Nessy's Locket

by A. W. Exley

  Helene tapped the side of her artificial nose as she stood. “Leave it to me. I will find a way for you to both emerge unscathed.”

  Cara smiled. If only it were that simple.

  “Albert tells me you are responsible for the dragons now.” Helene sat and crossed her hands in her lap.

  Albert would be Prince Albert, the queen’s husband. Or he was her husband until he died on Tower Green, killed by an artifact that had been driving his wife insane. To the rest of the world, it was put about that a short illness took his life.

  “Yes, the queen made us her official dragon guardians. Speaking of the monarch, you need to tell the prince to visit his widow. She is becoming a very dour-looking woman.” Cara dropped onto the worn sofa next to Helene. Her feet and ankles ached if she stood for too long, and she looked forward to putting her feet in Nate’s lap later. She had discovered her husband had a talent for foot massages that relieved her aches and made her purr with happiness.

  Helene dragged the footstool closer and lifted Cara’s boots onto it. “How do you think we knew about the dragons?”

  It seemed ghosts gossiped as much as former pugilists. “Perhaps you could both be of practical use and help me find something that will protect them.”

  “Protect. Protect. Defend,” the countess muttered. She leapt from the seat to flutter her hands over the books on the shelf. “You must seek something that produces a barrier or shield.”

  “It would need to be a rather large shield to hide three dragons behind it.” Cara picked at a loose thread on the sofa.

  Helene pulled out a book and caressed the cover as though it were a long lost lover. “Perhaps a type of curtain that obscures their presence and hides them from view. Or maybe a barrier that would give the creatures some freedom to roam while stopping those who seek to harm them. Something like an invisible wall.”

  An invisible wall? That skirted close to Malachi’s hunch about the Great Wall. “Malachi is investigating that idea. Do you have any suggestions for what would produce such an effect?”

  “No, none whatsoever.” Then she started giggling and ran from the room.

  “And that’s the end of our visit.” As Helene’s lucid moments became fewer, Cara grew accustomed to the woman’s mind fleeing before Cara had elicited all the information she needed. Today was no exception. She had a vague direction to start her hunt but no real idea what she sought.

  She walked back out to the entranceway and, on a whim, flicked the light switch. The long-familiar tingle ran over fingers. She always thought the house tried to electrocute her because it hated her. Helene said it was the opposite, and the house craved her attention.

  Cara didn’t entirely believe that the house contained the soul of a woman murdered during its construction, but it might. That was the problem with talking to the countess. Everything she said sounded completely mad, but often the truth lay hidden in her words.

  Her next visit was to a place at the opposite of the countess’s mad world. The carriage took her to the place Cara thought of as her church or sanctuary. Malachi’s bookshop. The wizened old goat had an encyclopaedic knowledge, but you needed the patience for his mind to warm up.

  Cara pushed into the ancient building and closed both the door and her eyes. She leaned against the thick wood and inhaled. The song from millions of inscribed words whispered over her soul and soothed her fractious edges. Beeswax and the slight musty odour of old paper wafted under her nostrils.

  Time stopped as she relaxed and ensured all her troubles stayed on the other side of the solid door until she left.

  “Are you going to stand there all day sniffing books or come sit next to me and start our new adventure?” a voice called from the rear of the shop.

  A smile tugged on her lips and her heart as she walked past the soaring stacks of books. Malachi had become an indispensable part of her team when it came to hunting out artifacts. He was also an incorrigible flirt and at least a hundred years old.

  “How did you know it was me?” she asked as she reached the tall desk at the rear of the shop.

  The desktop was littered with papers and books. A quill balanced on the edge of an open pot of ink. The lamp on the corner flickered and illuminated his work.

  “You’re the only one who takes the time to feel the words when you enter here. Most people are in a hurry.” He beamed at her over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses and patted the stool next to him.

