While no one openly opposed him, he sensed their blame, their mistrust of his motives. While women opened their legs for him, they guarded their hearts, and in truth Drorgan couldn’t blame them.
It meant he had become something of a eunuch over the last few generations of his awake state. There was little pleasure to be found in the sins of the flesh these days.
The lanterns dotted around the edges of the marshes flittered into light as the sun disappeared, and emerging from the stone, he shook the kink out of his atrophied muscles. More houses had sprung up along the outskirts, and he could see the humans seemed intent on reclaiming this piece of land as they had done for generations.
The distant hum of the motorway could be heard, and a train hooted its whistle as it approached the local station. Shaking his head, he traipsed out of the water, and raised his nose in the air to get his bearings. Pollutants in the atmosphere seemed to grow exponentially, too, every time he awoke. Another reason to seek out his realm, where the breeze was fresh and the only constant background was the breaking of the sea against the bottom of the cliffs his castle was perched on. The humans saw nothing but a ruin, but once he crossed the threshold it came to life with all its magnificence. Every time he returned it changed, not in keeping with human modern standards, but from what he could gather it resembled a late 16th century castle now. Or at least it had done the last time he’d been awake.
Through the books in the ever increasing library, he’d learnt of the fate that had befallen the little witch who had placed that god-awful curse on him. It seemed she had regretted her hasty decision, and tried to amend the curse for the rest of her natural life. Eugene, his trusted butler, surmised that was why things were in constant flux. His old retainer lived in hope that Drorgan would find the woman to break the curse and set them all free. Drorgan, however, had all but given up on that.
He had learned long ago that trying to use his own magic against the powerful safeguards left in place brought with it nothing but unexpected results, so he reserved his magic to cloaking himself when in the human world. It kept him safe, but perversely also meant he would never find a woman prepared to see past the dragon to the man underneath.
The few times he’d tried, when a female had caught his attention, they had either screamed the place down, or fainted. Drorgan smirked and spread his wings ready to take off. It was not an experience he had any wish to repeat. Not when female screams didn’t just bring villagers with pitchforks these days, but armed police with guns that could put him down in an instant, and if he died, then all those in his care would die also. He certainly didn’t need that on his conscience.
He was about to lift off when he heard it. Faint clicking sounds interspersed by bouts of crying. Turning round he found a small human child. Dried tears had run zigzag paths down her dirty face, and he froze when she looked straight up at him, as though she could see him. That should be impossible with his cloak in place, but this little girl, whose teeth chattering with cold were the clicks that had first alerted him to her presence could be no older than two and a half at best. Clutching a tattered, old stuffed dragon, of all things, in a death grip, she wore nothing but a thin shift, which humans wore to bed. No wonder she looked half frozen.
That thin and worn out shift wouldn’t keep her very warm in bed, let alone out here with an icy wind blowing in across the marshes. A quick scan of the area showed her to be utterly alone, and try as he might Drorgan couldn’t just leave her there. She would freeze to death. Besides, the utter lack of fear in her big brown eyes, as she stepped close enough to touch his scaly side had him rooted to the spot.
“Y-y-ou a-a-re s-s-o b-i-i-g.”
He hardly could make out the words over her cold-induced chattering, and not caring of the consequences of possible discovery, he blew out a fiery breath to set alight the bush she was standing next to. The little mite shrieked and ducking under his legs wrapped her body round his front leg, while staring into the resulting impromptu campfire with big eyes.
Don’t be afraid, little one. This will keep you warm.
He felt her nod against his leg, as though she had heard his thoughts, and her death grip relaxed somewhat. Carefully he lowered himself, curling his long tail around him, and adding his wings to surround the little girl with his warmth, without squashing her. She let out a little sigh, and snuggled closer into him in such a way that his stone cold heart warmed in tune with her.
Keeping his senses tuned to any incoming threat, he startled when he heard her little voice in his head.
