Guardian of the Night

The breeze shifted the bottles, stirring to life a clanging noise that made her shiver all over again.

“Way I hear it, they don’t do much good around here.” Chester reached for her bags and led the way up the eight steps that divided the house from the lawn.

She opted not to pursue the subject of the spirit bottles. Blue had never been superstitious, nor did she believe in any of the related mumbo-jumbo. She wasn’t about to start now.

Before they’d crossed the verandah, the intricately carved mahogany door opened wide.

“Thank you, Chester,” the man standing in the doorway, Mr. Kline, she presumed, said as he stepped back for Chester to place her bags just inside the house.

Chester touched the tip of his hat. “See you on Friday.” As he turned to leave, his gaze caught Blue’s and held for just one second. She couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes, sympathy maybe, before he walked away.

“Miss Callahan, I’m glad you’re here.”

Blue turned her attention back to the older, white-haired man waiting at the door. He had the same drawl as Chester, only a bit more distinguished. He was dressed in khaki slacks and a crisp white shirt and reminded her of a professor she’d once had. “Mr. Kline?”

He thrust out his hand. “Call me Lowell, please.” He gave her hand a quick, polite shake, then gestured inside. “Won’t you come in?”

To her immense relief, climate-controlled air greeted her as Blue crossed the threshold. Lowell closed the door behind her and—

It was dark.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart jolted into a faster rhythm.

“Why are the lights so low?” There was no way to miss the edge of panic in her voice. She swallowed at the rising sensation, and blinked rapidly to force her eyes to adjust.

“I’m afraid it’s something you’ll need to get used to, Miss Callahan. With Mr. Drake’s condition, the wattage allowed in any room is minimal.”

She peered at Kline in the dim light and hoped he couldn’t see the level of her disbelief as she pointed to the fixture. “This is hardly more than a beefed-up night-light.”

He sighed. “I’m afraid so. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Sure.” She plastered a smile into place. All she needed was for this guy to report back that she was uncomfortable with the conditions. “I guess it’s just a little…” She shrugged. “A little darker than I expected.” A lot darker than she’d expected.

“Your vision will adjust.” He picked up her bags before she could protest and moved toward the graceful stairs that ascended from the middle of the center hall to the second-story landing. “We’ll take your things up to your room so you can get settled.”

Forcing herself to relax, Blue’s gaze moved appreciatively over the elegant staircase. The details were obscured but looked impressive by any standards. A red or burgundy carpet runner on the wooden treads kept their footfalls silent as she followed Lowell up the stairs. He led her to the first room on the right. There were three other doors that she could see. She peered toward the far end of the hall where a second smaller staircase led to the third floor. A dozen questions about the house as well as its owner sprang to mind, but they could wait.

After depositing her bags onto the bed, Lowell indicated a door across the room. A bathroom probably. “When you’ve settled in and freshened up, come downstairs and I’ll serve your dinner.”

“That would be nice.” She hadn’t bothered with lunch at the crowded airport. She’d been too psyched and ready to begin her assignment.

“Before I forget.” Lowell reached into the pocket of his trousers and produced a key. He looked at it for a long moment, as if hesitant, then offered it to Blue. “This is the key to the house.”

She took it, glanced at it briefly, then lifted her gaze back to his as he added, “The exterior doors and windows are locked at all times. Never,” he pressed her with a gaze at once intense and beseeching, “ever leave one open or unlocked.” He cleared his throat. “The drapes and shutters are to remain closed at all times and no other light, not even a flashlight, is allowed. The third floor is off limits.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

His gaze was relentless now. He reminded Blue of a bear guarding her only surviving cub. He apparently needed to be absolutely certain she understood. “I don’t know how much you’ve been told about Mr. Drake’s condition, but mere minutes in bright light would kill him. For that reason, no one is allowed in the house other than myself and now you.”

“There’s no need for concern, Mr. Kli—Lowell,” she amended. “Though I don’t know all the specifics, I can assure you that I won’t do anything that will jeopardize Mr. Drake in any way.” This was her first big assignment, she had every intention of impressing the brass. But it would certainly help if she knew more particulars about Drake. She’d have to bide her time it seemed.

Lowell nodded, looking contrite. “Of course. If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to ask.” He paused at the door. “I almost forgot. There’s a case for you on the bureau.” He gestured to a massive piece of furniture near the heavily draped windows. “It was delivered yesterday.” He said it as if knowing what the case contained and finding it more than a little distasteful.

“One question.” Blue stopped him before he could get out the door. “When can I meet Mr. Drake?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Callahan.” His posture grew more rigid.

