To Hell and Back by L.B. Gilbert

Chapter Fourteen

Valeria knew never to take anyone’s words at face value, which was why it bothered her that she wanted to believe everything Rhys had said at dinner. Enough that she had slept deeply all night—something that hadn’t happened in recent memory.

She woke up angry with herself and irritated with him.

That won’t do. Valeria might not have been comfortable enough to be a truly gracious guest but at least she could make the effort to fake it. Meanwhile, she didn’t have to trust anyone.

I wonder if Rhys noticed I didn’t eat or drink anything until after he had tasted it first.

She’d tried not to make it obvious, but that was the sort of thing that was difficult to disguise.

Valeria knew he wasn’t telling her everything he knew. It was the way he watched at her like he was waiting for her to say or do something specific. Was he expecting that she’d incriminate herself somehow? What was he looking for?

It was tempting to stay in her room and hide from him all day, but that wasn’t an option. She’d been fighting for her life in Los Angeles one night, lost consciousness, and woke up in an isolated rural community over a thousand miles away. She needed to get the lay of the land, to get her bearings.

Valeria went to get dressed, but her clothes were nowhere to be found. Her pack was there, closed. Her mother’s notes and letters were exactly where she had left them, tucked into the inside pocket. But other than her toiletries, the bag was empty. The only clothes she had left were the worn t-shirt and leggings she had slept in.

Suppressing a growl, she threw open the closet door and jerked in surprise. Her walk-in was more like a large bedroom. It was bigger than her studio apartment had been.

Mouth dropping open, Valeria drifted inside, her suspicion and apprehension melting into bewilderment.

She tripped a motion sensor by coming inside. Soft golden lights in recessed niches turned on overhead, illuminating a space divided by rods and lined shelves. Every bit of space held new clothing and shoes.

At first, she thought this was an overflow of some kind. She didn’t know how big this dragon clan was, but Rhys had said many people crashed here. It made sense that they would keep spare clothing for everyone.

Except all these things were new and in her size. Many of the tags had little holes where the tags had recently been removed.

Holy…

Slack-jawed, she went from rack to rack, examining the shirts, sweaters, pants, and dresses. It was organized by type and divided by color so precisely that Valeria briefly wondered if Aggie was OCD enough to do this on her own. It didn’t seem likely.

Had Rhys arranged her clothes?

The closet had an island—something Valeria had only ever seen in pictures and movies. Silky intimates were separated from cotton ones in drawers on two sides. The third side held nightwear, both satin nightgowns and thick flannel pajama sets.

She almost cried out when she found the outerwear. Coats of all descriptions occupied a special section. Wool pea-coats shared a rack with puffy down-filled jackets. A full-length cashmere camel coat was next to a long trench with a lined hood.

Unable to resist, Valeria pulled down a three-quarter-length coat in a deep red shade that was trimmed with black fur. Touching it, she wondered if it was synthetic or something Rhys had hunted down and killed himself. Snickering at the thought, she picked out a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and a light sweater. Dressing quickly, she slung the red coat over one arm, intending to wash up quickly before searching out the kitchen.

“Hullo!” Aggie popped into existence two feet away, holding a full breakfast tray.

Biting back a scream, Valeria fell against the door.

“Sorry, dearie,” Aggie said, shooting her a gap-toothed grin. “Didn’t mean to give you a fright.”

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Valeria didn’t speak until she was sure her voice was even. “Agatha, in addition to never entering the bathroom, can you please always announce yourself before popping in here?”

“Of course, dearie.”

Since that was the same answer she’d gotten for the bathroom issue, Valeria didn’t have much hope of not having the stuffing scared out of her again.

Valeria had never met a brownie before. She was going to have to make a study on how to talk to the Fae. She knew enough about them to be aware that there were rules to it. Until then, she’d have to muddle through.

“I brought you some food,” Aggie said. The tray disappeared from her hand, reappearing on top of the little table opposite the television.

“Did Rhys eat already?” Valeria assumed as much given how high the sun was.

“Oh yes. Hours ago,” the Fae confirmed cheerfully.

Aggie blinked out of existence, reappearing next to the table with a carafe of orange juice. When she raised her arm, a diner-style coffee pot appeared. She poured a generous steaming amount into a thick earthenware mug. “You’ll have to get up quite early to dine with him. He likes to wake with the sun, that one does.”

