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“You’d be wise not to wander around alone. It could be dangerous,” Owen warned, giving her the change.
“Because of the missing girls?” she questioned, then added, looking at his hand. “Keep it, and I don’t scare easily. Do you mind pointing me in the right direction? Most of these roads have no street signs.”
“Continue down the road, and when you come to a dead end, turn left. You’ll come to a church, and it’s not much farther.”
“Thank you,” she said.
We watched her leave. “What do you make of that?” Owen asked.
“I’m not sure, but I better get going. I don’t need her beating me there,” I said, getting up. “Put it on my tab, all right, butt.”
Owen nodded.
I cut through the beer garden and continued on the trail leading back to Môr Haven Manor. The wind from the ocean cut through the trees, sending leaves flying everywhere. I took my woolen beanie off, enjoying the cool air as I picked up my pace. Normally, I wouldn’t be concerned. But Sir Leonard’s funeral and Keir Wilson’s warning for us to lay low was fresh in my mind. If the red bloodsucker knew who we were, it was only a matter of time before she found each of us.
The girl was too young to be the Dearg Due and too naïve. Perhaps she was a spy working for the enemy.
I felt my skin prickle with an all too similar sensation.
Y Ddraig Goch.
The red dragon simmered beneath my skin. The fire in his soul heated my blood.
He was called Vortigern, and he was on alert.
The woods were dense, and I ducked under low-hanging branches, hurrying until the trees began to open up as I entered the clearing.
Môr Haven Manor.
Twenty acres of ancient wooden valley leading down to the beach. The main house sat off in the distance, impressive and stalwart. Three stories tall, the stone walls were covered in thick, bare ivy branches devoid of leaves at this time of the year, giving the building an almost ominous feeling. I followed the cobbled road until I came to my small rundown caravan and opened the door, going in. Strong gusts of wind howled through the thin walls, causing the trailer to shake. It would be cold tonight. I watched from the window until I saw a red Fiat 500 coming down the road. The girl parked the car and got out, walking around.
She was fit. Shoulder-length blue-black hair blew madly around her face, and her cheeks were stained pink from the biting chill. She wrapped her black leather jacket tightly around her, shuddering.
I opened the door and walked toward her.
“It’s you,” she said as I came closer. “From the pub.”
I stopped and folded my arms across my chest. “How can I help you?”
“Do you work here?” she asked.
“Something like that.” Her full lips pursed together in question. I had the urge to touch her to see what her energy felt like. The dragon had an innate ability to feel the vibrational pull of others. His gift trickled down to me. Except at the moment, I could feel nothing from this girl.
“Um, I’m looking for Mr. Ellis.”
“Mr. Ellis is dead,” I said, my eyes narrowing.
“Dead,” she said, surprised. “When did he die?”
“Three years ago.”
“And who are you?”
I laughed at her nerve. “The question is, who areyou? You’re trespassing on private property.”
She paused and looked around, biting the skin around her thumbnail. “Oh, um, my name is Navy Bardot.”
“What kind of name is Navy?”
