Robert Asprin's Dragons Run (31 page)

“That is a most unexpected person,” Malcolm commented, watching him go.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Griffen said.

Malcolm cleared his throat.

“Well, let’s go take the news to Ms. Dunbar. We can soften the bad news with the good and make plans. I would say the sooner the better, wouldn’t you?”

“I agree,” Griffen said with relief. He strode after his uncle. “I can’t wait for all this to be over with.”

The
George still felt as if he had been run over by a couple of freight trains going in opposite directions, but he had to get back to his mission. Not only would the agency not get paid if he didn’t accomplish his goal, but he would feel a personal sense of failure, and that he did not wish to experience. His hotel was one step above a fleabag, but it had one amenity that meant more to him than clean sheets or quiet neighbors: great water pressure. He stood underneath the shower, letting the hottest possible water pound down on his bruised tissues.

His midsection didn’t show any of the abuse that he had undergone, but he could feel it in his tissues. It was a good thing he didn’t scar. Over his long lifetime of dragon hunting, there was not a square inch of him that hadn’t been scratched, scraped, hacked, burned, cut, punched, broken, or stabbed. He had been electrocuted four times—no, five, twice on a wire fence, once with lamp cords, and two he preferred to forget altogether.

His clothing had had to be replaced entirely. Debbie had shipped a package to him so he didn’t have to waste time shopping. He actually enjoyed shopping but rarely had time for it. When he had a break, which was an infrequent occurrence, he usually spent it stalking dragons for practice. He knew where the rich and famous hung out. To have Melinda’s country home go unnoticed by the office for generations was a red flag. Who knew how many other secret cabals of the scaly vermin were hidden around the nation?

The new canvas cargo pants had been broken in for him, having undergone who knew how many machine washings to a supple softness like moleskin. He was grateful that the support staff back home were so efficient. George felt in the pockets of his new camouflage jacket for the brackets that would short the electrical contacts in the fence. The people in the house would never know that the fence had been breached. Many other nice gadgets were arrayed among the nineteen hidden pouches and caches, handy to grab but undetectable unless you knew where to look and what to look for. Also in the package from Debbie was an amulet and a can of spray that smelled so noxious George had wrapped it in the plastic laundry bag he had found in his hotel room drawer before putting it in his pocket.

George looked at himself in the mirror before departing. He knew he wasn’t up to 100 percent yet, but the sooner he could put North Carolina in the rearview mirror, the happier he would be. He put on the face he had worn the first day until he pulled out of the motel parking lot, then re-formed his features and let the light brown hair flood with black. If he were unlucky enough to be spotted by the security system in Melinda’s mansion, they wouldn’t recognize him as their previous victim.

•   •   •

George
planted two of the breakers at either side of Val’s window and engaged the circuit. A tiny blue LED inside a black plastic cover lit up to show the system was working. He closed the cover and withdrew into the bushes behind the swimming pool to wait. As soon as Val came back to her room, he would speak to her and see how much preparation would be needed to perform the extraction.

The overhead light came on. George crept toward the window and peered in. The girl had arrived, all right, but she wasn’t alone. A man even taller than she was had his arm over her shoulder. The two of them looked pretty lovey-dovey. In fact, as soon as they closed the door to the hall, they were all over each other. Before they’d taken two steps inside, she was unfastening his belt, and he was clasping her buttocks in both hands. The kisses they exchanged were so fierce they looked as if they were devouring one another’s faces.

George grinned. He could wait a while.

•   •   •

“Mike?”

The girl’s voice had the long, languorous tones of someone who was relaxing after great sex. The shadow of a slim arm stretched out to him in the dim room. The man had left about twenty minutes before, donning his clothes and blowing a kiss to her. George waited until the man’s car had popped down the gravel drive and into the night before he activated his overrides and slipped over the sill into the room.

“No,” George said in a low voice. “You’re expecting me, though.”

Before he finished speaking, Val was on her feet. She grabbed the phone off the table. He wondered if she was going to throw it at him or make a call. He closed the distance and pushed his finger down on the receiver with one hand and grabbed her wrist with the other. The dial tone ceased. Val glared for one second before bringing her knee up to his groin.

George was too old a hand not to have seen that move coming. He shifted to one side and twisted. Her knee connected with his rear end. He bent her arm upward, making her bow over it. She didn’t know the countermove to his and flailed helplessly. She scratched and bit at his wrist with her free hand. Ow! Those damned dragon teeth were sharp! George felt for the light switch and flicked it up.

“Please, Ms. McCandles, I’m a friend. I wrote to you several days ago.”

“You did?”

Val raised her head. The pupils of her big blue eyes had shrunk to pinpoints. She studied him curiously. Drops of his blood stained her mouth, but she looked innocently childlike.