My name’s Rhonda. He’s dragon.
She lifted up the stuffed toy and smiled at him, when he looked at her.
He looks like you. Me lost? Mummy be cross with me?
Too stunned at her ability to communicate with him telepathically he didn’t say anything, and to his utter horror she burst into tears.
You’s cross, like Mummy. Mummy always cross.
I’m not cross, little one, just … don’t cry. I’m sure your mummy won’t be cross with you.
Again he stretched his senses to establish where this little scrap of human might have come from. She was too cold to have left a heat signature, however, and there were no scents nearby that matched hers. No frantic mother looking for her lost child.
It had to be way past this little girl’s bedtime, and judging by her attire, she ought to be in bed. Had perhaps wandered away from home. Children could sleepwalk, he knew that. There was a boy in the village at home who did so with alarming regularity.
The thoughts of home made his dragon itch to take flight, but he couldn’t leave this child here, unprotected. He wasn’t that careless bastard anymore. In truth he had never been so careless as to harm children. There was only one thing for it. Calm her down, keep her warm, and look after her until her family came looking for her. They would notice her missing come morning at the latest, surely.
She was still crying in between giving big yawns, and Drorgan’s chest felt tighter with each falling tear that scalded his scales.
Shush, little Rhonda, don’t cry. Perhaps I’ll tell you a story?
The sniffling stopped, and he breathed a sigh of relief when she nodded.
Pwease. One ‘bout dragons, pwease.
Drorgan laughed, surprising himself. Too bad he couldn’t break the curse by looking after Rhonda. It was typical that the one human female not afraid of him was barely out of nappies.
A story, you say. Hmm, let me think. Once upon a time there was a very naughty dragon, called Lord Drorgan. He ruled his world with magic and disdain.
Rhonda wriggled in his embrace and surprising the ever loving fuck out of him, grasped his head and dropped a kiss on his nostril. It left his scales on fire and his dragon a panting mess at this Rhonda’s feet. All thoughts of leaving fled, and Drorgan settled into telling his story. Rhonda fell asleep long before he finished his tale, but he carried on anyway, telling her of his thoughts and dreams, and the world back home. He was beginning to realize he might not see his castle during this awake phase, or if he did it would be only a brief appearance to Eugene to put the old man’s mind at rest. He would worry over him otherwise.
The reappearance of the sun brought with it shouts and screams for Rhonda. Just as he’d suspected, her parents had realized she was not in her bed. He flinched inwardly at the myriad of people that trudged toward his hiding place. Carefully nudging the little one awake he rose into the air seconds before his tail would have been trampled upon by Rhonda’s distraught mother. Her shriek of relief hurt his sensitive ears, as she scooped the half asleep little girl up in a massive hug.
“Oh my God, I was so worried. What were you thinking?” The rest of whatever she was saying was muffled as she carried Rhonda away, and his dragon snarled when Rhonda’s mother completely ignored the little girl’s pleas for her dragon.
She didn’t mean him, he knew that, but the tattered stuffed toy, which had been kicked out of her arms and was now floating downstream. Rhonda�
�s cries grew louder, her mother’s relief turning to anger, and Drorgan sighed.
Nothing he could do here. On impulse he swooped low across the stream and grasped the toy dragon with his claws. He couldn’t get it back to Rhonda, who had stopped crying at last, and was waving at him over her mother’s shoulder, but he could at least look after her toy for her. Who knew, perhaps the fates would let them cross paths again.
Chapter Two
Current Time
The largest dragon of her collection of glass figurines gracing her desk wobbled precariously, and before Rhonda could make a grab for it, the fragile object fell. Fortunately, it landed in the overflowing wastepaper basket, where it lay on its side, its green eyes staring up at her in a most accusing manner.
