For his part, Lord Relobu was doing his best to appear unintimidating by tucking what had to be truly massive wings securely against his back as he settled onto his perch.
“Miss Cavenaugh, is it? What brings you here today to grace my office with your beautiful smile?”
“Um, yes. My boss, Amanda George, asked that I get some final measurements for the wedding to ensure that we keep you comfortable while overseeing the ceremony, as well as go over any questions you might have about your duties as officiant.”
Quite pleased with my tactful wording, I was mentally congratulating myself when he laughed. “She wants to make sure I’m going to fit under the canopy, is that right?”
I choked a little, taking a deep breath in preparation for the apologies I needed to make.
The dragon waved me off with a gentle smile. “No, no. It’s a valid question. We can’t have me knocking down the arbor that she’s been working on for all these weeks.” He chuckled. “That little Amanda. She’s quite a firecracker, isn’t she?” His tone was almost grandfatherly.
I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Amanda’s reaction to his words. My boss took pleasure in being the person in charge, and I wondered how she would feel to know that Relobu was merely indulging her when he acquiesced to her demands.
If I were her, I think I’d choose to be pleased with the dragon’s willingness to play along, regardless.
“She is that.” And quite a few other things that I’d muttered under my breath during the more stressful days.
Lord Relobu politely ignored my laughter and, stepping from his perch, turned to peer at the pastureland outside, his head easily clearing the tops of the stone walls. I wondered whether he closed the roof when the sun wasn’t out, and whether he felt permanently hunched after a long day of rainy weather.
I’d experienced a similar symptom after playing with Emma in the tiny treehouse we’d built while on location in Africa. I’d spent several hours in a half-bent position, and I remember joking to Jeanie that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to walk upright again.
“The weather is quite nice today. Not too cold for the dragons, and not so warm that our human guests will be uncomfortable. With any luck, it will stay that way until after the wedding.”
“Yes, I hope so too.” It occurred to me that this conversation had taken a more surreal path than even I’d expected. Here I was, chatting with a dragon lord about the weather while I made plans to rob him blind before the day was out. Life was strange sometimes.
He looked back to me. “What are your alternate plans, should it rain?”
“I’m not sure. I’d have to ask Amanda.”
“No need. I was mostly curious. So tell me. How do you feel about Cameron Shaw?”
“I, uh...” The question surprised me.
I think he’s the hottest thing since sliced bread, and since he kissed me on my doorstep, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to convince him to do it again.
I didn’t think that was the type of response Relobu was looking for. Instead, I aimed for the general. “I think he is very good at his job. He was obviously a brilliant choice for the type of security you hired him for, because while he is careful to keep eyes on his charges at all times, he also allows them the freedom to carry on with their lives. And as far as I know, everyone seems quite happy to have him around.”
The dragon nodded as he stroked absently at the fleshy beard at his throat with dark black claws. “I agree. I’ll admit I was slightly hesitant when Trian recommended him for the job, but I feel like he’s working out quite well.”
“Oh really?” I couldn’t conceive of a reason why Cameron would be a questionable choice. Ignoring the fact that he was deftly handling double duty as part of the wedding party and the person charged to protect them, Cameron possessed both the people skills and the adaptability required to blend seamlessly into the background while maintaining an air of competence. If I didn’t think his moral code was quite a bit stricter than mine, I’d have tried to recruit him into our operation.
“Yes, well. Cameron used to work for Lady Adelaida, and she was less than pleased with his performance. Though I believe personal security seems to suit him better than the property protection she’d hired him for. He has a tendency to place his trust in the wrong people.”
I didn’t exactly have a comeback for that one. Because, well, maybe he did.
The dragon lord continued. “A nasty business, that was. I’m not sure Adelaida will ever recover from the loss of her jewels. She rather liked the idea of wearing the Queen of England’s crown for all her formal events. I disagreed, of course. Her seat being as close as it is to the British Isles, I felt their public use stirred up the humans unnecessarily. There are some who still take exception to our claims.”
The last sentence was spoken with an air of honest confusion, Lord Relobu seeming genuinely surprised that humans might resent that their most famous treasures were now possessed by members of another race.
For a human, Relobu’s point of view would seem strange. But not for a dragon. I could almost understand his reaction. In the dragon world, it was an unspoken rule that might makes right, and I’d rarely run into a dragon who was in any way jealous of another’s possessions. Usually, dragons didn’t seem to waste time coveting something unless they thought they had a real shot at acquiring it, either through subterfuge or a public challenge.
As much as dragons hoarded their treasure, the true value of such things was for their representation of the power the dragon wielded. Sure, there were instances in which a certain something was intriguing to a dragon—they developed obsessions just like humans did—but in general, the more toys a dragon had, the stronger he was in the eyes of his peers. The concept of hurt feelings was completely foreign.
But Relobu’s mention of the Queen and jewelry had my snooping instinct at high alert. “If you don’t mind me asking, do you know which jewels went missing?”
“Oh, I’m not entirely certain, being that I’m not as fond of the wearable art, but I believe it was her favorite crown, the one worn by both Victoria and George before the last Elizabeth had it remade.”
