So, I need to find out as much as I can about the one title I'm responsible for. The problem is I have only the current series to draw from (the previous series can't be considered, as there are major differences between the two series, even though they're about the same characters.) The current series is short, and the latest I can't draw from for several reasons. The fun of being a writer....
Anyhow, the least I can do is leave you something to read, so here's the rest of Chapter 4 of Merlin's Legacy:
Donella’s car was a six-year old Honda that still looked in good shape. As she drove me out to the graveyard, she told me a little bit about herself. Both her parents were dead, and her Aunt Abby, her father’s older sister, had taken the young girl into his care and taken a desk job to give her niece some stability. Once Donella had graduated from high school, Abby retired from the FBI and moved to Pilgrim’s Cove. Instead of going to college, Donella had chosen to come with Abby,”to help settle her in.” That had been three years ago.
“What happened?” I asked. “Why did you stay?”
“Aunt Abby’s the only family I have left,” she replied.
“How did you end up at Camelot?”
“The owner of the house we were renting wanted to sell it. Aunt Abby made an offer, buit the owner didn’t want to sell it at that price. Then Carlton Brackett bought the house and gave us thirty days to get out.”
Donella nodded. “Aunt Abby was mad and went down to the bank to give Carlton a piece of her mind. She ran into Lucian, told him the story and he offered her one of the houses on the estate. We’ve been there two years. But enough about me. What about you?”
I gave her the same Cliff Notes of my life I’d given the Sheriff the night before, and added a few details I’d left out. My parents were retired, my older sister worked for the Department of Defense, while my younger brother was a sophomore at the U of MD. She listened to me talk about the few times I met Lucian. “He was the last of four children,” I said. “Grandpa, Great-Aunt Evelyn, Great-Uncle David, and Great-Uncle Lucian. Between them, they had twelve children and twenty-two grandchildren. Now, they’re all gone.” I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. “All we have left now are memories. And I have so few of Uncle Lucian.”
I felt a hand on mine, I opened my eyes and looked at Donella, who gave me a soft smile before looked back at the road. “I miss him too,” she said.
Three minutes later, we reached the cemetery and drove through the gates. Dorsey was near the gate. Donella slowed the car and rolled down the window. The older man smiled when he saw who it was. “Afternoon, Miss Donella,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
Donella motioned to me. “Just here to drop Roger off to get his car.”
“Ah,” Dorsey said, tipping his cap and leaning down to see me. “And how are you sir?”
“I’m fine,” I replied. “I gave more than I received.”
“Aye, that you did,” he said. He looked at Donella. I was driving up after I called the cops, and I got to the top there,” he motioned to the top of the hill, “When bam! All four toughs go flying like twigs in a high wind. Then they got into the van and drove off.”
“Did you see anything else?” I asked. “Something you didn’t tell the sheriff?”
Dorsey took off his hat and scratched his head. “Funny you ask that sir,” he said. “I could have swore there was a fifth person there. I didn’t see their face, on account they were facing away from me, but the were wearing a long black cloak.” He inhaled slowly. “But it could have been a freak shadow, because by the time I got close, it had vanished.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said.
“We’ll be out of here in a few minutes,” Donella said. “I’ll see you later, Dorsey.”
“You too, Miss Donella.”
Donella rolled up the window and drove away. As she made the turn to head up the hill, Donella asked, “What was that about?”
“What?” I replied.
“Asking Dorsey if he’s seen anything he didn’t tell the sheriff.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s had to explain,” I said. “And I don’t want to say anything until I have more evidence to convince me what I thought happened, did.”
“You’re not sure what happened?”
“I’m sure what happened, but it doesn’t make any rational sense. Until I can make sense out of it, I’m not saying anything.”
Donella shrugged. “All right, but if the sheriff finds out you didn’t tell him everything, he’s going to be mad.”
“If I told him what happened without proof, he’d be even madder, and I would be branded as a crank.”
Donella rolled to a stop behind my car. “All right,” she said. “We’re here.”
“Could you come with me for a moment?” I asked, unbuckling my seatbelt.
Donella narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I want to try something.”
She sighed and put her car into park. “All right,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”
We walked toward Lucian’s tomb. I noticed the burnt rubber on the road from the van’s sudden stop and start. I looked around, but saw no traces of the fight, beyond some torn-up grass.
“I haven’t been here since Lucian’s funeral,” Donella said.
“I didn’t get the letter notifying me of Lucian’s death until last week, several days after the funeral,” I said. “Charlie Windicott said he had a break in and his files were messed up which delayed the letter by several days.”
We reached the tomb. It looked untouched. I went up and placed my hand on one of the stones that had been used to fill in the doorway. I felt the power under my fingertips. “Could you come here for a second?”
Donella walked over. “What?”
“Could you put you hand on the stone?”
Sighing in resignation, she put her hand on the stone and gave me a “Why are we doing this?” look. After a few seconds, her expression changed to puzzlement and she pulled her hand away from the stone. She put her hand on the stone again. “I feel something,” she said.
I nodded and took my hand off the stone. “Like a generator?”
“Yes.” she frowned. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”
I glanced at my watch. “We’d better get going.”
The removed her hand from the stone. “Yes,” she said, looking at the tomb. "Come on, you can follow me.”
That's all for now -- Let's see what I can get done by Thursday!