Drakon's Past

by N. J. Walters

  “Get over it,” he told his reflection. He turned away and stepped into the tiled shower. After breakfast, he’d go check out the local antique malls and thrift stores to see if he could find something to keep his interest for a few hours. But first, he’d pay a visit to Mario Gonzales.

  …

  “You’re leaving early.” Abigail poured herself a cup of coffee and yawned.

  Constance hadn’t slept much last night and was already on her second cup. “I figure I can catch Mario before he opens his store.” Their grandpa’s friend was an early riser. She knew he’d be in his shop long before it opened.

  “You’re really going to do this.” Abigail detoured by the refrigerator and helped herself to a vanilla yogurt.

  Constance shuddered. She liked coffee and she liked yogurt, but not the combination. “I figure it’s better to know what the statues might be worth. He might even know someone who wants to buy them.”

  “He’ll want a broker fee.” Her sister sat on one of the chairs at the table and pulled her feet up on the vinyl seat. She put her mug down and reached for Constance’s coffee spoon, using it to scoop up some yogurt.

  Neither of them was under any illusions about Mario. He might have been their grandpa’s friend, but he was a dealer at heart, which meant he was all about the find and making money. “Of course he will. But I trust him to be honest with me about the value. If he’s going to get a cut, he’ll want top dollar.”

  Abigail nodded. “True. I’ll just be happy when those statues are gone.”

  She agreed with her sister. “Mrs. Karsh bought three of the perfume bottles, and I already sold another one online overnight. Sold some of the china, too.” She’d listed that not really expecting to sell it so quickly.

  “Excellent.” Abigail helped herself to another spoonful of yogurt. “Mmm.” She swallowed and waved the spoon in front of her. “I got a check from the gallery while you were away. Two of my larger prints sold.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Constance was thrilled. Her sister had real talent, capturing evocative images within and outside the city. A tiny local gallery sold signed limited-edition prints. Besides her photography, Abigail also worked with vintage fabric, repurposing and upcycling it into clothing, pillows, and other items.

  “You coming home after you see Mario?”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to see if I can unload the furniture I bought first. I’ve already boxed up the sold items, so I’ll stop at the post office while I’m out. Then I’ll be back. I want to get the rest of the items from my trip listed.”

  “Good enough.” Abigail downed her coffee and popped out of her chair, her earlier sleepiness already gone in her excitement about the coming day. That was her sister, always bright and cheery. “Have you eaten?”

  Constance raised her mug into the air.

  Abigail gave a snort of laughter. “Contrary to what you believe, coffee is not a food group. Pick something up while you’re out.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Constance promised. They both grinned and laughed. They tended to mother each other, no doubt a result of being raised without one. She pushed away from the table and downed the last of her coffee. It was almost cold, but it was still coffee.

  As she headed to the workroom, she went over her mental checklist once again. It would be another busy day, but that was how she liked it. She collected the wooden statue with the sapphire eyes, leaving the others locked away in the safe. Then she made a quick detour to her bedroom to grab her bag and a heavy sweater to combat the early-morning chill.

  It was quiet on the street this time of the morning, but she knew the city was humming just beyond. She climbed into the van and said a silent prayer it would start, totally pumped when it did.

  She backed out of the driveway and headed toward the downtown area. Every time she had to pause at a stop sign or a light, she found herself glancing at her bag, drawn to the statue tucked inside.

  Funny that she hadn’t had that reaction when she’d first found it. But the longer she was around the statues, the more they bothered her. They were inanimate objects, yet there were some powerful vibes coming off them.

  She’d be glad to sell the darn things and be done with them.

  She pulled around to the back of Mario’s shop and turned off the engine. Everything went silent. A cold shiver raced down her spine. “Now you’re imagining things,” she muttered. Grabbing her bag, she got out of the van and locked it behind her.

  She went straight to the back door and pounded on it. The air was cool, not surprising for January, but there was already a hint of warmth in the air. She tugged her sweater tighter around her and pounded on the door again.

  “Hold your horses. I’m coming.” There was a small covered opening in the heavy metal door. When it slid open, she waved. “Constance?” The small opening was covered once again. Then came the metal grinding of several locks being undone.

  The door opened, and a whipcord lean man wearing jeans and a red button-down shirt stood in the doorway. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.” He stood aside and waved her in.

  She stepped into the darkness and had to blink to allow her vision to adjust. The back room was crammed full of stuff that only Mario knew how to access. It might look like a jumbled mess to others, but she knew from experience he knew exactly what was there and could put his hand on it in a split second.

  “I need your opinion on something.” There was no point in beating around the bush. “If you know a buyer who might be interested, I’ll give you a finder’s fee.”

  He shut the door and turned several locks and threw two deadbolts. “It’s not hot, is it?”

  She gave him an exasperated frown. “Of course not. I bought it free and clear at an estate sale. Just gives me the willies is all.” That was something Mario would understand. Anyone who bought and sold vintage or antique items for any length of time knew there was something not quite right about some objects.