  “Sometimes I think I can hear them all whispering, telling the stories written on their pages.” She remembered the first time she had walked into the public library and was stunned by the sheer number of books. While her body longed to run, ride, and climb trees, her soul sought the peace of being surrounded by thousands of books.

  At Malachi’s ancient little store, which had weathered the Great Fire, Cara could leave all her worries on the doorstep and enter unburdened.

  “Oh, some of those books are particularly chatty. Greek orators never shut up, and some days I can hardly hear myself think as they shout at one another.” He shuffled all the papers into an untidy pile and set them to one side. “What can I help you with this time?”

  Cara leaned her elbows on the desk, her chin on the heel of her palm. “I don’t know. A way to protect everything I love so the world cannot harm them.”

  “Ah. The plea of mothers throughout time.” He winked and patted her shoulder.

  She began to suspect the words I’m pregnant were written on her forehead. “Don’t tell me you know too?”

  He took the glasses off and rubbed his nose. “Know what?”

  “That I’m expecting.” Cara screwed the top back on the ink and placed the quill in its silver holder.

  His face lit up and his eyes sparkled. “Are you? Oh, I say, congratulations, my dear. Let’s hope the child isn’t bald and shrivelled like me, or the viscount will know of our secret and passionate affair.”

  Cara laughed and bumped him with her elbow. “You’re a rogue.”

  Laughter made the wrinkles in his face almost swallow his eyes. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I have worn down many a lovely lady with my indefatigable charm.”

  “I suspect not only your charm is indefatigable.” Cara snorted.

  White eyebrows waggled up and down. “One doesn’t like to boast. But let us turn our mind to your predicament. What exactly do you want to protect? The babe, your husband from his numerous enemies, or the silverware?”

  Cara dropped a hand to her stomach. Was there a way to protect her and the baby? Malachi’s words reminded her of all the worries waiting for her on the bookstore’s doorstep. “Currently, I am preoccupied with protecting the dragons at Lowestoft. Bounty hunters throughout Europe have heard they are in England. There are those who would pay a large fortune to hang a dragon head on their dining room wall, or to spread their hides on the floor.”

  The old scholar sucked in a breath. “Plural? You have more than one now?”

  Cara held up three fingers. “Kirill has been joined by two females from Siberia.”

  “Extraordinary circumstances swirl all around you, my child.” Hands with paper-thin skin drew circles around her head.

  “The Curator said I was a type of artifact. That was why he sought to add me to his collection.” Her very genesis had been in a gem her father searched India to find. A pearl her mother swallowed, which grew to become Cara. It was the reason she could detect the presence of other artifacts—one called to another.

  “Shall we uncover that story another day? We should really write our own book, you and I. Think of the stories we could scribble down to entertain and amaze others.”

  “If we included all your antics, I fear it would be banned the world over as too racy.”

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  “My current problem, from among so many, is finding a way to protect the dragons. Countess de Sal said we needed something that acted as a shield or a barrier. You wrote me that you thought the Great Wall
of China might hold a clue?”

  “Did I? Hmm…let me think on where I left my research.” He crossed his arms and closed his eyes as he dove into his memory.

  Cara pulled out a clean sheet of paper and took up a pencil. She drew flowers and leaves while she waited. By the time Malachi jolted back into life beside her, the page was covered in a dense forest of foliage.

  Malachi grabbed a sheet of scrap paper and opened the ink to dip the quill’s nib inside. “The countess was right, there are two possible ways to protect your dragons. The first would be something that each dragon wore or carried to impart protection.”

  “Like a shield or amulet?” Cara asked.

  He began scribbling notes to himself, snippets that he plucked from his mind to direct their research. “Yes. The other way, involving a type of barrier, would be to protect where they reside. Similar to how the Great Wall repelled invaders. Both methods have their advantages and disadvantages.”

  “A flying dragon might lose a piece of jewellery or armour. Assuming we could even find three of what we need.” Cara couldn’t imagine Kirill wearing a necklace or a ring. He flew, swam, and hunted. Anything she draped around his neck could get snagged.

