Drakon's Promise (Blood of the Drakon) Read online

  She still didn’t quite understand how that had happened. One day she’d been happily working, and the next she’d been unemployed. Thankfully, she did have outside contracts, so she still had some source of income. And it was one of those contacts that had led her to this job interview.

  Mr. Temple closed his laptop and smiled at her. “Forgive me, but I had to get that email off quickly.”

  “That’s fine,” she assured him. She fiddled with the strap of her purse. When she realized what she was doing, she carefully set the bag down beside her.

  Mr. Temple sat back in his large leather chair and stared across the broad expanse of his antique oak desk. His full head of white hair gave him a distinguished air. “I thought you’d be older.”

  She frowned. “Sir?”

  He waved his hand in front of him. “For someone of your accomplishments, I thought you’d be older. Jeremiah speaks highly of you.” Jeremiah Dent was a highly respected dealer in rare and antiquarian books, contracted by museums and wealthy clients to find certain volumes for their collections. He was also the one who’d put her onto this job.

  Sarah relaxed slightly. This was one area of her life where she was confident. “I graduated from university when I was sixteen.” When Mr. Temple raised an eyebrow, she continued. “I had my doctorate by the time I was twenty-one and went to work for the New York Public Library soon after. I was at the main branch for seven years. I’ve also done contract work for various museums and book dealers around the city. It’s all on my resume,” she reminded him.

  He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his hands in front of him. “Yes, I checked all your references.”

  Of course he had. She felt her cheeks warm and knew she was probably blushing.

  “I’ve amassed quite a library over the course of my lifetime.” His abrupt change of topic made her tense. “And that’s added to what my family has collected over generations.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “We’re readers in my family, seekers of knowledge. Always have been.”

  She nodded, and the nervous butterflies in her stomach became excited ones. “I’ve heard about your library.” Everyone who occupied the world of antiquarian books knew of the Temple library. It was one of, if not the best private collections in the world.

  He nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less. “We have thousands of books, tens of thousands, as well as stone tablets, papyrus sheets, and scrolls from around the world. What we don’t have is a comprehensive catalogue of what’s in the collection. The last full inventory was made decades ago, and even that wasn’t complete.”

  Sarah tried to contain her rising excitement, but her body was practically quivering at the thought of getting close to all those books. Some of them were one of a kind.

  Mr. Temple smiled and his blue eyes sharpened. “I can see you’re interested.”

  “Very,” she told him honestly.

  His gaze turned calculating. “Come with me.” He stood, stepped out from behind his desk, and headed toward the door. Sarah grabbed her purse, jumped to her feet, and hurried after him. He moved fluidly, like a man half his age, and she lengthened her stride to keep up. He went down a long, quiet hallway before turning into another room.

  She really needed to start working out if she couldn’t keep up with a man more than twice her age. She bolted into a room and skidded to a halt just inside the door. The ceiling was slightly vaulted, going up at least fifteen feet. The room was the size of a small house. It had to be twenty-five feet wide and thirty feet long, maybe bigger. It was hard to tell with the bookcases towering around her. They filled the walls from floor to ceiling, and there were dozens of freestanding shelves taking up the floor space.

  “This is incredible.”

  Mr. Temple chuckled. “I’m glad you approve.” He headed to an area at the far end that held a desk with a computer and phone. Next to it sat a long, old-fashioned card catalogue. Several tall, thin windows let in the natural sunlight but didn’t allow it to penetrate far enough to damage the books.

  “This is where you’ll work,” he told her.

  “I’m sorry?” He hadn’t offered her the job, had he? Had she been too busy gawking at the books and missed something?

  “If you take the job.” He leaned against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. Once again, she was taken by how much younger he seemed. “You’re the best, and I need the best. I want this library catalogued.” He picked up a sheet of paper from the desk. “This is how I want them listed. It’s all standard with a few exceptions.” He offered her another smile. “Some of our treasures are quite rare and defy conventional classification.”

  “Of course.” Her head was spinning. This job was too good to be true. That gave her pause as she remembered what her grandmother had always told her. If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. But Sarah had bills to pay and needed this job.

  “I need a curator, a caretaker for all this knowledge. It will take you years to get through it all.” He pushed away from the desk. “I also want you to set aside any books that seem particularly rare or interesting to you. I want to see them before they’re shelved.” He swept his hand out and gestured to the shelves towering around them. “This is only a start. There are three more floors like this and more books in storage. I need someone who can put their hands on the information I need when I need it.” For a moment, his pleasant facade dropped and he narrowed his gaze, reminding her that he’d made money in business, a lot of it, and he hadn’t made it because he was kind and unassuming.

  “You work here and you work alone,” he continued. “This computer is not hooked up to the internet, and your work will be automatically backed up on a separate external hard drive daily. You are never to remove a book or any information from my home. You turn your cell phone, purse, and coat in at security in the morning and get them back when you leave in the evening. The phone on the desk connects with security and my assistant if you need anything.”

  She frowned. That was a hell of a lot of security.

  As if sensing her hesitation, he smiled again. “Many of these books are rare and irreplaceable. You understand?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” The man was right to want to protect this amazing collection.