“Oops, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to knock that thing off.” Her work colleague’s far too cheery voice negated that apology somewhat, as she heaved yet more files on Rhonda’s desk. “Orders from on high, I’m afraid. The boss man says they all need updating before the weekend. Something about the inventory and funding for the library. To be honest I tuned out. Why we need to keep paper records in this day and age is beyond me anyhow.” Liz rolled her eyes in her typical overdramatic fashion, while batting her baby blues at Rhonda.
It instantly put her on high alert. She liked the younger woman well enough—she was hard not to like, after all, but she was clearly after something.
“I took a stack, myself, but we’re meeting up with Aaron’s parents tonight, and, well, I need to get out of here on time, and…” Some of her cheeriness left when Rhonda cocked an eyebrow at her, sighed, and retrieved the dragon figurine from the waste bin.
“I might have somewhere to be,” she said, and her lips twitched, seeing Liz’s immediate pout.
“Oh, right, err, well, that’s a pickle. Oh, lord, of all the nights to—”
“Relax.” Rhonda interrupted the rapid stream of chatter by putting her hand on Liz’s arm. “I haven’t got anything planned, as it happens, but I resent the implication that I would be free and wouldn’t mind.”
Liz colored slightly and worried her bottom lip with her teeth, before she nodded.
“I know you all think I don’t do anything but work, but just because I don’t have a boyfriend, doesn’t mean I don’t have a life outside of the library, you know.”
“Of course, we don’t think that.” Liz’s instant denial was too rapid, especially as she didn’t seem capable of looking Rhonda in the eye when she said that. Taking pity on the girl, Rhonda smiled and gave a dismissive wave.
“It’s okay, be off with you. I’ll take care of this. Just make sure the front desk is tidy, before you clock off, will you?”
“Of course, and thanks again. You’re a life saver. I couldn’t miss tonight. You know how it is when you meet the other half’s parents for the first time. My nerves are shot, I tell you. Anyway, I best go…” She trundled off, and blessed peace descended on the tiny back office of the local library Rhonda had worked at for the last ten years.
Belatedly she realized she was still cradling the glass dragon, and she gently deposited him back on her desk.
“And don’t you look at me like that, either.” She glanced around to make sure no one was witness to the fact that she spoke to the figurine, but the office was empty, the rest of their small team having already left, which was just as well. Seeing her talk to Drorgan would certainly cement her reputation of being odd. Not that Rhonda really minded what folks thought of her. Having grown up in foster homes, after her mother decided to place her in care, tended to make Rhonda wary of trusting anyone.
Books and her collection of dragons never let her down. A shudder went down her spine, as she recollected that night so long ago. That night Drorgan had first appeared in her dreams, protecting her, being with her. At least her mother and countless child specialists she’d seen since then had insisted Drorgan had been a dream. The hallucination of a lost frightened little girl, and no matter how much she had protested that the dragon in the stone was real, they hadn’t believed her.
Her grown up, rational mind tended to agree with the assessment that Drorgan couldn’t have really come out of that stone. This was real life, not a fairytale, more was the pity. Rhonda’s lips quirked into a mischievous grin at the thought. Wouldn’t it be marvelous if it had been real though? Being a ferocious reader of the new genre of Adult Naughty Fairytales that had sprung up recently, she had no problem imagining her dragon transforming into a drop dead gorgeous hunk, who would whisk her away from this place, and into a simpler world.
Marie, her last foster mother, whom Rhonda had been very fond of, had always said that Rhonda had been born out of time.
“Yer should’ve been born several centuries ago, duck, with yer head all’us away with them fairies, innit?” Rhonda could still hear Marie’s broad London accent in her head. “All’us waiting for yer Prince Charming ‘te come ‘long. Well, lemme tell ye, lovie, there’s no princes ‘round thon parts here. Nah, lovie, you’s keep yer head down ‘t school, and make ‘omething better of yerself. Yer got good brains, yer have.”
Which was exactly what Rhonda had done, excelling at school, and landing a job at Leagrave Library where she’d been ever since, having slowly worked her way up from a mere assistant to fully fledged librarian, who was more or less in charge of their little branch.
