The Immortals II: Michael by Cynthia Breeding (3)

It had been two days since Michael left her office and she hadn’t heard from him nor had she seen the dragon.  She should be relieved that he had taken her seriously when she said she was through with all this nonsense about hunting Excalibur.

Especially with him.  How could she trust a man who used magic to seduce her in her dreams?  And, dear God, she didn’t want to admit it, but that dream had been so good.  Even now, she could still taste his kisses, his lips warm, persistent, and demanding.  She felt her nipples tighten as she remembered how his mouth had covered them, drawing deep with hard suckles.  Heat seared through her as a pleasant throbbing began between her legs.  His tongue had been there, like soft velvet, gently laving at her folds, licking in broad, slow strokes until she arched and quivered for him to take her.  Dear Lord, she’d shattered in the hardest climax she’d ever had and he hadn’t even entered her.  Hadn’t even been there physically.

What else could that be but magic?

Then, as if she’d conjured him herself, he was standing in her driveway when she turned into it.  His dark hair blew against his collar in the slight breeze as he stood waiting for her, muscled arms folded across that broad chest, unmoving.  She must be imagining him.  Sophie blinked, opened her eyes.  He was still there.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she stepped out of the car.

He smiled, his dark eyes glistening in the near darkness.  “I’ve brought you proof as I said I would.  Could we go in?”

Sophie hesitated.  The last thing she needed to do was be alone with him in her house.\. 

“Please.  This is important,” Michael said.  “You’ll be safe with me.”

She looked into those mesmerizing eyes and then quickly away.  She certainly didn’t need to be entranced—or whatever magicians called casting a spell these days—by Michael.  Still, he had told her he never forced a woman. 

“I suppose you can come in, but not for long.”

He smiled, the dimple showing.  “Good.  Thank you.”

As she started to unlock the door she noticed what looked like a large dog kennel behind her hedge.  A low noise, not quite a growl, was coming from it.  “What’s that?”

Michael picked it up and pushed the door open.  “I’ll show you once we’re inside.”

Sophie shut the door behind him and snapped on a lamp as he set the kennel on the floor.  Another low rumble sounded and this time, she saw a faint puff of smoke.  She felt her eyes widen as he unlatched the door.  It couldn’t be—

A red dragon the size of a large dog lurched through the opening, its cobalt eyes blazing as it swung its head from side to side and slapped its tail resoundingly on the floor.

“That isn’t—”

“Afraid it is,” Michael said and grinned.  “Meet Pendragon.  In his other form.”

He looked down at the dragon.  “He’s promised to be on his best behavior, too.”

Spikes rose along the dragon’s spine and he slanted a look at Michael and then he sighed, wisps of smoke curling upward.  He extended a gold-tipped claw toward Sophie.  “I am here to help you find Excalibur,” he said in perfect English.

The room started to swirl around Sophie in various shades of grey.  Reeling, she tried to hold on to some semblance of sanity.  The last thing she remembered was Michael leaping toward her and catching her in his strong arms.

* * * *

“You didn’t have to scare her out of her wits!” Michael said as he eased Sophie onto the sofa.

Pendragon snorted, sparks filling the air, fizzling before they reached the carpet, thanks to the warlock’s quick hand-spell.  He was not happy being in small dragon form and he didn’t like being chastised. 

“You wanted her to get to know me.  What am I supposed to do?  Stand here and look like some stupid animal?”  He raised his spikes.  “I am the head-dragon of Britain!  Even Caesar gave me a wide berth.  I remember—“

“Not now,” Michael replied, his eyes on Sophie as he gently stroked her face, speaking softly in Gaelic to her.

Pendragon rattled his scales in response and turned his attention to the girl.  She looked so much like her ancestor.  His Epona.  The Roman goddess’s blood flowed in the veins of this human, yet Sophie Cameron had none of the warrior qualities Epona possessed.  The girl had fainted when he merely spoke to her! And he had been ever so polite, careful not to knock anything over with his tail or rip her rug to shreds with his claws, or set anything on fire, just as Tanio had requested.  Was it too much to ask that this mortal carry on a simple conversation with him?  By Mithras!  How could he help the girl if she was going to swoon whenever he spoke?  A descendant of Epona’s should be made of sterner stuff… He paused.  This woman probably had his blood flowing in her veins, too, since Epona had chosen to have their only child in her human form. 

This simply would not do.  A female with dragon blood, whether she was able to shift or not, needed to be taught about her birthright.  Of course, that bloody warlock would probably object, judging from how tenderly he was coddling the awakening woman, but then, why would he have to know?

Pendragon understood now why Brighid had sent him.  He would definitely protect the human.  She was, after all, a granddaughter—centuries removed—in his genealogy, but he would do more.    

Sophie Cameron might be the last of his kind.

* * * *

Sophie rubbed her bleary eyes as she sat down at her desk the next morning to review her list of patients for the day.  Not getting sleep at night was taking its toll, but how could she possibly sleep with a talking dragon in her home? 

“Coffee?” Morgan asked in a chirpy tone.

“Please.  Make it strong.”  Sophie scanned down the calendar.  Thank goodness she had only routine appointments for this morning.  The afternoon looked light as well.  Maybe she could get Allison to cover for her.  She really needed able to clear her head and think.

“Here you are,” Morgan said as she set down the cup of steaming brew.  “Chicory-flavored.”

“Thanks.”  Sophie took a grateful sip.  She was getting used to the strong, slightly bitter taste of chicory.  She needed all the help she could get this morning.

“You’re welcome.”  Morgan laid down the morning newspaper.  “The interview you did with that newspaper reporter is in here.  I thought you might want to read it.”

Sophie glanced down at it as Morgan left to answer the phone.  That interview seemed so long ago, although it has only been three weeks or so.  Back then, life was still semi-normal.  Sure, a dragon had been sighted, but she had still clung to the idea that it was some sort of technical gadgetry that had created it.  Little did she know she was going to have it living with her.

Sophie scratched at an itch behind her ear absently as she skimmed the article.  The young reporter had actually quoted her accurately.  She almost smiled at how insistent she had been that the dragon could not be real.  Ha. She knew better now.

Pushing the newspaper aside, she rubbed her temples.  What in the world was she going to do?  Michael had stayed late to help her get acquainted with Pendragon.  He’d even offered to spend the night on the sofa. 

As if that would help.  The idea of a half-clothed warlock—or maybe even a naked one—how did she know what he slept in?—was too much mind-overload.  Or, she thought giddily, the idea of a virile, good-looking, muscular male on her sofa was too much hormone-overload.  Way too much. 

She had slowly regained consciousness last night to the sensation of Michael’s fingers gently brushing her hair back and then sliding his warm hands slowly down her cheeks and neck to her shoulders.  He had stroked her arms, softly crooning in some language she didn’t comprehend, although her body, it seemed, understood perfectly what he was doing, since her female parts started to tingle even as the rest of her felt like a weightless, boneless, quivering mass.

Lord, if she reacted to him like that when she was half-unconscious, what would she do awake?  And traveling with him?  Based on last night’s conversation between Michael and Pendragon, it no longer seemed she had a choice about traveling.

“We need to get started as soon as possible,” Pendragon said.  “I don’t want to stay in this small form any longer than I have to.”

“You’re going with Michael?” Sophie asked in surprise.

“I am going with Michael and you,” he replied, revealing sharp teeth in what was supposed to be a dragon-grin, “although I think I could protect you better in my original form.”  He turned bright, cobalt eyes on Michael.  “I could fly ahead and scout the territory—“

“No,” Michael interrupted.  “It was a mistake to draw so much media attention to you in the first place.  I’ll create an illusion that you’re a wolfhound and you’ll travel in the cargo hold.”

“From what you’ve told me about these new flying objects, it will be cold in there,” Pendragon said and puffed smoke at Michael.  “Reptilian forms prefer warmth.”

“You aren’t exactly a lizard,” Michael answered, “and it’s only for the flight to Virginia.  From there, we’ll rent a car and drive the coastline down through Florida and up the Gulf coast.  You can ride in the back seat.”

“I’d be more help scouting for you,” Pendragon said as small sparks of flame shot from his snout.

“Careful!” Sophie managed to say.  “You’ll set the house on fire!”

He rattled his scales.  “Sorry.”

“We really don’t want to draw any more attention to ourselves,” Michael explained.  “Right now, Baylor doesn’t have a copy of the second riddle and he doesn’t know where we’re going.  Let’s keep it that.  Besides,” he added, “you can use heightened sense of sight and smell just as well like you are.”

Sophie sighed and stood, chewing her lip in frustration.  She paused, half-way out the door and ran her tongue to the corner of her mouth.  Cold sore?  She was prone to get those when she felt stressed.  Just what she needed.

She spent the next two hours busy with her furry charges.  Allison had agreed that she looked horrible and in need of some sleep, so she was going to leave at lunch.  First, though, she had to clean out Augustin’s stall. 

She led him to the small paddock behind the stable.  “Sorry I can’t take you for a ride today, boy, but you can kick up your heels out here.  There’ll be oats waiting for you later.”

The horse nickered and lowered his head, bumping gently against her shoulder and then he snorted and cantered away.  Sophie smiled and turned back to the stall.  She shoveled out the old straw and replaced it and made sure there was fresh hay and oats in the trough and then brushed at her cheeks, trying to clear the dust particles that were making her itch.

Turning on the a/c in the truck, she waited in the driveway as a Lincoln Navigator drove past.  She didn’t recognize it, but someone down the street was probably getting company.  She glanced at her watch.  It was barely past noon.  She put through a text to Michael asking him to meet her at Mr. Smith’s.  She wanted to look at the manuscript again.  She still had questions.

And then, she’d go home and deal with a real live dragon.

* * * *

“Sophie’s not here yet?” Michael asked as Smith met him in the study.  “She sent me a text a half hour ago, asking that I meet her here.”

“I know,” Mr. Smith said.  “She called me about the same time.  You know how traffic can be.  Or someone may have walked in with a sick pet.  Sophie would never turn an animal away.”

That was true.  Michael had to admit that he admired her for that.  Last night, once she’d recovered from her faint, she had appeared to accept that she had a talking dragon in her home, and she had responded admirably.  Pendragon had practically preened, rattling his scales, when she asked him about his lair and horde and other dragon-questions.  No doubt she’d have him eating out of her hand within a few days.   

Hell, Michael wouldn’t mind eating out of her hand either.  Or, for that matter, nibbling some very luscious parts of her.  Her soft, full breasts had pressed against his chest as he’d caught her and he’d wanted nothing more than to roll her nipples between his fingers until they hardened to tiny peaks that he could suck into his mouth.  Her rounded rump fit perfectly into his hands as he’d laid her on the sofa and his enhanced senses picked up the faint trace of her unique feminine scent.  How delicious it would be if she were fully aroused!  To strip off her jeans and fit himself between her thighs and savor her juices as he laved them through her slick folds and then teased that tiny little nub into pulsation—that was what he really wanted. 

And could not have.  They had to find the sword. 

Mr. Smith was eyeing him with interest and Michael began to wonder if the man had some sort of sixth sense no one else had picked up on.  With his fixation on the medieval world and particularly all things Arthurian, there just might be a drop of Druid’s blood in his ancestral line.  Michael didn’t believe in coincidences.  There was a reason the manuscript had gotten into Smith’s hands.

“I take it that Sophie has agreed to go with you, after all?” Smith asked and smiled coyly.  “You must have been very persuasive.”

Michael’s groin tightened at the thought of how very persuasive he would like to be, but not for any reason involving the sword—unless he wanted to count getting his own sword sheathed in her tight, hot scabbard.  He doubted that she’d welcome that kind of bold advance though.  The jerk who’d hurt her had done a pretty thorough job.  Wooing—an odd word in today’s world, but it seemed to fit—Sophie would take time and patience and tiny, little steps in building her trust.  Still, he could hardly tell Smith that Sophie’s persuasion was because a dragon was now residing at her place.

Michael smiled and shook his head.  “Sophie’s an intelligent woman.  I think she finally realized that there is a real danger to society if Excalibur falls into the wrong hands.”

Smith stopped smiling.  ‘I’ve never met Adam Baylor, but if he was responsible for poor Professor MacDonald’s death—“

“He was,” Michael said, “but we’ll never be able to prove it.”

“I tried to have him investigated,” Smith said soberly.  “I hired the best spies Interpol had to offer.  They raised questions.  Had suspicions.  Nothing conclusive.”

“And there won’t be,” Michael said, wishing he could explain that even Merlin had not been able to ferret Balor out.  Demons built layers of illusion around themselves and, in this technological age, shielded themselves with barriers of protective hardware, software, and human minions to do their dirty work. 

“No man can maintain a flawless fraud,” Mr. Smith said.  “He’ll slip up eventually and my spies will be waiting.”

No man could.  Michael wished he could tell Smith that Balor was really a demon, but the fewer humans knew that immortals existed, the better.  Smith thought they were battling for power over the corruption of drug cartels, terrorists, and semi-sane political leaders who strived for dominion.  And all that was true, but it was the ancient, exiled god who controlled these factions as though they were puppets.  According to the prophecy of Avalon, only one deity could destroy Balor and that was his own grandson, Lugh—and even Lugh would need his Spear.  If Nimue were correct, the Spear was safe, waiting for its owner.     

“I hope you’re right,” Michael said.  “Meanwhile, we need to keep the sword away from Balor.  As soon as Sophie gets here, I’ll call the airline and make reservations for us to fly out of here.  The sooner we can get started, the better.”

Mr. Smith checked his watch.  “I wonder where she is.”

A strange tingle began at Michael’s nape as tiny bits of violet light started to sparkled along his side vision.  “Something’s not right,” he said, just as the phone rang.

Chapter Eleven

Sophie wiped her brow and adjusted the a/c setting as she eased into the traffic on I-30.  The day certainly had turned hot.  She felt tiny bumps on her skin, almost like a heat rash.  Turning down her visor, she checked her face in the mirror.  Her cheeks looked flushed, but she didn’t feel feverish.  Lifting the visor, she concentrated on the traffic.  As usual, it became denser the closer she got to Dallas. 

Slipping in a golden-oldies CD, she began to hum along with the Rolling Stones Can’t Get No Satisfaction smiling at the irony of the song.  She had been perfectly satisfied not to get satisfaction since her divorce.  Life was simple without a man in it.  Until Michael had shown up, that is. 

What was it about him anyway?  Oh, sure, he was sculpted like a Greek god, with muscles in all the right places and his rakish grin, longish-hair, and dark, penetrating eyes were bedroom sexy.  But Sophie hadn’t thought about bedrooms—other than for getting a sound night’s sleep—in a long time.  And she certainly wasn’t taken in by cover model good looks either.  Robert had those as well and she knew how that turned out.

But…she couldn’t remember Robert ever making her skin tingle, with every nerve ending on edge, as it did when Michael merely brushed his fingers against her cheek.  Even just his closeness as they sat in his car, sensing his body heat and unique male scent was enough to bead her nipples.  And the fantasy dream they’d shared—she’d never had that strong a climax in her waking life ever. 

Sophie felt her face heat even more at that thought and rubbed at her eyes.  They were beginning to burn.  The ozone level must really be high today.  She gave herself a little shake and focused on the traffic. 

Yes, life had been so simple before Michael.  No dragons flying through the sky or residing in her home.  No media-blitz.   No mythical swords to find and no demons lurking out there to destroy the world. 

Not that she believed in omens or superstitions, but she wondered now how coincidental that meeting at been at the Palo Pinto clinic when Michael had stopped in with the strange request to rescue a wolf that couldn’t be found. 

She rubbed her eyes again as her vision began to blur.  Had some sort of chemical been released into the air?  Pulling out the CD, she turned on the radio.  Blinking her eyes, she fiddled with the dials to find a news station. 

