Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary

"Quick-acting, leaves almost no trace. Everyone will think it was a stroke."

"That was poison?" Seth asked, looking stricken.

Kendra pouted at him and nodded. "No more big sister. Hope you two are," she started gagging and then recovered, "are proud of yourselves."

Her body began to convulse.

"Do something!" Seth urged.

Warren leaned forward, gripping Kendra’s chin. "Whoever you are, you will pay for this."

"Doubtful," Kendra choked.

The convulsing stopped. Warren checked for a pulse in her neck. "She’s not breathing." He pressed an ear to her chest, then started CPR.

Seth watched in horror, his legs weak beneath him, as Warren relentlessly attempted to revive his sister’s body. He wished she was awake and angry and punching him, whether her mind was in control or not–anything but this!

After several minutes, Warren finally backed away from the dead body. "Seth, I don’t know what to say."

"You better leave," Seth sobbed, cheeks soaked with tears. "Mom and Dad can’t find you with her like this."

"I should have… I didn’t realize…"

"Who could have seen that coming?" Seth said hoarsely. He approached his sister, trying to find a pulse, caressing her face, searching for any sign of life. There was none.

Warren helped Seth tuck her in under her covers. Mom and Dad would think she had passed away peacefully in her sleep. Seth could not stop crying.

Finally Warren helped Seth back to his own room and into bed, then slipped out the window and replaced the screen. Seth found he could not sleep. Soon his pillow was drenched. He could not stop obsessing about the lifeless body in his sister’s room. After all they had been through together, Kendra was gone.

Chapter 4 Captive

When the minivan eased to a stop in the darkness, Kendra had no idea whether they had reached their final destination. Bound and gagged in a cramped, enclosed trailer hitched behind the maroon vehicle, she had surrendered to the dismal theory that she might spend the rest of her life being shuttled from campground to campground.

Kendra had spent the previous day tethered to a tree in a remote, wooded camping area, eating applesauce, baked beans, and canned pudding. A modest campfire had held off the chill, but it occasionally became almost unbearable when the smoke wafted her way. This was after being transferred from the day care to the trailer in the dead of night, then driving for hours on highways and winding roads. The phony Rex did not converse much, but he had tried to keep her relatively comfortable. Multiple quilts currently bundled her, and she rested on several pillows. The stingbulb impostor made sure she remained fed and hydrated. But there were plenty of inconveniences. She had not been able to use a real restroom, the gag was obnoxious, and her bindings had proven frustratingly secure.

Suddenly, the door at the back of the trailer rolled up and two figures shone flashlights at Kendra. She blinked and squinted into the light as the figures approached, wrapped her up in one of the quilts that surrounded her, and lugged her out of the trailer. Kendra opted not to squirm. What was the point? Bound and gagged, the most she could accomplish by resisting was to get dumped on her head.

As the strangers carried her, part of the quilt fell away from her face and Kendra found herself gazing up at a big, rundown house against the backdrop of a starry sky. Inside her cocoon, she traveled up the porch steps and through the front door. Though the house was unlit, no amount of darkness could blind Kendra, and she saw that the interior was better furnished than the exterior would have suggested. She tilted as the strangers toted her up a staircase, then leveled out as they hauled her through a set of double doors and deposited her on the glossy wooden floor of a brightly lit room.

Glancing up, Kendra saw that one of the men lugging her had been the Rex impostor, the other a heavyset, bearded man wearing dark glasses. The two men withdrew, and Kendra shifted her attention to the room. Vibrant abstract art adorned the walls, tastefully illuminated by tracks of lights on the ceiling. A stylishly designed clock accented with neon hung above an ornate mantel. Dynamic metal sculptures of various sizes added further personality to the room.

"So you’re what all the fuss has been about," a feminine voice declared.

Kendra rolled over to face the speaker. Apparently in her fifties, the woman had a slender figure and wore an elegant red gown. Her heavy makeup was well applied. The hand resting on her hip glittered with rings. She wore her blond hair short and curly, the style seeming a tad too young for her age.

The woman walked toward Kendra, high heels clicking, and pulled a switchblade from her handbag. The blade snapped into view. Kendra stared with wide eyes. Wearing an unreadable expression, the woman bent over and cut the gag away without scratching Kendra’s cheek.

"Don’t you dare scream," the woman chided breezily. "No one will hear you, and my nerves can’t abide it."

"Okay," Kendra said.

The woman smiled. She had full lips and a broad mouth. Perfect teeth. Her light blue eyes were wide-set, her nose a bit thick, her ears small, her face shaped a little like a valentine. Even though some of her individual features almost seemed unfortunate, overall her face retained an undeniably striking beauty. The years were trying to steal her looks with creases and lines, but she was successfully retaliating with cosmetics. "Am I the kidnapper you expected?"

"What are you going to do with me?" Kendra asked boldly.

"Untie you, if you promise not to make a ruckus. I must look like a rusty old relic to you, but please believe me that under no circumstances could you possibly fight your way out of this room. I’ll make you sorry if you try."

"You don’t look old," Kendra said. "I won’t try to escape. I know you have henchmen."

"You are in serious danger of getting on my good side," the woman said, bending down with her knife. The keen blade whispered through the cords.

Sitting up, Kendra massaged where the bindings had left marks. "Who are you?"

"I’m Torina," the woman said. "Your host, your captor, your confidante–however you prefer to think of me."

"I think kidnapper probably nails it."

Torina tilted her head, absently fingering her pearl necklace. "I’m glad you have some spunk. I’m keeping a low profile these days, which means I’m slumming in a small Midwestern town breathing the same air as goats and hogs and cattle." She closed her eyes and shuddered. Her crystal blue irises reappeared, locking on Kendra. "Maybe you can relieve some of the blandness."