Key of Knowledge
Page 2
In her world he didn’t exist. Except when he was writhing in pain and agony from some horrible freak accident or a debilitating and disfiguring illness.
It was too bad that her brother, Flynn, had the bad taste to be his friend. But she could forgive Flynn for it, and even give him points for loyalty, since he and Jordan and Bradley Vane had been pals since childhood.
And somehow or other, both Jordan and Brad were connected to the quest. It was something she would have to tolerate for the duration.
She shifted as Flynn turned to drive through the open iron gates, angled her head so that she could look up at one of the two stone warriors that guarded the entrance to the house.
Big, handsome, and dangerous, Dana thought. She’d always liked men who were—even if they were sculptures.
She scooted up, but kept the long length of her legs on the seat—the only way for her to ride comfortably in the back of the car.
She was a tall woman with an amazon’s build that would’ve suited that stone warrior. She combed her fingers through her long swing of brown hair. Since Zoe, the currently unemployed hairdresser and Dana’s new best friend, had styled it and added highlights, it fell into that casual bell shape with little or no help from Dana. It saved her time in the morning, which she appreciated, as morning wasn’t her best time of day. And the cut was flattering, which suited her vanity.
Her eyes, a deep, dark brown, locked on the elegant sprawl of black stone that was the house at Warrior’s Peak. Part castle, part fortress, part fantasy, it spread over the rise, speared up into a sky as clear as black glass.
Lights shimmered against its many windows, and still, Dana imagined, there were so many secrets in the shadows.
She’d lived in the valley below for all the twenty-seven years of her life. And for all of them, the Peak had been a fascination. Its shape and shadow on the rise above her pretty little town had always struck her as something out of a faerie tale—and not the tidied-up, bloodless versions either.
She’d often wondered what it would be like to live there, to wander through all the rooms, to walk out on the parapet or gaze down from a tower. To live so high, in such magnificent solitude, with the majesty of the hills all around and the charm of the woods only steps beyond the door.
She stirred herself now, shifting around so her head was between Flynn’s and Malory’s.
They were so damn cute together, she thought. Flynn with his deceptively easygoing nature, Malory with her need for order. Flynn with his lazy green eyes, Malory with her bright, bold blue ones. There was Mal, with her stylish coordinated outfits, and Flynn, who was lucky if he could put his hands on a pair of matching socks.
Yes, Dana decided, they were perfect for one another.
She thought of Malory as her sister now, through circumstance and fate. And really, wasn’t that how Flynn had become her brother all those years ago when her father and his mother had married and merged families?
When her dad had gotten sick, she’d leaned hard on Flynn. She supposed they’d leaned hard on each other more than once. When the doctors had recommended that her father move to a warmer climate, when Flynn’s mother had shoved the responsibility of running the Valley Dispatch into Flynn’s hands and he’d found himself the publisher of a small-town paper instead of living his dream of honing his reporting skills in New York.
When the boy she’d loved had left her.
When the woman he’d intended to marry had left him.
Yeah, they’d had each other—through thick and thin. And now, in their own ways, they each had Malory. It was a nice way to round things out.
“Well.” Dana laid her hands on their shoulders. “Here we go again.”
Malory turned, gave Dana a quick smile. “Nervous?”
“Not so much.”
“It’s either you or Zoe tonight. Do you want to be picked?”
Ignoring the little flutter in her stomach, Dana shrugged. “I just want to get going on it. I don’t know why we have to go through all this ceremony. We already know what the deal is.”
“Hey, free food,” Flynn reminded her.
“There is that. Wonder if Zoe’s here yet. We can dive into whatever our hosts, Rowena and Pitte, picked up in the land of milk and honey, then get this show on the road.”
She climbed out the minute Flynn stopped the car, then Dana stood with her hands on her hips, studying the house while the ancient man with a shock of white hair hurried up to take the keys.
“Maybe you’re not nervous.” Malory came to stand beside her, linked arms. “But I am.”
“Why? You dunked your shot.”
“It’s still up to all of us.” She looked up at the white flag with its key emblem that flew atop the tower.
“Just think positive.” Dana drew in a long breath. “Ready?”
“If you are.” Malory held out a hand for Flynn’s.
They walked toward the huge entrance doors, which swung open at their approach.
Rowena stood in the flood of light, her hair a firestorm falling over the bodice of a sapphire velvet dress. Her lips were curved in welcome, her exotic green eyes bright with it.
Gems sparkled at her ears, her wrists, her fingers. On a long braided chain that hung nearly to her waist was a crystal as clear as water and as fat as a baby’s fist.
“Welcome.” Her voice was low and musical and seemed to hold hints of forests and caves where faeries might dwell. “I’m so pleased to see you.” She held out her hands to Malory, then leaned forward and kissed both of her cheeks in turn. “You look wonderful, and well.”
“So do you, always.”
With a light laugh, Rowena reached for Dana’s hand. “And you. Mmm, what a wonderful jacket.” She skimmed her fingers along the sleeve of the butter-soft leather. But even as she spoke, she was looking beyond them and out the door. “You didn’t bring Moe?”
“It didn’t seem like quite the occasion for a big, clumsy dog,” Flynn told her.
“It’s always the occasion for Moe.” Rowena rose on her toes to peck Flynn’s cheek. “You must promise to bring him next time.”
She slid her arm through Flynn’s. “Come, we’ll be comfortable in the parlor.”