A horn blared beside her.  Too late, she looked up, realizing she had drifted into the next lane.  She jerked the wheel to her right, over-correcting and felt the truck spin out of control.  Air-borne momentarily, it landed heavily on its side on the sloping shoulder of the road. 

Dazed, Sophie lay there, wondering why everything around her was still reeling.  Vaguely, she heard brakes squealing to a stop and footsteps running towards her.  A swarthy-faced man with a patch over one eye appeared in the window.  He looked like a pirate, but the last thing her befuddled mind wondered before darkness enveloped her was why he was dressed in a suit and tie?

* * * *

Morgan watched as Allison put down the phone, a shocked expression on her face.  “What is it?” she asked.

“That was Parkland hospital.  Sophie’s been in an accident.”

“How badly is she hurt?”

“Concussion.  Broken leg.  Pretty bad slash on her arm from broken glass.”  Allison gathered her purse and car keys.  “Thank God some good Samaritan stopped and put a tourniquet on it and waited until the ambulance came.”

“Do they say what happened?”

“Apparently she swerved lanes and over-corrected.  No other car was involved.    Cancel the rest of the appointments, will you?  I’m going over there.”

“Of course.”  Morgan waited until she heard Allison drive away and then went into the tiny kitchen and picked up the coffee mug Sophie had used earlier.  She gave it a good sniff, satisfied that no trace of her special herbs lingered.

“Where did Allison go?” Janie asked from the doorway.

Morgan nearly dropped the cup.  She’d forgotten the girl was still here.  “Sophie was in a car accident.”

“Oh, no!  How bad?”

Morgan related what she knew and Janie shook her head.  “That is so odd.  Sophie is an excellent driver.  She doesn’t text or even use her cell phone when she’s on the road.  Why would she get distracted enough to drift into another lane?”

“Who knows?  Maybe it was just heavy traffic.”  Morgan put the mug back on the shelf and busied herself cleaning the sink.  Had her herbs had anything to do with it?  She had meant for Sophie’s face to break out in blotches and a rash so Michael wouldn’t find her so god-damned attractive, but sometimes vision was affected.  She paused, her blood chilling.  Adam very much wanted the bitch alive.  He’d told Morgan that.  If he ever found out that Morgan might have anything to do with causing the accident—but then, why would he?  There was absolutely no reason for him to find out.  She forced herself to breathe in.  She was safe.

“I guess I’d better call Michael,” Janie said.

Morgan whirled around.  “Why would you call him?”

“He’ll want to know.”

“Why, exactly, do you think that?” Morgan asked, keeping her voice neutral. Janie blinked.  “He likes her. A lot.”

Morgan narrowed her eyes.  “He’s simply trying to convince her to look for some ancient sword that the eccentric millionaire wants.”

“How do you know that?” Janie asked.

She could hardly explain to the girl that she had the office bugged.  “She mentioned something about it the last time he was here.”

“Well, that’s a new one,” Janie said.  “A guy asking a girl on a date to find a sword.”  Then she giggled.  “Unless it’s the sword inside his pants.  Sophie fences, you know.”  She giggled harder.  “He sure calls here often enough to be interested in sparring with her, if you catch my jest.”

Morgan bit back a curse she was about to hurl at the girl.  No sense in wasting dark magic on the little idiot.  If Michael wanted to sheath his sword in anyone, Morgan could give him more than a quick parry!  She sniffed.  Sophie Cameron hadn’t been able to hold on to a handsome hunk like Robert—probably because she was cold as a glacier in bed.  And she’d bet her modeling contract that Michael was a man who liked really hot women.  And Morgan liked building up steam in the bedroom. 

She forced herself to smile at Janie.  Sophie would be out-of-commission for awhile which would give Morgan time to work on Michael.  She was just glad that Adam Baylor would never find out what she had done.

* * * *

“My dear boy,” Mr. Smith said as Michael paced back and forth in the hospital room, “you’ll wear out the linoleum.”

Michael looked over at Sophie, pale-faced and comatose.  He had been sending healing white light into her body ever since they’d been admitted into the private room that Smith had ordered, but she had not responded.  He gently probed her mind again.  Her shields were down, due to being unconscious, but all he could detect was a blank nothingness. At least, she was not reliving the accident in some nightmare-like state.    

The nurse came in to check Sophie’s vitals again.  Michael could discern nothing from the woman’s face as to whether the signs were good or bad nor did her mind reveal anything other than routine professionalism.

“How is she?” he asked as the nurse adjusted the IV-drip and turned to go.

“She’s holding her own, Mr. McCain.  I’ll be back in thirty minutes to check her signs again.”

“Shouldn’t she be waking up?”

‘Some patients take longer than others with head trauma,” she answered.  “The CAT-scan showed minimal swelling, so that’s good news.  We just have to be patient.”

Michael resumed pacing again as she left.  As a warlock, he had honed his abilities to control himself totally.  Magic tinged with emotion was dangerous, yet now he wanted nothing more than to call on all the gods and offer any bargain for this woman to wake up and be all right.  He stopped practically in mid-step and stared at Sophie again.  He loved her.

Persuading her to help him find the sword was important.  Infinitely so.  Balor could not be allowed its possession.  Michael’s raging lust for Sophie—his need to bury himself inside her and stay there—was unsurpassed by anything he had ever felt for a woman, but it paled in comparison to this newfound understanding.  That lust was built on a much stronger foundation.  Love.  Caring.  He wanted to protect her.  He wanted her to be one with him.  The potency of his feelings shot through him like a lightning bolt.

And then the irony of the situation hit him.  In all his centuries of living, he had never experienced real love until now.  And a warlock would be the last person someone as practical and logical as Sophie would want to marry.  He was pretty sure she much preferred to have him and his red dragon go away and leave her in peace.

That wasn’t going to happen.  Not now.

Sophie stirred and a small moan escaped her lips.  With preternatural speed, Michael was at her side.  He didn’t care if Smith noticed how fast he moved or not.

“Sophie!  Wake up,” he said as he took her hand, stroking his thumb across her palm. “Come back to the world of the living.”

He felt the static connection, sensed the purple light arching between them, even as she opened her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as she blinked her eyes, trying to focus on him.

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck,” she said with a grimace.

Michael smiled.  “You were run over by a truck.  Sort of.  Do you remember?”

Sophie closed her eyes and for a moment, he thought he’d lost her again, but then she opened them and nodded slightly. 

“I…I was driving to Dallas.  My eyes itched and then blurred.  I tried to avoid hitting another car.”  She glanced down at her bandaged arm.  “The truck left the road.  The last thing I remember is that pirate man helping me.”

Michael exchanged a quick glance with Smith.  Was she hallucinating?  “Pirate man?” he asked.

She must have noticed the look he’d given Smith because she gave him a little smile.  “Not a real pirate.  He just looked like one. Olive skin and an eye patch, but dressed in an expensive suit.”  She pointed to her bandaged arm.  “He stopped the bleeding.  I’d like to thank him, but I don’t know who he was.”

Michael felt the fine hair along his nape raise.  There was only one person who fit that description that he knew of.   “I think you just met Adam Baylor,” he said.

Sophie stared at him.  “I thought you said he was evil.  He saved my life.”

“Because he needs you to find the sword.”  Pendragon’s arrival must have tipped Balor off.  Since he was obviously following her, Balor knew where Sophie worked and probably where she lived. 

The search for the sword had just gotten more dangerous---and more vital.

* * * *

Sophie rested her crutches against the edge of the sofa and sank down gratefully, easing her leg up on the cushions.  She couldn’t just have broken her leg in one place.  No.  She had fractured both the femur and the tibia and now faced a good month of physical therapy before she would be able to travel.

She’d expected Michael to be upset with the delay, but he had stoically accepted it.  In fact, he had been practically gallant, like some knight of old visiting her every day for a week before he’d brought her home from the hospital yesterday.

“Stay right there,” he said as he pulled the larger car he had rented into her driveway.  “I’ll unlock the door.”

“I can unlock the door, Michael.”  Sophie gave him a grin.  “I didn’t break my hand.” 

“Just sit there, will you?”  Taking her keys, he sprang from the seat, had the door open, and was back on her side of the car just as she opened it.  “Here, let me.”  He eased her legs toward the side, helping her out. 

“My crutches—“

“Forget those,” Michael said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and lifting her.

“I can hobble.  They made me do it before I could leave the hospital.”

“Yeah, well, just hold on.”

Sophie leaned against him, suddenly aware of how solid his chest was. She felt the corded muscles of his shoulders as she tentatively wrapped an arm around his neck  She wasn’t exactly a light-weight, and he was carrying her like she was a bag of feathers.

He kicked the door closed and deposited her on the couch as Pendragon clanked his claws across the tile floor towards them.

His cobalt eyes studied her and he came forward to sniff at her leg.  Michael batted his snout away.  “None of that.”

The dragon snorted small puffs of smoke.  “I smelled metal.”

“That would be the steel pins in my leg,” Sophie said with a small smile.  Had the dragon gotten that close to her a week ago before all this happened, she would have run screaming from the room, but oddly enough, those days in the hospital bed gave her time to rethink a lot of things.  Not that she could run anywhere right now.

“I guess we won’t be traveling anytime soon,” he said.

“Afraid not,” Sophie answered.  “It’ll be the middle of July at least.”

“Or longer, if that’s what it takes,” Michael replied.

The dragon gave a little sigh and sat on his haunches.  “At least, Balor doesn’t know more than we do.”  He cocked his head as Michael and Sophie exchanged glances.  “What’s wrong?”

“It seems this Mr. Baylor knows who I am,” Sophie replied and told him about the rescue.  “I know you both said he was evil, but he helped me.”

Pendragon’s bared his razor-sharp teeth.  “He needed you alive.”

“That’s what I told her,” Michael said.  “From now on, Sophie doesn’t leave our sight.  Either you or I will be guarding her.”

Pendragon nodded.  “Affirmative.  Every single minute of the day.”

“Excuse me, guys,” Sophie intervened.  “I am certainly not going to have you watching me when I take a shower!”

Michael tilted his head.  “You might need someone to scrub your back.”

The idea of Michael being in the shower with her—her treacherous imagination flashed an image of him stark-naked—made her stomach flutter as though a hundred butterflies had suddenly taken leave of a roost.  She felt her face heat and it didn’t help that Michael was grinning with no dimple showing.

“I think I can manage,” she said.  “Thanks for bringing me home though.”

“I hope you’re not dismissing me?”

“Don’t you have a temp agency to run?”

“Nope.  Stephanie can handle the office,” Michael said as he sat down in the recliner across from her.  “I’m spending the night.”

Sophie shook her head at the memory. Michael had slept in the recliner and the dragon on the floor near the sofa where she lay.  As much as she hated to admit it, she had felt a little bit special, like some medieval lady in King Arthur’s court.  After all, how many modern females had a hunky man who was a throwback to chivalry and a dragon guarding her?

She was startled by a persistent knocking on the door.  The dragon snarled, on instant alert.  Could it be that Adam Baylor had found her?  Michael had set wards of protection around her house before he left this morning, but what did she know of magic?  Would they hold? 

“Come on.  Open up, Soph!” Robert called.

She breathed a sigh of relief.  “It’s my ex-husband,” she said to the dragon.  “You’ll need to hide in the office.”

“I’m supposed to protect you.”

“Robert isn’t going to hurt me,” Sophie replied as she eased herself into a sitting position and reached for her crutches.  “He may be annoying, but I can handle that.”

She hobbled toward the door and turned to make sure the dragon was out of sight before she opened it.

He brushed past her before she could speak.  “Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital?” he asked as he strode to the middle of the room and turned around, glaring at her.  “I called the clinic several times and Janie always said you were out.”

Bless Janie.  She might be a man-crazy twenty-something, but she was also a good hedge.  Sophie made her slow way back to the couch.  Last night, Michael had been at her side every time she moved, but Robert just stood there, looking annoyed.

“I wasn’t aware that I needed to report in to you, Robert.”

“You were in a car accident with broken bones.  I certainly should have been informed.”

“Why?  And how did you find out anyway?”

“I just came from the clinic.  Your new girl, Morgan, told me.  Of course, I had to flirt a little to get it out of her, but that didn’t mean anything.”

Just like old times.  “Flirting never means anything to you, does it?”

“Oh, come on, baby.  Let’s not fight.”  Robert sat down beside her, giving her the confident smile he used in the courtroom. “She’s a hot, little number, but she’s been around the block a few times, I think.  She’s definitely not you.”  He moved closer and put his hand on her good thigh.  “Let me make you feel better.”

Before she could brush his hand away, Pendragon roared and flew across the room to land squarely on the coffee table in front of them.  His spikes rose along his spine as he prepared to shoot a fiery flame at Robert.

“Stop!” Sophie shouted. 

Pendragon growled and extended his claws like a cat.

Robert had jumped back, but quickly recovered.  “Well, well, well.  What have we here?” he asked.

Sophie sighed.  How in the world was she going to explain a dragon?   If only Pendragon had let her handle this! Dear Lord, don’t let him speak!

Pendragon growled again, but settled on his haunches, thankfully silent.

“You know I sometimes take in exotic species,” Sophie said, her mind racing for a really good explanation.  “This is…um, a very rare Gila monster.  He was scaring the cats and dogs at the kennel so I brought him home.”

Pendragon blinked at her.

“Gila’s are orange and black,” Robert said suspiciously.

“Yes.  That’s what makes this one so rare.”

“And they are also poisonous,” he added.

Pendragon drew back his lips to expose his sharp teeth.  Tiny tendrils of smoke drifted from his nostrils.

Robert sidled away from Sophie, keeping an eye on Pendragon, and then stood, moving slowly toward the door.  Sophie almost smiled.  It actually felt good to see Robert unnerved for once.  She motioned for the dragon to return to the office.  He rumbled, but jumped off the table and ambled away, his claws clicking on the floor.

Robert sharpened his gaze.  “I don’t know what’s going on here, Sophie, but I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not a liar!”

“You’re not a good liar.  I deal with them every day.”  He studied her for a moment, bolder now that the dragon had retreated.  “There is no logical explanation for it, but I think that thing I just saw is the dragon that the media has been in a frenzy about.”

“You’re right on one count, Robert.  That certainly is not a logical explanation.”

He shrugged.  “The big dragon lighting up the night sky isn’t logical either.  But Air Traffic Control at DFW sighted something on their radar that wasn’t a plane.  That data has been sent to NOAA and the FBI.”

Sophie groaned inwardly.  She should have known this craziness wouldn’t stop simply with the media.  “I have no idea what that was.”

“Liar,” he said again, “and, unless you want the media to somehow ‘find out’ you’re harboring that dragon in small form, I suggest you think twice about us getting back together again.”

“The divorce has been final for a year.  Let’s not rehash old problems.  Go back to Amber.”

“I’m not taking that whore back.” Robert gave her a look that was just short of menacing.  “And I don’t appreciate another man messing with my wife, either.”

“I’m not your wife and what are you talking about?”

“Morgan told me how that guy, Michael, has been sniffing around your skirts.  No doubt he wants to get between your legs—“

“That’s enough.  You keep Michael out of this.”

Robert’s eyebrows rose.  “So.  I have competition, I see.”

“You don’t have competition!  What I do is my own business.  You no longer have any claim to me!”

“We’ll see about that,” Robert said, his eyes narrowing a bit.  “I’m sure the authorities might be very interested in knowing what you harbor here.”

Sophie stared at him, feeling her blood chill.  “You’d turn me in?”

He gave her his confident, attorney smile.  “In a heartbeat, baby.  I’ll call you tomorrow and see what you decision is.  Hope you make the right one.  We used to be so good together.  Remember?” 