“That’s right.” George gestured to her hand. “I’ll let you go if you stop attacking me.”

“Oh, sure,” Val said. She relaxed. George let her go and helped her to sit down on the bed. She hadn’t seemed to notice that she was stark naked. He pulled the coverlet from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. He dabbed the blood from her face with a tissue from the box on the table. When she was clean, he put the tissue in his pocket, to avoid leaving any unnecessary traces of himself in the room.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked.

“A friend of mine,” Val said. She glanced around for Mai. The small Asian woman had sneaked out of the mansion a couple of days before. Val wondered when she was coming back again. It had been nice to see her. Mai had warned her to keep her presence a secret. She was having a hard time remembering why, but she fought to keep her sanity. It wasn’t easy.

After their discussion, Melinda had brought in the doctor to examine Val. Her baby was fine. Val was fine, too, and she knew it, but the doctor had insisted on giving her half a dozen medications. They made her feel a little woozy, but she was still able to keep from blabbing about Mai. She couldn’t mention Mai to Melinda. They didn’t get along. She bit her tongue to make sure she didn’t reveal the secret to this man. But who was he? A memory forced itself to the front of her mind. She peered at him.

“Are you . . . are you the person . . . ?”

“Who left you the message? At the coat check?” The man understood what she was seeking, a means of establishing some kind of bona fides. Val felt an immense rush of relief.

“It was you!” She smiled at him. He smiled back. “You didn’t come that night. I thought they killed you. I felt terrible.”

“They tried to kill me,” the man said. “I got better. My name’s George, by the way. I’m a . . . friend of Griffen’s.”

“Is he all right?” she demanded. “Why hasn’t he returned any of my phone calls?”

“He is doing just fine. He sent me to get you.”

“Oh, thank God!” Val said. She stood up. The coverlet fell on the floor. She looked down at herself. Her burgeoning breasts, tipped in pink, spilled out over the smooth expanse of her rounded belly. She looked at George in horror. He regarded her with calm eyes.

“You might want to put something on,” he said. “We have a lot to discuss.”

•   •   •

Val
fingered the pendant that George had taken off his neck and fastened around hers. For the first time in days, everything made sense. She clutched the silk robe around her body. Val did her best to absorb all the information that the man had given her. It wasn’t easy. Everything that had gone on for the last few months seemed to have happened to someone else. She felt betrayed that the Wurmleys had hypnotized her again into compliance. Melinda’s assurances that Val was staying of her own free will melted into the sludge of reality. She couldn’t believe anything that Melinda had told her, not ever. The pretty surroundings proved to be nothing more than draperies concealing the iron bars of her cage. She felt trapped and alone.

“So, something in this house makes you forget you’re here?” she asked.

“That’s one of the effects,” George said. “Unless you have the training to cope with it, or an amulet like that one.” He nodded toward the necklace. “I think Melinda installed it to help cope with Lizzy.”

“You know about Lizzy?” Val asked. George nodded. “Are you a dragon, too?”

The man grimaced. “No, but I know a lot of them. Even among other dragons, Lizzy is a byword for dangerous insanity.”

“No argument here,” Val said, remembering the night she had fought for her life against the crazed girl. “So you can get me out of here? Tonight? Please! I have to go home!”

“Not tonight,” George said with a rueful expression. “I have to make some preparations. No more than a couple of days.”

“Aargh!” Val said, looking at the ceiling. Who knew what kind of machinery or magical apparatus was concealed behind it? “I need to get out of here now!”

The man put a hand on hers. “You have to be patient. I won’t take chances with you. You know these dragons. They’re dangerous. Melinda still believes you are willing to stay. You need to keep up the pretense until I come back for you. Otherwise, she might hide you somewhere so remote no one can find you. You need to act as if nothing has changed if you want to protect your baby. Melinda wants it safe.”

“Well, it’s mine, not hers,” Val said. “I’ll do it.”

“All right,” he said. He reached for the cord around her neck. Automatically, Val recoiled. Once the amulet was gone, she would revert to Stepford Daughter-in-Law-Elect. She couldn’t lose her mind again.

“Don’t!” she said. “Please!”

George looked sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, but I have to take it. I need it to get in and out. I will bring you one when I come back.”

“Soon, please!”

“As soon as I can,” George assured her. He checked his contacts on the window before sliding it open.

“Tell Griffen I’m fine,” Val said.

“Tell him yourself when you get home,” he said, with a brief smile. “Be ready to move when you see me again. The clock will be ticking. We’ll have to hustle. Can you remember that?”

“Hustle,” Val said, resolutely. She could feel the sense of clarity fading away. “Yes. I will try. But, please, hurry!”

With one rueful glance, George slipped over the windowsill and vanished into the night.

