Key Of Valor (Key 3)

The gates were flanked by two stone warriors, hands ready on the hilts of their swords. They looked so fierce to her, so formidable. Connections? she thought. What connection could someone like her have to warriors at the gate?

Still, taking a deep breath, Zoe drove through.

"Holy cow," Simon said beside her.

"And then some."

She understood his reaction to the house. Hers had been the same wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare the first time she'd seen it up close.

Though "house," she supposed, was too ordinary a word for the Peak. Part castle, part fortress, it stood high over the Valley, rose up like the majestic hills and ruled them. Its peaks and towers were made of black stone with gargoyles perched on eaves as if they might leap, not so playfully, at their whim. It was a massive place, surrounded by lush lawns that slid into thick woods gone shadowy with evening.

High on the topmost tower flew a white flag with the emblem of a golden key.

The sun was setting behind it, so the canvas of the sky was streaked with red and gold, adding yet another layer of drama.

Soon the sky would be black, Zoe thought, with only the thinnest sliver of moon. Tomorrow was the first night of the new moon, the beginning of her quest.

"It's really something inside, too. Like something you'd see in a movie. Don't touch anything." "Mom."

"I'm nervous. Give me a break." She drove slowly toward the entrance. "But, really, don't touch anything in there."

She stopped the car, and hoped she wasn't the first, or the last, to arrive, then took out a lipstick to replace what she'd worried off since leaving home. Automatically, she flicked her fingers over the ruler-straight ends of the hair she now wore shorter than her son's.

"You look good, okay? Can we go?"

"I want us to look great." She caught his chin in her hand, and used the comb she'd plucked out of her purse to tidy his hair while he crossed his eyes at her. "If you don't like what they give us for dinner, just pretend to eat it, but don't say you don't like it, or make those gagging noises. I'll fix you something else when we get home."

"Can we go by McDonald's?"

"We'll see. We're fine. We're great. Okay." She dropped the comb back in her purse and started to open the car door.

The old man who greeted guests and took care of their cars was there to do it for her. He always made her jump. "Oh. Thank you."

"My pleasure, Miss. Good evening to you."

Simon gave him a long study. "Hi."

"Hello, young master."

Liking the title, Simon grinned at him and walked closer. "Are you one of the magic people?"

The creases in the old face deepened and shifted into a broad smile. "It might be I am. What would you think of that?"

"Sweet. But how come you're so old?"

"Simon."

"It's a good question, Miss," he said in response to Zoe's horrified hiss. "I'm so old because I've had the pleasure of living a long time. I wish you the same pleasure." He leaned down with a creak of bones until his face was level with Simon's. "Would you like to know a true thing?"

"Okay." "We're all of us magic people, but some know it and some don't."

He straightened again. "I'll see to your car, Miss. Have a nice evening."

"Thank you." She took Simon's hand and walked to the portico and the twin entrance doors. They opened before she could knock, and there was Rowena.

Her flame-tipped hair tumbled gloriously over the shoulders of a long dress the green of forest shadows. A silver pendant hung between her breasts, its clear center stone winking in the sparkling light of the entrance hall.

As always, her beauty was a quick shock, like an electric jolt.