Sophie watched him walk to his car.  If there had been even one tiny drop of doubt in her blood, it was gone now.  Robert was a cold, self-centered man only concerned with his own interests.  And somehow, that “interest” had refocused on her. 

The last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with Robert, but she couldn’t let the media—and certainly not the authorities—discover the dragon either.   If he returned to full size, breathing fire, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

Nor did she want Robert dragging Michael’s name through the mud.  Or worse, concocting some foolproof accusation against Michael that would land him in jail.  Robert was capable of it.    

She’d have to find some way to keep Michael away from her.

Chapter Twelve

“What do you mean, she isn’t here?  The woman has a broken leg!”  Michael ran his hand through his wind-blown hair and glared at Pendragon.  “You were supposed to protect her!”

The dragon snorted.  “That woman is more wily that Gwenhwyfar ever thought of being!”

“What do you mean by that?” Michael demanded.

“She told me she was really tired and needed a nap, but I guess she was conspiring with that ex-husband of hers.”

“Ex—was Robert here?”

“He arrived shortly after you left this morning.  At first, she didn’t seem too happy to see him, but then he sat beside her on the sofa.  I tried to intervene, but she sent me back to the office.”

Michael groaned.  “This just keeps getting worse.  Now that bastard knows you are here.  He’s seen you.”

Pendragon rattled his scales and huffed.  “Well, he was touching her.  Tanio’s orders were for me to protect her.  Of course…” He cast a baleful eye at Michael. “I could do that much better in my correct form.  The man would be nothing but ashes on the rug right now.”

“Great.  Then Sophie would be a suspect in her ex’s disappearance, if not arrested for murder.  There will be no fire-breathing at mortals!”  Michael began to pace around the empty living room.  “I’m going to have to get you out of here before he returns with the police.  There have been APB’s out for you ever since the first sighting.”

“Humph,” Pendragon said grumpily.  “I could handle the police too.”  He sighed resignedly.  “She told him I was a rare Gila monster.  Do you know how humiliating that is?  I am not a lizard!”

Michael paused in his pacing.  At least Sophie had the quick sense to come up with something half-way believable.  It might buy them some time to get away.  But where in the hell could Sophie have gone with a still-mending leg?

“She didn’t leave with him, did she?”

The dragon shook his head.  “They were standing by the door, talking too low for me to understand since my hearing has been affected by this puny, little body I’m inhabiting.  Maybe he came back for her.  I don’t know.  Like I told you, she said she wanted privacy while she slept and closed the door to the bedroom.  I remember Ygraine was the same way, wanting to spend time in her chambers, although Uther usually joined her there.”  He stared unblinkingly at Michael.  “I didn’t think you would want me to intrude.”

Michael swept his hand through his hair again.  “You’re right.  Who would suspect that she’d leave in her condition?  But where could she have gone?”  He pulled out his cell and hit Smith’s contact number.  A brief conversation ensued and he slid the phone back into his pocket.  “The butler said he didn’t know anything about her disappearance,” Michael said.

He didn’t want to think that she’d go off with her ex, but the guy was persistent.  Michael had done some research on Robert and found that he won nearly all of his cases.  That made him a shrewd and persuasive opponent.  Had Sophie succumbed to some offer to take care of her?  Michael’s aura flashed red at the thought of the bastard even touching her.  Pendragon’s head snapped up, his spikes rising.  Michael drew his power back in.  He needed to think logically.  Inciting the dragon certainly wouldn’t help.

“There’s no sign of a forced entry,” he said as an afterthought. 

“I would have heard that or any sound of a struggle,” Pendragon said.  “I was napping in the office across the hall.”

“Napping?  Why weren’t you on watch?”

The dragon gave him a disgusted look.  “What was I supposed to watch for?  You’d warded the windows.  The doors were locked and woman was asleep in her bedroom.”  He managed to look indignant.  “Dragons like to doze you know.”

Michael shook his head and moved past him to the bedroom.  The coverlet on the bed was smooth and showed no signs of anyone even lying down.  Nothing else in the room seemed disturbed either.  He opened a closet door.  Items hung neatly side-by-side, color-coordinated. How like Sophie to be that organized.  He couldn’t tell, though, if anything was missing.  Shutting the door, he glanced at the dresser where a few toiletries sat along with a figurine of a prancing horse.  And propped up beside it was a small envelope with his name on it. 

He hurried over and ripped it open.  Quickly, he scanned the short note and raced back to the living room. 

“She left,” he said waving the paper at Pendragon.  “Says she had a kind offer for complete care during her recovery and she’ll be in touch when she’s well.”  He glanced down at it.  “We’re not to worry.”  He crushed the paper in a wad in his fist.

Damnation.  She must have returned to her ex.  He had money and servants to care for her no doubt.  The feeling of betrayal struck sharp as a blade in Michael’s back.  The wily one in the debacle was not Sophie, but that conniving bastard, Robert.

Michael tossed the paper down.  Robert may have won this round, but he certainly had not won the war.  The battle hadn’t even begun.

* * * *

Balor leaned back from the computer screen and chuckled.  It was the first truly good laugh he’d had since that manuscript had been found.

Morgan sidled up behind him, pressing her breasts against the back of his head as she slid her arms around him to stroke his chest.  “What amuses you?” she asked.

‘This is just too rich,” he answered, clicking on the mouse to rerun the video he had just watched.  “I knew it was a good idea to have Caldwell get that webcam inside the Cameron woman’s house.  Look.”

Morgan squinted at the frozen screen.  “That looks like a large, red dog.  No…wait.  It’s a huge lizard.”

Balor laughed again.  “That is the red dragon.”

She leaned closer over his shoulder.  “Do you mean the one that got the media all stirred up?  How did it get reduced in size?”

“Not sure.  Probably some deity’s work.”  For a moment, his mouth tightened, remembering that he had once had that status.  Damn those Avalon bitches.  He pulled Morgan around to sit on his lap and placed her hand on his cock.  She stroked him expertly through the silk of his dressing robe and he smiled again.  “One thing’s for sure.  Pendragon would not have given up his size willingly.”

“Is it permanent?” Morgan asked as she pushed aside the robe to fondle his bare skin. 

“Probably not.  Being shrunk…” He grinned as his prick grew larger with Morgan’s ministrations. “…keeps him under the radar from the media.  Most likely it was the warlock’s idea.  He’s going to need the press to go away before he and the vet can take off searching for the sword. Too bad she had to get into that wreck, though.  Now we’ll have to wait as well.”  He gave Morgan a quick glance when her hand froze in place.  “Why did you stop?”

“Huh…nothing.”  She resumed pumping him with her hand.  “Do you like it like this?”

“You know I do, pet,” he answered.  “It’s just a good thing I happened to be following the woman.  She’d have bled out if I hadn’t stopped.”  Morgan’s hand stilled again and he gave her an irritated glance.  Her face was unnaturally pale like some vampire had drained her.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.  “I just didn’t know that you were the Good Samaritan.”

Balor laughed again.  “It’s probably the only time in my life I’ve been called that.  I only did it because we need her alive.  Somehow, she’s tied into finding the sword.  Until that happens it behooves all of us to make sure no harm comes to her.”  He gave Morgan a calculating look.  “Don’t let your jealousy for the warlock get in the way of your good sense, my pet.”

If anything, Morgan turned paler.  “I won’t,” she whispered and then bent down to take his thickened rod into her mouth.  She sucked him hard, the way he liked it, and he allowed himself the moment of bliss to release his seed deep in her throat.  She swallowed without so much as a gag. 

“Ah, you always please me.”  Balor pulled her back on his lap and reached to fast-forward the video.  “And this pleases me almost as much.  Do you know who the man is sitting on her couch?”

Morgan looked at the screen.  “Yeah.  That’s her ex-husband.  He calls at the office.  I think he wants to get back with her.”

“Well, the sound isn’t good on this, but it seems she’s not all that agreeable.  It seems he’s threatened to expose her little secret.”  Balor clicked the video off.  “Perhaps if he had the dragon, he’d have a little more leverage.  You can help with that, pet.”

Morgan frowned slightly.  “You want me to go to Sophie’s house and get the dragon?”

Balor shook his head.  “No.  Pendragon is far stronger than he looks, even in his small size.  As you could see from the webcam, the dragon is very protective of the woman.  I want you to accompany the ex over there.  No doubt Pendragon will emerge to defend her again.  I’ll have you slip a magic lure over his head.  Once that’s done, the dragon is ours.”

She gave him a quizzical look.  “Ours?”

“Figuratively speaking.  The ex can use the dragon as blackmail to woo his wife back.”   Balor looked at Morgan.  He was almost fond of her, but there certainly was no reason to tell any mortal why he wanted the dragon captured.  With the Pendragon capture and killed—perhaps he’d let Sigurd help with that—it would be another obstacle out of the way.

And he’d be one step closer to achieving ultimate power.     

* * * *

“If you’ll let me return to my original form, I can hunt for her,” Pendragon grumbled as Michael opened the door of his apartment for them to enter.

“Too risky,” Michael replied.  “We don’t need to be attracting media attention right now.  Besides, I plan to have Sophie back here before Balor finds out she’s gone.”

The dragon snorted.  “How do you plan to do that since you don’t know where she went?”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he suspected she was housed at Robert’s place.  “I’ve got an idea,” he said.

“Take me with you then.”

“Nope.  I can hardly be seen walking the streets with you,” Michael said.

“I’m supposed to protect her.” Pendragon puffed smoke.  “If something happens to her, Tanio will never let me return to my full size.”

Michael studied him.  The dragon had really been pretty complacent all things considered.  “Tell you what,” he said.  “Let me do a little surveillance on my own for today.  If I’m lucky, Sophie will be back home tonight.  If not, you can come with me tomorrow.”  As the dragon started to protest with another whiff of smoke, Michael added, “She might try to call.  You’d be here to answer the phone.”  He lifted the handheld off its cradle and laid it down.  “You can press the green button with your claw, can’t you?”

“Of course I can.  Dragon claws are very flexible.” Pendragon glared at him, momentarily distracted from the conversation.  “But—“

“Then it’s settled,” Michael interrupted.  “Just for today. Stay home.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The dragon wasn’t happy, but Michael’s thoughts were already on how he’d get Sophie back from Robert as he sped along I-30 toward north Dallas in the rented car he’d used to bring Sophie home earlier. 

Half an hour later, he parked down the street from a stately two-story brick home that was worth millions in the suburb of Highland Park.  Thankfully, most of the residents here were Old Money and not Nouveau Riche.  Security systems were undoubtedly in place everywhere, but nothing so mundane or obvious as gates or armed security.

Michael rolled down the windows to allow the air in and closed his eyes.  He opened his brow chakra, sending web-like tentacles of light toward the house.  He picked up no trace of Sophie’s essence, but then her own magic unwittingly kept her shields up.  She was one of the very few humans he’d ever encountered who could totally block him.  Not that she’d believe that, of course.  She still thought he’d manipulated her thoughts and sent her that erotic dream.  For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to remember the silky texture of her skin and the salty musk taste of her juices as he’d lapped them eagerly as a thirsty dog. 

He shook his head in frustration as he opened his eyes.  Ironically, he could have used the help of Lucas Ramsey right now.  The man was a wolf shifter and not only would have a keener scent, but would be able to trot right up to the building in dog-form, undetected, and peer in the windows. But Lucas and Sara were stuck in Merlin’s cave, if Nimue told the truth. 

By the Goddess, he’d welcome the faerie right now!  She could easily float by each window and no one would notice.  He closed his eyes again, summoning her.  Nothing.  All he felt was his will vibrating from the nearby ancient oaks where tree dryads’ silent laughter gently rustled the leaves.  They’d be no help either. 

Fickle faeries. 

He could simply approach and ring the bell.  With luck, Robert would be his office downtown and Michael could mesmerize the butler—or whoever answered the door—into letting him in.  It was worth a try.

Michael gathered his energy, concentrating on the spell that would allow him to bend the butler’s will to his for a few moments.  It was a particularly dangerous spell to cast since it was often used with black magic for personal gain.  The gods would not be pleased if it went awry. No doubt he would have to pay some penance for even using it in this situation, but Sophie was worth it.

He was about to get out of his car when a red sports car he recognized as Morgan’s pulled directly into the driveway of Robert’s house.  Michael frowned, gathering his spell inward quickly and cloaking his presence.  What in the name of Holy Avalon was she doing here?  

* * * *

As Morgan walked up to the door of Robert’s home, she caught a whiff of magic.  Her head snapped up, nostrils flaring, trying to catch its direction.  Nothing.  Yet, she could have sworn she felt the metallic tingle in the air… She narrowed her eyes and looked around.  Next door, a yardman clipped a hedge, but she detected no magic from him.  Across the street, a young woman, probably a nanny, walked with a small child.  No magic there either.  Down the street, a dark sedan was parked and she hesitated.  Was there a slight crystalline vibration surrounding it? The air seemed to shimmer like a desert heat wave, but even as she watched, it dissipated to nothing.

Morgan sighed.   She wished she were a more experienced witch, but the Sisterhood Circle had not deemed her ready for initiation into truly powerful spells.  Damn them.  She was getting a little fed-up with playing the whore.  Sex was a tool—and a powerful one to use with black magic—if she could just learn the spells.  She wanted the power to stand up to Adam Baylor.  One day she would make him pay for not respecting her. 

Not just yet though.  She could sense the evil the exuded from him.  It was intoxicating.   Every time he came inside her, she captured a little more of its essence.  She smiled.  The man was a fool if he thought he was using her. But she was wise enough not to test him.  Yet.

She rang the doorbell, glad that she had called ahead and Robert had arranged for her to meet him here.  She hated driving through the mess of Stemmons and Thornton where his office was.

“We’ll take the Hummer,” he said as he stepped out and eyed her small car.  “The dragon will never fit in that.”   He snapped his fingers and a few minutes later, a servant brought the big vehicle around.

As Morgan settled into its luxuriously padded leather seat, she hiked up her skirt to mid-thigh and gave Robert a seductive smile.  It never hurt to gather a bit of power from wealthy, successful men.  Besides, the guy was Sophie’s, ex, and there was a certain amount of satisfaction in taking what had belonged to another woman.  Especially that bitch who had Michael enthralled.

Robert glanced at her and then away.  “I appreciate the invitation,” he said in a dry tone, “but this is strictly business.  I want to capture that dragon.”

Morgan thrust her lower lip out, but kept her skirt hiked.  “Don’t worry.  You will.  I explained the plan to you on the phone.”  Adam had gone over it with her in detail while he wove dark threads of sorcery into the garrote she had in her purse.  “But what’s the harm in a little romp in celebration?  You’re a really awesome-looking guy and I’ve never had any complaints about my skills.”

“I’m sure you haven’t,” he said in that same dry voice and then turned up the volume on the CD that had started to play.

They drove in near silence toward Arlington.  Morgan studied his profile.  He was tense, square jaw clenched, the muscles in his forearms rippling as he gripped the steering wheel, weaving in and out of traffic.  An all-together very pleasing specimen.  The fact that he had actually denied her piqued her interest as well.  Except for Michael, no man turned her down.  It might be interesting to wear him down…

“Here we are,” he said, jolting her out of her thoughts as he turned into a quiet side street.  Morgan hadn’t even noticed when they’d exited the freeway.  “It shouldn’t take long to get Sophie fired up,” he said as he knocked on her door.  “You’ve got the rope ready as soon as the dragon charges in?”

“Right here.”  She patted her purse.  “Just let me get in and a short distance away from you so I can come up behind him.”

“Got it.”

They waited.  He knocked again. No answer. 

Robert pounded the door.  “Hell, where could she be?  She’s got a broken leg!”

“She has crutches.  Maybe she’s outside in the back.”