  “But a device that creates a barrier around their home means they would only be protected there. They would be caged, and if they travelled outside its reach, they would be vulnerable.” She hated the idea of confining them to a small space like creatures in the zoological gardens. She would send them back to Siberia before she let that happen. Neither solution was perfect. “Let’s tackle one problem at a time. Apart from stealing the Great Wall and rebuilding it at Lowestoft, is there any known artifact that would function either way? If we can only find a magical ring or doormat, that will narrow our choices.”

  He screwed up his face and tapped the side of his head. “Nothing is leaping to the forefront of my mind, but there is an itch I cannot reach. There is something around the concept of a barrier, and the Great Wall is involved. I just need the idea to materialise within the murk.”

  “We need an index of all these things,” Cara muttered. How marvellous it would be to simply look up the word protection and have a device spit out a myriad of answers and leads. “Nate and his men are still pulling apart the Curator’s compound. You will have more books to add to your collection when they are done.”

  A few had already made their way into Cara’s private collection. Their covers tingled with the faint resonance of power.

  He turned to her with a milky gaze that reminded Cara of the stars at night and the wide expanse of space. “Do be careful, my dear. My former teacher gathered many items from around the world, and some of them are terrible in both form and function. I would not like to see you hurt.”

  From Cara’s experience to date, most artifacts operated like a double-edged sword. Power had a dark side that often consumed the person who sought to wield it.

  Malachi patted Cara’s hand when she remained silent. “Is there anything else you need to research while I wait for my old brain to answer my request about protective devices?”

  Cara stared at her drawing. The leaves rustled on an invisible breeze across the paper, and a shiver ran down her spine. She let out a heavy sigh. There was a topic her brain refused to tackle, but knowledge was power, and she suspected they needed all the help they could muster with this particular artifact.

  “There’s a box. The Curator carried it with him at the end; I think it was something he planned to use once he was reborn. It looks like a solid block of obsidian, and its surfaces are covered in patterns and runes. There are no seams or hinges. But—” The words dried in her throat and refused to form.

  “But?” he prompted when she fell silent.

  “There’s something inside it,” she whispered.

  “How do you know?”

  Her hands spread over her stomach, as though her fingers could shield the life within from her words. “I can feel it, and it terrifies me.”

  5

  Late May

  Nan, Nessy, and Rachel returned to Lowestoft in time for the girl to start her schooling with the new tutor. Nate had gone to London to fetch him, and they were all assembled on the rear lawn when the Hellcat landed.

  “Do let him be young, delicious, and in need of educating,” Nessy whispered.

  Nan shushed her lifelong friend. “He’s to be Rachel’s tutor and would probably have a thing or two to teach you.”

  Nessy let out an audible sigh as she took Nan’s warning completely the wrong way.

  The airship’s metal ramp hit the ground, and Nate was the first one down. He was followed by an older gentleman, somewhere in his sixties but with a sparkle in his eye that reminded Cara of Malachi. Not overly tall and slender of frame, he carried himself with the rigid spine of a man who had spent some time in the military. He had a head of riotous, pure white hair that stuck out at all angles and gave him the appearance of both genial grandfather and mad scientist.

  Nate stopped before them and took her hand. “Cara, this is Professor Taras Isayev. Professor, may I introduce my wife, Lady Lyons.”

  “Enchanté, my lady.” The professor bowed.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Professor Isayev.” Cara frowned at her husband over the top of the professor’s bowed head.

  What game was Nate playing? He had promised her that the tutor he engaged was well qualified for the position and had a scientific interest in examining the artifacts they hunted and hid away in a cavern deep under the estate. Yet on seeing him, she wondered if he would be up to the job or had any idea of the scale of the task before him. Many of the artifacts could kill in the wrong hands, and anyone brought into their inner circle had to be thoroughly screened.

