Chapter Four – Isobel

There were certainly perks to being pursued by a dragon prince richer than God. Isobel hadn't expected him to find her weakness, but when he had presented her with a nightgown made from pink silk with a high emperor waist and a sheer overskirt split at the front with puffed sleeves, she hadn't been able to contain herself. She wore silk slippers and a tiara, draped in pearls and jewels as she waltzed around her bedroom.

"Aren't you a little old to be playing princess?" Azalea yawned, sitting cross-legged on a chair.

Isobel turned her nose up at the ghost. "I'm not really playing at it. Besides, what do you care? I never got any of these pretty, fancy dresses growing up. Why is it inexcusable for adults to dress up like this?"

"But pink?"

"I like pink."

Azalea rolled her eyes. "Right. Of course. Because playing princess and dancing around in fancy nightgowns is what's important right now. If you really wanted to go to the Phantom's Cave, then you'd just go. You wouldn't wait for Edan's permission like a good little obedient girl, you'd take what you want and just go."

"Shut up." She scowled at the ghost, her mood ruined. Stomping to the vanity, she peeled off the layers of jewelry she wore. Her ears had already started to fatten up with all the good food that Edan had been feeding her. At first, he only fed her rabbit food until she asked if he was a vegetarian. Turned out that he thought she was so skinny because she was vegan without even asking her. The first hamburger she had made by the professional cooks nearly killed her. It was so delicious that it was like she had died and gone to heaven.

But what was she doing? It wasn't like she could really marry Edan and have his babies. She had a mission, one that she'd pushed aside in the sparkle of diamonds.

It was time to reclaim it.

"You're wasting time in this gilded cage." Azalea stood at her shoulder, peering at her in the mirror. "You have more potential than you're allowing yourself to think. Telling Edan you're not a psychic? I notice you didn't say that you have a ghost hanging around. Maybe you're a witch and I'm your familiar. You ever consider that?"

Isobel frowned. "Okay, this is weird. When did you decide to start being supportive?"

Azalea glanced away from her. "There's something about this place. I'm starting to remember things about my life."

"What sort of things?"

"Just . . . vague things. Like regrets. I didn't do everything I wanted to do. I didn't chase my destiny. And you're doing the same thing. So, maybe I'm here to give you a kick in the ass."

She was right. Destiny didn't fall into someone's lap. Just look at her and Edan. If she had waited for him to come to her, she wouldn't be here. Not that they were destined for each other. But it was very helpful to have so much money at her disposal to get what she wanted.

Still, she should at least tell Edan that she was leaving. On second thought, why? She quickly changed and phoned the helicopter pad, ordering them to prepare her a flight. When they asked where she was going, she told them she'd tell them when she got there.

***

"You sure this is where you want to be?" The helicopter pilot gripped her arm as she staggered unsteadily on her feet.

Flying via dragon was sickening. Flying via helicopter was worse. She found her feet again and straightened, sucking in deep breaths to stop her nausea. This was going to be just fine. The cave sat down at the base of a short trail. She pulled away from the pilot.

"I'll be back soon," she said. It was fortunate that she was able to point out the cave on a map and that the pilot hadn't known what it was. At least, she thought it was fortunate.

"Are you certain, my lady? This is very treacherous terrain."

Isobel smiled at him. "Of course. I know exactly what I am doing."

The pilot looked doubtful but nodded. Isobel headed down the trail, picking her way carefully to make sure that he didn't realize she was lying through her teeth. Her heart slammed against her chest as she entered the mouth of the cave. It was like the warmth of the day was suddenly cut out. A shudder passed down her spine and she repressed the urge to turn around and run back out.

"This is spooky," Azalea, trailing behind her, whispered.

Isobel silently agreed but continued into the darkness. The cave was dry but smelled strongly of minerals and, oddly, of old shoes. The light from the entrance soon disappeared into a small pinprick and Isobel switched on her flashlight.

Something whispered just beyond the light cast from the flashlight. The darkness pressed in closer around her, wrapping around her legs and sliding down her throat like a snake. Her heart stuttered as a feeling of pure hostility oozed from the rock walls. The tunnel got continually smaller until she felt that if she breathed too deeply, she might get stuck.

"And how far do you need to go before you get what you want?" Azalea's voice made her jump. She had all but forgotten that the ghost was there. Isobel turned, shining the light on her face.

"Grandmother always said that it would just happen. We have to be patient and calm and not freak out."

Azalea made a strangled noise in her throat. "Okay . . . but did dear old granny ever actually come into these caves? Was she a real psychic? If she didn't, then how does she know about what goes on here?"

"She came." Isobel shrugged. "Once."

"Oh. Well, then I'm full of confidence. You'd better not have brought me in here when it's just a death trap."

"You can't even die."

"How do you know? Maybe I'm attached to you by a string and I'm in a coma and if you die, so do I!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know!"

"Then stop." Isobel sucked in a deep breath. "You're just freaking me out and we can't freak out. We have to keep a level head."

"No, you do. I'm outta here."

"Wait, what about you being in a coma and tied to me?"

Azalea put her hands on her hips. "Let's face the facts here. I'm dead already."