Drawn to the siren song of the fresh-brew, Valeria sat at the table, murmuring her thanks.

Valeria added cream and sugar to the mug, sipping gingerly. She closed her eyes as the rich bold nectar hit her system. “This is excellent coffee.”

“Thank you, dearie. I roast the beans myself—the master prefers mine to the store-bought stuff.”

The Fae pushed the tray toward her. There was a pile of silver-dollar pancakes, eggs Benedict, and a bowl of creamy-looking oatmeal garnished with a crust of sugar that had been melted on, like a creme brûlée. There were also some interesting little things that looked like a cross between cherries and blueberries.

“This all looks incredible, and I’m very grateful for all the trouble you’ve gone to, but I should add I don’t usually eat this much at breakfast—at any meal. So, there’s no need to go to so much trouble. If you show me the kitchen, I can fix myself some toast and pour a coffee directly from the coffeemaker.”

Aggie didn’t seem to like that, but her voice was still upbeat when she spoke. “Oh, but it’s no trouble. Besides, this is nothing to the meals I have to prepare for the master. Eat up, dearie. Once you’re done, I can show you the house if you like. Or you can explore on your own. The master said you have the run of the place.”

There was a question in her tone at that last part, but Valeria didn’t know why Rhys wanted her to feel at home any more than Aggie did. So, she murmured her thanks and started to eat.

Shrugging, the brownie popped away. The minute Valeria finished and left the table, the plates disappeared as if her standing had been the signal to whisk them away.

In their place was a set of premium drawing pencils.

Startled, Valeria picked them up. There was a note written in a bold hand.

In case you need them.

How had Rhys known she liked to draw? Yet another mystery for her to solve.

Well, you’re not going to accomplish anything sitting here. After washing up, she decided to explore the house first. She walked all along the second floor, skipping the upper level because it was Rhys’ private domain.

In addition to the bedrooms, there were several meeting rooms. Some were minimally furnished, presumably so the clan could easily adapt them for whatever was needed. The doors were open, but she didn’t know if they had been left that way so she could explore or if that was the normal state of things.

Then she found the library and was swept off her feet. The first thing that registered was the sheer number of volumes. Many were bound in leather, which fit Rhys’ old-world sensibilities, but there were also plenty of modern hardbacks and paperbacks, as well as many magazines, equally divided between science, technology, art, and the financial world.

The stunning space spanned two levels of one corner of the house, extending from the second-floor, where a wide mezzanine wrapped around the room, down to the ground floor. Unnervingly, there was no railing at the edge, which told her exactly how often non-dragon visitors stayed in this mansion.

A beautiful spiral staircase connected one level to the other. There were also long and narrow cathedral-like windows extending up through both stories. It took her a while to realize that the light coming through them was muted as if the glass was polarized like certain office buildings.

It’s to protect the books, her mind supplied.

For a second, she thought it was a missed opportunity to have beautiful stained glass, but then again what could compete with the richness of those wooden shelves?

Valeria had never fallen in love with a place before. Almost dazed, she walked along the gallery, her fingers trailing over the spines of the bookshelves bolted into the walls. Wide leather chairs were distributed intermittently around the mezzanine and in the corners of the first floor. Also below were two tables with four chairs apiece were set several yards apart—research spaces that had electrical outlets for computers just like a public library. On either side of the tables were long couches in a suede so soft, she wondered if it was synthetic.

Or is it from some exotic animal not of this world? Valeria decided she’d rather not know.

She could have spent all day—perhaps an entire week—in that library, but she pushed herself to move on to the rest of the ground floor. She walked through the big living room again, trying to picture it filled with men as large as Rhys. Even the thought of it was unsettling.

Skipping the dining room, she found the kitchen—also surprisingly modern with chrome appliances and granite countertops—but she wasn’t allowed to linger long before Aggie ushered her out. Acknowledging that was the brownie’s domain, Valeria retreated to the living room and ended up leaving the house via a pair of ground-floor patio doors.

She had known the house was situated at the top of the hill. But Valeria hadn’t appreciated how high they were up from the driveway, because the grade of the road had built so gradually. However, it was clear enough from the back of the house where she stood. It was a steeper gradient here, but not so bad that she would have had trouble walking down. There was also a wide trail winding down to a sharply delineated valley half-hidden by the pine trees.

