Warriors

CHAPTER 51

Nevermore was a rather large, rambling cottage, Sabrina saw. In the middle of nowhere, it was precariously perched out at the far end of the meandering wooden boardwalk rambling across a rocky promontory, the outcropping of rock a jutting sheaf of granite dominating the crashing sea far below.

Two stories high, the house had great gabled windows, immensely thick grey stone walls, with a dark-tiled roof surmounting weathered black shutters and doors. Chimneys jutted up everywhere. Adjacent and beyond were sheer rock cliffs, a tangle of fields, and a stand of hazels. Brambles and briar roses on the back side of the house were flanked by a flint lane that wound its way into the distance, bordering a barley field on the left. The flints were knobbly and bonelike.

Snow-white seabirds tumbled and dove from the skies everywhere one looked.

Lorelei had not exaggerated the charm or the pictorial grandeur of the seaside setting. Breathtaking, actually, Sabrina thought. There was a biting tingle in her nostrils, the invigorating whiff of sea brine on the air. Invigorating. Restorative. Life itself.

She was suddenly glad she’d come. She paused for a moment, extricated herself from her friend’s sky blue Morris Minor, and studied the oddly named Nevermore.

It was, she considered, a lonely house. Yes, she thought with a cold shiver, but perhaps a good lonely, not a sad one. She was happy to be here near the sea, glad she’d let her old friend talk her into suddenly changing her plans for the holiday weekend. This was far more adventure than a tiny single-cot room under the eaves of the Lygon Arms.

She inhaled, letting the brisk air fill her lungs. Grabbing her Union Jack overnight bag from the Morris’s rear seat, she said, “Thanks awfully for inviting me. It is rather lovely here, isn’t it? It looks like a David Lean film, actually.”

“It’s too divine for words. So. Let’s change into something warm and go for a long walk down on the beach. Quite bracing in this weather.”

“Lead on, Lady Lorelei, I’m right behind you.”

They traversed the narrow wooden cliff walk along the rocks, the sea crashing directly, far below, and to either side. It was more than a little frightening, but at last they came to the cottage. Lorelei mounted the wide stone steps and pushed through the heavy wooden door, waving her inside. They entered a dim foyer with only a pair of candles, flickering yellow in sconces high on the dark-paneled walls. There was a smell of wax furniture polish and old wood and something left too long on the stove.

It was unexpectedly eerie inside the cottage, and Sabrina shivered, pulling her wrap close round her shoulders.

At that moment a figure stepped forward out of the shadows, tall and imperious. It was a woman, a woman with wide dark eyes, heavily made-up, and a gleaming black helmet of hair done up with ivory combs. For some unknown reason, the woman’s sudden movement caused Sabrina to take an involuntary intake of breath and a step backward.

“You startled me,” Sabrina said.

The woman in the shadows was silent.

Lorelei saw her perplexed expression, grabbed her hand, and pulled her forward, saying, “Oh! Look who’s here!”

“Who?” Sabrina managed.

“This, dear Sabrina, is my very good friend Chyna Moon. Proprietress and owner of this little bungalow by the sea. Chyna, won’t you say hello to one of my oldest and dearest friends in all the world? May I present Miss Sabrina Churchill.”

“Hullo,” the Oriental woman said, in a deep, yet very fluty, upper-crusty British accent. “Welcome to Nevermore.”

“Nevermore. What a lovely name for a cottage.” Sabrina tried for a smile.

“Yes. Isn’t it, dear? Poetic.”

“So lovely to meet you,” Sabrina said, taking another deep breath. She was feeling a bit dizzy. She thought the tall woman was smiling at her, amused at something she’d said or done… but…

“You must be quite exhausted after such a long drive, dear. Won’t you come into my library?” she said smoothly.

“Said the spider to the fly,” Lorelei whispered to Sabrina.

“I heard that!”

There was a very brief flash of red anger in the older woman’s eyes. She wasn’t used to being the object of sarcasm, obviously.

“Behave yourself, Lorelei,” she said, softening her tone. “Now. Come along, Sabrina, dear, I’ve a lovely fire going. Take the chill off, I should think. Lorelei, do be a good girl and fetch us something to drink, won’t you? A nice chilled wine, perhaps. Yes. The Krug Rosé would be nice. We’ll be in the library. Follow me, Sabrina.”

Sabrina hung back a second and caught Lorelei’s sleeve. “What was that all about?”

“It’s all an act. She wants to be the dragon lady. Silly, I know.”

“Weird.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you coming?” Chyna said from the doorway.

Lorelei laughed for no apparent reason and said, “Okay. You two chat. I’m going down to the cellar, but I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare talk about me while I’m gone! Either of you!”

Lorelei was laughing gaily, sailing off down a long, dark, and vaulted hallway.

The elegant Asian woman extended her long, slender hand once more, the golden charms on her bracelets tinkling as she did.

“Come, my dear. Follow me.”