by Chris Cannon
Valmont leaned in and inhaled the smoke. He must have understood what she was doing.
Once she felt better, Bryn let the fire die down and made eye contact with Valmont.
He looked stricken. “Something terrible happened down there. It happened on my land. Behind my house.”
“From the smell, whatever is down there is beyond our help.” Mr. Stanton approached them. “We don’t have the proper equipment to investigate. I’m going to make a few calls to see who can help us.”
“Whatever happened down there wasn’t your fault,” Bryn said. “If your root cellar is part of a series of tunnels, they could have opened the door from the inside. There wasn’t much dirt on top of it…not more than an inch. Or, they could have turned back around the way they came.”
Without discussing it, they all went inside and sat at the table or on the couch. Miss Enid came in last. She went to the refrigerator and grabbed cans of ginger ale, passing them out to everyone.
Bryn sipped her drink. Valmont turned his can around and around on the table, like he was trying to figure something out. Even if he’d been here, rather than guarding her at the Institute, there was no way he would have known what was going on under his backyard. Saying that to him wouldn’t make the situation better. Maybe they could talk about it later.
Mr. Stanton spoke to someone on Valmont’s house phone. When he was finished, he hung up. “I’ve alerted the Directorate, and they are sending people who are trained to deal with…this type of situation.”
There were people who investigated rotting bodies for a living? That would be one horrifically sucky job. Thank goodness someone could do it. She’d barely managed to keep from throwing up. Speaking of throwing up. “Ivy, are you okay?” Bryn asked.
“Yes.” Ivy’s voice sounded rough. “That smell, it just hit me…I…I’m not sure I want to know what’s down there.”
Clint put his arm around her shoulders. “I want to know why Black dragon magic was used to keep someone from finding the handle to the door.”
Valmont stood and walked over to the kitchen sink, looking out the window above it. “Is there some way to determine when the spell to hide the handle was placed on the hatch?”
“I don’t believe so,” Miss Enid said.
Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a car pulling up the gravel drive had them all on their feet. Someone knocked on the front door. Strange. Why would the Directorate knock? They normally barged in and did what they wanted.
Valmont answered the door. A Red guard Bryn didn’t recognize held a clipboard out to Valmont.
“You are the registered owner of this parcel of land. I’ll need your signature before I can proceed.”
Valmont accepted the pen and studied it like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it. “What am I signing?”
“This gives the Directorate permission to investigate any and all leads necessary on your property.”
Should he argue? Bryn didn’t want the Directorate bulldozing Valmont’s cabin for no good reason. And Ferrin was just the type of vindictive asshat who might do something like that.
“Whatever it takes.” Valmont scribbled his name on the document.
“You can leave and go to another location or you can stay inside the cabin,” the Red said. “You may not enter the backyard while we’re working. Does everyone understand?”
They all nodded. Bryn nodded, too. It wasn’t like she wanted to go near the hatch again, but why couldn’t she go out there if she wanted to?
“Then we’ll get to work.” The Red headed back to his car.
Valmont closed the door.
“Do they not want us to see what they find?” Bryn asked.
“I’m quite sure you won’t want to see what they find, but given the level of decomposition, there may be biohazards,” Mr. Stanton said. “That’s why they’re being so strict.”
That answered her question. Morbid curiosity drove her to watch out the back window as men in hazmat suits opened the hatch, set up a pulley system, and descended into the root-cellar-from-hell.
Bryn couldn’t stop formulating theories about what grisly remains the men in might find. Maybe an animal had wandered into one of the tunnels and been unable to find its way out. That thought was horrifying enough, much less the idea of dragons or humans being trapped, underground, unable to escape.
Approaching footsteps sounded. Bryn glanced over her shoulder, knowing who it would probably be. Yep. Valmont approached and stood behind her. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her back a bit so she leaned against him. “See anything yet?”
“No. They haven’t come back up.”
“I keep trying to come up with a best-case scenario for this situation,” he said, “and I’ve got nothing.”
A man in a hazmat suit lowered what looked like several long coffin-shaped white Styrofoam coolers down to the other men below ground. “They must have found something,” Bryn said.
Valmont’s arm tightened around her waist when the containers came back up. “I don’t want to see what’s in those boxes,” he said. “But I need to know what or who it was.”
Anything decomposed enough to create that horrific gut-twisting smell would be horrible to witness, but she also needed to know what they were dealing with. A tank with a sprayer hose was lowered through the open hatch. “Maybe they’re cleaning up the tunnel so they can investigate.” Or erase any trace of whatever had happened so they could create their own story. That seemed more the Directorate’s style.
“Once it’s cleaned out and safe, I want to go down there,” Valmont said.
There probably wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell they’d be allowed to explore, but Bryn didn’t mention that because it wouldn’t do any good to dash Valmont’s hopes. He seemed to feel responsible since this happened in his backyard.
After the men climbed out of the hatch and started packing their equipment, one of them took off his hazmat suit and came to the back door. He had the dark complexion of a Green dragon. Before he could knock, Valmont whipped the door open. “What happened down there?”