Val
sat in her room, paging through
Parent
magazines and books on child rearing. Once in a while, she looked up to survey the piles and heaps of baby gifts that Melinda had insisted she keep in her room. It made things a little crowded, but the presents were so pretty, Val couldn’t object.

She thought she would have to go over the books for PrepPro, but Henry told her that it wasn’t necessary any longer. It was more important that she learn to be the best mother that she could. Melinda wasn’t much help, except as a bad example. Val would be better off turning to the experts. Henry had a reading list for her and came by in the evenings to quiz her on what she had absorbed. He was a tough taskmaster, and she hated to disappoint him.

Marcella no longer joined her for breakfast. She told Val apologetically that with Lizzy in the house, she didn’t have the time. Val felt it was just as well. She needed to keep her inner feeling of rebellion alive. She did not want to endanger Marcella by involving her. George would be back soon. In that moment, she would put Melinda and this crazy house behind her forever. Only the thought of that escape kept her from losing her mind completely.

After George’s visit, she had felt as though she could handle anything Melinda threw at her, but the feelings faded. She was at war with herself. Her innermost thoughts belonged to her, but they were buried underneath the complacent girl who cooed over Baby Mozart tapes and bottle warmers. Melinda had gone crazy buying things for her first grandchild. By actual count, Val had 162 bibs, 16 onesies for newborns, and 40 in larger sizes up to a year. That was just casual attire. The kid would have more designer clothes than Posh Spice, whatever gender it proved to be. Nine infant quilts, patchwork, silk, polar fleece, and Egyptian cotton, were stacked up on a shelf in her closet. Val felt as if she had been given a huge baby shower in one sitting. It was a shame that she hadn’t had a bunch of girlfriends to coo over the gifts with her.

At the moment, all she needed to do was gestate. No one was pretending any longer that she was really in charge of the business she was supposedly running. Mai had been right about Henry feeding her all the information. Val thought it was just as well. She preferred not to have to leave her rooms. She felt nervous walking through the house without an escort now that Lizzy was back in residence. Occasional visits from Mike were one of the few things that kept Val from going as insane as Lizzy. George or Mai had better come soon.

“Good grief, Amazon! This place looks like a BabyMart! Is there one single thing that she didn’t buy you?”

Val sprang up. Mai slipped in the door and pulled it closed behind her. Val gave her a big hug that lifted the tiny woman off her feet.

“How did you get in?” Val asked.

“I followed the mail truck. Special delivery. I had to arrange it myself. Melinda just received a box of summer sausage from Swiss Colony. From a secret admirer. My goodness, Melinda cracked open the vault, didn’t she?” Mai glanced around. “These are all very fine things. She spared no expense at all.”

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Val dragged her over to see the changing table. “Look at this. It’s my favorite. Hand-carved walnut. Amish made.”

“Very pretty if you live in a Louis XV mansion. But it will be a trifle upscale for your apartment.”

“But it looks good here, doesn’t it?” Val said.

Mai frowned at her. “If you were staying here, that would be fine. You aren’t thinking of giving in and living here, are you?”

Val forced her real self past the imposed obedience and managed to shake her head. She tapped her ear. Mai’s light brown eyes widened. She nodded.

From the knee pocket of her cargo pants, she took a tiny crystal lantern. She wrapped Val’s hands around it and touched the top. It turned red. Heat surged through Val’s body. Her mind cleared. She let out a sigh of relief.

Mai removed a silver ring from her finger and put it on the ground between them.

“Okay, now she can’t hear us. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but I’m ready to go. When can we leave?”

Mai shook her head. She sat down on the armchair and shrugged her slim shoulders.

“I’ve been working hard on it, Val, but I’m not sure how I can get you out of here. I could enlist my family, but that would cause an open war between Melinda’s clan and the Eastern dragons. I can’t afford to start that. We need help.”

Val beamed. “We have help. I met the private detective. He’s the one who left me the note. Just as you thought, Griffen sent him. He’ll help us.”

“Wonderful,” Mai said. “He can slip in and out of here?”

Val nodded, glad to have some good news for her friend.

“George has done it twice already.”

Mai’s pencil-thin brows soared toward her hairline.

“George? He said his name is
George
? What does he look like? Never mind! It doesn’t make any difference! You can’t go anywhere with him!”

Val gawked at her. What upset her friend so much?

“Mai, he’s just a private detective. Why does he scare you?”

“He’s not a detective, he’s a dragon hunter! St. George—he’s one of them!”

Val couldn’t believe it. That nice man?

“Oh, come on, St. George lived a thousand years ago!”

“They’re not human,” Mai said, her eyes wide with fear. “They can live hundreds of years, maybe thousands. They’re enemies of all dragonkind. He just told you Griffen sent him so you’d let down your guard!”

Val was terrified but practical. George had not seemed to want to hurt her. He was avuncular, kind, patient, and practical. He even had a sense of humor. Val felt certain he was telling the truth about coming from Griffen. Why would he lie?

