Chapter Eleven
Baylor staggered to his feet and clutched at his spurting jugular. Within seconds, the flow stopped and the wound began to close. He aimed his gun at the wolf’s head. And then, with a vile curse, he stuck the automatic in his pocket.
“I kill you, damn Templar, and I kill me.” He looked up to see tiny flames seeping from the kindling. “Let’s see how you like your witch when she’s burned to a crisp.” He grabbed the manuscript and went to his own car, spurting gravel as he drove away.
Sara tried not to choke as a plume of smoke lifted. She struggled with the bindings. Dear Goddess, I don’t want to die! Help me! Brighid, I call on you!
She felt the first splatter of a raindrop and then another. She lifted her face as the heavens opened and rain began to fall. Her tears mingled with it as the fire was doused and she could breathe again. “Thank you, Great Mother,” she whispered.
Michael began to stir as the cool water revived him. He shook his head and struggled to sit up. It took another moment before he realized that Sara was tied to a post. He staggered drunkenly toward her.
“My God! What—where is the devil?”
“Gone,” Sara said. “You’re more accurate than you think. He really is the devil.”
Michael edged around her and, back to back, began fumbling with the ropes on her wrists. Finally he got one end lose. As soon as her hands were free, Sara quickly unwrapped the rest of the bonds and then untied Michael’s hands. Then she rushed over to the wolf and dropped down beside it.
“It’s still alive,” she said as she felt its pulse in the massive chest. “Help me get him inside where it’s dry.”
Together they managed to lift the big lobo and carry him inside close to the hearth. “I’ll light a fire,” Sara said. “You need to go for a vet.”
“I’m not leaving you here by yourself,” Michael said.
“I’ll be fine. Baylor thinks he’s killed me. He’s got the manuscript. He won’t be back. This wolf saved my life. I have to try and save his. Now go.”
Michael rose reluctantly. “I won’t be long. I also need to notify the sheriff that there are two dead men in a car that went into a ditch not far from here.”
The street-fighters. Sara wondered if Baylor would stop and take his money back. She nodded and walked him to the door, making sure to draw the bolt after him.
She lit the wood in the hearth and then grabbed some towels from the bathroom. Slipping down beside the wolf, she pressed a towel to the wound but realized it was no longer bleeding. In fact, the blood had coagulated quite quickly.
The wolf stirred and she drew back. It was a wild animal after all and wounded. What it do when it awoke inside a building? Was it strong enough to attack her?
She started to ease away and then stopped, staring, not believing what she was seeing. It couldn’t be.
The lobo was transforming. Its hind legs straightened and its forelegs stretched even as the chest began to broaden and the muzzle receded. Its face widened as the fur was replaced with firm bronze skin. In another moment, a naked Lucas lay in front of her, eyes closed. The wound had completely healed.
Sara sank back to the floor. She knew otherworldly creatures existed. She had seen her share of manikins, dryads, undines, and sylphs in her use of white magic. She had called on elemental forces, too. And Nim was a powerful, ancient faerie. But she had never believed in human shape-shifters. That was something Hollywood had thought up. But it did explain, in a very unnerving way, the unusual color of his eyes. And maybe it explained the animalistic lust she felt for him whenever he was around her.
Her attention turned to the physical. The towel she had used to press against the wound covered Lucas’ groin. She had seen his biceps bulging from beneath the tight fabric of a polo shirt, but the defined pectoral muscles of his chest and hard flat abs were the work of the gods. The heavily corded muscles of his thighs and calves would have done honor to Cernunnos himself. Her eyes lingered on that intriguing bit of cloth covering what she really wanted to see.
Her hand reached for it and then withdrew. She shouldn’t do this. But he would never know. She stole a glance at his face, but his eyes were still closed, his breathing deep and relaxed. Her fingers itched. Just one little look.
She lifted the corner of the towel and then involuntarily gasped. Even in repose, his shaft was long and thick. What would it be like…? She longed to stroke it and feel the satiny texture of the smooth skin that covered it. Then, to her fascination, it suddenly began to harden and grow even bigger as it raised itself toward her.