As they rounded the house, Morgan crossed the patio and tried the French doors.  They swung open.  She glanced at Robert and took out the garrote.  “Ready?”

“Ready.”

They were met with silence.  Ten minutes later, after a thorough search of the house, Robert cursed.  “I thought you said they’d be here!”

“They were!”  She couldn’t very well tell Robert that the dragon key-ring held a GPS and that there had been no signal that it had moved from here. 

“Well, they didn’t disappear into thin air!” he said.  “I god-damn want that dragon.  It’ll be the leverage I need to get Sophie back.”

Morgan stared at him.  The stupid man actually loved that bitch?  Like that was an important thing?  But she had a bigger concern than that. 

Adam wanted the dragon and he had counted on her to get it. She’d managed to elude his finding out about the herbs she’d put in Sophie’s drink that caused the accident.  And now, no dragon.

She shuddered, a chill like ice running through her veins.  Unfortunately, she knew what happened to people who let Adam Baylor down.

* * * *

“You must know something,” Michael said to Allison the next morning at the clinic.  “Has she called you?”

“Why should she?  I’d already told her while she was still in the hospital that I’d have one of the other vets who works with us at Palo Pinto come in if I needed more help.  The last time I heard from Sophie was just before she was dismissed from the hospital.”

“I thought you took her home,” Janie said.

“I did.  I went to get some groceries and when I got back, she was gone.”  Michael looked over at Morgan who was busying herself with files.  “Have you seen her or talked to her?”

Morgan shook her head, a little too quickly.  “Not me.”

It seemed her hands shook a little as she opened the filing cabinet.  Michael watched her.  He’d followed the Hummer yesterday, not totally surprised that they had headed for Sophie’s.  At first, he’d assumed they were picking up extra clothes for Sophie, although that didn’t explain why Morgan would be with Robert.  When they’d left the house empty-handed though, he realized that they had probably come for the dragon.  Robert had seen Pendragon.  Had Sophie asked her ex to pick up the dragon?  But, if that were the case, why didn’t she just take Pendragon with her in the first place?

It was all confusing.  And Morgan being mixed up in it set his nerves on edge.  He had never trusted her. 

As a precaution, though, he’d taken Pendragon to Stephanie’s.  She eyed Michael with suspicion when he told her she was better off not knowing anything.  She’d only relented to keep the dragon when Michael told her he was tied in to Sara’s disappearance.  And Pendragon was under strict orders to not speak.

The door to the clinic opened and shut.  Janie’s eyes went round while Allison groaned.  Morgan glanced up, her face turning ashen.

“Where’s my wife?” Robert asked as he stalked to the front desk angrily.

“I don’t know,” Allison said.

“I was asking him.”  Robert pointed to Michael.

Michael kept his face impassive.  Did Robert really not know where Sophie was?  Or was this a ruse to throw everyone off track?  He wouldn’t put it past the man.

“She should be at home,” he said neutrally.

“You know damn well she isn’t!”

“I do?” 

Robert took a deep breath and spoke in more modulated tones.  “I went by to check on her yesterday.  There was no one there.”

Michael shrugged.  “Maybe she didn’t want to let you in.”  He glanced sideways at Morgan who was concentrating on making entries in the computer.  “Can’t blame a handicapped woman for not wanting to be alone with an ex-husband.”

“I wasn’t…” Robert paused for the merest fraction of a second.  “I wasn’t going to harm her.  I’ve never laid a harsh hand on her and she knows that.”

So he wasn’t going to admit that Morgan had been with him.  That was interesting in itself.  But, if Sophie wasn’t at Robert’s—and why would Robert be here if he already had Sophie ensconced at his home?—then where was she? 

Chapter Thirteen

In the end, it had seemed easier to leave than try to convince Michael to stay away from her.  Sophie settled into the silk-covered chaise in one of Mr. Smith’s guest rooms and propped her leg up. 

“Is there anything else you need right now?” Mr. Smith asked.

Sophie glanced at the frosty pitcher of iced tea and the Waterford crystal glass sitting on the mahogany Chippendale side table.  A silver tray of dainty, crust less sandwiches rested beside it along with a smaller plate of petite-fours.  “I’ll be just fine.  I just want to thank you again for sending someone to get me.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear.  Princess loves you.”  He smiled as the small dog jumped up to curl into a ball next to Sophie.  “I think you made a wise decision to come here.  Even if your ex-husband isn’t as revengeful as you think, it would hardly be proper of Michael to move in with you for a month.  Ladies still have reputations to protect.”

Sophie smiled at him.  He might be an eccentric, but he had old-fashioned chivalry in his heart.  Of course, if Mr. Smith knew about those exotic dreams of having Michael’s naked body pressed up against hers, cock hard, he might not think her virtuous at all. 

“Still, I wish there were some way I could pay you,” she said.

“Nonsense.  I’m glad to be of service. I’ve arranged for a physical therapist to come every morning so you won’t have to go out.  Christina will be your personal maid.  You have simply to page her with that electronic thing there.”  He waved his hand at the small remote.  “She’s been relieved of duties so she can attend solely to you.”

“I’m not used to having a maid,” Sophie said with a smile.  “You’re being so kind to me.  I hate to ask for one more favor, but it’s important.”

“Of course.  What is it?”

“I know Benton told Michael I wasn’t here when he called, but he really can’t know that I’m here.  Robert will probably hire a detective to follow him and it’s safer for Michael if he doesn’t find me.”

Mr. Smith frowned.  “I really didn’t care to have Benton lie to him when he called here, but I agree.  If we can throw Robert off-the-scent, so to speak, then he won’t follow you once you start the search for the sword.  And,” he added in a more serious tone than Sophie had ever heard him use, “perhaps we can throw Adam Baylor off your scent as well.”

* * * *

An exhausting seventy-two hours later, Michael was still no closer to finding Sophie than he had been the day she disappeared.  Even Brianna could not find her with the Sight.

After leaving the clinic, Michael had spent that first day tailing the ex-husband.  The guy had returned to his office, then went to lunch and spent the afternoon in court.  He’d taken some blonde with Playboy boobs out to dinner and spent the night at her place.  So much for Robert’s sincerity in wanting Sophie back.  But the man had gone to his house this morning and Michael was headed home.  

As he turned in to the parking lot of his condo, he sensed something was wrong.  Turning the ignition off, he sat quietly, opening his mind, stretching out with his senses. 

Tendrils of human energy zapped back and forth across the empty lot, remnants of 

what mortals left behind.  Mostly normal stuff.  Frustration, impatience, and worry ricocheted off the brick walls in flashes of yellow and red.  Humans in a hurry to get to work.  A slower, wavier line of pale blue drifted above the confused flashes.  Someone centered and at peace with the world.  A steady stream of green vibrating through the ethers indicated a heart filled with love, maybe a mother with child.  Everything seemed to be okay, at least here.

Michael got out of his car, the hair at his nape still prickling.  As he walked toward his condo he saw it—a thin, black line snaking across the tiled walk, almost blending in with the grout.  Malevolence.  Evil.  Someone had been here bent on destruction. 

Michael raced to his door and tried the handle, not surprised when it opened easily.  His wards were gone, their white light totally diminished.  Whoever had broken in had powerful magic. He released his senses again.  Nothing.  The intruder was no longer here.

Stepping inside, Michael scanned the living room.  Two original oils by Ruebens still hung on the wall.  Everything else seemed to be in place too, except for a couple of over-turned chairs.  He righted them and went into the office.  Computer still there, plasma TV as well.  The closet had been ransacked though.  Boxes torn open and the contents tossed out. He moved to the bedroom and groaned at the sight.  The bed was overturned, clothes and shoes in both closets strewn about the floor. Yet, several twenty dollar bills and the gold Templar cross still lay on his dresser. 

Michael leaned against the doorjamb, thinking.  Whoever had broken in wasn’t interested in material goods, but rather something specific.  Something that could be hidden away. 

Like a small dragon.

Understanding shot through him like a bolt of lightning.  Sophie’s ex had seen the dragon.  It was the dragon Robert wanted.  Publicity?  Blackmail?  Michael didn’t know.  Robert had probably taken Morgan along to use her magic to help subdue Pendragon.  As if that would work. They’d both have gotten singed good. 

Since Sophie seemed to have disappeared, Michael’s condo would be the next logical place to search.  But Robert possessed no magic and Morgan’s was still too weak for her to have broken through his wards, much less destroyed them.  Whoever had broken in wasn’t entirely human.

Balor?  Michael had never known him to do his own dirty work, but if he were desperate to get to Pendragon— and if he picked up the dragon’s scent and followed the trail—

Dear Goddess of Avalon!  He had left Pendragon with a middle-aged human woman who would not be able to protect herself at all. 

Michael grabbed the gold cross and raced out the door, hoping he wasn’t too late to save Stephanie.

* * * *

“How is it that this warlock keeps eluding you?” Lucifer asked idly as he sipped a nineteenth century cognac in his ultra-modern living room.

Balor glared at him with his good eye.  “Careful, little brother!  Even you would be wise not to defy me.”

Lucifer grinned and pushed a blond curl away from his forehead.  “It is rather amusing in a warped way.  You control some of the greediest political leaders on Earth, as well as blood-thirsty warlords, to say nothing of the insane people you recruited to serve the terrorists, and yet this one warlock—and by my own horns, he works with the Light which puts him at a disadvantage—manages to keep a step ahead of you.  You aren’t slipping, are you?”

For an answer, Balor raised his eye patch.  A deadly bolt of lightning slashed through the air, piercing Lucifer’s shoulder and leaving a black, smoking hole in its wake.

Lucifer’s eyes flashed red and then returned to blue.  He dusted the soot off his silk shirt and rubbed his shoulder.  “That smarted, old man.  And this shirt cost several hundred dollars.  You might be a tad more careful with your temper.”

“Don’t push me then!”

“Fine.  Drink your brandy.  I stole it from Napoleon’s own cellars.”  Lucifer settled back in his leather armchair.  “Tell me how you plan to punish Morgan for not capturing Pendragon.  I’ll be glad to rape her again.”

Balor swirled the brandy slowly and inhaled the vapor before he spoke.  “That won’t be necessary.  Morgan followed my instructions and called me as soon as they found the house empty.  Who knew the Cameron woman would disappear with a broken leg?”

“And Pendragon went with her.”

“He must have.  I searched the warlock’s place myself, just to make sure he wasn’t there.  But I did discover something else.”

“Oh? What?”

“Michael McCain is not just any warlock.  His wards were stronger than any I’ve encountered since Arthur built Camelot.  McCain is an Immortal.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows rose.  “One of the Round Table knights?”

“I don’t think so.  He and Lancelot—Lucas Ramsey—didn’t know each other.  Very competitive.  I tried to turn that into antagonism once I found out who Ramsey really was, but it didn’t work.”

“Of course it wouldn’t.  Lancelot inherited Lugh’s Spear of Light—“

“Don’t remind me.  I was only seconds away from retrieving it.”  Balor swallowed the bitter bile that rose in his throat at the memory.  “That’s why it’s imperative that we don’t let the sword get away from us.”

“I agree, bro, but first we have to find the Pendragon and the girl.”

“Exactly,” Balor said and set the empty brandy snifter down.  “And one dragon can scent another.  It’s time to unleash Sigurd.”

Lucifer lifted his glass in mock toast.  “And may the white dragon win again.”

* * * *

“Where are you taking me now?” Pendragon griped as he tried to curl himself into a ball that would fit the sport’s seat in Michael’s car.  “I kind of liked that lady, Stephanie.”

Michael glanced over at him as they headed back to his condo.  “I thought you didn’t like humans.”

The dragon rattled his scales.  “Well, this one was nice, once I convinced her I wasn’t going to burn her alive.”

“You spoke to her?  I told you—“

“I didn’t speak to her.”  He pulled his lips back in a dragon-smile.  “I put my head in her lap and rubbed.”

Michael almost lost control of the car.  “You gave her a hand-job?”

“A head job, warlock.  My claws would have torn her skin.”  Pendragon looked quite pleased with himself.  “She squirmed around and liked it.”

The idea of plump, middle-aged, looks-like-a-grandma Stephanie in the throes of passion was almost more than Michael could imagine.  Pendragon had it all wrong.  “More likely she was trying to get away from you.  Are you sure you just didn’t scare her half-to-death?”

He blinked his cobalt eyes.  “She let me do it more than once and she made all those funny noises humans make. And afterwards,” he added with a thump of his tail that threatened to shred the leather on the dashboard, “she fed me ice cream.  Chocolate ice cream.  When did humans invent that wonderful concoction?  I love ice cream.”

“Forget ice cream.  If I let you stay with her, she’d be in danger.  Somehow, Balor found out you’d been down-sized and he wants to capture you while you’re in that state.”

Pendragon sobered.  “If I returned to my full size—“

“No.  He’d find you for sure then.  I can’t split my power trying to protect you and Sophie too. Once I find her, that is.”

“She’s at that Smith man’s mansion.”

Michael gave him a quick look.  “Smith was one of the first people I called.  The butler said she wasn’t there.”

Pendragon lifted a leathery wing in what seemed to be the equivalent of a human shrug.  “He lied.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because,” he said smugly, “that other vet told Stephanie last night on the phone.”

Michael pulled over to the side of the road.  “She what?”

“Last night on the phone,” the dragon said in a pseudo-patient voice, “Stephanie called the vet to ask her what to feed a…a Gila monster, and asked if there was any news about Sophie.  Allison said Sophie had called her.”  His lips curled back again.  “They didn’t think I understood English.”

Michael started the car and slipped back into traffic.  “I was planning to keep you at my place since it’s already been burglarized, but I think now we’ll just stop in so I can pack some clothes and we’ll head to Smith’s.  I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

Moments later they pulled into his parking lot.  Michael paused at the door.  The wards he’d reconstructed were still in place, so no one had returned.  “We’re okay,” he said and opened the door.

Pendragon slipped past him and headed to the kitchen.  “Do you have any ice cream?” he asked.

“No.” 

“I love ice cream,” the dragon said in a hurtful tone.  “Don’t I deserve a reward for finding Sophie for you?”

Michael shook his head as he headed toward his bedroom.  “Mr. Smith’s kitchens probably have all kinds of flavors, if you’ll let me pull a few things together.”

“Well, hurry then.”

Michael pulled a back-pack out of the closet and threw some toiletries along with jeans and t-shirts into it.  He glanced at the Templar cross lying on his dresser.  He usually left it home because it had tracking qualities that another Immortal could use to find him, but it could also be protective—and Lucas had left it behind for him.  Wrapping it in a strip of white silk that he used for rituals, he laid it in the backpack and returned to the living room.

Pendragon was sitting by the door, oddly contemplative.  He sat so still, he seemed to be more statue than alive.  Only the raised spikes on his neck bespoke of trouble.

“What is it?” Michael asked.

“Sigurd.”

“The white dragon?”

Pendragon nodded.  “I smelt him before, but he was leagues away and something was binding him.  He’s much closer now.”  He stood, shaking his scales, turning them into armor.  “And he’s loose.”

* * * *

Sophie paused at the top of the stairs, wondering if her ears were playing tricks on her.  She could have sworn she heard Michael’s rumbling baritone in the hall below.  She had dreamed about him again last night, another erotic dream in which he laved her nipples, turning them into tight little buds, then nibbled his way down every inch of exposed skin as he removed her clothes slowly.  His clever tongue had swirled into her core, then teased its way toward the hard, pulsating nub that begged for attention…

She had awakened hot and wet and wanting him. 

“I know Sophie’s here, Benton.  She called Allison yesterday.”

Damn!  It was him! Sophie leaned against the wall.  She’d known better than to call Alli, but she wanted to check on her horse.  If Robert had followed him—

Straightening her shoulders, she reached for the handrail. Michael was here.  If he had been followed, there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.  And she didn’t want to make the butler or Mr. Smith lie for her any longer.

