Chapter Fourteen – Magnus

The sense of loss hit him hard. He stood by his sister’s side as she wept over their mother’s grave. It was just the two of them now. Brother and sister, two creatures who had no place in this world. He’d tried to fit in, but he was tired of hiding his true self, he needed to be free. But Emi was scared. Frightened that if they shifted, someone would see and they would be speared through their hearts, like their father. But that wasn’t her greatest fear. No. That was simpler. She was scared of being alone.

Scared that he would shift and be seen and die, leaving her all alone in the world. No matter how many times he told her they were safe here, among the shifters of Bear Creek, she wouldn’t listen. Fear and grief overtook her. And so he’d promised to never leave her and never shift.

But that promise weighed heavily on him. His dragon fought to be free, to rise above the mountains and fly on currents of air brought here from the distant desert plains across the oceans.

“Magnus.” Ruby’s voice was soft, stirring him as the memory faded. “What did you see?”

“My sister. Emi. We were by my mother’s grave. She was scared of what might happen to us. We were young and I made a promise not to shift.” He tried to focus on Ruby’s face, to use her as a rock in a storm.

“That’s a start.” She got up and took his hand and he found comfort in her touch. “Come on. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have.” He looked up at her. “It was so real. But it’s fading fast. I can’t hold onto the images, only the feelings and the knowledge of what happened.”

“If you see your paintings, they might help. You might have painted her.” Ruby helped him to his feet, then kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Magnus straightened up. “I’m all right now.” His strength returned and the need to protect was overwhelming. Was that from a sense of guilt? Had he let his sister down and she’d died a terrible death. Surely, he would remember such pain and misery. Or was that why he’d shut out those memories? Or worse, had he sought out a man to cast a spell to make him forget?

All he knew was that he could never rest now until he knew the truth of what happened to Emi.

They went back downstairs. Magnus looked around, letting his mind float away in the hope something he saw in the carvings might jog his memory. But none of it seemed familiar. Only the doors. He paused, standing on the doorstep and looking at the wooden door once more. Nothing. Frustrated, he walked down the steps in his new pants and boots. They were comfortable, but stiff, needing to be worn in.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby said, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“About what?”

“About your memories. You look upset.” She led them around the side of the library and across the street to a grassy area. Taking the footpath that led around it, they soon arrived at another large stone building, with a sign proudly displayed that read “Museum.”

“I’m frustrated. Why do I get flashes of memories and then they simply slide away as if they’d never been there? I can’t remember the details, it’s as if they happened to someone else.” He stopped on the steps of the museum and looked up. Was he supposed to remember this place? Had he been here before? If it was the home of Peregrine Manning, who according to the library records was his friend and benefactor, then he must have visited here on more than one occasion.

“Small steps. They might come back in bite-sized chunks. You experienced two memories in the last twenty-four hours, that’s two more than in all the time that’s passed since Fara found you.” Ruby’s tone reassured him, her touch soothed his soul, which ached for those who had passed. The people he’d been friends with, who were gone and forgotten.

He had to agree with his mate, even though it wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to spend weeks or months with small glimpses of his past, he wanted it all. He wanted his dragon.

A hot flash of rage swept through him. Balling his fists, he fought to control it. There, in his mind, was his dragon. A powerful beast waiting to rip through the veil between their minds and burst out into the world. Magnus fought for control. And won. Not because he was stronger, but because as quick as the beast had invaded his mind, he was gone.

“Everything all right?” Ruby asked. He hated the concern that was a constant mask on her face this morning. He was slowly losing his grip on reality, and it scared her, and it scared him. What if he hurt her? What if his dragon hurt her?

“I am fine.” He forced a smile on his face and lifted his gaze to the ornate ceiling. “Where do we look first?”

Ruby picked up a leaflet from a table in the lobby area and scanned it. “First floor, east wing. There’s an art gallery showcasing paintings from local artists through the ages.”

They skirted around the other exhibits, passing the collection of ancient coins and fossils, and climbed the ornate spiral staircase. At the top, Magnus looked down at the scene below. He had been here before. A ball, with dancing, and an orchestra set on a dais to his right. He twitched, wincing at a sharp pain in his head.

“Magnus? Magnus, are you all right?” Ruby grabbed hold of his wrist as he rammed the heel of his hand into his temple.

“Yes.” He took a breath and tried to relax and look normal. People were staring, and he could not afford to draw attention to himself. If people knew what he was, they would fear him, even in a town full of shifters. He swallowed down his fear and nodded once more. “Let’s go.”

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” she asked. “Every time you remember something it gets worse.”

“A little. But I’m not stopping. Perhaps the barrier between my conscious and subconscious mind is being torn down. Each new memory takes out a section of it.”

“But what happens if it all falls down?” Ruby asked in a hushed whisper.

“Is this it?” He pointed to a large glass door, behind which was a room filled with paintings hung on the wall, their large gilt frames a stark contrast to the modern decor of the room.

“Yes.” Ruby looked down at the leaflet in her hand. “They are arranged in chronological order. Which puts yours around here.” She stabbed at the map in her hand and with a last worried look cast his way, pushed open the door and went inside.

The room was almost silent as people talked in hushed whispers. Ruby beckoned him forward and he followed her to a section of paintings depicting ladies in long dresses and men in frock coats and tall hats. To Magnus, they were dressed in normal everyday attire, unlike his hiking boots and combat pants. More than ever he believed the story that he had been put to sleep. This was where he belonged, in one of these paintings, where horse-drawn wagons filled with hay plodded down the main street of Bear Creek. And women carried baskets of produce, none of which was canned.