“Like what you see?” Lucas asked.
She felt her face flame as she dropped the cloth. To her mortification, he was not only awake but seemed amused at her embarrassment. How long had he been pretending to be asleep? Best to go on the offensive.
Sara forced herself to look him in the eye. “I think you’d better explain to me what it was I just saw. And I don’t mean your, uh, present state.”
The smile faded from his eyes, turning them almost metallic. “I didn’t mean for you to see the wolf.”
“What…what exactly are you? Human?” she asked hesitantly.
“Mostly human,” he answered. “We all have a beast inside us. Mine just tends to materialize on occasion. It’s a…” He hesitated as though searching for the right word. “It’s a genetic defect.”
“Are there others like you?” The idea of the average person on the street changing into a wolf was unsettling. Her world felt like it was spinning on its side.
“Perhaps. I’ve never met another wolf.” He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners in a very human way. “Are you frightened of me now?”
She tilted her head. “Can you control it?”
He looked serious again. “As long as I hold my emotions in check. I obviously lost it when I saw what Balor was planning to do to you.”
Her blood heated. Did he care for her or would he have come to the rescue of anyone in that situation? “Were you the wolf who came to my aid the last time I was here at the ranchita?”
He nodded and watched her carefully.
She took a deep breath, remembering how she had thought the animal had grinned at her when it loped off into the woods. “What Turned you that time?”
“You were in danger. It was easier to fight the she-wolf in my lobo form. I didn’t have to kill her since she understood I was the alpha-male.”
He was certainly the alpha-male all right. Even now, while she was still trying to accept the reality that he was a werewolf, she was drawn to his magnetism. The reality of what that deliciously hard, nude, bronzed body could do with her made her inch closer and she saw the lust in his eyes as his lids lowered partially and a corner of his mouth quirked up.
He reached over and pulled her down across his chest. His mouth slanted over hers, his lips warm and firm as his tongue probed for entry. Sara teasingly denied him and he sucked on her lower lip, causing her to whimper as raw passion overwhelmed her and drew deep into her belly.
One hand slid slowly upward along her ribs to caress the rounded mound of her breast. His fingers kneaded it gently while his thumb flicked over the already hardened nipple. Sara moaned and arched against him.
His tongue thrust deep into her mouth, his lips ravaging hers as their bodies pressed together. And then he growled.
Sara suddenly found herself on her back, but Lucas had moved away from her. He was hunched over several feet away. “Leave,” he rasped, “the beast wants you. I don’t know that I can control it so soon. Move away!”
Even as he spoke, his eyes turned predatory. She scrambled to her feet and stared at him. “What’s—“
He bared his teeth and she could see fangs. She thought only vampires had those. Not that vampires existed. She felt a bubble of hysteria rising in her throat. But what did she know? Lucas made a noise that sounded suspiciously like the beginnings of a howl.
She stepped back quickly as Lucas turned and ran for the door. She went to the window and watched his towel-clad body disappear into the brush.
Dear Goddess, she was in love with an alpha-wolf.
* * * *
Lucas took a deep breath as he slowed to a walk, willing the wolf back down. To his surprise, it whined. He couldn’t ever remember it doing that before.
He should have known not to take the risk of kissing her when he was in a weakened state from the transformation. To say nothing of healing the wound.
He reached his car parked well off the road and quickly put on the clothes he had left there when he had called the wolf. The familiar lethargy had not hit him yet, probably because the taste of Sara still lingered in his mouth and kept his testosterone running wild.
Bel’s fires! He’d nearly bitten her. And for a wolf, that was a big mistake. He didn’t know if he could actually Change someone, like Gavin could, but he really didn’t want to wish his way of life on anyone.
He paused. She really had taken the discovery better than he thought. And she still wanted him. The pure scent of female arousal had nearly saturated his still sharply canine senses. He wondered what she’d do if he told her he was immortal too. Lucas gave a short bark of a laugh. What in blazes was he thinking? The only two living who knew were Gavin and Balor.