She made her way carefully down, taking one step at a time, the way the physical therapist had showed her to do.  Reaching the bottom, she extended the four-pronged walking cane and walked slowly toward the foyer.

“I’m sorry, Sir—“

“It’s all right, Benton.  I’ll talk to him,” Sophie said and met Michael’s gaze.  Heat washed over her like a hot flash at the smoldering look in his dark eyes.  They practically burned into her as he contemplated every inch of her, starting with her mouth, lingering on her breasts, moving downward past her waist.  She felt dampness gather between her legs and leaned on the cane for support.  Dear God, if he could practically make her come with just a look…

The dragon smirked, lifting a corner of his mouth to expose a fang.  “Glad to see us?” he asked.

Before she could answer, Mr. Smith came into the hall.  “I thought I heard voices in here.”  He looked quickly from Michael to Sophie.  “Is everything all right?”

“No, everything is not all right,” Michael replied, “and I’m not talking about why Sophie decided she should hide from me.  The white dragon has been turned loose which means that Balor is probably hot on our trail.”

“Oh, dear.  I thought that nasty man was in London,” Mr. Smith said.

“He’s been spotted in Dallas,” Michael answered and gave Sophie a discerning look.  “Are you well enough to travel?”

“She’s supposed to have another week of therapy—“

“I’m fine,” Sophie interposed.  “The therapist said yesterday that my leg healed faster than anyone she’d seen.”  She held up her cane.  “If I use this, I shouldn’t have any problems.  When do you want to leave?”

“The sooner the better,” Michael replied.  “I’ll call the airlines and see what the earliest flight to Charleston is.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Smith said.  “I’ll arrange for my private plane to fly you there.  It will take less than an hour for the pilot to have a flight plan ready.” He turned to Sophie.  “My dear, are you sure you’re well enough to do this?”

She nodded.  “We’ve delayed long enough.  If we can leave this evening, perhaps no one will follow us.”

“All right then.  I’ll call my pilot. And, take this with you.”  Smith opened a glass cabinet filled with antique guns and removed a long, leather sheath from the bottom.  He handed it to Michael.  “You can use this for the sword.  The inside is steel-lined.”  He turned to Benton.  “Have the chef prepare a quick meal, would you?”

“Right away,” the butler said and turned to go. Pendragon ambled after him, then stopped and stared at Michael.

Michael sighed.  “Hmmm—would you happen to have any ice cream?”

“Certainly.  Several kinds.  Would you like some for dessert?”

“Not me.”  He pointed to Pendragon.  “Gila monsters seem to be very fond of it though.”

Pendragon glared at Michael and blew a puff of smoke.  Mr. Smith’s eyes widened at the sight, but Benton merely looked down his nose at the dragon.

“Very well, sir,” he said.

* * * *

Sophie glanced sideways through her lashes at Michael’s profile as he drove the rented SUV out of Charleston’s airport.  There hadn’t been much opportunity to talk privately with him.  Mr. Smith’s chauffeur had driven them to Love Field where a pilot and copilot waited so the conversation had been general.

“I hope you understand why I wanted to stay hidden,” Sophie ventured.  She’d tried briefly to tell him about Robert’s tenacity and obsession with winning, whether it was a court case or something or someone he wanted.   

A muscle twitched in Michael’s stubble-lined jaw.  “I’m supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around.”

“Hey-what am I back here?” Pendragon asked from the folded-down back seat area.  “I’m supposed to be protecting her too.”

Sophie glanced back at him and smiled.  “I’m sorry I left you.”  She turned back to Michael, but he kept his eyes on the traffic.  “I know you’re upset with me, but we got away, didn’t we?” 

‘That’s not the point,” Michael said and grimaced as his cell phone rang.  He glanced at the Caller-ID and handed it to Sophie.  “It’s Smith.  See what he wants.”

Sophie tapped the “On” button.  “Hi, Mr. Smith.  We’re in Charleston.  Just arrived a little bit ago—What?”  She listened in silence for several minutes and then responded with, “We’ll stay in touch with you then.” 

“What is it?” Michael asked when she put the phone down. 

“There’s been another dragon sighting at the clinic.  It was all over the morning news.”

“Sigurd?” Pendragon rumbled, poking his long head through the space between the front seats.  “I knew I smelt him!”

“Who is Sigurd?” she asked in a shaky voice.

Michael took a deep breath.  “You remember the story of King Vortigern trying to build a castle and each night it would collapse?  And how the sorcerer, Merlin, told him it was because a red dragon and a white fought in the ground below?”

Sophie frowned, wishing she hadn’t taken the pain pill earlier.  It was making her thinking foggy.  “I think I remember something about that.  But what in the world does it have to do with this?”

“That was us!” Pendragon said.  “The damn white bastard had help from Balor or I would never have been defeated.”

Sophie rubbed her temples, feeling the headache already starting, in spite of the medication.  There was another dragon flying around?  “So now you’re telling me this faerie tale is true—“

“No faeries,” Pendragon interrupted.  “Dragons don’t bother with them.  They’re too flighty.”

Sophie rubbed her forehead harder.  “Of course.  I forgot.  Faeries are real, too.” 

“Look,” Michael said as he eased the car into the motel parking lot and switched off the ignition, “I know you have a hard time accepting this other world that you didn’t know existed, but it does.  The white dragon was sent by Balor to find us.  He doesn’t have any clues for finding the sword other than to follow us.  And when we do, he’ll want backup to deal with Pendragon.”

“He’s not going to win this time,” the dragon said.  “Why not let me go back there now, in my real form, and take care of Sigurd?  That will be one less problem.”

“Can’t.  I don’t give the orders.  The Lady of Avalon sent you to protect Sophie,” Michael said.

“Sigurd will pick up my scent and follow us,” Pendragon answered.

“He’s already got Sophie’s scent,” Michael replied.  “That’s why Balor sent him to the clinic.  Hopefully, since you are in small form, your scent won’t be as evident.”

“You…you’re saying that now we have a dragon following us too?”  Sophie asked, trying to think coherently.

“And Balor won’t be far behind him,” Pendragon said.

Sophie closed her eyes and hugged herself.  “All I ever wanted was a nice, normal life.” 

Pendragon snorted small spirals of smoke.  “But you’re not—“

“Enough,” Michael said and eased himself across his seat to pull Sophie toward him, cradling her with one arm while his other and stroked her brow soothingly.

Even in her dazed state, Michael felt good.  It had been weeks since she’d touched him and the chemistry was still there, almost as if there were a special current vibrating around them.  Sophie nestled against his hard chest, the warmth of his body feeling like a snug cocoon.  He murmured something, soft and low, that Sophie couldn’t understand, but she let herself be lulled into relaxing in his embrace.  The last thing she sleepily remembered hearing was Pendragon.

“But she isn’t human,” he said.

Chapter Fourteen

This time it was Carl Landon who hung semi-suspended from the leather straps and steel girder in the South Dallas warehouse.  Balor watched dispassionately as Lucifer reamed the gagged kid’s ass.  “Don’t let him pass out, Lucien,” he said, using his brother’s modern name.  “I want him to feel every minute of pain.”

Lucifer grinned, looking for all the world like some college kid pulling a frat hazing.  “Not to worry.”

Balor shifted his attention to the others in the room.  Morgan was licking her lips, no doubt remembering how Lucifer’s big, thick cock had felt in her.  Alan Caldwell was pretending disinterest as usual and Toby Clark was clearly terrified.  Good.  He liked to give his minions reminders of his power.  Of course, they had no idea of who “Lucian” really was. 

Balor began to pace in front of them.  “Things are not going as well as they should.  The video-cam that Caldwell placed in Sophie Cameron’s home is worthless if she’s not there, as is the wire-tap at the clinic.  It’s most unfortunate that the lady had that car accident.”

“But she was lucky you were following her!” Morgan said quickly.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that before,” Balor said and wondered why she was giving him such a wide-eyed look.  Was she hiding something?  He filed the thought away.  “Furthermore, the woman seems to have been spirited away while Mr. Landon says he was watching the front of the house.”  Balor ignored the garbled sounds coming from the kid.  “It seems that when she left, she didn’t bother taking the key ring with her that had the GPS on it.”

Toby Clark blanched even further at that statement and Balor almost smiled.  Let him think that maybe he was next.  He glanced back at Lucifer.  His brother had lowered the contraption and Landon was now on his knees in front of him.  Lucifer removed the gag and inserted his bloodied cock into the kid’s mouth, circling his neck with a grip powerful enough to snuff him if the kid decided to bite and began to thrust.  “Make it good,” Lucifer whispered to him, “and I may let you go.”  Landon squeezed his eyes shut, tears running down his face as he began to suck.  Balor turned back to his minions.

“She’s probably with McCain,” Alan said.

Brave of the man to speak.  But then, Balor appreciated Caldwell’s guts.   “Undoubtedly she is.  But the warlock seems to have disappeared as well.”

“I’m sure you have a back-up plan,” Caldwell replied, eyeing him steadily.

Had anyone else said that, Balor would have considered it fawning.  “Of course.”  He motioned to Morgan.  “My pet.  Would you bring our other pet out for these gentlemen to meet?”

She gave Lucifer a big smile as she brushed past him and he grinned, watching her hips sway as she went by.  He suddenly stilled Landon’s head and shot his wad down his throat.  The kid gagged and flopped to the floor. Lucifer stepped over him and went to Balor’s side.  “I wouldn’t call Sigurd a pet in front of him, bro.”

Sounds of steel-like claws tapped the concrete floor of the warehouse as the white dragon lumbered forward, his metal scales rattling as he looked at the humans.  His spiked neck scales rose and smoke streamed from his nostrils.

“Nicht heir!” Lucifer said sharply.

The dragon rumbled, the sound thundering off the walls and settled onto his haunches, thumping his speared tail once for good measure.

Landon had managed to crawl toward the others and now all three men looked warily at the white dragon that Morgan still stood beside.

“There are two dragons?” Caldwell finally asked.

“Very good,” Balor answered.  “Yes, and they have been rivals for a very long time.  This is Sigurd and he has agreed to help us track the warlock and his red dragon, along with the woman.”

“How?” Caldwell asked.

The dragon emitted another small puff of smoke.  “Still stand!” Lucifer ordered and then looked at Caldwell.  “I don’t think Sigurd cares to have his abilities questioned.”

“No indeed,” Balor added.  “He already knows the red dragon’s scent and since he has come to us, he’s picked up both the warlock’s and the vet’s as well.  He’ll be able to get us fairly close to where they are.”  Balor looked down at Landon.  “I’m going to give you one more chance to prove your worth before I turn you over to the bookmakers.”

“Yes, sir,” Carl managed to gurgle through the foamy spittle in his mouth.

“Sigurd scented them last night at Love Field.  It wasn’t hard to obtain a copy of the flight plan.  They’re in Charleston.  You will fly there, rent a car and follow them.”

“But how will I know where to find them?” Landon managed to say.

“Lucian will be accompanying you and he’ll be in contact with the dragon.”  Balor smiled. “And just think of the enjoyable evenings you’ll have.”

The kid’s face turned ashen as Lucifer reached down and stroked his cheek.  “And I’ll enjoy every moment of teaching you all kinds of new skills.  You’ll be a different man when I get through.”

* * * *

Soft light swirled around Sophie’s head as she drowsily listened to muted voices in the background.  They must be in the motel, but she didn’t remember how she got there.  Those pain pills were really something.  She turned over in the bed, burrowing her head deeper into the pillow and drifting back into the odd dream of the Mediterranean seaside she’d been having.

“What did you mean, Sophie isn’t human?” Michael asked.  “She’s not an immortal.”

“Perhaps not,” Pendragon replied, “but goddess blood flows in her veins.”

“Whose?”

“Epona’s.”

“How do you know that?” Michael demanded.

The dragon chuckled, only it sounded more like surf crashing against the beach.  “Because I mated with Epona in human form.  Sophie is a descendent of the child we produced.”

Michael moved closer to the bed and Sophie sighed softly as a feeling of warmth washed over her, like gentle summer waves.  “Then she has dragon blood too?” he asked, sotto-voce.

“It’s why Brighid sent me,” Pendragon answered.  ‘She may be the last of her kind.”

“I know she has magical powers,” Michael said, his voice still low.  “I saw how she slammed Caldwell into the wall without being near him.”  He looked up at the dragon.  “Epona was known to take the field both as a human warrior and in her horse-form.  Is it possible that Sophie could shift?”

“I don’t know.  I’m not a shifter, but dragon-blood would make her very strong if she tapped into it.”

The breeze freshened, making the voices fade, as the salty tang of the sea became stronger.  Sophiei watched turquoise water ebb and flow across the wide expanse of sand as the warmth of southern sun flooded her.

She curled into a ball contentedly, as a magnificent white horse tossed its head and looked at her before turning and galloping down the beach.

* * * *

“Do you think Pendragon will be okay?”  Sophie asked Michael as they began walking down Church Street toward the Fort Sumter Visitor Education Center to catch the ferry that would take them to the actual fort in the middle of Charleston Harbor.

“We left him with a gallon of chocolate ice cream,” Michael replied, “and he has orders to stay put and not make any noise.”  He gave her a smile.  “We can hardly take him walking with us.”

“I know.  We’re trying not to draw attention to ourselves.  It’s bad enough that I have to use this cane.”

“The cane no one will pay attention to, but we want to stay under the radar if Sigurd shows up,” Michael said and then looked around.  “The last time I visited here, there was a good amount of paranormal activity going on.  Hopefully, all the unusual energy will confuse him.”

“What kinds of paranormal activity?” Sophie asked suspiciously.  “If you’re going to tell me vampires and werewolves are fighting it out—“

“No, nothing like that,” Michael said.  “It’s more like ghosts.”

“Ghosts?  What kinds of ghosts?”

“Various kinds. Pirates were a problem in the 1700s.  Twenty-nine of them were hanged and left to rot at Battery Park to scare other pirates off.  One of them supposedly still wanders looking for his head.”

“Get real.”

“That’s what the tourist brochures say,” Michael said with a grin.  “Seriously, though, so much of Charleston was damaged by war and natural disasters through three centuries that a lot of these old homes have literally been rebuilt.  Negative energy like grief and anger get absorbed into the walls and, over time, are trapped there with each renovation.”

Sophie shook her head.  “If there wasn’t a live dragon back in our hotel room, I’d say this is all stuff and nonsense.”

“Not at all,” Michael answered.  “Take the old Slave Mart.  We might not like to think about it, but a lot of slaves were tortured.  Some didn’t make it.”  He pointed to the Queen Street intersection sign.  “The next two blocks are a real hub for ghosts.  Three churches with their graveyards, Pirate’s Courtyard, the old Planter’s Hotel—now the Dock Theater—but it had its share of rowdy and raucous behavior.  In the evening, purple light can be seen hanging in the air around the place.  I can show you later when we get back.”

Sophie craned her head to look at the huge churches.  “That one certainly has a high steeple,” she said. 

“St. Phillips.” Michael answered.  “Its steeple was used as a look out during the Civil War.”

She turned to him.  “How do you know so much?”

He grinned.  “Google?”

“Funny.”

“The oldest church in the city has a high steeple too,” Michael said as they stopped on the intersection with Broad and he pointed westward toward Meeting Street.  “St. Michael’s”.

Sophie choked on suppressed laughter.  Michael thumped her back gently, yet firmly, and then turned her, grasping her arms.  “Are you all right?”

