Treoir Dragon Chronicles of the Belador World: Book 2 Read online

  Instead, she sucked in the damp musty smell of a tunnel that seeped water on occasions.

  If she wanted fresh air, she needed to push on to the ancestral building. Her legs ached, but she kept forcing one step after another.

  When she finally found the two steps up to the hidden doorway, she took them then flipped a latch on the back of a bookcase. That caused the shelving to roll forward, creating an opening.

  Relief rushed through her at reaching the centre before daylight. Blood pounded in her ears as she listened for any sound of another person present.

  She’d love to hear Fenella humming, but the woman would not be here yet. Not if the time was around eight in the morning.

  If Fenella had not been captured, she should be arriving at nine, like normal, an hour before the centre opened at ten.

  Casidhe couldn’t wait to reach the desk phone and call Fenella’s mobile phone.

  Easing through the narrow opening, she closed the bookcase and sidestepped two cases over to tug a latch camouflaged as a bookend back, which locked the doorway again.

  Just inside the library area, the door to the small bathroom on her right sat half open and the dim light glowed. She silently thanked Fenella’s fear of darkness for having a way to see in this back area without having to turn on overhead lights. The soft glow brushed across the floor, allowing Casidhe enough ambient light to traverse the maze of bookcases in this area, far from the harmful rays of the sun.

  She wouldn’t flip on any lamps up front either.

  No point in advertising her presence.

  When she reached the narrow opening between cases forming a wall behind Fenella’s desk and Casidhe’s side of the room, she hesitated to enter the reception area up front.

  Would those yellow things attack her here?

  Would Cavan or the stranger be waiting for her?

  Her heart had been slammed around too many times tonight. Terror seeped into her chest. Her hands shook. She had her sword but not her confidence. What if Cavan showed up and she couldn’t deliver what he wanted? He’d use Fenella to punish her ... if he didn’t have her friend already.

  What would she say to Herrick?

  Casidhe had a duty to him and his entire group. He depended on her. The people he protected depended on her, and Fenella depended on her. She could not let them down.

  Sucking up her backbone, she lifted her chin and pushed away her doubts, ready to face whatever came next.

  Now was the time to prove Herrick had been right to believe in her.

  Determined, she gripped the sword hilt tightly and peeked around the end of the bookcase to find the office intact.

  Both desks had their normal amount of clutter.

  In all truthfulness, Fenella kept hers neat where Casidhe cared little about organization.

  She tended to ignore clutter when she got lost in history.

  Cavan’s book still sat on the side table next to her comfortable chair where she’d left it after reading a bit. That old chair had become a far better place to read than bent over a desk.

  Nothing had disturbed the thick cloth she’d placed over the book to shield it from sunlight as well.

  On her next deep inhale, she replaced the musty tunnel smell with the rich aroma of history. That wonderful smell lived here along with the coconut scent from the gorse she’d cut and placed in a jar with water before leaving to see Herrick. Though still pretty, the arrangement could stand to be refreshed.

  Being in the middle of books had always been her happy place. Research and the thrill of discovery had kept her going forward for years, ignoring how her life flew by one year after another.

  She rarely thought on how quickly time passed unless Fenella fussed at her for believing duty overrode a personal life.

  But it did.

  Casidhe had been trained and sent here with a mission, which she’d been warned might require a lifetime of dedication. She hadn’t been born into the Luigsech family the way Fenella had been born into her squire family.

  Casidhe had been someone’s bastard.

  Why else would she have been abandoned and dropped at one foster home after another?

  All that changed when Herrick sent one of Fenella’s older relatives to bring Casidhe to Herrick. Casidhe had asked him years later why he’d sent for her.

  He said he’d been asked to find her and would not disclose who or why someone had made that request, only that she would be treated as part of the Luigsech squire family from there on.

  She’d been incredibly fortunate and asked no more questions. To this day, she counted her blessings to be part of Herrick’s world.