Balor. He had nearly killed him today. Had wanted to rip his throat out as much as the wolf did, even knowing that ending Balor’s life would also put his and Gavin’s into the totally human span of years and they would die too.
He wondered if that would really be so bad. Arriving in Britain along with Julius Caesar had led to some very long lifetimes. Ridding the world of the devil’s own spawn was a worthwhile endeavor, but Lucas couldn’t be responsible for ending Gavin’s immortality, too. Not unless the vampire wished it. But Balor deserved to die for nearly burning Sara at the stake.
It brought back, way too vividly, the image of Gwenhwyfar nearly suffering the same fate. And then, after her rescue, the story got twisted around to making Arthur’s knights believe she was having an affair with Lancelot. He’d never seen a woman more loyal to her husband. He should know. He’d been there.
Lucas sighed as he drove back to the ranch house. Michael would be returning soon and he’d need to put in an appearance. He just hoped he hadn’t scared Sara witless.
She let him in with a small nod. He tried to give her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay. I won’t hurt you.”
Her blue eyes searched his face. “I may not be as afraid of your wolf as you as you think I am.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That may not be wise, lass.”
She shrugged. “It didn’t hurt me the first time, did it?”
Before he could answer, he heard tires crunching on the gravel and Michael and a woman with strawberry-blonde hair approached.
“This is Dr. Sophie Cameron,” Michael said as way of introduction a looked around. “Where’s the wolf?”
Sara shrugged. “When it woke up, it growled and I opened the door. It left.”
Pretty close to the truth, Lucas thought and almost grinned.
The vet frowned. “How badly was it hurt? I hate to think of it being vulnerable prey to the coyotes.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Lucas said. “I got here just about the time it woke up. The wound wasn’t too deep.”
Michael gave him a slanted look as he lifted the pendant over his head and handed it back to Lucas. “Good thing the wolf showed up since neither of us did anything to help Sara.”
“Good thing,” he said as he slipped the gold cross back on and met McCain’s skeptical look.
He wondered, again, just how much the warlock really knew. And if, quite possibly, there was yet another Immortal in this world.
* * * *
Sara was tired the next morning when she arrived at her boss’s mansion, but now that Baylor had the manuscript, they didn’t have time to waste.
She was thankful that when Michael dropped her off last night—Lucas had insisted on it and she knew he still didn’t trust himself—to find that Nim had survived. The faerie was a bit battered, but angry as Hades that the curse Merlin had put on her restricted her to the house and Sara’s workplace.
The sunlight streaming in the window of the study did nothing to alleviate Mr. Smith’s chalky face as he listened to Sara and Lucas explain what happened the next morning.
“I’m glad the manuscript is gone,” he said when they finished. “The thing has a curse on it. Perhaps the facts that the vault at Rosslyn cannot be excavated due to Trust laws and the Money Pit defies all kinds of scientific inventions should serve as warnings. The Holy Grail isn’t meant to be found. Isn’t that why Galahad took it to—where was it? Egypt?—in the first place?”
“Sarras,” Sara corrected, “near what’s now Gaza. But the Grail and the other Hallows were found again. In Jerusalem. The Templars have been the guardians for centuries, keeping them hidden—”
“Precisely,” Mr. Smith interrupted, “and maybe they should stay that way. I’m putting a halt to this. It’s not worth getting you killed, my dear.”
Sara exchanged a quick glance with Lucas. “If the Hallows fall into the wrong hands, a whole lot of people are going to get killed. Entire nations could be destroyed.”
Mr. Smith pursed his lips. “Adam Baylor can’t be that powerful.”
Lucas leaned forward in his chair. “He is that powerful. The man is connected to terrorist leaders around the world. How do you think they have all that money to spend? 9/11 took years of planning. And the Hallows will only enhance that power.”
“You’re saying there’s really magic connected with them?” Mr. Smith asked incredulously, “other than the allure of people’s perception of them because of the Arthurian legends?”