All right?  Being reminded that there was a Christian saint with the same name as the sexy warlock whose intense, dark eyes were holding her as mesmerized as his hands on her arms were was an absurd irony.  There certainly was nothing saintly about Michael.  Even now, with his thumbs so close to brushing the sides of her breasts, her nipples had pebbled.  Her belly thrummed, wanting to press against him and feel the delicious length of his hard manhood.  He stirred feelings in her she had long repressed, made her think wanton thoughts of him—them—naked, her legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him deep inside—Good God!

She pushed away.  “You’re spelling me, aren’t you?”

One of his dark brows lifted.  “I don’t think I can.  Your shields are too strong.  Even if I could, I gave you my word I wouldn’t.”  A corner of his mouth twitched and then lifted into a half-grin.  “But I can scent your desire.  I wouldn’t turn you down.”

“Stop it!”  Sophie felt more confused than ever as she started walking as quickly as she could.  It didn’t help that the place between her legs had grown damp.  She could practically smell her own arousal.  “What do you mean, my “shields” are too strong?”

Michael matched her pace.  “You’ve got powerful magic, Sophie.  It keeps anyone from probing into your mind.”

“I don’t have magic!”

“Yes, you do,” he said as they approached the door of the Visitor Center.  “Remember what happened when Caldwell almost stepped on one of the puppies?  He didn’t go veering into that doorjamb by himself. You sent him there.”

Sophie stopped and stared at him.  “How did I do that? I was across the room.”

“That’s just it.  Purple light streaked from your fingers.  Probably not visible to most people, but it was there.  Why don’t you let me help you learn to use it?  At least,” he said as he opened the door and ushered her inside, “think about it. We can talk later.”

She recalled that crazy dream she’d had earlier this morning.  Something about dragons and goddesses and battles—but that was just a painkiller-induced, hazy dream.  Michael and Pendragon had been in the room, talking. But—what had they said?  Something about her not being completely human?  What did that make her then?

Chapter Fifteen

“That was strike one,” Sophie said later as they returned from viewing the old fort.  “I mean, it was interesting from a historical standpoint, but Excalibur wasn’t hanging around.  I guess we couldn’t just have gotten lucky and found it on the first try.”

Michael shrugged as they started walking up Church Street toward their hotel.  “We’ve still got Museum Mile to see tomorrow.  “Are you sure you’re not tired?  We can take a taxi.”

“I’m fine.  The doctor told me not to coddle my leg.  Besides,” she said with just a hint of sarcasm, “I want to see this spooky purple light you told me about.”

He grinned and hooked her arm inside his.  She might act all tough and independent, but he’d seen the strain on her face earlier when the ferry had bounced over the wake of some inconsiderate boater and she’d tried to balance without putting too much stress on her leg. 

More and more, he admired Sophie.  Though hers was a scientific mind, taught to analyze and come to logical conclusions, she had managed to accept Pendragon and at least consider other paranormal aspects to her world.  But was she ready to start learning to use her own powers?

“What are you so serious about?” she asked after they’d walked for a few moments in silence.

“You,” he said.  “Do you have any idea of the magic you possess?”

She looked at him pensively. ‘You really think I have magic?”

Michael nodded.  “I can sense it in you, but then, I’m a warlock.  It’s part of my training—“

“Just how do you train to be a warlock?” Sophie asked.  “Are you saying anyone can become one?”

“No.  I inherited the…ability, but our skills have to be honed, like children being taught to read and write.  We must learn to control our powers.  Did you know the ancient Druids trained for twenty years before they could become Initiates?”

“No, but what does that have to do with me?  I’m sure not a druid.”

“Druidess.”

“Whatever.  I’ve just led a normal live until lately.”  The look she gave him clearly said she wished it had stayed that way.

“That is the point, Sophie.  Your magic was not needed until now.”

She sighed.  “Why now then?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied and tucked her a little closer to him since the sidewalk near the fabled ghostly area was getting more crowded with tourists waiting to see the purple light. She felt good against him, her soft breast pressing into his bicep.  He almost lost his train of thought.  “I’m not sure,” he said again, “but the Celtic relics have been lost a long time and Adam Baylor has been looking for them for—years.  So has the Priory.  Yet, Pendragon was never awakened to help find them.  The Goddess of Avalon—and I know you’re skeptical about that—released him for a reason.  To find you.”

“I had a dream this morning that you and he were talking about me having dragon-blood.”  Her eyes widened.  “It was a dream…wasn’t it?”

Michael stopped, pulling her back a little from the crowd.  “According to him, you are descended from the Roman goddess, Epona.  She protected soldiers and horses.”

Sophie scowled.  “That’s impossible.  I’m Scottish.  Well, American, but my family’s ancestry is Scottish.”

Michael leaned down to whisper in her ear.  “And Scotland is where the Templars managed to escape with their treasure.  The relics were part of that, remember?  There are no coincidences, Sophie.”  He straightened.  “Besides, didn’t you admit you have a special affinity for horses?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“No buts.  Look.”  Michael pointed to the Dock Theatre across the street.  As the twilight turned to dusk, the soft, yellow glow of the old-fashioned streetlamps lit the buildings and behind them, a lavender-colored mist seemed to be forming.  It became brighter and the crowd around them grew quiet.

Suddenly the silence was rent with a deafening roar as several bolts of what looked like lightning flashed through the air, followed by the furious flapping of leathery wings as a white form streaked through, dipping almost to the roof top and then lifted off,  disappearing into the night.

People panicked, milling about, pushing at one another to get away before the thing returned. A young man with long brown hair brushed against them and Michael pushed Sophie behind him, setting an invisible ward so people scurried around them.  He scanned the sky for a return, but was pretty sure this had been for show.  Balor wanted them to know that he knew where they were.   He felt Sophie’s fingers tapping his shoulder.

“Don’t worry.  We’ll be safe,” he said.  “I’ve got us shielded.”

Sophie raised her arm and pointed.  “Then why is she watching us?”

Michael followed her direction to the second floor of the theatre.  A young woman stood quite still, seemingly unaware of the panic ensuing on the street below.  She was dressed in 1830’s garb, complete with boa, bonnet and bustle.  Her gaze held Michal’s and then she slowly faded away.

“You’ve just met your first ghost, Sophie,” he said.

* * * *

Two days later, they were headed down I-95 toward Miami and the Keys.  Museum Mile had turned up nothing nor had several museums in Savannah and St. Augustine.  Sophie shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Is your leg hurting again?” Michael asked.

“Just a little,” she answered as she stretched it as much as she could, “but I’m not taking any more pain pills.  It was bad enough seeing that apparition. I don’t want to be seeing ghosts where there aren’t any because of drugs.”

“Drugs weren’t affecting you,” Michael answered.  “What you saw was real, or at least as real as a person from the past can be.  Charlestonians pretty much take her in stride.”

“Well, they sure didn’t take the white dragon in stride, did they?”

“He swept by so fast they aren’t sure of what they saw, thank God.”

Pendragon rumbled from the rear of the SUV.  “Sigurd and I have unfinished business. I wish you’d let me get a crack at him.”

Michael glanced in the rear-view mirror.  “Just be glad that in your smaller form, he couldn’t scent you that well, or you might be ash by now”

He roared, only it sounded more like a growl.  “Britain nearly fell because of him.  I want my revenge.”

“And perhaps you’ll get it,” Michael said, “but the time isn’t right.  We need to keep you hidden as much as possible.  The media went into a frenzy over that sighting.  We can’t afford for anyone to see you too.”

“At least, we weren’t the target this time,” Sophie said.  “The reporters took it as some strange phenomenon associated with that purple light.”

“Only because the dragon flew through so fast that people hardly could see what he was.  At least, he didn’t spot us.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Pendragon said.  “Dragons have eyesight sharper than an eagle’s.”

Sophie turned in her seat to look back at him.  “Then why did he leave us alone?  We were easy targets out in the street like that.”

“I doubt that we’ll come to any harm until we find the sword,” Michael said.  “Balor doesn’t know where to look this time, so his best hope is to have us followed.”

“But then why let us know about the white dragon?  Wouldn’t he want to keep Sigurd as a secret weapon?”

“No doubt,” Michael replied, “but you may have noticed, dragons are not exactly docile animals.”

“Damn right,” Pendragon said from where he sat.

“They don’t always follow rules either,” Michael added with another glance in the mirror. 

“Why should we?” Pendragon asked. “We were here before you were and we aren’t afraid of demons either.”

“Balor is a more powerful than your average demon,” Michael replied.

“Hmmph!”  Pendragon thumped his tail hard.

“Careful!” Michael said.  “We have to turn this car back in.  Anyway, it’s just as well that we know Sigurd is out there.  He’s probably wearing a GPS device as well, so Balor can put his human minions on our trail.”    

Sophie looked from the dragon to Michael.  “Maybe we should just abandon this idea.  If Balor doesn’t know where the sword is and it stays hidden, wouldn’t that work out just fine?”

Michael shook his head.  “Remember when I told you the relics would stay hidden for years only to resurface when there was a need for them?”

“Yes, but—“

“We wouldn’t have been called to do this, Sophie, if something big wasn’t getting ready to happen.”

“You mean like more terrorism?”

“That’s only a start,” Michael said.  “Something is looming on the horizon that is bad enough—evil enough—to destroy human kind.  Totally.”

* * * *

“It’s hard to believe there was actually a fort all the way down here during the Civil War,” Sophie said the next day as they sped down the Overseas Highway that spanned crystal turquoise waters. Waving palms trees and sea-grape vines pushed up from the sand on small islands that greeted them along the way.  Dolphins frolicked in the shallow waters, spraying droplets that sparkled like diamonds in the sunshine.  Sports fishermen zoomed past in expensive vessels, leaving wakes that spewed white foam behind them.  Farther out, majestic sailboats glided slowly across flat seas.  She took a deep, contented breath, the first in days.  “It’s hard to think that battles were fought in this paradise.”  

“Lots of battles were fought here even before the Civil War,” Michael said.  “Indians, Spanish Conquistadors, pirates, Caribbean islanders—“

“Googling again?” Sophie asked with a smile.  She was beginning to appreciate the hidden academic in him.  With his sexy grin and smoldering dark eyes—not to mention a body that belonged on a romance cover—it was way too easy to react to him physically and forget the man had a brain.  Just what kind of a female version of a chauvinist was she turning into? 

He smiled back.  “I just like to know a little bit about the places I’m going.  Are you hungry?”

“I guess.  Breakfast was a long time ago.”

“Good.  Ever had conch fritters?” he asked as he pulled into the parking lot of a Dairy Queen mid-way down the island chain. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Then you’re in for a real treat.”

“Do they have ice cream here?” Pendragon asked.

Michael rolled his eyes.  “That’s pretty much of a sure thing.  I’ll be right back.”

Ten minutes later, they were on the road again, Sophie savoring the crispy fried morsels of conch meat and Pendragon happily slurping up what had to be the biggest dish of ice cream that Dairy Queen had ever sold.

“I know you said the sword would be found in the South because of the Celtic calendar and the symbolism,” Sophie said as she licked her fingers, “but if one of the Priory scholars brought it here, wouldn’t the South have won the war?”

“Good point,” Michael replied, “but remember, the spear had actually been seen during World War II.  I suspect the other relics may have surfaced around that time as well.”

“So why pick a Civil War site to hide the sword then?  Why not a World War site?”

“Too new.  If the relics did surface during the 1940’s, there weren’t any museums

built yet to honor the war—and the war was not fought on American soil.  Besides, the irony of hiding the sword that never lost a battle in some designated Confederate spot would be the perfect cover.”

“Well, Key West is as far south as you can get,” Sophie said.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Michael answered.

And yet, several hours later, they walked out of the historical museum located in the East Martello Tower disappointed.   

“We’ve still got Fort Taylor State Park to look at as well as Fort Jefferson.”

Sophie raised her brows.  “Going to the Dry Tortugas will be a whole day event.  Do you think we can leave Pendragon that long?”

“I’ll get him some ice cream,” Michael said as they headed back to the SUV, “and make sure the “Do Not Disturb” sign is on the door.  Meanwhile, we can play tourist tonight and hit Mallory Square and Pirate’s Alley.”

“It would be nice to relax for a few hours and not worry about the sword,” Sophie admitted, “or dragons.”

Michael grinned.  “Well, we have one dragon who unfortunately is turning out to be an excellent chaperone.”

Sophie felt herself blush.  She had been thinking about breaking free of her more stoic self for one night and joining the revelers on Duval Street.  She’d been here once with friends while she was in college.  It had been a wild and unforgettable night.  She’d actually gotten drunk or maybe it was stoned.  She’d never smoked pot, but plenty of people that night did and she remembered the pungent odor.  Afterwards, she’d staggered off with a guy who looked a lot like Michael.  That had been the first time a man had spread her legs over his shoulders and licked her there—as if on cue, dampness grew between her thighs.  If Michael…

She heard his soft laughter and felt her face heat even more.  “Are you reading my mind?” she demanded as she tried to manage a glare.

“A little.  You had your shields way down.”  He chuckled and put his arm around her shoulder casually and then leaned over to whisper in her ear.  “If that’s what you want, all you have to do is ask.”

His warm breath tickled her nape, sending delightful tingles down her spine while his hand draped over her collarbone, his fingertips a hairsbreadth away from brushing the tops of her breast.  She felt like her knees had jellied.  Her traitorous body was doing it to her again.  She wanted this man.  Shouldn’t want him.  Men were trouble, her rational mind said.  Her body’s every nerve fiber screamed otherwise. 

They reached the car and Michael dropped his hand to open the door for her.  Even though the late afternoon air was warm and humid, the place where his arm had been suddenly felt cold.

He grinned again as he pulled the seatbelt out for her.  “Anytime, Sophie.”

She settled back against the headrest while he walked around to the driver’s side.  Her thighs quivered.  Good God.  What if she actually said yes to Michael?  She felt herself grow wet and folded her hands tightly in her lap.

Thank God for a dragon chaperone.

* * * *

In spite of the fact that the trip to Fort Jefferson had not turned up any information about the sword, Michael bit back a grin as the boat headed toward the mainland.  Sophie had been quiet for most of the trip, behaving very properly.  Almost primly.  Right now, she was leaning over the rail, seemingly entranced by the crystalline water and the coral reefs below the boat.

But he knew better.  She wanted him.

That knowledge, which he had gleaned when she let her shields slip, washed over him like the warm Floridian waters, leaving in their ebb the tendency to want to dive right into the surf and take her with him. 

She liked oral sex. 

By the Goddess, it was one of his favorite things to do.  Making love to a woman—nuzzling , nibbling, licking, suckling, kissing—was not complete until he had fully tasted her.  Everywhere. 

He would be delighted to nestle between her legs, using his hands to open her folds, inserting a finger into her wet, hot core, spreading the slick juices along those inner lips, teasing her bud with his thumb…  He had caught a slight scent of her personal muskiness before, but now he wanted to thoroughly inhale the perfume of her arousal and put his mouth to her, laving slowly back and forth before suckling that little pleasure nub to bring her to climax.

Because now he knew she wanted him.  He gathered those erotic images into a thought-form and sent them to her with a gentle nudge.  The form bounced back to his mind.  Her shields were firmly back in place again. 

But he was willing to wait.  He was, after all, centuries old.

“We’ll travel up the western coast of Florida and stop at Ft. Myers,” he said as though they’d been having a conversation.  “There were a couple of forts along the Caloosahatchee River during the Civil War.  Maybe there’s something in the museum there.”

Sophie turned toward him.  “Do you really think we’re going to find the sword?  This is as far “south” as we can get.”

“We’ve got the entire Gulf coast to check out,” Michael answered, “all the way to Brownsville if necessary.”

“Maybe we should have started looking in Texas then,” she said wryly.

“Texas is more the Gateway to the West rather than the South,” Michael replied and then grinned.  “Besides we might not have had a chance to travel together for the past ten days.”