  “My security measures may seem extreme, but my family has suffered losses over the years.” He glanced around the room. “This is my legacy. Businesses come and go, but the knowledge in here is priceless.”

  Sarah could certainly relate to that. She understood books better than she did people.

  He rattled off a salary and benefits package that was very generous and much more substantial than the one she’d had at the library. “When can you start?”

  It annoyed her he didn’t ask if she even wanted the job, but simply assumed she did. That irritation disappeared in the next breath when she thought about spending the next few years of her life, maybe longer, lost among all these amazing books.

  “Now. I can start now.” She laughed. “Or tomorrow.”

  Mr. Temple was studying her intently and a cold shiver raced down her spine. “Tomorrow will be soon enough,” he told her.

  …

  A little over a week later, Sarah sat at her desk making another entry into her computer. The task ahead of her was daunting, to say the least. She’d decided to tackle the job one shelf at a time. Any book that was misfiled was set aside on a cart to be shelved when she finally reached that section. It was time-consuming to examine each book, match it to the card in the catalogue, and then enter it on the computer. She’d decided to use both the computerized and non-computerized systems. If something ever happened to the electronic version, at least the physical catalogue would be up-to-date as well. She also color-coded the card in the catalogue as she finished with it. When she was finally done with her daunting task, if there were any cards that weren’t marked, she would know the books were missing.

  As instructed, each day she made a pile of par
ticularly interesting or rare books on the corner of her desk. In the morning, if the books were still there, she shelved them and moved on. Mr. Temple always left a note on top of the pile to let her know he’d examined them.

  She closed the book she’d just entered into the system and rolled her shoulders. The problem with this kind of work was that she got so focused she forgot to take breaks. She’d have to start setting an alarm to remind herself to get up and walk around and have a drink.

  Victoria Marshall, Mr. Temple’s personal assistant, poked her head into the room. “I’m going out to pick up something for lunch. Can I get you anything?”

  Sarah smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

  Victoria sauntered up to the desk and perched on the corner. The other woman was always stylishly dressed in the latest fashions and footwear, and her makeup was flawless whether it was eight in the morning or quitting time. Today, she was wearing a fitted pearl-gray suit with a hint of pink peeking out from between the lapels. Her shoes were also gray, and the height of the heels made Sarah wince.

  In contrast, Sarah wore plain black slacks and a long-sleeved white blouse topped with a charcoal-gray cardigan. Comfortable black leather flats covered her feet. She’d applied a pale pink lip-gloss this morning but it was probably long gone by now. Yet, despite their obvious differences, Victoria had been welcoming and kind to her.

  “I don’t know how you do it.” She peered over Sarah’s shoulder. “Alone here with all these books. I’d be bored out of my mind in less than a day.”

  Sarah laughed, not taking offense. Victoria wasn’t the first person at a loss to understand her chosen profession. “And if I had to answer phones, deal with people and the million details you attend to in the run of a day, I’d go mad.”

  Victoria grinned. “I’ll never have to worry about you trying to steal my job.”

  Sarah shuddered. “Never.”

  “And your job is safe from me.” Victoria pushed off the desk. “The boss wants lunch from his favorite restaurant, and they don’t deliver.”

  “He really keeps you busy.” Mr. Temple seemed nice enough, but there was no denying the man made her nervous. Thankfully, she only saw him in passing. He was always at work in his office when she arrived and still at it when she left for the day.

  “That he does.” Victoria straightened her jacket. “Sure you don’t want me to bring you back anything?”

  “Positive, but thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” If I don’t see you before you leave for the day, have a good weekend.”

  “You, too.” She’d almost forgotten it was Friday. She’d worked last Saturday, mostly just familiarizing herself with the setup and her new position. She’d started in earnest on Monday and was completing her first full week.

  She went back to work, losing herself in it until her stomach grumbled. She saved her work and glanced at her watch, surprised to discover that Victoria has left her almost an hour ago.

  Sarah stood and stretched. Coffee—she desperately needed coffee. The cup sitting next to her had gone cold hours ago. She was always careful about having a drink around the books, making sure it was in a covered thermal mug. If by some fluke it tipped over, it wouldn’t damage the books or her computer.

  And food. She needed to eat something. Her friends at the library had always complained she was too thin because she forgot to eat when she was working.

  Sarah grabbed her mug, left her work behind, and headed toward the staff kitchen. It was down the hallway, close to Mr. Temple’s office. She admired the tall, narrow windows, deep alcoves, intricate crown molding, and the countless small details that marked the building as historic. The stately old building was not only Mr. Temple’s workplace, but also his home. It had belonged to his family for several generations. The first two floors were devoted purely to business, and Victoria had told her the third story was his personal home and completely off-limits to staff, which made sense. The separation between home and work was no doubt important to the man.

  The staff kitchen was empty when she entered. As far as she knew, only she and Victoria used this one. It only took her seconds to brew a fresh cup of Belgian chocolate coffee—the single-cup brewer and assortment of coffees was a perk of the job that she enjoyed.