The man’s mouth set in a thin line. “It appears a family was hiding out, using the dead-end of the tunnel as their home. They had real beds and a crib.”
Holy hell. “There was a baby?” That made everything seem much more tragic. Flames roared in Bryn’s gut. Smoke drifted from her nostrils. She concentrated and pushed the flames back down. She needed to focus on being here for Valmont right now, not indulging in her own freak-out.
The man nodded and swallowed before he continued speaking, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “I think they’d lived there for months. They had food and toys. They must’ve been attacked during the night. The bodies…they were still in their beds—like they never heard their attacker coming.”
“Dying in their sleep is probably the best case scenario for this God-awful situation,” Bryn said.
“Could they have escaped…gotten out…if they had wanted to?” Valmont asked. “Through the hatch?”
“I don’t know. There is a well-worn path leading away from their beds, which makes me believe they often traveled through the tunnels and exited in another location.”
“Can we investigate and see where the tunnels go?” Valmont asked.
“The Directorate will have to answer that question. For now, we will close and seal the hatch so the curious don’t get into trouble.” The man made direct eye contact with Bryn like she was plotting to race down there the second he turned his back.
“Don’t worry about me. Nothing puts a damper on curiosity like finding dead bodies.” One question bounced around in Bryn’s brain. “The family…could you tell which Clan they were from?”
“Based on the remnants of a tattoo visible on the man’s arms, I suspect they were hybrids, but we’ll know more after we conduct an autopsy. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Bryn shut the door and reached for Valmont’s hand. “Do you
feel better now, knowing those people, whoever they were, weren’t trapped and they didn’t suffer?”
Valmont stared at the door like he was trying to decipher something she couldn’t see. The moment of silence stretched out until it became uncomfortable. She’d meant to comfort him. Had she done the opposite and made the situation worse? Now what? He seemed lost in his own world, so she let him be, waiting for him to come back to her.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, the only thing that would make me feel better is if they weren’t dead.”
“Agreed,” she said. “And yet, the casualties seem to be piling up.” She squeezed his hand to offer moral support. “This did not turn out to be the fun adventure any of us hoped for.”
Mr. Stanton walked over to stand beside Valmont. “I think we should head back to the Institute.”
Valmont’s eyebrows came together, like he was mulling something over. “This will sound strange, but I don’t want to remember my cabin as a place that smells of death. There should be lasagna in the freezer. Maybe we could all stay here for dinner and talk about happier topics, just to wipe the emotional slate clean.”
As if on cue, Bryn’s stomach growled. “Works for me.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m certain the Directorate wouldn’t approve. We need to return to school before dark,” Mr. Stanton said, “but you could bring lasagna back with us.”
Valmont’s shoulders stiffened. “Not to be rude, but I’m not a student. This is my home where my family visits regularly. I don’t believe we’re in danger while we’re in my kitchen.” His voice grew louder as he spoke. “If the Directorate believed the people of Dragon’s Bluff were in danger, they’d warn us. Wouldn’t they?”
Miss Enid came over to join in the conversation. “I understand how you feel. But no one can predict where or when an attack will occur. As faculty, it’s our job to make sure the students return to campus where there are armed guards who will do their best to protect us and them. And Bryn is the granddaughter of one of the most powerful Directorate members, which is why you are guarding her. She is a target, no matter where she is.”
Valmont’s shoulders slumped. “Fine.” He stalked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a frost coated metal pan covered in foil. “Let’s go.”
On the car ride back to campus, Valmont was silent. What could she say to make him feel better? Not much. Sorry you’re stuck with me. Sorry the people camping in your abandoned root cellar were murdered in their sleep. Giving up on finding the right words, she placed her hand on his forearm. “I want to say something comforting, but I can’t come up with anything. So I’m sorry about all of this.”
“As you said before, welcome to your world. It sucks but you get used to it.”
…
Mr. Stanton arranged for the cafeteria to heat the lasagna and deliver it to one of the small dining rooms where meetings were often held. Bryn didn’t expect her grandfather and Ferrin to join them, but surprise…they did. So much for a relaxing dinner.
“We need to hear every detail of what happened today,” Bryn’s grandfather said. “And why you decided to investigate Valmont’s property in the first place.”
Mr. Stanton explained about the maps with the altered roads and how Valmont recognized the road leading to his cabin but not the structure on the map. “I did send in a detailed report to the Directorate with copies of the book, detailing what the students found,” Mr. Stanton reminded them.
“We are well aware of that,” Ferrin snapped. “Tell us what happened after you left campus.”
“Valmont, why don’t you start,” Bryn’s grandfather said.
“Okay.” Her knight launched into the story of how they found the handle even though they couldn’t see it and how Clint opened it with his lightning.
“You found the handle due to a squirrel?” Ferrin stated like he thought they were making up the entire story.
“You know those small furry creatures who like nuts and live in the trees.” Bryn added a silent Asshat at the end of her sentence.
Ferrin sent her a scathing glance. “I’m aware of what it is. I find it hard to believe this animal led you to a secret tunnel that had been under your nose for how long? More than a year?”