The air was so crisp and clear it almost burned the inside of her nose. Pulling on the coat she eschewed the path, choosing to walk around the house. There was little in the way of foliage so near the house, but the smell of pine was everywhere. More immediately plentiful were boulders—odd flat ones.

She half-suspected these were for basking lizards…very large lizards. But Rhys himself probably used the redwood deck on the top floor. Valeria could only see it by walking down the road a while because it was too big and high to be seen otherwise.

What she could make out was another wrap-around and rail-less balcony. It spanned enough of the upper level, making it accessible from both Rhys’ office and the master bedroom.

She was tempted to go down one of the paths winding down the hill when she felt a strong gust of wind buffet her. Closing her eyes against the dust, she felt more than saw the shadow falling over her.

Stomach muscles clenching, Valeria couldn’t stop the spike of fear that coursed through her as Rhys landed a few yards away.

“Hello.”

Peeking cautiously from under her lashes, she saw him walking toward her on two legs, having missed the dramatic change from cottage-sized beast to intimidating man.

“Hi,” she said. Forcing herself to stand straight, she gave him a sheepish smile. “I know I shouldn’t worry about getting squished, but it’s kind of hard not to when a mythical creature lands almost on top of you.”

Rhys cocked his head. “I assure you that my control is excellent. The chances of accidental squish-age is so low as to be close to zero.”

Tittering awkwardly, she nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

A wind that had nothing to do with his wings blew her hood against the back of her head. Unused to the cold, Valeria pulled the fur-trimmed hood up.

Rhys took a step back, blinking.

“Are you okay?” she asked, wondering at his stricken expression.

“I am well,” he said, sounding more hoarse than normal. Reaching out, he touched the sleeve of the coat. “This color is becoming. I, uh, I believe it’s one of Sanaa’s favorites.”

“How is she today?” Valeria asked. “Is she about ready to pop?”

He shook his head as if to clear it, then invited her to walk at his side. “The healer says her time is almost upon us. But it’s been so long since we’ve had an actual pregnancy in the clan—and never one involving a bear shifter, which makes the healer’s diagnosis less precise. He says it could be tonight, or it could be a week from now. Fortunately, Thomas has relented on the moratorium he put on visitors since Sanaa wants them. I believe she is getting frustrated with her lack of mobility.”

“She seemed fairly active yesterday. I’m sorry she had to look after me so close to giving birth.”

“Oh, believe me, she was quite happy for the distraction. She asked about you earlier, and she wanted to extend an invitation to visit whenever you feel up to it.”

“I’d love to see her,” Valeria said, surprised to find she meant it. The jury was still out on Rhys and the others, but she was sure Sanaa was good people.

“Perhaps tomorrow.” Rhys’ dark gaze roamed over her. She could feel his scrutiny like a physical weight passing over her skin. “You’re still fatigued.”

“I’m fine,” she protested, hiding her displeasure at the observation.

She was tired, which didn’t make sense. Valeria had spent years on the move. She was used to pushing past the point of endurance, running on empty until she could afford to crash somewhere safe. Well, she was safe now. She’d been in this community for a few days—some of them unconscious, true, but still enough that she should have recouped her strength now.

I’m not this weak, she berated herself.

It was also annoying how easily Rhys could read her. She had been trained to hide her flaws and frailty from an early age. It was second nature to her now. But it seemed this dragon could see through that facade.

Could someone smell exhaustion?

She blinked as Rhys offered her his arm. “Have you toured the house?”

You’re rested enough to be in control. Touching him won’t hurt him.

Feeling like she was in a period play, she put her hand on his arm. He began to walk, leading her back to the house. “I poked around the second and main floor. You have a nice library.”

“Do you like to read?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t had much in the way of leisure time for a while, but yes.”

Public libraries had been some of her favorite places to hide. It had never mattered if she had a library card or how scruffy she had looked. As long as she’d been clean and quiet, librarians had, as a rule, never bothered her. Some had even gone a step farther and tried to help, passing her cards for women’s shelters in the area.

Librarians were her favorite people.

“I have some rare books you might find of interest. There aren’t too many on witchcraft, but I do have some diaries of notable practitioners.”