  For that reason, she never looked at her duty as a burden, but an opportunity to prove her worthiness.

  The room shifted. Chills and exhaustion shook her body as adrenaline wore off. She clutched the corner of the bookcase to steady herself.

  This was not the time to buckle. She braced herself, allowing a few minutes to recover.

  Back to business.

  She stood the sword in a narrow corner formed by a bookcase and the opening to the reception area. Dropping to her knees, she crawled forward until she could reach Cavan’s book, which she then toted back to place next to the sword.

  After a couple more trips on her knees, she had snacks from her desk piled with the book, plus one of the cushions she’d used to prop her arms on when sitting in the chair. She plopped the cushion on the floor and lifted a small keychain with an LED light she’d snagged on her last trip to the desk. Some salesperson had given those to her and Fenella. She’d tossed the trinket in her desk drawer thinking it another piece of junk.

  She leaned over to hold her hand under her heavy oak desk to test the light. The beam was a concentrated glow.

  Perfect.

  While close enough to reach the surface, she eased the desk phone to the floor and dialed Fenella’s mobile number.

  No answer.

  Disappointment threatened to break her, but she had one last hope. She dialed Mr. Peadar.

  He answered, “How’s about ye?”

  Casidhe fell into the local dialect, which had helped her fit in with everyone. “Fine, Mr. Peadar. I wish ta surprise Fenella with somethin’ for her new goats. Can you give me an idea?”

  “I could, but she did not come for them.”

  Casidhe struggled to keep from giving away how those words had punched in her chest. She forced her voice to sound at ease. “Ah. I’m sure I’ll be hearin’ about what delayed her when she shows up this mornin’.”

  “Tell her to come on today. They be waitin’ on her.”

  Tears burned Casidhe’s eyes. “I will. Good day, sir.” She hung up the phone and curled on the floor. Everything crashed in on her from the all-night run to the terror of worrying and now knowing for sure Fenella was in trouble. She sobbed, a gut-wrenching snotty sound she would be humiliated to allow in public.

  How had this happened? She hadn’t gone looking for this trouble, but she had stepped in it up to her chin.

  After a while, she sat up and dragged a wad of tissues off her desk. Her chest hurt, but she’d survive. She had to pull herself together and think of how to find Fenella.

  Or just wait for Cavan to show up and gloat that he had captured her.

  Casidhe sniffled, wiped her nose, and turned away from the desk. She didn’t stop at her pillow seat, but made it to the middle of the bookshelves blocked from public view and stood. A quick trip to the bathroom resulted with her face washed and her lopsided ponytail straightened. Her blotchy red face was meh. She could only do so much without a pile of makeup.

  She had never been considered vain, but freshening up had kept her going many hours at night in the past. She yanked off the blue sweater she’d put on over her blouse after showering last night and tied it around her waist in case she needed it later. Nothing could be done about her ripped and dirty white cotton shirt. She wouldn’t have worn it if she’d expected to run through dirty tunnels, but she just h
ad to get through this morning.

  Her pants were still decent. With a last look at her swollen eyes, she squared her shoulders and told the mirror. “No crybabies allowed. Get busy findin’ a way to hold somethin’ over Cavan before he shows up.”

  Fenella had no one else to come for her but Casidhe.

  It might be futile, but Casidhe would continue trying Fenella’s phone while she waited to learn if Cavan had her friend. If not, then ... Casidhe would be on her own to outmaneuver Cavan and hunt Fenella.

  When she returned to the cushion, she glanced at the street outside the large front window while remaining out of sight. She and Fenella had never wanted blinds to impede their view of the village activity.

  Maybe that had been shortsighted.

  She’d feel less vulnerable with closed blinds she could peek through.

  Nothing stirred out there, as it should be until the bakery across the street opened up.

  Casidhe settled back on the cushion. She lifted the book Cavan had left and considered her next move.

  Hunt for the grimoire?

  To do that, she’d need a starting point.

