Chapter Three – Evaine

Evaine had got lucky. She knew that. If ghost guy—yeah, she was still trying to figure out what a man in a long white robe was doing out after dark—hadn’t come along, she would have been pulverized by that… What was he?

She wanted to think he was a man, who had overdone the steroids, but she was beyond fooling herself. The voice had called it a degetty: a demon, which was impossible, they didn’t exist in the real world. However, since the two men had abducted her from her small rented apartment in Bournemouth, covered her head in a hood, and taken her to some kind of warehouse, where a man had handed her a sword and told her to go get the Dragon’s Tear, she’d stopped thinking anything was impossible.

Especially since the man, who had a cross tattooed on his cheek, had told her if she didn’t get what he wanted, her mom would get hurt.

Her mom. She shook her head, and then repeated the words again. How did they even know who her mom was, when Eva didn’t? Until last night, she had no idea her mom was still alive. The woman had abandoned Eva as a child, with only a note attached to her with her name on it. First name. She didn’t even have a surname. Which meant she had no way to trace her family. She’d been alone her whole life.

So how these goons knew who Eva was and where to find her, she had no idea.

Which led her to her next conundrum. How did she know the woman they showed her, bruised, bound and gagged, was her mom and not some random person whom they had dragged in off the streets?

Because of her sixth sense. What else?

As soon as the question popped into Eva’s head, that this woman might not be her mom, the voice had told her it was. It had told her so firmly, so emphatically, that Eva had agreed to Crosshead’s demands—go to the coordinates he gave her, that there she would find a deep gully, and at the bottom of the gully, an entrance, into which she must go, to retrieve the Dragon’s Tear.

Evaine checked her rearview mirror. She wasn’t being followed; it was time to arrange a meeting and trade the stone for her mom. She pressed her hand on her thigh, feeling the small bump of hardness where the stone was still nestled in her pocket. Reassured, Eva pulled the car over to the side of the road, then dug around inside the glove compartment and pulled out the phone he’d given her. She didn’t own a cell phone, of her own, never saw the use for one, at least this one was one of those newer, lighter, flip phones.

Flipping it open, she pressed dial on the only number entered in the phone, and then she waited. It rang. And she waited. Then a voice answered. “You have it?”

“Yes.” Do you think I’d be calling you if I hadn’t?

“Go to Jacobs Pond. Leave your car. Someone will be waiting.” The line went dead.

“Great.” Jacobs Pond was isolated; at this time of night, no one would see her. This was madness. They would take her, and she would never be seen again. But what choice did she have? If she didn’t go, the woman who gave birth to her would die. If she did go, they both might die. She didn’t need her sixth sense to tell her this was not going to end well.

Eva drove toward the forest, passing over a cattle guard, slowing the car as she drove deeper into the forest. Wild horses roamed across the forest, and if she rounded a corner at speed, she didn’t want to run into one. It took all of her resolve to keep going. While she drove, her brain went over her options. There were only two. Go. Or don’t go.

Her hand absently pressed against the stone again. A Dragon’s Tear, that was what Crosshead had called it. Maybe the stone held some kind of power. A power she could harness. Holding the stone between her finger and thumb, she tried to tap into her sixth sense, surely it would know. But her sixth sense stayed silent.

There was no time to stall, no time to stop off at a library and try to figure out what the stone was. She should have waited before calling. But Crosshead would know. If he had eyes on her, someone watching, he would know she had got it. The image of ghost guy came back to her. Was he one of them, sent to assist her? That would make sense, why else would he be there? The gully was well hidden. It was not the sort of place you just happened to be passing.

Damn, she was so stupid, no wonder he’d told her his name and said she could share it with whomever she wanted. It was probably not a real name, but a code name, and when she told Crosshead he had helped her… What? He’d get brownie points. A pat on the head, and a there’s a good boy.

She was such a sucker.

The road dipped down under a bridge, and then rose up, the rendezvous point was less than a mile away. Last chance to pull something clever. Maybe a decoy? There were plenty of stones on the side of the road; she could stop and pick one up, and hand it over in its place. Would he know? Yes. He would. The memory of the warmth, of the glowing stone, green and blue, amber and fiery yellow, filled her head.