It might not be other people’s idea of a dream job, but for Rhonda it was bliss to be surrounded by books all day long. With that in mind, she shoved all thoughts of dragons to the back of her mind and set to work. There was renewed talk of shutting down this branch, so everything had to be up to date for the audit. It wouldn’t do to give the cash-strapped council more ammunition to pull the plug on funding.
By the time she had finally caught up with all the paperwork and switched off her computer, it was pitch black outside. The occasional firework went off in the distance, and with a growing sense of doom she picked up the phone to dial for a taxi.
While she lived only half an hour’s walk away from the library, she never walked home when she was working late, as it would take her right through the local council estate. Not a problem in daylight, though even then she shut her eyes and ears to some of the sights she saw. None of her business what other folks got up to, as long as they left her alone, but in the cover of darkness … yeah, that was an entirely different kettle of fish. Besides, ever since that night when she’d sleepwalked away from home and gotten lost, the dark held all sorts of untold terror for her. Rhonda always slept with the light on, and with her collection of furry dragons. It was daft and probably childish, but they made her feel better, and until such an unlikely time as she actually found a man worthy of giving her heart to, those dragons would be the only thing to share her bed.
“Sorry, love, it’s the Asian Christmas, so I’ve hardly got any drivers.”
The apologetic voice at the other end of the line was as cheery and helpful as her local taxi firm always was, but equally adamant that no taxis were available.
“I can wait?” Rhonda crossed her fingers for good measure, but she should have known that was useless.
“No can do, my dear. They’re all booked out already.”
“Okay, never mind, thank you.” Rhonda hung up the phone and glared at the desk calendar. She’d even rung round the date to remind herself to give the lovely Muslim couple living in the flats underneath her an Eid card, which she had pushed through their letter box this morning on her way to work.
Several phone calls to other taxi firms later and Rhonda had to face up to the simple truth. She had to walk, or spend the night in the library, which was a far from appealing process. As much as she loved the place, she much preferred sleeping in her own bed.
Having set the alarm and locked up, she left via the staff entrance, clutching her bag, containing the heels she wore for work. Rhonda always changed into trainers for her walk to and from work, which tended to earn her a few funny looks, but so what? Her trainers
might look out of place with her pencil skirt, tights, and sensible blouse, but they were more suited than kitten pumps for walking. The heels would also make good weapons should she need them.
Rhonda shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. She was far too on edge tonight. It might be the twenty-fifth anniversary of that dreadful night—the catalyst for her being placed in care—but that didn’t mean anything would happen, now would it?
How many times growing up had she snuck back to that stone, after all, willing Drorgan to come out and to prove to everyone that she hadn’t made it all up. Of course the stone was just that—stone. It might have the vague shape of a dragon, but that’s where the similarity ended.
Eventually she had been moved to foster care in London, and she hadn’t returned to the dragon stone in years, until she’d landed the job back in her home town. Perhaps a meander past the stone tomorrow in the daylight would make her feel better.
A cold breeze picked up as she put her head down to get past the playing fields. It was too eerie for her over-active imagination with the fields in darkness, and only sporadic streetlights to guide her way. Another cost cutting measure.
One lonely car sped by, briefly blinding her with its headlights on full beam, and some more fireworks went off in the distance. A huge shadow blocked them out briefly, and Rhonda missed a step. That had almost looked like a dragon, but that had to be her imagination playing tricks on her. The approaching high pitched wail of a motorbike made her spin round just in time to see two masked riders approach on the path. Cursing under her breath at the breakneck speed with which the youngsters tore up the path, clearly racing each other, she sidestepped onto the field in an effort to avoid them. Rough hands grabbed her around the waist, and Rhonda shrieked when the riders followed. In the glare of their headlights she could make out several more hooded youngsters.
The Dragon in the Stone Page 2