Lucas looked at Sara and she nodded. He turned back to the older man. “Yes. The power in the Hallows is ancient. Given by the Celtic gods to their chosen people, the Tuatha de Danaan, before they became Sidhe. The power is neutral. Whoever owns the Hallows controls them. Balor now has a copy of the manuscript. We’re in a race against time.”
Knowing her boss’s affection for the melodramatic, Sara added, “Just think, Mr. Smith, you may be the one man who can save the world.”
He preened. “Well, in that case…”
* * * *
Baylor took a sip of Dom champagne and looked over at the girl whose hands were still bound to his headboard and whose legs were splayed and shackled to the bedposts. He slapped her nipples lightly with the leather strap he held causing her to squirm and arch her back.
“More,” she murmured.
He laughed and brought the small whip over her body and watched her body tense in anticipation of the sting. It excited him to see the buds tighten and to know she enjoyed the painful pleasure. He flicked the whip in empty air.
“I think I’ll make you wait,” he said and took another drink. Then he leaned back against the headboard. “I knew you would be good for me, Morgan,” he said and lifted the manuscript from the bedside table. “Now that I have this, it’s just a matter of time until the Power is mine.” He rubbed the whip between her spread legs. “Tell me, did the warlock get to enjoy your cunt when you distracted him so nicely for me?”
Morgan’s lips set in a thin line. “No.”
“Too bad,” Baylor said and with a quick turn of his wrist brought the whip down on her clitoris. Morgan writhed and tried to lift her hips. “But rest assured, little witch, that when the Hallows are mine, you will have to the power to do anything you want to him. Anything at all.” He brought the strap down on his own cock to give her an idea of what he meant and she smiled.
“I’ll look forward to that,” she said as her eyes took on a feral look.
“Then would you like to thank me in advance?” he asked as he reached over and undid the fetters on her hands.
“Yes, Master,” she said as he released her legs.
“Then you know what to do.”
She gave him a coy look and licked her lips before she turned around and dropped to her hands and knees.
He grabbed hold of her hips and drove himself into her anus, loving both the feel of the rigid canal and her stifled scream of pain. Ah, yes. Taking a woman in the ass really let her know who was boss.
And soon, the world would know who was boss too.
* * * *
Sara glanced at Lucas covertly from the side of her eye later that afternoon. He was researching on Mr. Smith’s computer while she sat in the comfortable chair in front of the desk, the Templar shield propped up beside her. His tawny hair just brushed the collar of his shirt and his face in profile highlighted the straight nose, strong jaw and full lips. She remembered how passionate his kiss had been and how she loved the taste of him and sighed. They had a job to do and precious little time to do it in. But where to look next?
She spread a deck of Arthurian Tarot cards across the desk. The deck was done by a woman named Anna-Marie Ferguson and Sara had been using them in place of the traditional Rider-Waite deck for several years. Maybe they would hold a clue since the Hallows were ingrained in the Grail legend.
She picked up the Ace of Spears card labeled “The Grail Lance”. “Before the Christians associated this with the spear of Longinus,” she said, “it was believed to have been the Celtic Spear of Redemption.”
Lucas nodded although he didn’t look up. “The Tuatha de Danann Hallow. We knew that.”
“But,” she said as she picked up the Major Arcana Sun card, “it was also known as the Spear of Lugh. The Sun God.”
Lucas’ hand stilled and he turned to look at her. “Yes?”
“The sun represents consciousness just as the moon does the subconscious. As the sun rises, its warmth increases, just like Gawain’s strength increased until the sun reached it zenith.” She smiled. “It’s an interesting contrast. The spear represents the element of air, something which you can’t see. Intuition, inspiration to create…” She broke off and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Lucas was still watching her, an odd expression on his face.
“I think we have to use logic here as well as intuition. We already think that “dawn’s gate” is east because the sun rises there. And if the spear is the ancient Sun God’s, that would make sense. And we know, esoterically, that east represents birth or inspiration.” She paused. “How far south could Sinclair’s men have gone?”
If he were surprised by the change of subject, he didn’t show it. “They discovered America,” he said. “There’s no reason to think they wouldn’t have followed the coast south to see how far it would go.”
“Exactly. And where were the first settlements in America?”