“Call me Blue,” she echoed his earlier words, hoping to penetrate the wall he’d suddenly thrown up.

“Blue,” he acquiesced, “I’m afraid Mr. Drake usually doesn’t leave his room until well after sunset. Even then he prefers his solitude. But I’m sure he’ll want to meet with you in time. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

In time? Blue pushed the disappointment away. She liked to get the feel of her assignment as quickly as possible, but pushing the subject wouldn’t help. She had to gain trust here. She needed to know Drake’s routine, his likes and dislikes. What he expected of her.

“No.” She shrugged as if considering her other options. “I can’t think of anything else I need at the moment. I’ll get settled and maybe do a little exploring before it gets too dark.”

“Very good.” He hesitated once more before leaving. “There is one other thing.”

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for yet another revelation that would hinder her ability to do her job.

“Mr. Drake isn’t pleased about this. He didn’t want protection. The fact of the matter is I’ve gone directly against his wishes allowing you here. I’m not sure your first meeting with him will be pleasant.”

Perfect. Blue smiled in hopes of relieving his evident anxiety and not giving away her own. “Not to worry. I have five ornery older brothers at home. I’m pretty good at handling that kind of macho male mentality.”

Lowell’s uncertain expression remained in place, but, to his credit, he attempted a smile. “Well, I’ll see you in a bit then.”

Blue watched him go, then slowly surveyed the spacious room with its high ceilings and period furnishings. Plain, drab, and what she decided had to be beige walls and beige bed coverings. It was hard to say for certain in the low light. No pictures or other decorating items. Judging by the room’s size, she thought it might be what was considered the master suite. A quick look into the adjoining bathroom and she was sure of it.

She exhaled a weary breath and wondered how the heck she was supposed to do her job if Drake didn’t want her here? She lifted her chin and folded her arms over her chest. Easy, she decided. She’d just have to change his mind. She had a lifetime of experience charming the male of the species.

It only took Blue a few minutes to unpack her things and check out the weapons Lucas had arranged for her use. She strapped on the ankle holster, pulled her jeans leg down over it, then shrugged into her shoulder holster before going downstairs. She always felt naked without her gun. Throughout her whole life, the people she loved most had accessorized with weapons. Well, except for her mother, who’d crossed herself every time one of them walked in or out of a room carrying a gun. Though she had little tolerance for violence, Margaret Callahan was as tough as nails. She’d had to be to survive in the same house with that many cop egos.

Blue checked out the other three rooms on the second floor. All were bedrooms, one looked to be Lowell’s. Each room was as large as hers and had its own private bath. And all were dull-as-dirt beige. Lowell had hung a few pictures, of family or friends, she supposed, and on one wall was a large Georgia Bull Dogs banner. A small television set occupied the far corner. She wondered if the island had cable. Probably not.

She resisted the urge to check out the third floor. It was off limits, Lowell had said. Judging by its size, as seen from outside, Mr. Drake’s suite most likely made up the entire floor. He was probably sleeping up there right now. She shook off the vampirish images that formed in her head as she recalled Chester’s remark about the reclusive man. Time to get the lay of the land.

Her hand glided along the curved banister as she slowly descended the staircase. For the first time she noticed the finer details of the huge chandelier that hung above the center hall. It was lovely, dimly lit, but lovely just the same.

She wondered vaguely if the electrical wiring had been modified or if the lights themselves had been changed in some way to ensure that the light wattage remained so low. Though her eyes were already beginning to adjust as Lowell had said they would, it was still too dark for her liking.

But she’d deal with it.

The main parlor was just as plain and beige as the rest of the rooms. Not that she had anything against beige, mind you. But this beige monotony was unbroken by anything other than wood floors and wood trim, all the color of rich, dark coffee, like the mahogany door on the front of the house. She considered that maybe white was too reflective and most other colors too dark, thus the selection of beige. Maybe she’d ask about that. Eventually.

Thankfully the parlor’s furnishings were more contemporary and slightly more colorful. There was another television set and a stereo system. Someone liked classical music, she decided, noting the stack of CDs. A desk and computer along with row after row of book-filled shelves occupied one side of the room. Like the rest of the house, the windows were shrouded in thick draperies—even they were beige. But at least this room looked used. The brown leather sofa looked worn and comfortable and was flanked by two plaid overstuffed side chairs.

As she strayed back into the hall a whiff of something absolutely heavenly enticed her nose and made her stomach rumble. She followed the delicious scent to the kitchen at the rear of the house.

“Whatever that is, it smells great,” she commented aloud.