  He rubbed his hands together and led her through the maze of shelves and boxes to his desk in the corner of the space. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Now that the moment was at hand, she was almost reluctant to show him, which was ridiculous. It was why she’d come. She set her purse on the desk and dug down to the bottom where the statue had settled.

  She drew the small bundle out of her bag and slowly unwrapped it. Mario turned on a lamp, creating a circle of light right in the center of the desk. The wood seemed warm, almost hot, and the sapphire eyes seemed to glitter.

  Mario gave a low whistle when she set it in the center of the desk. “Now that’s different.” He lowered his head and studied it for a long moment. “May I?”

  She nodded. “Sure.” She wrapped her arms around her body to keep from grabbing the statue and running out of the building. Why did she suddenly want to protect it?

  Mario settled into his chair and carefully picked up the small dragon. His fingers were short and tanned, with several nicks that hadn’t healed. Even though he was old enough to be her grandfather, his hair only had a touch of gray. He bent over the figure of the dragon, muttering under his breath. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and studied the eyes.

  Constance shifted her weight from one foot to the other, getting more and more anxious as time passed. “Well?” she demanded.

  Mario slowly lowered the loupe and set it aside. The wrinkles that fanned out from the corners of his eyes seemed deeper. “Those eyes are sapphires.”

  “Then they are real?” Abigail had said they were, and now Mario was confirming what she hadn’t allowed herself to believe.

  “They’re very real. This is a beautifully executed sculpture carved from a single block of teak and decorated only with the two sapphires. They’re big. I’ve never seen real ones that big before.”

  He set the small statue back on his desk. “You got it at an estate sale?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Do you know anyone who might be interested i
n buying it?”

  He rubbed his chin and slowly nodded. “I’ve got two buyers who might be interested. One is local, and the other is in New York.”

  “Go with the local one first.” The faster she could get rid of the thing, the better. Mario nodded and reached for his phone. “You’re going to call him now?” That was surprising.

  “Yup. I texted him last night after I got your message. I knew if you were bringing me something to appraise, it would be special.”

  “Okay. That’s good then.” The glittering eyes seemed to be looking straight at her. She moved to the other side of the desk, and darned if the eyes didn’t seem to follow her. She knew it was a trick of the light, but it was unnerving all the same.

  “Mr. Wilde, this is Mario Gonzales. I have a dragon statue I think you may be interested in.” He rattled off his phone number with instructions to call. Mario had obviously gotten the man’s voicemail. “He’ll call,” Mario assured her. “He always does.”

  That left Constance with the problem of what to do with the darn thing until this Mr. Wilde called. She didn’t want to take it home only to have to bring it back, but she didn’t like the idea of simply leaving it here, either. She began to wrap the dragon back up in the packing paper.

  “What are you doing?” Mario asked.

  “Wrapping the statue up for transport.”

  “You’re not going to leave it?” Mario frowned.

  “No.” She had no idea why. It’s not like Mario would run off with it. But something in her gut was screaming at her to take it with her.

  “At least let me take a couple of pictures to send to the client if he expresses interest.”

  She slowly stopped wrapping the statue and put it back down. He was right. Any potential buyer would want pictures and an accurate description. She waited patiently while Mario snapped photos and took meticulous measurements. As soon as he was done, she rewrapped the statue and shoved it back into her bag.

  “Call if you hear anything?”

  “You going home?”

  Constance shook her head. “Not right away. I’ve got a few stops to make. But if you get a buyer, call me. I’ll come back no matter where I am.”

  “Good enough.” He walked her to the back door and unbolted the locks. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally stepped outside. The sun was higher in the sky, and the world was coming alive.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her she still hadn’t eaten. And since Abigail would be sure to ask if she’d stopped for something, Constance decided to detour into a fast-food restaurant along the way and pick up a breakfast sandwich.

  Feeling better now that first contact had been made with a potential buyer, she unlocked the van and settled into the driver’s seat. Mario was still watching her from the doorway. He was shrouded in shadow and seemed menacing, which was ridiculous. She’d known the man since she was a child.

  She started the engine and pulled away, aware he watched her until the van was out of sight.

  …

  Mario wished she’d left the statue with him. It would have made life so much easier. Still, he could manage. Constance might not like him contacting his other buyer, but Mario knew a good thing when he saw it. Both his buyers would want this piece. And when two collectors wanted something, the price went up substantially.

  He sat at his desk and pulled out his address book, turning the pages until he found the number he was looking for. It was early here, but later in New York where his buyer lived.

  The call was answered on the second ring. “Jeremiah Dent.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Dent. This is Mario Gonzales from Las Vegas. I’ve been made aware of an object I believe you might be interested in, but you’re not the only interested party.” Let the negotiations begin.

  Chapter Three

  After eating a substantial breakfast, Nicodemus went down to the parking garage. He could have used the valet service to retrieve his car, but he wasn’t in the mood to wait.

  He’d been filled with a nervous energy as soon as he’d checked his voicemail and discovered he’d gotten a call from Mario while he was in the shower.