He would know. She would have to go along with it, and hope she could get hold of a weapon, and fight her way out. “You’d better wake up if I do, I’m going to need some help,” she told her sixth sense.

Indicating out of habit, rather than to tell the empty road she was pulling off it, she slowed, turning the car around, so it faced the road—giving her the option to make a run for it. That was a good idea. It wasn’t too late. Eva left the engine running while she weighed up what she would do.

There was still time. What did she owe the woman who was her mom? She had dumped Eva when she was a helpless baby. What right did she have to expect Eva to help her?

Eva screwed up her eyes, trying to block the image of her mom out. That image was what made Eva weak; it was the reason she had to help her mom. When Eva had been abducted and taken to the warehouse, and given this task, she had asked to see her mom. More out of curiosity than anything else, she wouldn’t know her mom if she saw her.

She’d expected to be shown a woman begging for her life. Instead, she was shown a woman who had spoken only three words. “Don’t do it.”

The flood of questions that entered Eva’s head when she heard that statement were overwhelming. Why shouldn’t she do it? What did her mom know about it, the Dragon’s Tear? What did she know about Eva? She had the answers to all the whys Eva had ever asked.

Why did you abandon me? That was the biggest why.

And Eva had come to one conclusion as she drove to the gully. Her mom had abandoned her so that she would never retrieve the Dragon’s Tear. That piece of information was slipped in by her sixth sense.

It was all tied together. Her life, being abandoned, and this Dragon’s Tear, were linked.

Eva turned off the engine and killed the lights. She wasn’t going to run. She couldn’t run. She needed answers.

A knock on the window made her heart hammer in her chest. Had he been there all along, waiting for her to make her decision? She rolled down the window.

“Get out.” The voice was one she had heard before. Not Crosshead. One of the others.

She opened the door and got out, sweeping the area with her eyes. No other car. Was he going to kill her? Here. And take the Dragon’s Tear? What about her mom?

Eva flexed her hands and her arms. Getting ready to fight. She didn’t know how to fight. Not for her life. A soothing voice in her head told her to relax. She would know; when she needed to fight, she would be able to fight. She was strong—and Eva believed it.

“Keys.” He held his hand out, and she hesitated, but then handed over the keys. “Passenger seat.”

She let out her breath, and walked around to the other side of the car, and got in. He was going to take her to Crosshead. She slipped into her seat quickly, taking advantage of the interior light to get a quick glimpse of his features, before a hood was put over her head. Dark features, a broad forehead, with a long nose. The glimpse was fleeting, and Eva could not be sure if she would recognize him in a police lineup. It was naïve of her to think that would ever happen, but she still tried to anchor this in reality. Right now, Eva needed to believe life was like a TV show, the bad guy got caught, went to court, and got put away.

He started the car, and drove. The rattle of a cattle guard, followed by the sound of traffic, told her they had left the forest. Which direction he took her in, she couldn’t figure out, she could only wait. He hadn’t asked about the Dragon’s Tear; if he was taking her somewhere to kill her and dump her body, he would have asked first. He would have made sure it was in his possession before dumping her body.

This was her only comfort as the time passed by, time she could not count. Half an hour, more, the sack over her head seemed to rob her of more than her sight. It disoriented her, and she wanted to drag it off her head. However, her logical brain, told her that if he had been told to stop her seeing where they were going, there was a chance she might not end up dead. If the plan was to simply kill her once they had the stone, then what was the use in hiding the destination?

Traffic noises faded, the car turned left and then right as if navigating a maze. Eva could picture an industrial area, the same warehouse she’d been taken to yesterday. They had a base. Her brain raced through every possible location she knew that would fit, taking in the time traveled. Too many to count, yet her mind desperately fought to put the pieces together.

The car stopped, and her captor opened the car door and got out, slamming it shut behind him. Eva’s hands inched up; she would have a split second, maybe more, when he would not be able to see her lift the hood and look around. She resisted the temptation, forcing herself to stay still and calm.

A cool breeze skimmed her body as he opened the passenger door, his body temporarily shielding her as he leaned down, and hooked his hand under her arm, pulling her out of the car roughly. She stumbled forward. The adrenaline that had infused her body when she was fighting for her life back in the gully had gone, leaving her on wobbly legs.