She blushed and he got just a tiny glimpse of her thoughts. She was in bed, naked…  Then the shield came back up.  Michael felt his groin tighten.  He really was not going to enjoy waiting.

Suddenly there was a flurry of movement on the deck as most of the tourists rushed over to the starboard side.  “Whale!” someone yelled.  “Oh, my God, it’s huge!”

“It’s a great white!” someone else hollered.

Michael frowned.  Whales were not common in this area, especially not great whites who preferred colder waters.  He took Sophie’s arm and crossed over to the right side.  Shading his eyes with his hand, he squinted across the shimmering water.

The surface rippled again as the mammal approached the surface much closer to the boat.  Its head broke through and people started screaming. 

“Sea monster!”

“It’s Nessie!” a college kid with a long, brown pony-tail yelled.

“Sea dragon,” a woman screamed as the creature dove beneath the surface again.

Michael turned away and looked at Sophie.  Her face was unusually pale in the sunlight.

“Sigurd,” he said. 

Chapter Sixteen

Balor flicked the ashes off his illegal Cuban cigar, depositing them in a Waterford wine goblet. Damn hotel wouldn’t provide ashtrays, saying they discouraged their patrons from smoking in the rooms.  Like Balor cared when he was paying over a thousand dollars a day for the suite.

“What the crap is going on with that dragon?” he asked Lucifer when his brother finally answered his cell on the third attempt to reach him.  “The AP is having a damn field-day with the sightings in Charleston and now the Keys.  They’re clamoring to know where the vet went too.  Sigurd is going to blow our cover.  Can’t you control him?”

“Hey, bro,” Lucifer said in a deceptively mild tone.  “All I did was defrost him.”

“He’s supposed to be zeroing in on our quarry, not exposing them to the entire world.  The fewer people who know what we’re looking for, the better.  Have you explained that to him?”

“Yep.  Sigurd says he wants to have a little fun after being in the frozen tundra for fifteen hundred years.”

“Well, maybe you could show him how hot hell can be.”

Lucifer laughed.  “He breathes fire, remember?”

Balor flicked another ash and wished Morgan were there to suck his dick and relieve some of the tension that was building inside him.  He forced himself to sound calm.  “How close are you and Landon getting to them?”

“Landon was within twenty feet of them on Church Street.”

“And you?”

“Church Street is a place I’d rather not be.  Bad memories,” Lucifer said.  “Besides, I’m staying under the radar for now.  I had Landon following them in Charleston and on boat over to Fort Jefferson as well.  We’ve got them in our sights.  They just don’t know it.”

“Good.  Is the kid behaving for you?”

Lucifer laughed again.  “Of course.  He’s willing to do anything to keep me from tearing his ass open.  He’s getting pretty good at jerking me off properly.”

Balor laughed too.  “I may have to give him a try then, when you’re through with him.  Keep me posted and try to keep that damn dragon in line.”  He hung up the phone, still feeling strangely frustrated.  Getting his balls screwed off sounded like a good idea at the moment.  Morgan was too easy.  Too accommodating.  He wanted to humiliate someone into performing like Lucifer was doing.  He reached for the phone.  He’d reel Toby in with some excuse and make him do it.  The Clark kid hated sucking cock and right now, forcing him would go a long way to vent Balor’s frustration.

* * * *

“What good am I to you if you keep making me stay in motel rooms while you two go looking for the sword?” Pendragon grumbled from the back of the SUV as they turned onto the Tamiami Trail through the Everglades.  “Twice now, Sigurd has shown himself.   He’s playing with you.  Let me shift back and I can destroy him.”

Michael glanced at him in the rear-view mirror.  “Maybe because he doesn’t scent you with us, he’s not really sure.  Have you thought of that?”

Pendragon rumbled something unintelligible.

Sophie turned in her seat to look back at the dragon and smile.  She had grown quite fond of him, partly because his very presence was a deterrent for any kind of amorous advances on Michael’s part.  She let her gaze sweep sideways at Michael.  His dark eyes were fixed on the road, allowing her to take in the high set of his cheekbones, his straight nose and strong jaw.  His tee-shirt pulled taunt over his shoulders and muscles in his forearm flexed as the car rounded a curve a little faster than the speed limit.  She sighed.  If she were going to be honest with herself, it wasn’t Michael’s advances she feared.  It was her reaction to having those strong arms around her, pressing the soft parts of her body against the hard parts of his.

He slanted a look sideways.  “Your shields are slipping again.”

She felt herself blush furiously and looked back at Pendragon.  The dragon’s lips were curled back from his sharp teeth in what looked like a lecherous grin. 

“Stop it! Both of you.  I was only thinking about how many more nights on the road before we get back to Dallas.”

Michael’s eyes glittered with amusement.  “You still have time to ask me.”

“Ask you what?” Pendragon said.

“Never mind,” Sophie said quickly and turned to look out the window.  “Why don’t you two just enjoy the scenery?”

“I am,” Michael said with a grin.

“I meant—Look.  There’s an alligator.”

Pendragon stuck his snout out the rear window they’d opened for him and caught the gator’s scent.  “He’s a relative of dragons.  Where are his wings?”

“Alligators don’t fly,” Michael replied, “even though there might be some resemblance to you.”

“Hmph.”  Pendragon answered.  “This seems like a strange world around here.”

“It is,” Sophie answered, glad to change the subject.  “What looks like acres of saw grass waving in the wind are actually marshy sloughs that flow toward the ocean.   

The trees you see standing in ponds of water are cypress and the other that look like they’re raised up are hardwoods growing on islands called hammocks.”

“Now who’s been Googling?” Michael asked.

“Not Googling,” she replied, refusing to give in to his sexy smile—the one with no dimple.  “Biology.  I’m a vet, remember?  The Everglades is home to a variety of species—interesting birds like anhingas and bald eagles, poisonous pit vipers, deadly coral snakes, boas and pythons too.  Deer and alligators, small game as well.  And, of course, the endangered panther.”

Michael’s grin widened.  “Okay, Teacher.  Tell us more.”

She ignored his taunt.  This, at least, was a safe subject.  “Male cats can weigh as much as two hundred twenty pounds.  They’re territorial.  Two males can’t stay in the same territory.  Their main prey are deer—“

“Stop!” Pendragon interrupted.

Michael slowed the car, pulling over to the sandy shoulder.  “What’s wrong?”

“Sigurd is here.  I can smell him.”  Without waiting for an answer, Pendragon leapt out the window.

“Damn it, get back in here!” 

Pendragon paid no attention, lifting his wings instead and flying toward a cypress grove not far away. 

Michael cursed again and opened his door to get out.  “You stay put,” he said to Sophie.  “Who knows what’s out there.”  Turning, he ran for the grove.

“Like I’m going to obey you.”  Sophie got out and followed him, hobbling as fast as she could. She could hear both of them slushing through shallow waters.  For a moment, she thought of water moccasins.  Then she squared her shoulders.  They were making so much noise and movement that any smart snake would get out of the way.  She just hoped the gators basking on the sun-warmed mud banks would be too lazy to move.  What time did they feed anyway?

She moved cautiously through the more densely shaded area of the grove toward an area where sunlight filtered through the leaves.  The usual array of bird-song, frog-croaking and insect noise suddenly stopped.  Behind her, she heard the sudden splashing of gators slipping into the marshy streams.  Not taking time to look behind her, she ploughed ahead. 

The trees gave way to a grassy meadow of sorts, but as she burst through, all hell was about to break loose.

Pendragon hovered a few feet above the ground, wings flapping furiously, unable to actually fly.  Michael stood close to him and only a few feet from both of them, a panther and his mate crouched low, snarling.  Smoke began to spew from the dragon’s nostrils as he tried to hurl fire, but no flames came.

The panthers separated, slinking low on their bellies as they began to circle their victims.  Michael’s form began to vibrate and, as Sophie watched, he morphed into a panther himself.  A sleek cat with a blue-black coat.  Snarling, he stalked toward the male. 

Sophie blinked.  What in God’s name was happening?  Was Michael using an illusion?  She couldn’t tell. 

A flare of fire shot past her singing the female cat’s paws.  She growled but slunk back to lick her paws.  Pendragon crashed on the ground, exhausted from his effort.  Sophie looked back toward Michael as the panther leaped to attack.  The two of them went down, claws digging, fangs trying to bite deep into each other’s necks.  The panther rolled on top of Michael, leaving his belly exposed.  Its mighty jaws opened—

“No!” Sophie screamed, extending her hands.  A sharp pain pierced her as the surge of energy pulsed through her and made the world spin.  She sank to the ground, nearly blinded by the light that shot from her fingers.  The male panther flew back, bouncing against a tree.  Michael lay still on the ground, but Sophie had no strength left to go to him as she slowly collapsed beside Pendragon.

* * * *

Sophie slowly opened her eyes to the dim interior of a small room that smelled of fresh linens and a hint of eucalyptus.  The bed she was lying in was super-soft, filled with feathers, she guessed.

“You’re awake!  How do you feel?” Michael rose from the chair he’d been sitting in and came over to the bed.

“A little groggy.  Where am I?”

“At a settlement behind the Miccosukee Indian Village.  One of their tribal members found us.”

Sophie tried to sit up and fell back against the pillow.  “I’m so weak.”

“Let me help,” Michael said and leaned forward, putting his arms around her and propping her against the headboard.  “I’m not surprised.  That was quite a bit of magic you used.”

“I don’t remem—oh!”  It all came flooding back to her.  “Those panthers!  One of them was attacking you, only you—“  Her voice trailed off and she rubbed her temples.  “I think maybe I have a concussion.”

“The doctor here checked you out.  He didn’t see any signs of a concussion.  And,” Michael motioned to the modest nightgown she wore, “the nurse changed your clothes.”

Sophie looked down as if seeing the gown for the first time and shook her head slightly.  “But I thought you turned into a panther, too.  That’s impossible.  I must have hit my head.”

“No, you didn’t.”  Michael took her hands and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.  “What you saw was a very strong illusion of a black panther.  Remember how Caldwell thought he saw a flaming sword in my hand?”

Sophie nodded.  “But you looked so real.”

Michael looked intently at her and then took a deep breath.  “My magic is very old and very strong.  I have the ability to create a form from the energy around me.  It isn’t sustainable for very long, but while it lasts, the other person will believe the illusion to be solid.”

“Then you weren’t hurt?”

“I was, but I heal pretty quickly.”  He unbuttoned his shirt to show her a faint pink scar across his right shoulder that looked weeks old, although it had been only hours ago. “See?” 

“What about Pendragon?  He wasn’t moving—“

“He’s fine.  Or, at least as fine as he can be since the clansmen decided it might be safer to keep him in his cage.  I don’t think they exactly believe that he’s a rare form of a Gila Monster.”  Michael grinned. “I guess I’ll owe him another gallon of ice cream.”

“Did he find Sigurd?  I only saw the panthers.”

Michael shook his head.  “Sigurd must have flown over, but not landed.  His scent is probably what provoked the panthers.”

“The cypress grove grew totally silent just before I got to the clearing,” Sophie said.  “I thought I’d heard a whirring noise, but I didn’t see anything.”

“Sigurd is playing with us,” Michael said, his face growing serious.  “I called Smith.  He’s going to send a helicopter to pick us up tomorrow and take us to the next destination.  Maybe the dragon will lose our scent that way.”

“Good idea,” Sophie replied, “and what is our next destination?”

“New Orleans. There have been so many battles fought there in various wars that I’m thinking a member of the Priory would be drawn to it.  Maybe we should have started there in the first place.”

“Even if we don’t find the sword, I’d like to see what impact the oil spill has had on the bayou habitat,” Sophie said.

“Ever the veterinarian, aren’t you?” Michael teased.  “Maybe I should have kept the panther form so you’d try to heal me?”

The image of the powerful panther flitted through her mind.  How soft and silky would that beautiful black fur feel over the hard, lithe muscles of the animal?  Or, more specifically, how would the smooth skin Michael’s own muscular form feel?  His chest was still bared where he had pulled back his shirt to show her the fading scar, exposing finely chiseled pecs and sculpted biceps.  She reached out to place her hand lightly on the almost invisible scar.

“Maybe I’m the one that needs healing,” she said.

Michael stilled, his eyes growing darker. He didn’t move as she trailed her fingertips along the contours of his broad chest.  She hesitated for a moment, gathering her courage, and then she slid his shirt off his other shoulder.

Michael raised a brow.  “Where are you going with this?”

Sophie felt her face heat, but she managed to hold his gaze.  “I want to find out what you are.”  She placed her hands against his flat, brown nipples, feeling the sensation of the hard nubs in the center of her palms, compared to the smoothness of his skin.  Spreading her fingers, she let her hands wander down, exploring the ridges of his tight belly, then resting her hand on the belt of his jeans. 

His eyes began to smolder and a corner of his full, sensual mouth quirked up as he slipped his shirt off and then laid his hand over hers.  “Allow me.” 

Sophie shook her head.  “I want to do this.”  She felt her hand quiver as she looked down to unzip his pants.  ‘I need to be in control of this so that I will never accuse you of coercing me…or spelling me.”

His hand stayed hers once more and he took her chin with his other, forcing her to look directly into his eyes.  “You can gladly have your way with me, my sweet Sophie, but know—know—that I will never, ever spell you.  In anything.  Do you believe me?”

She searched his face.  Unlike Robert, who wouldn’t look her in the eye when he was fabricating some half-truth, Michael looked back at her calmly, waiting for her answer.  “I—I believe you.”

“Good.”  He gave her a slow, sultry grin as he kicked off his boots. Scooting her over, he lay down beside her and put his hands behind his head.  “Do what you will.”

She ran her hand over his groin, feeling the hardness of his manhood beneath the denim of his jeans.  Maybe she wasn’t quite ready for that, just yet.  She felt a little silly since she’d never seduced a man before.  What did they like?  Hesitantly, she stretched alongside him, lying half-way across his chest.  Tentatively, she nibbled his ear, placing small butterfly kisses along his neck and heard him make a small growl, but he didn’t move.  Emboldened, she kissed his lips.  They were incredible warm and soft.  She kissed him again and he returned the kiss in kind, letting her set the pace. 

It was intoxicating, kissing in this slow, leisurely way.  Sophie crawled closer,

Her breasts pressed against him as she tugged on his lower lip.  He caught hers, sucking on it gently, then giving her another lazy kiss, but not touching her in any other way.

Suddenly, she wanted to taste him, feel his tongue inside her mouth. She touched the tip of her tongue to his lips.  He licked hers slowly, sensually, in return, his hands till behind his head. With a small mewl, she parted her lips, drawing him inside.  His body stiffened momentarily and then he was exploring her mouth, his tongue playing with hers, alternating with deep, soulful kisses.

Her breasts swelled and the cotton material of her gown chafed at her pebbled nipples.  She wanted to feel them against his skin.  With a small cry she suddenly sat up, slipping the gown over her head and then pressed down on him, rubbing against him in delicious friction.  Michael growled again, moving in harmonious discord with her, helping her feel the sensation of naked flesh on naked flesh.   

Sophie slipped down the length of him, her breasts grazing his washboard belly.  Her hand found his zipper and undid his pants.  Michael lifted his hips, allowing her to slide them off.  His manhood immediately sprang free, erect as a trained soldier.  He was cleanly shaven there, and the sight of his big, thick shaft and heavy sac made her think of the statue of some Roman god.   For a moment, she merely gazed at it, wondering if all that would actually fit into her.  It had been so long…

Sophie reached out a tentative hand to touch him and watched in fascination as his erection jerked and grew even bigger. She began to stroke him.  Lord, he felt like satin-covered steel.  She gave him a shy glance and heat washed over her at the hungry look of desire in his dark eyes.  Wantoness overcame her and she knelt down to run her tongue around his sensitive crown.  Muscles in his belly clenched and he groaned.  Wickedly, she licked off the small drop that had formed on his tip.