“Anything?” Ruby whispered, eyeing him sideways.

“It all looks familiar.” That was the best answer he could give for now. There was nothing specific, just an overall sense of belonging.

“Let’s look for a signature,” Ruby suggested, pointing to a scrawled name in the corner of the painting before them.

Magnus nodded and took a step sideways, examining the next painting, and then the next. Ruby did the same, and they slowly worked their way along the paintings, until they reached a section dedicated to Sir Peregrine Manning. Magnus stood before a portrait of the man and his throat constricted. “I know him.”

Ruby came to stand beside him and leaned forward, examining the painting closely, then she stuck her finger out, a quick reflex action. “There.” She tilted her head sideways. “Magnus Dumas. You painted this.”

The room filled with paintings swirled around him like a galaxy of stars in the bright heavens. “I remember.” He rocked on his heels as the memory hit him. They were in a room, he believed it was in this very building, and Perry was posing for the painting but was terrible at keeping still and holding the correct pose. How hard could it be to prop an elbow on the back of a chair and look dashing and gallant? Magnus smiled. That was how he wanted the world to see him.

That was how he wanted Emi to see him. To love him.

Magnus swallowed hard as a piece of the puzzle slid into place. “He was a good friend. But something happened.”

“What?” Ruby hissed.

“It’s a good painting, isn’t it?” A voice from behind them made them both start guiltily.

“It is,” Ruby said quickly. “By Magnus Dumas.”

“Yes.” The man smiled and stepped closer. “He was a dear friend of Peregrine Manning.”

Her eyes flicked down to the name badge attached to the lapel of the jacket the man wore over a crisp white shirt. However, the formal attire did not detract from the sculptured body beneath it. The fabric barely contained the bone and sinew that flexed as Thorn Manning pointed to another painting alongside the portrait. “This is another by Magnus Dumas. Peregrine Manning is one of my ancestors. He donated most of these paintings. This building was his home. He gave it to the town when he died.”

“Interesting. And now you work here.” Ruby indicated his name badge.

“Yes, I help find pieces for the museum. In fact, I’ve just returned from Chile.” Thorn smiled easily. “I was raised on the history of Bear Creek and the surrounding area. The stories I could tell.”

“I expect you could,” Ruby replied, turning back to the paintings.

“You’ve been out of the country?” Magnus asked. If this man was familiar the name Magnus Dumas, why had he not come forward or tried to make contact when the article appeared in the newspaper.

“I arrived back yesterday. Today I show the curator my finds and tomorrow I sleep for a week.” Thorn took a step sideways and pointed to another painting. “This is the cottage where Magnus Dumas and his sister Emilia grew up. It’s a real rags to riches story. The funny thing is that Peregrine Manning donated his own home to the town, but never sold the land this cottage sits on. Sadly, it’s in ruins now.”

“Can you tell us more?” Ruby asked. “I’ve only recently moved to Bear Creek and have no idea of the local stories. And myths.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of myths,” Thorn glanced sideways at Magnus, his forehead creased. “Have we met? You look familiar somehow.”

“No, I’m even newer to town.” He returned Thorn’s smile, despite a growing uneasiness. If Peregrine had turned against the Dumas children, could Thorn be trusted?

“You must have a doppelganger.” Thorn turned back to the painting. “The Dumas family lived in a cottage by the river. They were raised by their mother, their father lost at sea. At least that was their story. They were poor but happy by all accounts. After the death of their mother, the Dumas children lived together in the cottage scraping out a living. But the young Magnus Dumas had a talent for painting and was recognized by my ancestor. He paid for this portrait and then displayed it prominently in this great house. Magnus Dumas was then commissioned to paint more portraits and his name and fortune were made.”

“Are there any more of his paintings still in existence?” Magnus asked. He longed to see them all, to glimpse the past through the eyes of his younger self.

“There are some in the basement. I can arrange for you to see them if you want,” Thorn offered, his gaze drawn to Magnus. “There is even a self-portrait of Magnus Dumas, I believe.”

“We don’t want to take up any more of your time,” Ruby said brightly. “You have your curator to meet with and we have the rest of the exhibits to see.”

Thorn looked at his watch. “I’m already running behind. Come find me if you want to learn more about the history of Bear Creek.” He strode off toward the exit.

“Thanks. We will.” Ruby glanced at Magnus and then added, “One more thing. The cottage in this painting, you said it’s still there?”

Thorn turned, his hand on the glass door. “Yes, in ruins. About a mile from here on the bank of the creek.”

“Thanks.” Ruby avoided Magnus’s eyes as she turned back to the painting. “We should go.”

Magnus stared at the painting of the cottage with Emilia standing before it in rough-spun clothes. She looked beautiful, her smile bright as the sun. “He knows, doesn’t he?”

“I’m not sure what he knows, but my guess is he’ll be down in the basement looking at the painting of you as soon as his meeting is over.” She reached for Magnus’s hand and threaded her fingers through his.

“Do you think he knows about dragons?” he asked quietly.

“I bet those myths he mentioned contain dragons.” Ruby’s voice wavered.

Magnus broke out of his trance, turned from the painting and strode to the door, with Ruby by his side. “I’m sorry if this has brought trouble for your family.”

“Are you kidding me? We can look after ourselves. It’s your treasure I’m worried about. What if there’s a myth about dragons and treasure…and you? You said Peregrine Manning was a friend of yours. Do you think you told him?”

They reached the bottom of the ornate staircase and wove through the people on the ground floor until they burst out of the building into the warm sun. “I have no idea. Which is why I have to figure out how to get my memories back.”