Tears of a Dragon by Bryan Davis Read Free Book Online Page A

bow, and his gaze seemed fastened on her instead of Morgan, his eyes moving slowly as though surveying every inch of her body. She wished she had her sweatshirt to cover her bare arms.
    The old woman spoke again, croaking like a deep-throated bird. “Shelly, my dear, it’s so nice of you to come. I am Morgan, and I am acquainted with your brother, Walter.”
    The angel’s strong hand pulled Shelly back to her feet, his palm lingering in hers before he let go. She felt the angel’s gaze still locked on her. She didn’t know what else to do, so she gave Morgan a clumsy bow. “Uh, glad to meet you.”
    Morgan slowly turned her head, eyeing the angel carefully. “Did you find the genealogy?”
    “In an ancient vault in the Glastonbury abbey.” The angel’s deep voice sent a quiver through the floor and into Shelly’s legs, but she resisted the urge to look at him. “She is an heir, as you suspected,” the angel continued. “Though I doubt anyone in her family knows the truth. Those documents had not seen the light of day in centuries.”
    Morgan’s purple lips spread into a thin smile. “And who is her guardian?”
    “There is none. She has left her home and is of legal age, and she has already proven that she speaks for herself.”
    Morgan’s eyebrows lifted. “I see,” she said, stretching out her words. “And the candlestone?”
    “We could not find it.” The angel’s voice vibrated as it deepened to an angry tone. “I assume the father hid it elsewhere. I could have killed him, but I feared the secret would die with him.”
    Morgan glanced away, waving her hand. “Don’t worry. I have another candlestone that will help me capture the one we want.”
    “We did find the clothing you requested.”
    Morgan’s eyes jerked back toward the angel. “Shiloh’s dress? And the analysis?”
    The angel’s voice returned to normal. “Some interesting results, but not what you were hoping for. We found blood, skin, and hair samples that revealed an unusually high concentration of cyanide.”
    “Cyanide?” Morgan’s eyes narrowed to red slivers. “But that would kill her, not keep her alive.”
    “Exactly my thinking, but the secret to her youthfulness is unimportant now that you have a hostiam. You will live on.”
    “Indeed.” Morgan pushed out of her seat, her skeletal arms trembling. As she stabilized her body, her weak smile contracted. “Shelly, I assume Samyaza has told you about my offer.”
    Shelly nodded, now feeling a shiver in spite of the oven-like heat. “But how is it possible?” She watched Samyaza out of the corner of her eye. He was still looking at her. “I mean, I believe in angels and all that, but how can I bring peace to the world? I’m just a girl.” Samyaza’s continued stare sent prickles crawling across her exposed waist. She pulled the hem of her shirt down.
    Morgan reached up and set her hand on Samyaza’s cheek, turning his face away from Shelly. “Patience, my love. Our time will soon come.”
    Morgan moved her hand from Samyaza’s cheek to Shelly’s. “You are a blossoming flower, and, as you can see, I have angels who do what I ask.” Morgan spread out her hands, and her crystal ball materialized, hovering above her palms. Within the sphere, a battle scene appeared, two ancient armies clashing in a field, a young woman in the midst of the fray, mounted on a battle horse and shouting out commands. “Joan of Arc was younger than you,” Morgan continued, “yet she led an army and conquered a nation. She had the innocence of youth, a heavenly fairness of face, and the ability to converse with angels.”
    Morgan pressed her hands together, and the sphere vanished, instantly reappearing on the pedestal. “You lack only the last of these, and with my indwelling presence, you will learn to command the most powerful angels in the universe.” She extended her arm and let the steady drip from the ceiling collect in her palm. “The difference is that you will not