They crossed the great hall with its mosaic floor, moved through the wide arch to the spacious room glowing from the flames in the massive hearth and the light of dozens of white candles.
It was too bad that her brother, Flynn, had the bad taste to be his friend. But she could forgive Flynn for it, and even give him points for loyalty, since he and Jordan and Bradley Vane had been pals since childhood.
And somehow or other, both Jordan and Brad were connected to the quest. It was something she would have to tolerate for the duration.
She shifted as Flynn turned to drive through the open iron gates, angled her head so that she could look up at one of the two stone warriors that guarded the entrance to the house.
Big, handsome, and dangerous, Dana thought. She’d always liked men who were—even if they were sculptures.
She scooted up, but kept the long length of her legs on the seat—the only way for her to ride comfortably in the back of the car.
She was a tall woman with an amazon’s build that would’ve suited that stone warrior. She combed her fingers through her long swing of brown hair. Since Zoe, the currently unemployed hairdresser and Dana’s new best friend, had styled it and added highlights, it fell into that casual bell shape with little or no help from Dana. It saved her time in the morning, which she appreciated, as morning wasn’t her best time of day. And the cut was flattering, which suited her vanity.
Her eyes, a deep, dark brown, locked on the elegant sprawl of black stone that was the house at Warrior’s Peak. Part castle, part fortress, part fantasy, it spread over the rise, speared up into a sky as clear as black glass.
Lights shimmered against its many windows, and still, Dana imagined, there were so many secrets in the shadows.
She’d lived in the valley below for all the twenty-seven years of her life. And for all of them, the Peak had been a fascination. Its shape and shadow on the rise above her pretty little town had always struck her as something out of a faerie tale—and not the tidied-up, bloodless versions either.
She’d often wondered what it would be like to live there, to wander through all the rooms, to walk out on the parapet or gaze down from a tower. To live so high, in such magnificent solitude, with the majesty of the hills all around and the charm of the woods only steps beyond the door.
She stirred herself now, shifting around so her head was between Flynn’s and Malory’s.
They were so damn cute together, she thought. Flynn with his deceptively easygoing nature, Malory with her need for order. Flynn with his lazy green eyes, Malory with her bright, bold blue ones. There was Mal, with her stylish coordinated outfits, and Flynn, who was lucky if he could put his hands on a pair of matching socks.
Yes, Dana decided, they were perfect for one another.
She thought of Malory as her sister now, through circumstance and fate. And really, wasn’t that how Flynn had become her brother all those years ago when her father and his mother had married and merged families?
When her dad had gotten sick, she’d leaned hard on Flynn. She supposed they’d leaned hard on each other more than once. When the doctors had recommended that her father move to a warmer climate, when Flynn’s mother had shoved the responsibility of running the Valley Dispatch into Flynn’s hands and he’d found himself the publisher of a small-town paper instead of living his dream of honing his reporting skills in New York.
When the boy she’d loved had left her.
When the woman he’d intended to marry had left him.
Yeah, they’d had each other—through thick and thin. And now, in their own ways, they each had Malory. It was a nice way to round things out.
“Well.” Dana laid her hands on their shoulders. “Here we go again.”
Malory turned, gave Dana a quick smile. “Nervous?”
“Not so much.”
“It’s either you or Zoe tonight. Do you want to be picked?”
Ignoring the little flutter in her stomach, Dana shrugged. “I just want to get going on it. I don’t know why we have to go through all this ceremony. We already know what the deal is.”
“Hey, free food,” Flynn reminded her.
“There is that. Wonder if Zoe’s here yet. We can dive into whatever our hosts, Rowena and Pitte, picked up in the land of milk and honey, then get this show on the road.”
She climbed out the minute Flynn stopped the car, then Dana stood with her hands on her hips, studying the house while the ancient man with a shock of white hair hurried up to take the keys.
“Maybe you’re not nervous.” Malory came to stand beside her, linked arms. “But I am.”
“Why? You dunked your shot.”
“It’s still up to all of us.” She looked up at the white flag with its key emblem that flew atop the tower.
“Just think positive.” Dana drew in a long breath. “Ready?”
“If you are.” Malory held out a hand for Flynn’s.
They walked toward the huge entrance doors, which swung open at their approach.
Rowena stood in the flood of light, her hair a firestorm falling over the bodice of a sapphire velvet dress. Her lips were curved in welcome, her exotic green eyes bright with it.
Gems sparkled at her ears, her wrists, her fingers. On a long braided chain that hung nearly to her waist was a crystal as clear as water and as fat as a baby’s fist.
“Welcome.” Her voice was low and musical and seemed to hold hints of forests and caves where faeries might dwell. “I’m so pleased to see you.” She held out her hands to Malory, then leaned forward and kissed both of her cheeks in turn. “You look wonderful, and well.”
“So do you, always.”
With a light laugh, Rowena reached for Dana’s hand. “And you. Mmm, what a wonderful jacket.” She skimmed her fingers along the sleeve of the butter-soft leather. But even as she spoke, she was looking beyond them and out the door. “You didn’t bring Moe?”
“It didn’t seem like quite the occasion for a big, clumsy dog,” Flynn told her.
“It’s always the occasion for Moe.” Rowena rose on her toes to peck Flynn’s cheek. “You must promise to bring him next time.”
She slid her arm through Flynn’s. “Come, we’ll be comfortable in the parlor.”
They crossed the great hall with its mosaic floor, moved through the wide arch to the spacious room glowing from the flames in the massive hearth and the light of dozens of white candles.