  The professor pulled a letter from his jacket pocket and handed it to Cara. “For you, my lady, from the Countess Natalie Dukov.”

  “You know Natalie?” Cara asked as she turned the envelope over in her hands.

  The professor grinned. “Some years ago, I had the pleasure of tutoring the countess. She kept me on my toes, I must say. Her husband the count was the one who recommended me to Viscount Lyons.”

  Cara glared at her husband. Why hadn’t he revealed that little detail? Any objections to the old man shrivelled on her tongue. If he coped with Natalie and came recommended by Nikolai, then he was the perfect addition to their expanding family.

  Cara placed a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “This is Rachel, our adopted daughter.”

  “Zdravstvujtye, Professor Isayev,” Rachel said and held out her right hand.

  The professor’s face lit up. “You speak Russian? How marvellous.”

  A blush crept up Rachel’s pale face. “I only know a few words that Miguel taught me. He knows Russian, but he spends most of the year flying to New Zealand now and hasn’t been back to teach me any more.”

  The professor shook her hand and beamed at his new student. “Well, I would be delighted to help you become fluent in my native tongue. Did you know that most of the court speak French or German and only us peasants speak Russian?”

  “I would love to hear more about Russia. Cara and Nate have promised to take me one day. Especially to Siberia,” Rachel whispered and glanced from one adult to another. Her desire to visit Siberia was fuelled by stories of the dragons hiding in the deep forest. Three weren’t enough, apparently.

  “Learn a little more Russian, and then we will go.” Nate stroked Rachel’s hair. Then he turned to Cara. “If you could show the professor his rooms please, Cara, I have business to discuss with Jackson. The men will take the professor’s luggage up.” Nate kissed her cheek and headed towards the large mechanical workshop that sat next to the barn.

  “This way.” Cara tucked Natalie’s letter into a pocket to treasure for later and led the little group back inside.

  Somewhat miffed that the tutor wasn’t in need of education, Nan and Nessy excused themselves to order morning tea. Cara showed student and teacher to the upstairs suite of rooms th
at Nate had transformed especially for Rachel while she was away in Leicester. The range of scientific equipment and books had the child and professor more excited than youngsters at Christmas.

  When Cara shut the door, the two were pulling out slides to put under the shiny brass microscope. She had a vague concern that they might end up harnessing lightning strikes to reanimate dead frogs.

  She wandered down to the parlour and dropped onto the sofa. Nan and Nessy sat before a low table set with morning tea.

  Nan pushed a cup of tea into Cara’s hands with a plain cracker sitting on the saucer. “Late summer will be a lovely time for the wedding. Far enough ahead for us to plan, and the weather should be fine and settled.”

  Nessy murmured her agreement around a chocolate biscuit that looked more appetising than Cara’s cracker, even though the plain, salty biscuits were a wonder for settling her morning sickness. Among the other advantages to the bond she had with Nate: he lessened her pregnancy woes by diffusing the worst of it through his body.

  “The wedding?” Cara blinked at Nan, the cup frozen halfway to her lips as the topic of conversation registered in her tired brain.

  Nan picked up a dark chocolate biscuit to add to her saucer. “Yes, dear. You promised, and it would be nice to have one before the baby arrives in October.”

  Cara sipped her tea and pondered delaying tactics, like taking Rachel and fleeing to Russia. Sergei hid dragons from the world, so he could certainly conceal a bride with cold feet. “I don’t see why. The horse has long since bolted from that particular stable. Nate and I have been married for some years now, and the child will be his legitimate heir. A wedding will just be a party.”

  Nan narrowed her eyes at her granddaughter. “Because your grandmother wants to see her granddaughter walk down the aisle and throw rice. Not that you need a fertility omen in your current state. Also, Nessy wants to get drunk at the reception and proposition some of Nate’s delicious men.”

  “Or the new tutor. He looks spry for his years, and I do love an exotic accent.” Nessy winked from behind her teacup.