Don't Slay the Dragon (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

this, remembered from all those years ago.  It was all about finding the courage to confront it.  That was the key.  It took all my effort to ignore the pain in my wrist and to come across as calm and unemotional. 
    “I’m here alone, Vesper.”  I was grateful my voice sounded much more controlled than I felt.  “There is no danger here.  It’s just me.”
    A suspicious set of eyes darted around the room again. The tense body in the corner still didn’t relax its guard. Always watchful, always on alert.  Green-black eyes mere slits and expecting danger from every direction.  It was the kind of look that chilled you to the bone, followed you home, and came back to haunt your dreams.
    Vesper was a third degree black belt in Kenpo Karate and a second degree black belt in Ti Kwon Do.  He was a kick-boxing champion too with a room full of trophies to prove it.  To top it off he was also a paranoid schizophrenic. A lethal combination.  He was a dark, brooding man, suspicious of everyone and everything.  His reflexes were razor sharp and he was prone to act before thinking.  You had to be at your most cautious when dealing with him.  I’m sure that Vesper hadn’t been out since Lisbeth had been put back here in ward D.  If he had shown himself to whatever psychiatrist had been assigned to her case, she would have been put in a padded room with a very secure lock by now. 
    “They’re trying to destroy me,” he hissed, “trying to destroy all of us.  They’re filling her with pois ons to make us go away. Toxins. Evil, vile, venomous fluids. Forcing them into her.  It makes her sleepy.  It takes away my reflexes.  They don’t understand.  It’s going to kill me.  It’s going to kill us all. I can’t let them do that. I can’t let them destroy us.”
    The green eyes were wild now, wide open with pupils dilated.  I had to calm him down before he drew attention from the staff.  I knew a sharp needle would soon follow and there was no way I would find out anything with Lisbeth in a drug-induced stupor.
    “Vesper, will you talk to me?   Do you remember the night Lisbeth had dinner with Barbara?  Were you there?”
    The questions stopped his rambling as if his mouth had been suddenly covered.  He took a cautious step forward, his eyebrows rising.  I backed against the door jamb, knowing I couldn’t go much further unless I went out into the hall.  Was he calming down or getting angrier?  I tensed, getting ready to sprint down the hall if I needed to.  His voice was low, quiet but still masculine.
    “I was there, but only for an instant.  I was there when the Dragon did this.”  The same hand that had bruised me earlier now reached up to push the shaggy orange hair away f rom his right temple.  There were two ugly, jagged, thin scars right at his hairline, starting at his forehead and dragging down across his sharp cheekbone and going almost to his earlobe.  They were healing but visible. 
    “Barbara did that to you?”  I gasped.
    “The Dragon.”  He nodded.  He was tensing again, his breathing accelerating as if the memory was angering him.  The thin chest heaved in and out as his eyes widened and he began shaking his head back and forth. 
    At this point, I knew it was a gamble.  Stay here and risk the danger and maybe learn more about what had happened that night, or flee to safety and pass up this chance, not knowing if I would have this opportunity again. 
    “Why did she hurt you?” I urged.  “What happened after that?”
    He advanced another step towards me.  Suddenly, he paused and shook his whole body out, hopping from foot to foot, bouncing like a prize fighter stepping into a ring.  He shook out his arms, legs, one final time before he settled into a battle stance and became eerily still.  His hands became flat, the edge of his palms sharp and deadly as he brought them up to protect his face.   I knew that position, remembered it well.  He was preparing to