“Why?” she asked as he led her back into the library. “I thought that sort of thing didn’t interest you.”

He led her to the couch. She sat as he went to a bookshelf near one of the windows. “It doesn’t, but I mentioned treasure hunting is a hobby for my kind—some of the stereotypes humans have of dragons are true. I acquired some of these as part of such a search.”

He handed her a small, worn volume. It was bound in cloth that had split at the top and bottom corners on both sides. “This belonged to the granddaughter of a German witch named Magaretha Ramhold, who was said to consort with a dragon. According to rumor, the demonic dragon was responsible for the family’s newfound wealth. Her neighbors whispered that the dragon showered her with gold and jewels because she took it to her bed.”

Rhys sat in the adjoining armchair as she began to flip through the diary. Turning each fragile page with care, she squinted at the cramped script. “I don’t read German. Does she mention the dragon?”

Had it been a relative of his?

His smile was a touch sardonic. “Only to scoff at the rumors. Magaretha was a matriarch whose business savvy and ruthlessness caused enmity and discord in her community. Scholars concluded envy was the reason she’d been branded a witch. But years after her execution, her descendent wrote that she was a witch, one who practiced healing magic. But there was no dragon and no horde of treasure.”

Her lips twitched. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a minor disappointment, I assure you. I mostly bought it because it clarified the dragon issue—I learned after the fact that what Germans of that time called dragons were more like a household spirit.”

“Were you looking for more dragons?”

“No. If we wanted to find others of our kind, it wouldn’t be that hard. But I kept the book because the granddaughter wrote down some of her healing concoctions. We don’t have any use for them, of course, but I thought they had enough historical significance to hang on to.”

He went to a sideboard. As in a historical novel, there was a bar hidden in a cabinet. He poured a few fingers of amber liquid into a pair of rounded glasses with flat bottoms.

“No, thank you,” she said, holding up a hand when he offered it to her.

Nonplussed, he peered down at the glasses. “It’s sweet. More of a cordial, made of some kind of common nut—macadamia perhaps.”

She shook her head and he shrugged. “Sanaa liked it, back before Thomas stopped letting her imbibe spirits. Would you prefer something else?”

“Uh, well, I’m just not in the habit of drinking outside of a meal.” In truth, she didn’t drink alcohol at all. Not only was it a bad idea to compromise her reaction times and dull her senses when people were hunting her, but alcohol was expensive. Food had always been the priority.

He set the glasses on the low coffee table, making a production of taking one and sipping it.

Valeria deflated slightly. “Oh…you noticed I didn’t eat or drink anything you hadn’t tasted.”

Rhys didn’t appear offended. “Being careful about what you consume is sensible. I can’t expect you to feel comfortable here overnight. That will take time.”

He wrinkled his nose suddenly. “Although, I should add that there are numerous things I can eat or drink that you would find unsettling, even incapacitating.”

Collapsing on the couch cushions, she watched him with wry resignation. She hadn’t considered that, but it made sense. Predatory shifters ate things they hunted down. There would be plenty of things she wouldn’t be able to stomach. It made sense that a dragon’s diet would be even more extreme.

“Thanks for being honest.”

He paused, looking as if he wanted to say something, but he subsided. “I do understand,” he said, picking up the glass again.

She could tell he didn’t like the drink much. No, he’d chosen it because Sanaa liked it. The little dragon woman appeared to be his standard for all things female.

“Are there many women dragons here?”

“Just Sanaa and Eliana. Eliana is the mother of Naveen, my second in command.”

Ah. That explained his small frame of reference. “And how many of you are there?”

A shadow crossed his face. He glanced away. “There are twenty-eight in total, including me.”

The tiniest of warning bells sounded in the back of her head. There was a story there, but judging from his expression, it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. That was fine with her.

Ignoring the heavy atmosphere, she gave him a bracing smile. “Soon to be thirty.”

His face softened. “Yes.”

He sat there stiffly before taking a glass in each hand, and tossing back each glass in turn. Valeria laughed.

Rhys grinned back, a smile so unexpected and devilishly handsome it felt like a book had leaped off a shelf to hit the back of her head.

She was relieved when he left, called away by a younger man in leather who stared at her with wide curious eyes so long that she flushed, discomfited.

Why did they all watch her as if they were waiting for her to do something?