  He strode across the parking garage and unlocked his vintage 1968 Dodge Charger. There were people around, but it was still fairly quiet by Vegas standards. He started the engine, loving the loud rumble of the motor.

  The sun was up, and the air was getting warmer. Nic drove with the windows rolled down, not bothered by the slight chill in the air. He might prefer it hot, but he could handle frigid cold temperatures just as well. He just didn’t like to.

  He knew the city like the back of his hand, remembered when it was nothing but a swath of desert. So he had no trouble making his way to Mario’s shop. He parked around the rear of the building, like all the preferred customers did. The storefront was mostly for tourists and locals who weren’t serious collectors.

  He climbed out of the car, made his way to the back door, and banged on it. “I’m coming,” Mario yelled. “Hold on.”

  Locks were undone, and the panel opened. Mario squinted into the sunshine. “Come on in, Wilde.”

  Nic ducked his head and stepped inside. His eyes automatically adjusted to the gloom. He was glad for his preternatural vision. Mario didn’t believe in wasting money on things like good lighting.

  “What have you got?” He was suddenly wary and stopped in his tracks. There was a tinge of something in the air, something particularly nasty.

  “I don’t have it here, but I have pictures,” Mario promised.

  “Who has it?” Whatever it was, Nic knew he needed to find it. And destroy it, if possible.

  “A friend. Got it at an estate sale and is looking to move it quick.” Mario motioned to the computer screen. “Have a look.”

  Nic found himself drawn to the picture on the screen. He listened with half an ear as Mario rattled off the particulars—carved out of teak, sapphire eyes, about six inches tall, origin unknown.

  “The stones are real?” He trusted Mario to be honest with him.

  “Absolutely. Verified it myself.”

  Those were no ordinary sapphires. They were drakon tears. He could tell by the symmetry of the gems and their size. “I want it.”

  “Thought you might.” Mario sounded smug, and Nic slowly turned to look at the man. “Figured there would be a finder’s fee in it for me if you wanted it.”

  Mario was a mercenary at heart. Nic didn’t blame him for that. A man had to make a living. “If I buy it, I’ll give you twenty percent of whatever I pay for it.”

  “Good enough.”

  “Email me the pictures and the contact information for the seller.” Mario bobbed his head. “And Mario, I had better be the only buyer.”

  As soon as Nic was back behind the wheel of his car, he drew out his phone and checked his email. “Come on.” He was usually a patient man, but not today. There was something about that statue that made his stomach clench. Whoever had carved it, whenever it had been crafted, it was dangerous.

  Finally, he got a ping to signal an incoming email. Sure enough, Mario had sent him the pictures and the email address for the contact.

  Nic dialed his brother. “What?” Tarrant answered.

  “I’m sending you pictures of a statue.”

  “That’s your line of collecting, not mine,” he pointed out.

  Nic’s grip tightened around his phone. “It’s a statue of a dragon with sapphire eyes.”

  Tarrant swore. “Real sapphires?”

  He knew what his brother was asking. “Tears.”

  Tarrant swore again. “Shit.”

  “I need to know what, if anything, you can find out about it.” He paused, and his brother caught his hesitation.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Nic?” Tarrant demanded.

  “It’s dangerous. I could sense that even though the statue was no longer in the store.”

  Tarrant blew out a breath. “Not good.”

  Nic rattled off the email address. “Th
is is all I have on the seller. I need to know more.”

  “Hang on.” Tarrant’s fingers clicked over computer keys. Nic knew he was working his magic. There wasn’t a better hacker on the planet than his brother.

  “It’s for one Bill Watkins.” He rattled off the street address not too far away. More clicking. “Thing is, Bill Watkins is dead, my friend.”

  “Well, that makes things interesting.” And potentially more dangerous.

  “Hang on. He has two granddaughters. From what I can see, they’ve been living with him most of their lives. They live in the home now.”

  That made Nic relax, but only slightly. “So they probably kept the email for business?”

  “Looks that way.” Tarrant made a humming sound. “I’m looking at their emails now.”

  Nic raised an eyebrow. His brother really was a scary son of a bitch at times. “And?”

  “Nothing. It’s all related to buying and selling vintage items and a few antiques. Small-scale buyer and seller from the looks of things.”

  “My contact mentioned the seller had found it at an estate sale and was looking to move it quickly.”

  “It seems to be far outside what they usually deal in. You be careful.”

  “I will. Do you have a phone number for—what were their names?”

  Tarrant chuckled. “Constance and Abigail Owens.”

  Old-fashioned names. Nic liked that. “I’m going to pay them a visit and see if I can’t get that statue.” He didn’t trust Mario not to try to round up another bidder.

  “Give me an hour,” Tarrant demanded. “Let me see what I can find out about the statue first. If it’s as dangerous as you think, you need to be prepared going in.”

  “You don’t think it’s a setup, do you?” Nic had wondered about that himself.

  “I don’t see how it could be, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

  Nic glanced at his watch. “I have a couple other stops to make. If I haven’t heard from you by the time I’m done, I’ll give you a call.”