“I’m Scottish, remember?” Lucas said with a smile.
For a moment Sara lost herself in his whiskey-colored eyes and then let her gaze center on his full, sensual mouth curved up, revealing strong, white teeth. Teeth that could become fangs, she reminded herself sternly. Damn. She forced herself to refocus.
“The first settlement was St. Augustine in 1565,” Sara said, “although there had been a couple of attempts before that. Then in 1584, Roanoke colony was established although it didn’t last long. If the Sinclairs moved the Hallows because of the Scottish Inquisition, which didn’t begin until 1590, either of those two locations might be a possibility. They were already here.”
She fingered the cards and picked up the Queen of Spears. Dindrane. “How appropriate that she would be its queen,” Sara said softly, “for it was she who led Galahad aboard the ship that took the Grail to Sarras.”
“I remember that,” Lucas said.
“What?”
“I mean, I remember reading something about that legend.” Lucas stood and came around to her side of the desk. “But don’t forget the possibility that the manuscript may have been written much later, perhaps only fifty years ago.”
Sara rubbed her temples. “Don’t overwhelm me. Let’s go with my theory first. It’s a place to start.”
“Once we’re there, where would we look?”
“Somewhere where there are both roses and oak trees, according to the verse.”
“Gardens maybe? There must be hundreds of them.”
She looked up at him. “It must be some place where there is a balance of power between the male and the female. That’s what the oak and the rose symbolize. Where could we find that?”
Lucas frowned. “If we were in Europe, I would say old churches. The cathedrals that the Templars built always included pagan feminine symbols while supposedly supporting the male-dominated Roman church. Here, I don’t know.”
“Churches might be a good place to start then.” She smiled suddenly. “Baylor probably wouldn’t think of looking there.”
Lucas paused. “Even if he did, it’s one place Baylor couldn’t look.”
* * * *
Sara hated keeping secrets from Michael or from Brianna, but how could she tell them that Lucas was a shape shifter? And that, Goddess help her, she was in love with him? But at least now she understood his elusiveness. Lovemaking wasn’t exactly the time anyone was the most rational and if the wolf slipped out…
“I can’t believe that man actually tried to burn you alive!” Brianna said as she set white candles at the quarters of the pentacle rug that took up most of her living room floor. “What did the police say?”
“They’re investigating the death of the two men in the car. Michael gave them a description of Baylor—said he’d passed him as he was coming to my place. He didn’t mention what happened to me.”
Her friend stopped selecting sticks of incense and looked at her in astonishment. “Why on earth not? That demon tried to kill you!”
“What would I say, Bri? That some stranger got it into his head to carry out a witch’s execution out in the middle of nowhere? For what reason? And if I said I knew who he was and that he wanted the manuscript so he could search for the Holy Grail, the media would have a field day with it; that is, if I weren’t sent to John Peter Smith Hospital as a psycho case. And you know how Mr. Smith feels about being dragged into anything that might include a search of his private vaults.”
“I still think you should have reported it.”
Sara shook her head. “Lucas says the last thing we need is a horde of people searching and digging and snooping.”
“Ah, your Highlander god,” Brianna said, “and why didn’t he get to you sooner?”
If only she could tell her friend that he did. That he had saved her life. “He came as soon as he could,” she said stubbornly. “He had to track Michael from a distance so Baylor wouldn’t think he was being followed.”
“And Michael,” Brianna replied as she set the onyx bowl filled with water in the middle of the pentacle’s inner circle, “how did he let himself get taken? His magick should have been more powerful than that.”
Sara thought again about the illusion of the fiery sword. Sometimes she wondered if Michael did, indeed, have gifts he hadn’t shared with the Circle. “Baylor had a real gun,” she answered, “we were both concentrating on that. No one suspected a drug-laced taser.”
“It drives home my point,” Brianna said. “I know how strong Michael is and from what you’ve told me about Lucas, he sounds like one of those medieval warriors that protected the pilgrims on the Crusades—“
“Templars,” Sara said with a laugh since history had never been Brianna’s thing. Then she sobered remembering the Celtic cross that Lucas wore. The one he had given to Michael…
“Whatever. The thing is if these two alpha males can’t protect you, who can?”
