...As they neared the ruins, Andrea saw the others were headed toward the temple and realized some event must be planned there.

Yvonne, darting apprehensive glances at everyone, suddenly swerved toward the temple with the others, her hand tugging at Andrea’s. “I saw that man earlier today,” Andrea whispered urgently. “He was here the day before, too. Uncle Conway sent him to look for me, I just know it. I don’t think he noticed me, maybe because I’m not alone anymore. I don’t want him to catch me. Can’t we sort of hide among these people until he goes away?”

Andrea had no idea what man Yvonne meant, but she didn’t argue, allowing herself to be led into the temple where an elderly man wearing a bright multicolored cummerbund and a red beret was perched on a stool. So as not to stand out, Andrea and Yvonne imitated the rest of the people, sitting on the cold marble of the temple floor, facing him.

“He’s a Droll Teller,” Andrea said. “They tell French stories.”

“Me, I’m Fench Coz,” the Droll Teller announced, smiling at them. At least Andrea thought it was a smile. The flickering lantern between him and his audience, the only illumination, cast shadows as well as light, concealing as much as it revealed, making the vines twisting around the cracked columns appear black rather than green.

“I tell my tales in the ruins,” he said in a rasping voice, speaking English with a heavy Quebecois accent. “What better place than in this old Temple of the Dragon?”

Beyond the ruins darkness concealed the wilderness of Gatineau Park as well as the man searching for Yvonne. If anyone really was.

Glancing at Yvonne, sitting next to her on the marble floor of the Temple of the Dragon, Andrea wondered if she shouldn’t have insisted they go on to the car. Who was in charge—the ten-year old or the twenty-seven-year old?

As she looked back at the Droll Teller, her gaze crossed that of a dark-haired man leaning against one of the pillars. Was he the man she’d seen earlier? He didn’t smile or give any indication of interest before he looked away, so Andrea finally decided he couldn’t be. And he probably had nothing to do with Yvonne either.

“Ecouter!” Fench Coz commanded, drawing her attention back to him. He waited until everyone was quiet. An owl hooted four times, startling Andrea and bringing a few gasps from the other listeners. Yvonne reached for Andrea’s hand and grasped it tightly.

“L’hibou,” Fench Coz said. “When the owl calls it is never for good. Also, we are twenty-six, twice thirteen— another bad omen.” He smiled again.

Andrea had to admit the old man was an artist at creating an ominous atmosphere—right down to his chilling smile—but she worried about his effect on Yvonne. This was no time for the girl to listen to scary stories.

“Cric!” Fench Coz exclaimed.

“Crac!” several voices responded.

“Ah, we have Quebecois among us,” Fench Coz said approvingly. “Me, I begin again and this time everyone answers. “Cric!”

Most of the audience called back, “Crac!”

“And so I begin the tale of Le Vouive, who once lived only in France.” The Droll Teller’s raspy voice gathered them in, holding them in thrall. “Le Vouive was what you call the flying serpent—Le Drac, the dragon. But today he flies wherever a Frenchman is to be found—all over the world! In Quebec, too, oui. Are we not French? And so in Gatineau Park is his temple. Here.”

“Le Drac, he is une horreur—one horrible beast—with glittering ruby eyes and scaly green wings. Once a man looks into his red eyes that man is lost. The blood of this beast is so poisonous that one drop can kill. It is said he guards a great treasure for Comte Sinistre. Le Comte, he is an evil man, a man who comes by his riches through sorcery. Some say he is the beast, that he can change his form through a magic spell and become Le Drac. Me, I do not know but I will tell you that in any form Le Comte, he is dangerous.

“Le Drac flies only at night and when he passes overhead they say his wings whisper, Gare! Gare! It means, you know, Beware! And it is best to heed his warning for no man, woman nor child survives an encounter with Le Drac.

“Moonless nights are to his taste—perhaps he flies tonight for, as you see, it is moondark. Hush, let us listen.” Fench Coz tilted his head, cupping a hand to his ear. “Listen, listen…”

Andrea, obeying despite herself, was surprised to note the frogs had stopped calling and so had the night insects. Even the breeze had ceased to ruffle the leaves of the trees. The silence was profound.

Yvonne let go of her hand and shifted until her back was to the Droll Teller while she stared into the darkness. Andrea started to turn to see what might have caught the girl’s attention when suddenly Yvonne gasped and clutched her arm.

“Le Drac!” she whispered, pointing skyward.

Andrea gazed up in stupefaction at a blur of green between her and the star-lit night sky. A gust of wind swirled around them, seeming to carry a faint whispering sound before dying away. Then she no longer saw anything in the sky except the stars.

Yvonne huddled against her, making Andrea certain the girl must have seen the greenness and heard the sound, too. Surely some of the others had as well, though not all of them had turned to look. It wasn’t real, of course, but an illusion as faux as the ruined temple they sat in, something concocted by the Droll Teller’s confederates to give the tourists a scare. Like the owl hoots earlier probably had been.

But Yvonne obviously didn’t realize it was fake. They ought to leave at once, before the girl became more frightened. Andrea leaned to her and whispered, “Let’s go.” Yvonne shook her head and edged away from Andrea until they were no longer touching. “Not till he’s done. He’s explaining something I didn’t understand before. I need to listen to find out all I can about Le Drac. In case.”

“In case?” Andrea echoed, puzzled.

“Shh, we’re missing what he’s saying.”

“Le Drac is not easy to kill, you understand,” the Droll Teller went on. “His green scales are armor, all but impossible to penetrate, certainly not by a wooden sword. Yet a wooden sword is the only weapon that will bring death to this beast. Do not ask how, me, I don’t know. But I tell you true. Ah, he is loathsome, he is malific, stealing children and flying with them to his lair deep within the rock.

“And this is my tale within my story. One moondark evening Le Drac swooped down over a village and caught up a little girl in his talons. He didn’t know or care that a beautiful princess looking out of her tower saw what he’d done. No, not Le Drac.”

His words made Andrea more and more uneasy. She wished she’d insisted they go directly to her car. Yvonne, her hands twisted together, chewed on her lower lip while she listened as though her life depended on not missing a word. Making up her mind, Andrea touched Yvonne’s shoulder. The girl jumped.