. Sweet, sweet flesh. I wonder what your mate will taste like? I will enjoy crunching her bones.

The dragon was back inside his head, its voice deep and soft, with that lilting Welsh accent distracting him from the horrors of which it spoke.

“You will never know. I am going to send you to the between-worlds. The witch is waiting for you,
cariad.
”

It wasn’t gloating now. Was it afraid of the witch? Had he found something that even a dragon feared?

“Rey?” Amy whispered. “Who are you talking to?”

“The dragon. She speaks to me inside my head. She thinks to frighten me away.” He threw back his head and shouted at the top of his voice, “I am coming to kill you!”

His words echoed, fading. He waited to see what would happen.

“What’s that light?” Suddenly Amy was peering in front of him. “There, up ahead!”

“There’s someone in the tunnels with us!” Jez began to push past. “Dragon,” he sneered. “I told you it was all crap, Amy.”

Reynald could see the light, too, like a ball of pale moving color. It was very familiar…And then he realized what it was.

“No!” he shouted. But it was too late, Jez was past him and running eagerly forward.

“Jez!” Amy screamed her brother’s name, her voice echoing back and forth down the tunnel.

Reynald caught her as she, too, went to run, holding her tight as she struggled, and more tremors shook the ground and walls, sending down a shower of fine rubble. The dragon roared furiously, a roar that turned into a high-pitched scream of frustration.