“I’m sure your estate is old enough to have root cellars,” Valmont said. “Do you use them? Don’t bother answering that question because we both know the answer is no. I never used the root cellar. And yes, I did know there was one in the backyard under the dirt, but I never went looking for it, since it’s not the 1900s anymore, and I happen to own a working refrigerator. There could have been a million dollars in diamonds in that cellar and I never would have known.”
“That would have been way more fun to find,” Clint said before shoving a giant bite of lasagna in his mouth.
The spicy scent of Italian seasoning made Bryn’s mouth water.
“We should eat before the food gets cold,” Valmont said. “Feel free to ask questions. I can’t promise I won’t talk with my mouth full.”
Bryn’s grandfather shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap. “I think food would be good for all of us. We can talk afterward when we’re having coffee and pie.”
Thank goodness her grandfather wasn’t being a jerk. “Food first is always a good idea,” Bryn said. “And pie is a bonus.”
Ferrin ignored the food. He sat silently seething on his side of the table while glaring at Bryn in the same manner Jaxon had done when they’d first met. After fifteen minutes, Bryn cracked. “You do realize we’re all on the same side and we aren’t trying to keep anything from you, right?”
“We,” Ferrin emphasized the word, “are not on the same side. You are students with questionable common sense, in league with a knight who has no place on this campus, and you were supervised by faculty who do not have voting rights within the Directorate. There is no, ‘We’.”
Everyone froze. Outrage burned in Bryn’s gut and flames crawled up the back of her throat. She took a moment to control her fire, but smoke drifted from her lips as she spoke. “That is the most ridiculous statement I’ve ever heard. You are not the only person who wants to keep dragons safe. Everyone in this room wants what is best for the Institute and Dragon’s Bluff. None of us are trying to hide anything from you. We called the Directorate to come and investigate the situation today. We are here to share information with you. So when we tell you we found the door handle because we watched a freaking squirrel root around for an acorn in what appeared to be a solid piece of metal until Clint zapped it with lightning, then that is the truth.”
“Then you are fools with nothing to offer.” Ferrin stood and left the room.
“Feel better?” Bryn’s grandfather asked her in an amused tone.
“Shooting a fireball at him would have been way more fun, but I figured you wouldn’t approve.”
“That probably would have been more entertaining.” He grinned. “But I’m glad you refrained.”
“Why is he like that?” Clint asked. “And I’m speaking to you as the grandfather of a friend, not a member of the Directorate.”
“I’m not sure you can separate one from the other, and in either role, I don’t have an answer for you. That is the way Ferrin has always been.”
“It’s often a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Miss Enid said, “when an individual thinks the world is against him.”
“That’s kind of profound,” Valmont said. “One of my favorite sayings is, ‘Do what you know until you know better, and then do better.’ It applies to cooking and a lot of situations in life. Although some people never seem to learn it.”
After they finished the lasagna, one of the kitchen staff came in and passed out pieces of apple pie and coffee.
“Is this decaf?” Bryn’s grandfather asked.
“No, sir, but I can make a pot if you like.”
“No. Thank you. I never touch decaf.” He sipped his coffee and sighed in satisfaction. “I never saw the point.”
Talking with
her grandfather like this was a treat. Even though he was one of the most influential men in dragon society, he didn’t act like a diva-jackass as Ferrin did. After they finished telling the story of their strange day, and all of her friends except Valmont had said their good-byes, Bryn had one more question to ask her grandfather. “How much trouble would I get into if I ordered a pet squirrel online and had it delivered to Ferrin’s estate?”
Her grandfather smiled. “I applaud your ingenuity, but it would be best if you didn’t antagonize Ferrin any further.”
Where was the fun in that?
Chapter Ten
Bryn was dead tired when they made it back to her dorm room, but she wanted to talk to Valmont about Ferrin and his “There is no We” speech. Where could they talk freely without fear of bugs?
“Do you want to sit out on the terrace?” she asked him. In reality, the terraces off the dorm rooms were places where students could shift into dragon form and take flight. Every terrace also came with a small umbrella table and two wrought iron chairs, but they weren’t comfortable. They were probably only there for plausible deniability, like nope, we aren’t shape-shifting dragons who like to fly from our terraces. We’re normal people who like to sit out on the patio and enjoy the fresh air in these completely uncomfortable chairs.
“I was thinking more along the lines of the comfy couch.” Valmont gave her an odd look.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, unlike the library,” she emphasized the word, “I thought it might be a nice place to talk.”
“Oh.” He gestured down the hall toward the window, which opened onto the terrace. “After you.”
Once they were seated on the hard chairs, Bryn remembered why they didn’t come out here very often. “First off, it sucks that I have to second guess where we can speak without worrying about bugs. Second, what is going on with Ferrin? He’s acting like more of a control-freak dictator than normal.”
Valmont glanced around the terrace. “It’s been a hell of a day, so I’m not in the mood to think big thoughts, but Ferrin is probably going crazy because you’re in the forefront of all these discoveries rather than Jaxon.”