  She pulled the ham and cheese sandwich she’d brought with her this morning out of the refrigerator and sat at the table. It was quiet. She was used to the steady murmur of voices at the public library. There was an empty quality to this silence that was slightly unnerving. She quickly finished her sandwich and cleaned up her mess. Time to get back to work. A quick glance at her watch reminded her she only had two more hours until quitting time.

  Mr. Temple was quite strict about his employees leaving on time. Sarah worked from eight to four, and if she didn’t show up at the main door by the appointed time, security would come to remind her. The first evening it happened, she’d been surprised, but when she’d asked Victoria about it, the woman had simply shrugged and told her to count her lucky stars her employer didn’t expect her to put in unpaid overtime.

  Sarah assumed it had to do with the fact that the building was also Mr. Temple’s private residence. The man probably wanted the space to himself at the end of a long day. She could understand that.

  She grabbed her mug and left the break room to head back to the library. The sound of loud voices broke the silence and startled her so badly she fumbled her coffee and just managed to catch her mug before she dropped it. She immediately recognized Mr. Temple’s voice but not the other man’s. His office door must be open.

  Not wanting to eavesdrop, she turned in the direction of the library but couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.

  “Don’t give me excuses. I want Darius Varkas, and I want him now. I’ve spent years and millions of dollars tracking down one of his kind.” Mr. Temple was angry, and the voices were getting closer. There was no way she could make it back to the library before they saw her.

  Sarah ducked into an alcove and held her breath, hoping they wouldn’t discover her. She hated confrontation of any kind.

  “I need the book.” The other man’s tone was calmer. “The quicker the better.”

  “We’d still have the book if you hadn’t told your friend Rames about it.” Mr. Temple was obviously very unhappy. “Don’t bother denying it. There’s no other way he could have known about it. That no longer matters. What matters is finding the book. It has to be here. There is no way it could have left the house. Security is too tight.”

  “But you also have so many damn books it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. Are you sure this librarian is any good?”

  Sarah tightened her fingers around her mug. They were searching for a specific book. Why hadn’t Mr. Temple told her that? And it sounded to her like someone had purposely taken it. But why? Just what book were they referring to?

  “Jeremiah Dent told me there are rumors about Ms. Anderson. According to him, she has a very special knack when it comes to books.”

  Her stomach tightened. She hadn’t told anyone about her ability. How had Jeremiah Dent discovered it? Only her grandmother had known about her gift, and she’d passed away several years ago.

  Psychometry was the official name. All Sarah knew was that from the time she was young, if she touched a particular item and focused on it, she could pick up information about the people who’d used it. She had a special affinity for books, which was why she always wore thin latex gloves when touching the very old ones. It was easy enough to do. When dealing with old and rare books, it was to protect them from the oils from her skin, which could damage the fragile paper and binding.

  She didn’t wear them when she was working with more modern books. The newer the book, the less energy attached to it, and the easier it was for her to naturally block any vibes she might pick up. She didn’t think Victoria or Mr. Temple had actually seen her wearing her protective gloves.

  Now that she though
t about it, Jeremiah Dent had always been particularly interested in her work when she researched and dated books for him. Had he seen her touch one of his rare books and go into a trance? Well, she wouldn’t quite call it a trance. She didn’t know what it was. The world simply fell away, and she saw scenes of the people and places that had touched the object. It helped her date an item, sometimes pointing her in the right direction to find the necessary documentation she needed. She was always careful, but there was no way of knowing what Mr. Dent had seen, and he’d obviously seen something. Enough to suspect she was using more than just her education and research skills to authenticate artifacts.

  “She’d better work fast. If not, you’ll have to persuade her,” the unknown man said.

  That didn’t sound good at all. In fact, it sounded rather threatening. She’d known this job was too good to be true. The voices were getting closer. She backed deeper into the alcove and tried to make herself smaller.

  “I want Varkas. Our contact in the military is getting impatient, and our scientists are waiting to get their hands on a blood sample. Once we have him, we’ll have an endless supply of it.” Mr. Temple’s laugh made her own blood run cold. They were talking about kidnapping a man and using him for experiments.

  Surely she couldn’t have heard him right. But Mr. Temple had mentioned spending a lot of money trying to find one of Varkas’s kind. What exactly did he mean by that?

  “The last subject self-terminated. I didn’t think the old boy had it in him after so many years.”

  “And that was your mistake, Christian. You underestimated him and got lax. Not only that, it was your unfortunate choice of companions that led to the loss of the book. If you weren’t my son, you’d be dead.”

  Sarah slapped her free hand over her mouth and struggled not to hyperventilate. The sandwich she’d just eaten curdled in her stomach and threatened to come back up.

  “Fortunately, I am your son. Don’t worry, find the book, and I’ll get Varkas for you. I’ve got people watching him. He’s not going anywhere without our knowing. We can’t move until we’re 100 percent ready to take him down. There can be no mistakes. We’ll only get one shot at him. And the last thing we want to do is attract any unwanted attention.” The voices drifted away, and Sarah’s knees went weak. Her skin was clammy, and she felt faint.