  If, or when, she had to leave here, what books would she take?

  Abusing her knees again, she moved deep into the research centre until she could stand and use the tiny light where the glow would not be seen from the front. She searched for reference books, which might give her some idea of where to begin searching for that stupid book of majik. Since she’d never even heard of Immortuos Grimoire before yesterday, she turned to material from before Herrick’s birth, but that selection would be small.

  An hour of hunting yielded two possible books, both heavy tomes. She found a cloth tote to carry them in along with Cavan’s book if she had to make a run for it.

  Why would she run? She had no idea, but neither had that been a consideration last night when she sat at the table to eat her stew.

  Her new mantra was be prepared to flee at any moment.

  Her stomach grumbled.

  She’d kill to eat a full meal and sleep for ten hours.

  Good fantasy. Not happening.

  Weary to her bones, she wiggled around on the cushion getting comfortable. The desk shielded view of her presence from anyone passing by outside where daylight continued to brighten the village. She opened the packages of crackers, careful to put the trash in the can. This position on the floor also allowed her to keep an eye on anyone walking up to the door next to the window.

  With Cavan’s heavy book on her lap, she cleaned her hands and placed the rag at her side on the floor. She used two fingers, barely skimming the rich-brown front cover. Symbols rose to meet her fingers again, changing shape as they did to form words she could understand.

  Before Ainvar.

  A dark druid book about a time before Ainvar. Who could Ainvar be?

  Closing her eyes, she placed all ten fingers on the book.

  The tome hummed with energy.

  She wished to look at the page Cavan had told her he wanted translated this morning, but he’d warned her to not review the page before he arrived or he would know.

  Blinking, she stared at the old tome. A sentient book?

  Should she open to that page and read?

  How much worse could it be if he did figure out she'd read the words? On second thought, she shouldn’t toss a question like that to the universe.

  Minutes passed so slowly. She tapped her fingers on the floor. The clock hand touched nine and kept moving, not showing the least concern for Fenella’s failure to arrive.

  A tap on the door surprised Casidhe, but she didn’t jump or move. Mrs. Clark had a turnover for Fenella. Casidhe held her breath until the baker crossed the street to her shop. The woman who ran the yarn shop stopped by, knocked, looked confused, then moved on.

  Where was Cavan? She’d expected him to appear by now.

  What if he never showed at all?

  What would that mean?

  What if he did show and didn’t have Fenella, but Fenella didn’t show? Would that prove he had not captured her?

  Casidhe sat there in a dilemma, but kept her hand and eyes away from the passage Cavan had warned her against. If he had Fenella, all bets were off. She’d read anything she wanted.

  Life began moving around outside. Some passing by glanced at the shop with a curious look since Fenella could be counted on to be here early.

  Casidhe stayed in the shadows, ignoring anyone except Cavan, if he ever showed up. She’d tried Fenella’s phone every fifteen minutes, unable to give up on the only link she had to her.

  Each failed connection drove another spike of hurt through her.

  Had she failed Fenella?

  When Casidhe had five minutes left until the shop should officially open, she began sweating.

  Would Cavan be here by ten? She kept an eye on the small clock on Fenella’s desk, replaying Cavan’s words. She couldn’t recall him committing to a specific time, only saying he expected her to be here this morning.

  She would have pinned him down, but she expected today to start like any other with Fenella walking in laughing about her new goats. Everything had changed.

  Ten o’clock arrived.

  Her anxiety spiked. She had no idea what to do about finding Fenella. Or Cavan.

  If he had her friend, wouldn’t he want to show up and use Fenella to force Casidhe to do what he demanded?

  A logical expectation unless ...

  She looked at the book Cavan had left, the whole reason she had to be here now.

  Had he made a big deal about her translating a passage in this book just to insure she would be nowhere around Fenella to protect her?