“Brighid.” Sara winked at her friend. “Woman power and all that. Now, are you ready to scry?” Brianna had the gift of Sight and Sara had hoped she could provide some clue as to where they might search.
“I’ll try,” she said as she knelt down by bowl and closed her eyes to meditate.
Sara lit the candles, softly calling the quarters as she moved clockwise around the circle. Then she lit the appropriate incenses—frankincense, sandalwood, honeysuckle and musk—and placed them in their holders. She sank down opposite Brianna.
For long minutes Brianna stared at the still water, eyes glazing. And then it began to stir, sloshing from one side of the bowl to the other. Her friend’s eyes widened, but Sara could not discern what she saw. Which was just as well, considering that she had fainted the night of the new moon ritual when she had seen the Templar warrior overcome by what she now recognized was Baylor.
Brianna reached out her hand and the water stilled. Slowly, she shifted her gaze to Sara. “Wind,” she said, “a storm at sea.”
“A hurricane?”
“I don’t think so,” Brianna answered and shivered. “I felt cold. There was this huge tree in a graveyard that split in two.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s all I Saw.”
The Druid’s tree! And a graveyard. Churches had graveyards. Sara could feel the tiny hairs on her arms begin to rise. They were on the right track after all!
She hugged her friend and they closed the circle, sending the elementals back to their respective homes. “You’ve done more than you know.”
Brianna hugged her back. “Just come back alive, will you?”
* * * *
Baylor hung up the phone in his new hotel room. The man he’d paid to interpret the manuscript had been exterminated. Now all he had to do was place another call to a high-ranking Mid-Eastern official who would allow the news to trickle down to exiled leaders that holy Christian relics would soon be found that, if defiled by members of the True Faith, could yield power for them. That ought to be good for another few rounds of frenzied jihad. He snorted. Mortals were so easy to manipulate.
The phone rang just as he was about to pick it up. Only Caldwell knew he was here. “Yes?”
“She’s alive.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. How could she be? He’d seen the fire begin to burn before he left. The warlock had been out cold. The Templar, immortal though he was, would have needed at least an hour to heal before he could resume shape. She would have been roasted by then.
“We’re talking about your working partner, I assume?” Caldwell would be calling from his cell and Baylor didn’t want to take the chance on being intercepted.
“Correct. I went by this morning to pick up some papers I’d left.”
On purpose. Baylor had not wanted to draw attention to Caldwell by having him suddenly disappear from Smith’s right after Sara Kincaid’s death.
Damn the witch. She has more lives than her proverbial cat-familiar. And she’s eluded me—ME—twice. Twice! It was a good thing he didn’t believe in self-flagellation. For himself, that is.
“What do you want me to do?” Caldwell asked.
“Nothing.” He could hear the surprised silence at the other end of the phone.
“Could you repeat?”
Baylor sighed. “You heard me. Nothing. She’s not the main concern now that I’ve got the manuscript. The Templar is. He’s the one we have to watch.”
“Got it.”
“Is the GPS still working on the bitch?” Baylor asked.
“Give me a minute.” There was a short pause. “Yeap. I’ve got the blip on my mobile. Still working.”
“Good. Then we can follow them. If they find anything before I can get this damn script figured out, I’ll be there to take it away from Ramsey.”
Caldwell laughed. “I’ll take care of the girl.”
“You do that,” Baylor said as he hung up. Good luck. He suspected Brighid’s divine hand in Sara Kincaid’s charmed life. And if that were true, the bitch would be as powerful as the Templar. Odds Baylor didn’t like.
He needed to screw some woman hard. He thought about Morgan, but he’d left her bloodied yesterday and she’d need time to heal. He didn’t want her ending up in an ER with a mandatory police report filed.
Hell, a street whore would be better anyway. One that would suck his dick and think he was playing games as he put his hands around her throat. And who knows? Depending on how skilled that tongue is, I might just let her live.