Flight of Dragons(70)
The dragon blew a long, red stream of flame at what passed for a bed, reducing it to a mound of ashes within moments.
He systematically destroyed what little furniture remained before he stomped from the room and locked the door.
Daisy huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her mother’s legs as tears streamed down her face. She peeked out from behind her mother’s skirts and caught Walter’s eye.
He wanted to stay and try to provide some measure of comfort, but that dragon was an unknown quantity and he felt it best to leave. For now.
He put his finger to his lips and slipped through the door.
***
Freya surveyed the carnage. Nothing was salvageable. She sank to the floor and pulled Daisy onto her lap, wrapping her in a tight hug. The child was shaking in terror, but physically unhurt. Getting Daisy to freedom unscathed had just become Freya’s top priority.
Her child had an active imagination, but this was the first time the beast had ever reacted to it.
She laid her cheek on top of Daisy’s head and hummed a lullaby as she frantically tried to figure a way to escape.
***
Walter followed the dragon as it stomped down the stairs and into the large room at the bottom of the tower.
The moment the creature passed through the doorway, it transformed into a man and entered into a comfortably furnished room with books lining one long wall.
Walter didn’t know what to make of this at all. He’d expected some kind of cold, barren cave-like space. Not a room that could have come straight out of Lord Greymoor’s castle.
The man-dragon slumped into a chair by the fire and buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to make the wee girl cry. But Freya should have been mine. They both should have been mine.”
He scrubbed his face with his hands and stood. “That bloody dragon’s damned temper. It never fails to make things worse.” He stomped to the other side of the room and yanked the blanket and pillow from his bed. As he crossed the threshold and into the outer corridor, he returned to his dragon form.
Walter followed him back up the stairs to the upper tower room, but remained at the doorway and out of sight. He couldn’t risk the little one seeing him and causing the creature to have another fit of temper.
The dragon unlocked the door, threw the bedding into the room, and stalked off down the stairs without a word.
The creature became human once more the moment he entered the downstairs room.
He pulled a book from the shelves and extracted a well-worn piece of parchment with one torn edge from between the pages. He placed the book on the table before returning to his seat by the fire. He unfolded the page in his hand and read aloud. “The dragon will give way to the man only when he’s drawn the virgin’s blood of a flame-haired woman.” He leaned back against the back of the chair, closing his eyes as he rested his head. “It had to be her. She’s the only flame-haired woman I know. It had to be her. If only I had acted sooner.”
Hours later, the man-beast fell into a fitful slumber and Walter gave up on learning anything more from him.
***
Greymoor wasn’t the least bit surprised when he woke to Walter sitting on his bed sporting a wide grin. He just sighed. No doubt the ghost had found him yet another perfect mate. He looked forward to the day when Walter directed his match-making tendencies in a different direction. “What now?”
“I’ve found Freya.”
The words sent Greymoor’s heart racing so fast, his head felt light and he feared he might pass out. He took a moment to calm himself, certain he’d misheard. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve found Freya.”
“Walter, I don’t even want to know how or what you know about Freya, but if this is some kind of jest, I don’t find it amusing at all.”
“No jest, my lord. I’ve found her.”
Greymoor stared intently at Walter, looking for any sign that the ghost was playing him false. Deep in his heart, he knew Walter would never play such a cruel joke, but after so many years without any hint of his love, he found it difficult to accept the news at face-value.
“Where is she?”
“In the Northern Marches. She’s being held captive by a dragon.”
A dragon? How utterly ridiculous. Greymoor immediately regretted allowing hope to spark. How could Walter do such a horrible thing? It didn’t make sense. Perhaps life in the spirit world was affecting his sanity. Greymoor let his hurt feelings take control.
“Get out! Get out, and never come back. I took you at your word. How dare you play such a foul trick on me.”
“It’s no trick, my lord. I promise. There really is a dragon—”