Wordlessly, he led her across asphalt, and then he stopped, knocking on a door, two hard raps. They waited. A few minutes passed and the door opened, a bright light filtered through the hood, and she smelled cheap cologne and stale sweat. The hand supporting her propelled her forward, and she nearly tripped over a small step, but stayed upright. The door shut behind them, and then she was walking again. Another door opened; they entered a room, it felt smaller, warmer, more enclosed. There they stopped, and the hood was yanked off her head.

She blinked and refocused her eyes on the man in front of her. Crosshead.

“You have it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said hoarsely.

He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

“I want to see my mom first.”

“You don’t make demands. Give it to me, or I’ll take it.”

Eva looked quickly from left to right. Two men flanked her, and Crosshead stood before her. She didn’t need her sixth sense to tell her she wouldn’t beat them alone. The sword was in the car; if she took them on, it would be hand-to-hand combat, if she were lucky. When they had taken her the first time, they had been armed with handguns. Eva had no reason to believe they were not armed now.

Pressing her lips together, she stuck her hand in her pocket and her fingers wrapped around the stone, pressing it in to the palm of her hand. She wanted to feel its reassuring warmth. It was cold.

Pulling it out, she opened her hand, palm upwards, to show it to Crosshead. He gasped, almost imperceptively. Eva looked down, hoping the gasp wasn’t because the thing in her hand was just a stone, a pebble off the ground. It wasn’t. It glowed green, and blue, not as vibrantly as before, but it still reminded her of dragon scales. However, it was still cold, and it lacked something. It lacked power.

Crosshead reached out, and took it carefully, with reverence. As he lifted it up between finger and thumb and studied it closely, he smiled with satisfaction. “At last.”

He didn’t know it wasn’t the real thing. Eva started at that thought. Was she sure it was a fake? It might not be as powerful away from the place she found it. Or maybe it needed recharging.

It didn’t matter, he believed it was real, and that was good enough for her. “Can I see my mom now? You said if I retrieved this for you, you would let us go.”

“I did.” He turned to study her, and she was sure he could read her mind, read the lie that was stamped on her forehead.

Her breath stuck in her throat, and a wave of nausea hit her. She had to tell him. She had to admit it was fake. Why?

Because he will never stop hunting you if you don’t. The only way out of this was to find the real Dragon’s Tear. The only way to find the real Dragon’s Tear was to find the one who took it.

Gareth Hollingsworth. She stepped forward, and the man to her left moved to stop her getting any closer to Crosshead.

Crosshead toward her and Eva fought the urge to run. “What?”

“It’s a fake.”

His eyes narrowed and he brought the stone close to his face, staring at it. “Don’t try to fool me.”

“I’m not. I think it got switched.”

“Switched?” Crosshead’s eyes swiveled between the two other men in the room, accusing them. They visibly paled, but remained silent.

“I was attacked, after I found it. By some big creature, that looked like a man, but it wasn’t.” This admission that there were things out there that weren’t human was huge. She’d tried to deny it, tried to explain it away, but she knew the thing was too big, too strong, to be a man. “Someone rescued me, fought it off. At least I thought he did.”

“Describe him?”

“White gown, like a robe. He gave me his name. Or at least he gave me a name.”

“Tell me.”

“Gareth Hollingsworth.” Her conscience was clear as she uttered his name. Hadn’t he given her permission to tell? If Crosshead went after him, that was his problem.

“Hollingsworth! A druid by birth.” Crosshead looked as if he might explode. He opened his hand and stared at the stone for a second, before clenching his fist and crushing the stone. Then he opened his hand and it crumbled to the ground. “A fake. A sleight of hand.”

“You know him. You can get it back.” She nodded. “Great.”

“No. You will get it back,” Crosshead said.

“Wait, the deal was I retrieve it. The rest is up to you. If he’s a druid, I am no match for him, not if he can do magic.” She pointed to the dust on the floor.

“You have three days to get me the real thing. Or your mother dies.”

With that, Crosshead left the room. The door shut behind him, and Eva had the hood flung over her head once more.