  Chapter 7

  Daegan twisted his neck and stretched his arms within the cloaked area where he stood. He stopped in mid-stretch and blinked to clear his eyes. Had that been a smudge of light inside the centre? After a long moment of staring, he growled. Too much time standing around had him imagining things.

  He’d thought he’d seen a wisp of wild red hair from that little termagant, Luigsech, an hour ago. But sunrise reflections had been playing with his eyes.

  His insides roiled every time he thought about what Tristan must be enduring.

  He tried contacting Tristan continually with no success.

  Why had he sent Tristan after that being? Yes, he held Tristan’s ability in high regard, but damn. Daegan would trade places if he could.

  A voice Daegan had been waiting to hear came into his mind. This is Quinn. I’m ready to teleport with Reese.

  Daegan wasted no time complying, but Quinn and Reese didn’t appear as quickly as they should have. He had a moment of fear for their lives if the venom in his body was corrupting his power, but they finally showed inside the cloaking. Daegan expanded it to protect their presence and any conversation.

  “I can carry the damned bag myself,” Reese argued, hands flying in front of Quinn’s expressionless face. She stopped in midpoint and turned to Daegan. Then she gave Quinn a censoring glare. “Why do you always make me look like a harpy in front of him?”

  Daegan didn’t know what was going on, but he wanted Reese at ease. “I do not think ya are a harpy.”

  Jaw set and eyes flashing anger, Reese sweetened her tone. “That’s a lie, but thanks, Daegan.”

  Quinn looked no happier.

  Daegan asked telepathically, What is wrong, Quinn?

  His Maistir huffed out a breath and answered the same covert way. Nothing as important as findin’ Tristan. I'll explain later.

  Daegan turned to Reese, speaking out loud. “Thank ya for comin’ to help, Reese. I promise ya we will keep demons away from ya while we do this.”

  That jarred her out of her silence. Her gaze darted around in every direction. She smoothed her hands over the front of her long-sleeved button-down beige T-shirt. She’d dressed ready to work in jeans and sneakers. “You’re welcome. I can handle demons. I just don't deal well with asshats.”

  Quinn shook hi
s head to just move on.

  Daegan agreed. Whatever conflict those two had would have to be worked out later. “Have ya told Reese what is goin’ on yet, Quinn?”

  Reese jumped in and replied, “No, he hasn’t. Specifics would be expecting too much from him.”

  Quinn did not take the bait. Instead, he explained, “I only shared what was required to request your help. Had you refused, that would have been acceptable, but I would have had no reason to share additional details you had no need for at that point.”

  “What in the blue blazes ... ?” Reese shot him a death glare. “All that crap you just said can be summed up in one sentence. Information is on a need-to-know basis.” After that criticism, Reese turned a friendly face to Daegan. “I would love to know what’s going on, like the details of how Tristan was captured.”

  Daegan would sympathize with Quinn, but since he had no idea what had caused the friction between those two he didn’t take a side. “Tristan came here with me. We were investigatin’ a woman who works in that ancestral research centre across the street. She rode her bike from here to a grocery buildin’ where she met with someone called Cavan. We followed to watch, but the man hid his identity with glamour and cloakin’. When those two parted ways, Tristan followed Cavan and I followed the woman. Cavan captured Tristan while I was fightin’ Imortiks at the woman’s cottage.”

  “Wow. Okay, so what’s first?” Reese turned to the side and studied the centre. “Is that place across the street open?”

  “Not yet, accordin’ to the hours on the glass.” Daegan cast a look in the same direction. “It should open in ten minutes. The woman who spoke to Cavan yesterday told me she had to be here this mornin’ to meet with him, but neither have shown.”

  “She just told you all that?” Reese asked with a look of disbelief.

  “Reese,” Quinn said quietly.

  “What? I’m just trying to understand everything going on.” She returned to facing Daegan.

  “No, she did not just offer that information. We had a conversation where I explained how she has to help me find Cavan so we can save Tristan.”

  “Ah. Not a friendly talk then.”