“Like who? The police?” Sam picked up the box and closed it. “What would I even say? Someone’s leaving me presents, and I want them arrested?”
“Might not be the worst idea.”
“What if someone lost these? What if they need them back and I’ve just - I don’t know, kept them like some kind of thief?”
Pat’s expression suggested he thought that was unlikely. “Sam. People who can afford to give away twenty-thousand-dollar gifts don’t lose them by accident.” He pulled the bar towel through his hands. “Either someone very wealthy is interested in you, or something strange is going on. Maybe both.”
“Strange how?”
“I don’t know, but you be careful, yeah? Lock your doors. Pay attention when you’re walking home.” Pat’s face softened slightly. “It could be harmless. It could be someone who fancies you and doesn’t know how normal people talk to each other these days. Although gold bars on doorsteps aren’t normal.”
Sam packed everything back into his backpack, his hands not quite steady. Pat was right in that nothing about it was normal, but Sam’s biggerconcern was that nothing about the gift-giving made sense.
He left the pub as full dark settled over Dinetell, backpack heavy against his shoulders. The walk home took fifteen minutes through quiet streets, past the boutiques on Ashford Lane, past the library with its warm lights.
He didn’t notice the Range Rover parked three houses down from his cottage, didn’t see the three figures inside, watching his front door with luminous eyes that tracked his every movement.
He definitely didn’t hear Rux’s quiet voice: “He kept them. That’s good, right?”
Or Mabon’s uncertain reply: “I think so?”
Or Urien’s low rumble: “He didn’t smile.”
Chapter Six
Rux
“This is not going well.” Monday morning found Rux stabbing at his eggs with more force than strictly necessary.
“He took everything to the pub.” Fork met plate with a sharp clink. “Showed that bartender. He probably thought we were trying to scam him.”
“We didn’t exactly leave a return address.” Mabon pushed his untouched toast around his plate. “Or any way for him to respond.”
“How was he supposed to respond?” Urien’s coffee cup hit the table hard. “Dear anonymous stalker, thank you for the gold bar, please leave more expensive items on my doorstep next week.”
Rux’s dragon rumbled unhappily in his chest. A week of carefully selected gifts - premium coffee beans, special editions tracked down through three different book dealers, artisan chocolate from Belgium, a custom mug commissioned from that potterin Glastonbury, the softest cashmere jumper Mabon could find - and their Treasure looked more anxious than courted.
“The gold bar was too much.” Mabon rubbed his temples. “I told you the gold bar was too much.”
“Dragons give gold.” Rux threw his hands up. “It’s traditional. It’s what we do.”
“We also used to eat knights who annoyed us, but I don’t see you suggesting that. What do you suggest we do? Find a knight and leave his leg on Sam’s doorstep so he knows we can protect him?”
Urien’s chair scraped back. He paced to the window and stared out at his garden. His reflection showed the same frustration Rux felt burning under his skin.
“He didn’t throw them away.” Urien’s voice was quiet. “He kept them. He simply took them somewhere safe to verify they were real.”
“Because he thought someone made a mistake.” Mabon pulled upsomething on his laptop. “Or that we’re criminals. Look, I’ve been reading forums. When people receive unexpected expensive gifts, they worry about scams, money laundering, or stolen goods.”
“Our gold isn’t stolen.”
“Sam doesn’t know that.”
Rux shoved his plate away. His dragon wanted to shift and fly to that cottage so he could explain everything properly. He wanted to show Sam exactly what they were, what he meant to them, and why gold bars were genuinely reasonable gifts when a dragon had been hoarding wealth for centuries.
“So what do we do?” He looked between his mates. “Keep leaving things? Stop leaving things? Neither option gets us closer to him.”
“We have to talk to him.” Mabon closed his laptop with quiet finality. “Properly. Face to face.”