I felt a knot forming in my chest. The Imperial Crown, then. I was familiar with the piece—mostly because I was the one who’d stolen it while it was being transported from a run-down castle in Ireland to a home in northern Budapest. I’d been told it belonged to a wealthy dragon living in Portugal, who had been using the old castle as a dragon-sized attic for items he hadn’t bothered to sort through.
The crown had been meant as a gift to a well-loved friend of the recipient’s family, but I’d never bothered to learn more about its ultimate destination. My efforts had been focused on stealing the crown en route to its final home. I’d simply flown over the expected transportation route, identified the location where a manufactured detour would make the heist easiest from a dragon’s perspective, and Simon took care of the logistics.
Once he’d managed to convince the delivery guys to adjust their route, I’d swooped in for my part of the fun. With the help of my claws and Simon’s well-designed tranquilizer darts, I’d put the driver and trailing guards to sleep and helped myself to the interior of the armored truck.
I’d never looked back.
Until now, when I remembered that Simon had “convinced” the delivery guys to change their route by impersonating one of the recipient’s employees. And if I remembered correctly, that employee was none other than Lady Adelaida’s acting head of security.
So the job Cameron had talked about losing? It had been my fault.
I slumped down into a nearby chair. I’d always told Simon that art theft was the perfect career. Decent money, tons of variety, and best of all, no one got hurt. During a contracted engagement, I had always been very careful not to permanently injure anyone, especially humans. Sure, I’d banged the occasional dragon into a nearby tree, and knocked a couple of humans unconscious, but I’d never gone so far as to harm so
meone irreparably. Bones and cuts heal, I’d always said.
And when I said it, I’d always blithely ignored the niggle of guilt my statement produced. Sure, bones and cuts do heal. But what if they don’t? Or what if a missing piece of jewelry leads to someone losing their job? I was forced to face the fact that I had willfully, deliberately, and callously refused to think about the repercussions of our actions.
And what did that say about me?
I jumped a little when I realized Lord Relobu was speaking to me. “I’m sorry?”
The dragon lord peered at me curiously. “You mentioned something about going over my duties as the officiant? I say, are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”
I ran a hand over my face and forced myself to concentrate. “Yes. I’m sorry. I just lost my train of thought for a moment. Amanda did ask me to confirm you were comfortable with what your role will be, and wanted me to offer some guidance should you request it.”
The old dragon shook his head. “Bill was kind enough to compile a report on human wedding traditions, so I believe I have the gist of things. Perhaps you can fill me in on the preferences of the bride and groom, and we can go from there?”
So a big no on the script, then.
I nodded. “Of course.” We spent the next hour discussing Amanda’s ideas on vows, order of events, and the easiest way to separate the races for the reception meal without offending anyone. But the entire time we talked, guilt chewed on my heart like a dog with a bone.
* * *
I stepped out onto the white flagstone drive and took a deep breath while I wrestled my reservations back into the mental trunk where they belonged. So I’d more than likely cost Cameron a job.
For all I knew, I’d done him a favor. At Relobu’s, Cameron was happy, secure and surrounded by friends. Did it really matter that Lady Adelaida had fired him when he was so obviously better off here with me?
I wanted to kick myself. Who was I kidding? Of course it mattered. Whether he was happy or not, I’d effectively taken away a choice. Without his consent.
And if I weren’t feeling bad enough, my conscience happily reminded me of the surprisingly kind and gentle dragon lord whom I’d laughed with right before I intended to waltz down to his guest house and rob him blind. Was it truly fair to him that he was an auto-target for robbery simply because he could afford the things everyone wanted to steal?
I didn’t think so.
But then I thought of Emma, and what would happen if I walked away from the job right now. Tonight.
She’d spend who knows how long being stabbed with needles until we could manage to come up with enough money to get her an implant. It seemed cruel not to do anything I could to help her avoid that.
The painting was coming with me.
Despite the warm weather, I’d deliberately worn my long ankle-length jacket, knowing that while the dragon guards had become accustomed to seeing me on a regular basis, they weren’t friendly enough to let me walk off the property with an unidentified canvas under my arm, and I’d need somewhere to hide it until I could get out of sight of the camera and safe in the car.
Because of the coat, I barely noticed the wind, which had turned cooler now that the sun had gone down. The walk felt longer than usual, probably because I was exhausted from arguing with myself every step I took.
I finally reached the back door and knelt down for a closer look at what I was dealing with. The lock was a run-of-the-mill deadbolt, one I could pop in my sleep. Taking one last look around to make sure I wasn’t being watched, I pulled my all-theft tool from the pocket of my jacket. Inserting a pick into the slot, I applied pressure with the wrench, smiling in satisfaction as I felt the lock slide home. I’d picked my first lock at the age of sixteen, when I’d decided Simon was acting a bit too superior about his talents for my taste. That first time had been to prove a point, but now, I never got tired of feeling the quick burst of exhilaration when the tumblers fell into place.
Lock out of the way, I turned the knob and opened the door. Once inside, I pulled the curtains closed and switched on a tiny metal penlight, making my way through the small entryway into the living room. I found the furniture right where Bill said it would be, stacked willy-nilly amid the pre-existing room furnishings, cream colored dropcloths creating eerie shadows against the pale blue walls as my flashlight touched them.