"Then why—"

"If you are really as powerful as you think, you don't need me."

Before Isobel could say another word, the ghost had vanished. A low, annoyed hiss escaped through her teeth. How typical. Azalea pushed her into doing this and then just split. What a pathetic excuse for a ghost! It made no sense that she would get freaked out in such a place.

Unless she had lured Isobel there so that she could kill her.

The psychic turned, heart in her throat. She had only taken a few more steps when her feet slipped out from under her and she let out a strangled shout. The ground disappeared from under her and she dropped. The flashlight spun out of her hand, illuminating dank walls. Isobel reached for it, but as her fingers grasped the edge, it hit the wall and smashed. Everything went pitch black. She screamed as she threw her hands out, trying to stop her descent, but it was useless.

Her leg crumpled beneath her when she landed. Bright spots flashed before her eyes and she reached for them before she realized it was because of the pain. Sweat broke over her face as bolts of agony shot up her leg. She had landed in a puddle of water and she shivered as the damp seeped into her skin.

"Nope," she gasped. "Not happening." She attempted to stand and collapsed again with a cry of pain.

A hand grasped her arm. Isobel jerked back, but the grip only tightened. The whispers from before returned, louder this time, like nails skimming over her eardrums. Her heart slammed into her ribs and up into her throat. She couldn't even see her own hands as she clawed at the darkness, fear overwhelming her.

"Stop!" she finally shouted to herself. Her voice echoed in the small space and she tried to drag herself from the puddle. "Just stop it."

Silence. Then, a voice spoke in her ear: "We've been waiting for you."

Bile rose in her throat as the whispers started again. This time, she could hear each word clearly. Each one called, demanded, or cried for her to come to them. They shouted her name over and over and over and she screamed, pressing her hands over her ears.

Hands clamped over her arms. Long-fingered, with sharp nails and iron grips. She threw her fists out every way but there was no one there. The hands gave a mighty jerk and she felt her feet dragging against the floor. She kicked, a white-hot flash jolting up her spine. It was too hot and too cold. Her head spun and her throat felt dry. She tried to shout, but her tongue swelled until it filled her whole mouth.

A burst of flame lit the tunnel.  She yelped weakly as the red flames shot over her head. Shrieks surrounded her and, in the painful light, she saw dark shadows scurrying away. The light stabbed her eyes, but she sucked it up greedily, not wanting to be left in the dark again.

In the light, a face appeared. An angel's face with eyes as deep brown as rich loamy earth and skin the shade of the wood from a walnut tree. She moaned as she reached for him. His arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted her. The darkness closed in again, but his warm, strong arms surrounded her. His heartbeat pounded in her ears and she let it close in around her, safe and peaceful.

The next thing she knew, she was lying on her back in the sunlight and a strange man bent over her, letting water trickle down her throat. Just behind him was Azalea, her arms wrapped around her middle.

Isobel groaned, feeling oddly weak. A hand slipped into hers and she turned to see Edan, his warm brown eyes wide with worry. A rope was tied around his waist. Shoot. She should have thought about that. Maybe then she would have been able to find her way back.

Wait.

"No," she growled. She pushed the water away. "You ruined it! I was going to find my grandmother. She was going to tell me what to do. Now how am I supposed to talk to her? Take me back in right now!"

"Back?" Edan's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? I just barely got you out in time. I'm not letting you back in there."

"You’re not my boss," she growled at him. "You don't get to ask for the . . . No. I meant you don't get to tell me what to do."

Her head spun and when she tried to sit up, she found she couldn't. Darkness spun over her and she clenched her eyes shut, trying desperately not to be sick. Pain radiated from her leg and she gripped Edan's hand despite herself.

"You were in that cave for three days," the prince whispered. "It's a miracle that I even found you. I lost your scent quickly, but I heard you screaming . . . "

"Three days?"  That didn't seem right. She had only been in there a couple of hours, hadn't she?

"My lord, we need to get her to the hospital."

"I wasn't in there for three days," she argued. "I couldn't have been. Azalea . . . ?"

"Who?" Edan's brow furrowed.

Azalea crouched beside her and nodded. "It has been three days. I've been out here waiting. The dragon kept going in. Every day and night. They kept giving him a longer rope. He was quite desperate. I think he really wants you. You ought to bed him at least once . . . Look at those muscles, I'm sure he'd be fun."

Edan smoothed her hair. "Who is Azalea?"

"Nobody. I'm just confused." She smiled weakly. "Being in a cave for three days will do that to a girl."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "I will take care of you. I promise."

The other man put a hand on his shoulder. "My lord."

Edan nodded. He moved Isobel onto a stretcher. She tried to turn her head to keep looking at him but her neck was too stiff . . . No. She was wearing a collar. His hand remained in hers, though. He stayed close as he began to wheel her towards the helicopter. Azalea trailed after, her expression actually guilty . . . 

Isobel ignored the ghost for now. Edan had gone into the cave repeatedly after her. Why would he do that? There were other women he could pursue. What was so important about her?

Her eyes drifted closed and she pushed the thoughts away. It didn't matter. He was here with her. That was all that mattered.