“Are you sure it’s the same guy? A lot of people are named George.”

“Maybe it’s not.” Mai drummed her fingertips on the table. “All right, I’ll check it out. If he’s legitimate, I hope he can do what he says he will.”

•   •   •

Thankfully
, not all of Melinda’s servants lived on the grounds. Mai hovered in the overgrown garden near twilight until she saw a tall, dark-skinned man leave the rear exit of the mansion and get into a green Dodge Rambler. She hoped that the dogs were not out yet. She didn’t want to kill innocent hounds just because their mistress was a homicidal maniac.

The Rambler bumped over the rear drive toward the back gate. It operated on the inside by the use of a card-swipe reader. Mai allowed herself to assume her dragon form. As soon as the car was within thirty feet of the exit, she took wing. The driver rolled down his window to swipe his identification card. Mai edged into his blind spot and trotted out beside him to the rear access road. The Rambler turned left. Mai angled right.

As soon as she was certain she was out of range of any of Melinda’s cameras, she flew straight up. Cell-phone coverage in this backwater was absolutely horrible amid the thick forests. Once she spotted a tower, she hooked her cell phone out of her purse. She could have transformed it along with her clothes, but it was her favorite designer handbag. With delicate claws, she touched a series of numbers. The phone rang twice.”

“May I help you?” a woman’s voice answered.

“Is this Debbie?”

“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”

“It’s Mai.”

“How are you?” the voice asked, adding forced cheerfulness to its tone.

“No pleasantries, if you don’t mind. Where is George?”

“I’m sorry, but he’s not in the office right now. May I take a message?”

“No. I am in North Carolina. I know he is close by. I need to speak to him.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“Debbie, I am an old customer. Your office has done research for me in the past. I am trying to figure out if a dear friend of mine is in danger.”

“A friend?” The voice sounded incredulous. Mai was getting tired of that reaction from people. Was it so rare a thing as to invite astonishment? “Who?”

“Valerie McCandles,” Mai said. “I expect that anything I say to you will be kept confidential.”

“You’re not looking for revenge against George?”

“For what? He has been helpful to me now and again. I am trying to prevent a situation in which I need to seek revenge. Where is he?”

“Just a moment, please.”

Mai flew in circles, listening to instrumental versions of “The Girl From Ipanema” and “The Theme from
Peter Gunn
.” She gave a disgusted grunt. They had not changed their
HOLD
tape since the 1960s.

After a few more vintage favorites, Debbie came back on the line.

“Bisby Motel,” she said. “Do you need me to spell it?”

“No, but directions would help.”

“No problem. Are you driving?”

“Flying.”

•   •   •

The
Bisby Motel had the sort of old-fashioned charm that would have made Mai drive all night to avoid having to stay there. A painted wooden butter churn and a three-foot crank-driven coffee grinder flanked the entrance. Tole-painted plaques covered the exterior walls, along with framed country adages and a large, peeling, gray sign that said
VACANCIES
.

Mai went around the corner of the building and up the concrete steps to the third floor. Debbie had said George was staying in room 318.

She stopped several doors down and listened closely. The room to her right had a
DO NOT DISTURB
sign on the knob. The occupant snored raucously. Mai tuned him out and fixed her keen hearing on each room in succession. A mother and small children, a peevish-sounding woman on the telephone, then three empty, including the George’s room.

She walked the rest of the way and peered in through the picture window. The sagging slats of the Venetian blinds left just enough gaps for her to see inside. A pair of twin beds flanked a battered wooden night table. Facing them was a long melamine-topped credenza with a large television perched on it. At the rear of the room, a mirror reflected her eyes back at her. She could just see a sink to the right. No lights were on, but the beds had been neatly made up. The room stood empty. He was not there.

Mai always believed in letting the fight come to her. She spotted a chambermaid pushing a cart full of towels and sheets along the walkway.

“Can you help me?” she said. She pretended to fumble in her purse, making certain to let the Hispanic woman see the roll of greenbacks in her wallet. “I think I left my key in the drawer. Could you let me in?”

“Sure, ma’am,” the maid said. She pulled a large ring of keys out along an elastic tether on her belt. Mai stood by while she unlocked the door, then slipped a ten-dollar bill into her hand.

“Thank you so much. My husband always makes fun of me for being absentminded.”

“Men are like that,” the chambermaid said. She tucked the bill away and pushed the cart toward the elevator. Mai waited until she was out of sight, then tiptoed into the George’s hotel room.

Suddenly, a noose dropped around her neck and tightened. Mai grabbed it with both hands and tried to tear it away. She gasped as she was yanked back against a hard body. Warm breath washed her cheek.

“This may not kill you, but you’ll wish it did.”