I scanned the room, searching for a lump that resembled the floor vase I’d dropped the painting into. Seeing nothing that fit the dimensions at first glance, I walked further into the room and started lifting dropcloths at random.
And then, as the minutes stretched by with no sign of the vase, I started to panic. There were enough chairs in this room to furnish an entire church, but I still hadn’t seen a single vase. Desperate, I’d resorted to crawling under one of the large tables in search of the tall red container. Though I’d found plenty of signs that the moving team hadn’t bothered to vacuum the carpet before moving everything in here, the only items under the table, ironically, were the paintings from the walls of the dining hall.
If I’d just left the damned thing where it belonged...
Desperation was chewing at my insides, and I decided that my only option was to unpack everything on the off chance that the canvas had dropped out of the vase, and someone had decided to frame it. It was a stretch, I know, but I was running out of ideas. I peeled back the combination of bubble wrap and packaging paper to reveal the Titian. A beautiful painting, but not the one I needed. I tore into three more paintings, still no closer to finding my Tofegaard. Feeling a bit like Goldilocks looking for the painting that was just right, I tore the packing paper from Jeanie’s masterpiece.
She really was very good at her fakes.
But crouching there admiring Jeanie’s artistic skills wasn’t getting me any closer to finding the real Tofegaard. So I crawled out and weighed my options. There were still items in the back of the room I hadn’t been able to reach. Getting to them would require that I move the bigger stuff out of the way, and I didn’t think I could manage it while in human form.
At least not completely in human form.
Using the mental trick Trian had taught me, I closed my eyes and focused my change into the muscles of my arms and hands, laughing in delight when I looked down to find two perfectly formed dragon claws. I reached over to test whether their new shape also came with new strength by pulling up on one of the bigger tables.
Satisfied when I was able to easily lift all four legs an inch off the ground and hold it, I dropped the table and rolled my shoulders. This form was definitely not good for me in the long run—I could already feel tension gathering in the upper section of my back because the muscles there were doing overtime supporting the extra weight, but I thought I could handle it for a few more minutes.
Luckily, it didn’t take me long to maneuver all the bigger stuff out of the way, especially considering I didn’t have to try and squeeze everything past a very large dragon body. But, despite Trian’s very helpful tips, I still had to stop several times and reestablish a hybrid shape. I didn’t understand the details, but my body wasn’t happy to be stuck between my two forms, and it took more than a little concentration to keep from accidentally losing my claw and pinching my fingers under a too-heavy piece of furniture.
A couple of minutes later, the furniture had been rearranged, all the dropcloths lifted, and there was still no sign of my Tofegaard vase.
I made a quick run through the rest of the house, but it looked exactly as it had the day Amanda had me taking pictures, and I finally had to admit the painting wasn’t there.
Grabbing my flashlight off the table, I clicked it off and sighed. I could ask Bill whether any of the items had been taken to another location. But based on how long I’d been in here crawling around on my hands and knees, I guessed it was probably after midnight, so finding someone to interrogate about the location of the lost vase right that second was vastly improbable. I had no choice but to call it
quits for the night.
I took one last look around the shadowy room. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I’ll do better tomorrow.”
I let myself out the front door of the cottage, and had traveled halfway to the main house when I spotted Cameron inside, his hands in his pockets as he peered out the wide glass windows into the garden below. My first instinct was to go to him and ask why he was up at this time in the night, but then I remembered my talk with Relobu and decided I wasn’t quite ready to face him. And I wasn’t exactly sure how long it would take for me to come to terms with the fact that I’d cost him a job. Every time I remembered that Simon and I were involved, I got a little sick to my stomach.
And the worst part? I couldn’t even apologize.
Instead, I avoided Cameron by adjusting my path so I’d enter the house through the kitchen entrance instead of the dining hall, and let myself out near the parking area on the front side of the house. I waved at the security camera to let the guards know it was me—no use looking suspicious when I might be back later to actually locate the thing I wanted to steal—and poked a key into the door of my car. I’d just pulled the handle when I heard the crunching of gravel behind me, and Cameron say my name.
I pretended not to hear, buckled my seat belt, and put the car into gear.
Whoever said avoidance isn’t an answer...was probably right. But with my worry for Emma, the job, and just plain exhaustion pressing on me from all sides, I told myself that it was for the best.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, I reported to Bridal Visions like always, wondering just how many flower arrangements and notes from Amanda I’d have to go through before I found someone who could help me find the Tofegaard.
Dozens, as it turned out. One of our clients had a wedding this weekend, and the entire shop was bustling with the frenzy I’d learned accompanied events such as this. This bride—and her mother—were relatively easygoing, but there were still a few things Amanda added to the long list of items that needed to be in place by tomorrow. But before I could tackle that list, I had flower duty. The bride loved roses, and the delivery truck had dropped them by this morning, so I’d likely be snipping stems and juggling bouquets all day. Before tackling the enormous job, I stopped in to see April.
'Til Dragons Do Us Part (Never Deal with Dragons) Page 14