“By the Goddess, Sophie!  I can’t take much more of this,” Michael grunted, his hands now clenched in fists over his head.  “Ask me to take you.”

She gave him another lick.  “I am asking—“

He didn’t let her finish.  Sophie found herself suddenly on her back, Michael draped partly across her as he lavished attention on her breasts, kneading one as he took the other in his mouth, laving the nipple, suckling softly, then drawing deep before turning his attention to the other.  Sophie arched her back and he pressed her breasts together, his tongue moving from one tip to the other, making her moan with desire.  One hand slid down, caressing her body, finding its way between her slick, wet folds to tease her pulsating little bud, moving away just before she came, then returning to torture her some more.  She writhed under his skillful fingers, pushing against him, wanting more.

Michael spread her legs and mounted her, pressing the smooth, round tip of his cock against her core.  “Ask me once more to do this, Sophie.”

God, she could hardly think straight, let alone talk.  “I want you inside me,” she gasped.  “Now.  Please, Michael.  Take me.”

Michael slid into her slowly, giving her time to accommodate his size, filling her completely.  He began to thrust, slowly at first, withdrawing almost completely, making her wrap her legs around his thighs to keep him anchored.  He chuckled and teased her some more, alternating between easy thrusts and long, hard, deep ones.  She thrashed under him, her body weeping, the juice flowing freely. 

He leaned down, taking her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue inside, mimicking the motions his shaft was making.  Pinned to the bed by his body, all Sophie could do was enjoy the feel of his penis driving hard into her now. Her every nerve fiber was attuned to him, humming like a finely-tuned harp.  The crescendo was building…her body began to shudder as her thighs clenched and her toes curled.  With one final deep thrust, she shattered and felt his hot seed spurt into her.

They lay panting, silent, their sweat-soaked bodies slippery against each other.  Michael began to withdraw, but Sophie held him tight. 

“I like feeling you inside of me,” she whispered, “but let’s leave this sword in its sheath a little while longer.” 

Michael grinned and began to kiss her again and there was nothing slow or easy about it.

Chapter Seventeen

The helicopter set down on the roof pad of a luxury hotel not far from the Vieux Carré.  The valet that met them to show them to their suite didn’t even look askance at the large animal carrier that the pilot unloaded.  Thankfully, Pendragon had decided to cooperate and remained quiet.  Probably due to that second gallon of ice cream Michael had bought him.

“This certainly beats the places we’ve been staying,” Sophie said after the valet left.  She picked up a polished apple from the fruit bowl on the ornate dining table and bit into it.  “I hope this isn’t another five dollars added to our tab.”

“It probably is,” Michael said as he helped himself to one too, “but Smith made the arrangements.  I say we enjoy it.”  He put one arm around Sophie’s waist and drew her close, nuzzling her neck.  “We can check out the bedroom too.”

Last night had surpassed even his wildest expectations and he’d had centuries of wild expectations fulfilled.  Making love to Sophie had been surreal, something more than just a physical joining of their bodies, although he certainly had no room to complain about that aspect—Sophie had been as spontaneous, passionate, and adventurous as any woman he’d ever had.  But there was something more.  Every time they climaxed he’d been inside her head too.  Not just reading her thoughts.  Her thoughts were his and his were hers as though they were one identity.  Two parts made whole.

He had found his soul’s mate and he’d never believed that such a person existed.

“Did I mention that I love you?” he murmured as he trailed kisses down her neck.

Sophie tilted her head to give him more exposure.  “I don’t think more than twenty times or so.”  She sighed contentedly.  “I don’t think I ever knew what real love felt like.”

“Excuse me,” Pendragon said with a thump of his tail.  “It’s not polite to make me watch.”

Michael gave the dragon an irritated look as Sophie reluctantly pulled away, but she just grinned at him.  “We’ve got most of the day to search.  Where do we go first?”

“The most logical place would be the Veteran’s Memorial Hall on Camp Street,” Michael said.  “It boasts the second largest collection of Confederate military artifacts in the country.  There is also the World War II museum on Magazine.  We could go to Fort Pike close to Chalmette.  The Union forces broke through the Confederate defenses there.”  Michael pulled her close again.  “I have a feeling that the sword is here.  We’ll find it.”  He nuzzled her neck again, his hands caressing her back.

Excuse me,” Pendragon said again and stalked over to the bar with its small refrigerator.  “Do you think they have—“

“No, hotels don’t usually keep ice cream in bar refrigerators,” Michael replied between kisses, “but I’m sure Room Service can bring some up.”

“Well, make them do it then.  Chocolate for sure.”

With a sigh, Michael released Sophie and reached for the phone.  “Tonight, dragon, you sleep in the living room and leave us alone.”

“Hmmph,” Pendragon said.

* * * *

“I’m still not quite sure what we are doing at a Voodoo museum,” Sophie said two days later as walked down Bourbon toward Dumaine.

“Well, the historical museums didn’t pan out.  Neither did the fort.  I guess I was wrong to think someone from the Priory would take the chance to put the sword in full sight.  It has to be hidden.  And New Orleans is full of all sorts of secret places.  What better place to begin than where Voodoo magic still lingers?  Maybe I’ll pick up a vibe.” He opened the door for her and grinned.  “I am a warlock, remember?”

Like she needed reminding.  Sex the past two nights had been beyond her wildest fantasy.  With a capital “F”.  Now that she had let her shields down, Michael had shown her how to tap into his emotions, the result being that she not only experienced body-shattering orgasms herself, she lived them from his perspective as well.  It was mind-blowing to have a double and simultaneous climax.

“Are you going to tell me next that Marie Laveau’s spirit is going to connect with you?”

Michael gave her an odd glance.  “You’re not using as much sarcasm as you usually do about the supernatural.”

‘Well, gosh.  I saw a ghost in Charleston and we have two dragons loose that are hundreds of years old, and a demon chasing us.  To say nothing of the fact that my man can make himself look like a really sexy panther.”  She shrugged.  “I’m still wanting there to be some sort of logical explanation, but either all of these things are real or I’m totally delusional.  I’d prefer to think I’m still sane.”

“You’re sane.  Maybe a little crazy in bed, but I’m not complaining.” He gestured.  ”Let’s see what’s here.”

“So did this Voodoo queen put curses on everybody?” Sophie asked as they began to walk around.

“Don’t know.  She sold gris-gris.  They could be used for good or evil, just like the sword.  She was practically a legend in her own time.”

“Like King Arthur?”

Michael shook his head.  “I don’t think King Arthur would have thought of himself as a legend.  He was simply trying to keep Britain from being overrun by Saxons.”

“Still, he must have had some kind of charisma for legends to spring up and endure through all this time.  Or maybe it was Merlin’s magic, huh?”

Michael gave her another odd look.  “You’re still skeptical?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, if there is one city in this whole country that holds magic, it’s New Orleans. Her history, from the Spaniards to French aristocrats to the slaves brought in from many countries—no one forgot their cultures.  This was the only place in the South that accepted children of mixed blood.  Quadroon Balls were as popular and elegant as anything on the Continent.  Marie Laveau was of color and she didn’t become a Voodoo queen without the patronage of the white aristocracy.  Here Jean Lafitte—a pirate by all government accounts—could not only walk freely on the streets, but also commanded more respect that the governor did.  New Orleans protected her own and honored her dead. She holds her secrets close. Can you feel the magic?”

“Well—“ She hesitated.  “I did have an odd reaction when we turned to walk on Bourbon Street earlier.”

He raised a brow.  “What was it?”

“It’s going to sound silly.” 

“Try me.”

“Just for a minute I…I…It seemed that Time stood still.  All the people milling around were gone.  So was the noise from the traffic on Canal.  All I could hear were horses’ hooves on the cobblestone and ladies-of-the-night calling down from the balconies.”  She stopped and gave him a wide-eyed look.  “It was weird.”

“Not so much.  You probably connected with a time portal.”

“I’m not sure I want to know what that is.”

Michael smiled.  “I’ll save that explanation for another time, but I’m not surprised it happened.  The Vieux Carré is filled with spirits that linger because their descendents honor them.  In fact, we can go look at Marie’s tomb later.”

They began to walk again.  “If Marie were a witch, how come she’s entombed at a St. Louis Christian cemetery?”

“Oddly enough, she supposedly was a devout Catholic who attended Mass regularly and also worked with the orphans and the poor.”

“How can she be Mother Theresa and practice Voodoo at the same time?”

“I don’t think anyone would compare her to Mother Theresa,” Michael said, “but remember what I told you about Emperor Constantine converting pagan festivals into Christian ones?  The same thing applies here.  African slaves brought their own religion with them, but slave-owners forced them to convert to Catholicism so they merely changed the names of their spirits to be in accord with the Catholic saints.  For example,” Michael said as he stopped before a painting, “this is Ogun, spirit patron of warriors and blacksmiths.  You know him as St. Jude.”  He moved on.  “So, while the slave-owners thought the Africans had docilely accepted their new religion, it was a ruse—merely a subterfuge to keep practicing Voodoo under new circumstances.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” Sophie said as they completed their tour of the museum.  “Speaking of blacksmiths, wasn’t that the ruse Jean LaFitte used to run his illegal business?”  

“Yes, but most of the French aristocracy benefited from the bounty that the Lafitte brothers brought in, so he was considered more of a kingpin than a criminal except by the American governor, Claiborne.  And the French didn’t like the Americans meddling in their business anyway so they more or less protected the Lafittes.”

“Well, Jean is definitely remembered here.  His name is everywhere,” Sophie said as they stepped out to the sidewalk.

“True.  In fact, the blacksmith shop that you mentioned is only a couple of blocks from here.  Want to go see it?”

“Why not?  We don’t seem to be making much headway on clues for the sword.  Maybe it’s hanging in the old blacksmith shop.”

“You’re being sarcastic again,” Michael said with a grin.

She gave him a droll smile and pointed.  “There’s a Tarot card reader across the street.  Maybe you should ask her.”

Michael looked in the direction she pointed to an old woman sitting at a card table.  “That may not be a bad idea.  Looks like she’s got a couple of clients right now.  We’ll stop on the way back.”

“I was kidding.”

“Tarot can be a useful tool,” Michael said as they continued down the street.  “It’s possible there is a connection since the four suits are divided into wands, swords, cups and pentacles, representing air, fire, water and earth.   Clues to the Celtic relics are turning up in the same order. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Sure. I mean, why not?”

Michael looked at her.  “Are you being cynical again?”

She paused.  “I don’t know. Last spring, if someone had told me I would experience the things I have, I’d have thought they were lunatics.  Now it’s nearly August and I…I’m not so sure what to think anymore.”

“Lugnasad.”

“Huh?”

“August first is the Celtic festival of Lugnasad.  It’s a thanksgiving of sorts to celebrate summer’s abundance and first harvest.  All things come to fruition.”

Sophie studied him as they came to a stop in front of the blacksmith shop.  “Does that mean we’ll actually find the sword soon?”

“I think so,” Michael said.  “My intuition has gotten stronger here.  I just need some small clue—a slight nudge—and I think we’ll find it.”

“Maybe Jean Lafitte’s ghost will be waiting for you,” Sophie said and then laughed at Michael’s indignant look.  “Okay.  Well, let’s just enjoy history then.  You’ve got to admit a guy who seems more like a swashbuckler than a bloodthirsty pirate is interesting.”

They spent a good thirty minutes wandering through both the front area that served as a legitimate business and the back area that was a warehouse for all sorts of goods that had nothing to do with being a smithy. 

“I find it interesting that the expensive stuff—the silks and china and coins were kept on some little island instead of safe in a place that could be locked up,” Sophie said as they started back toward Rue Dumaine.

“The island was well-protected by Jean Lafitte’s men,” Michael replied, “and it was out of the grasp of the American governor, so Jean could hold his auctions there without too much fear of being raided.”

“But to call it the Temple was a bit ironic, wasn’t it?  Or even blasphemous? ”

“Maybe.  It actually was a ceremonial site of the original aborigines that inhabited this area.  But remember what the Africans did with their Voodoo rituals.  They covered them up under the cloak of Christianity.  Anyone not knowing what the Temple really was, would be clueless, so the Lafittes were free to practice their not-quite-legal trade.”

“Well, it looks like someone else isn’t practicing her trade either,” Sophie said as they approached the empty table where the Tarot reader had been.  “Looks like she’s gone for the day.”

“We can come back tomorrow,” Michael said and then squinted at the ground.  Bending down, he pulled a Tarot card out from under one of the legs of the table.

“Did she drop one?” Sophie asked.

For a moment, Michael didn’t answer as he mulled over the card and then he smiled.  “She didn’t drop it.  She left it.”  He held out the card.  “It’s the King of Swords.  I think I know where to look.” 

Chapter Eighteen

They left Pendragon happily slurping up gooey ice cream the next morning as they drove over the Huey Long Bridge on their way to Grand Isle which had once served as a warehouse for Jean Lafitte.

“So you think finding the Tarot card wasn’t just a coincidence?” Sophie asked.

Michael shook his head.  “Things happen for a reason.”   He glanced over at her and grinned wickedly.  “For example, if Pendragon hadn’t been sent to find you, we wouldn’t have had totally mind-blowing sex last night.”

Sophie felt herself blushing.  Never would she have pegged herself for being sexually adventurous or given to fantasy, but Michael’s skill with his hands and mouth—especially his mouth, tonguing all of her private places until she lay panting and begging him to stop and then, not stop—had turned her into some wanton creature who craved his touch as much as any meth addict wanted dope.  And the mind-linking was more powerful than any aphrodisiac she could imagine.  She was inside his head, could feel him inside her, could feel how he felt inside her.  There was no distinction where she left off and he began.  She fidgeted on the leather seat, feeling herself grow slick and wet.

“Want me to pull over for a quickie?” Michael asked, still grinning.

“Stop reading my mind!” Sophie retorted, but couldn’t contain her own smile. 

“When your shields are down, you’re fair game.  Besides, I like the way you think.  It inspires me to come up with more fantasy games to play.”

Her face felt like it was on fire.  Michael’s imagination was boundless.  Some of those positions last night—She glanced at him suspiciously.  “Are you lurking again?”

“Maybe a little,” he said and then turned his attention back to the drive.  “The closer we get to the islands, the stronger energy I’m picking up.”

A safer subject at the moment.  “So tell me why you think the King of Swords is connected with Jean Lafitte.”

“Remember when I told you that he was considered something of a kingpin with the French aristocrats?”

“Yes.  Go on.”

“The suit of Swords represents power, action, force and conflict.  Since most swords are double-edged, it also reflects deception, illusions, areas of uncertainly that must be met head-on.  Both descriptions apply to Jean’s operations.  Are you with me so far?”

Sophie smiled.  “I’m getting used to the way you talk.”

“Well, sometimes the degree in Medieval Religion and Culture comes in handy,” Michael replied, quirking up a corner of his mouth.  “Anyway, the King of Swords symbolizes a man who is just, fair and wise, but also somewhat ruthless in carrying out that justice. What better description of Jean Lafitte could you have?  He squelched the feuding between the native Baratarians and the encroaching East Indies pirates and built a very lucrative business.  From all accounts, he shared the booty freely and his men willingly followed him.  The French welcomed him into their society, even though it may have been for what luxurious goods he could provide.  Even Governor Claiborne had a grudging respect for him since Jean always managed to elude him.”  Michael gave her a quick look.  “And remember,” he said softly, “that the Grandmasters of the Priory were always called Jean. “

She gave him a startled look.  “You think Jean Lafitte was a member of the Priory?”

“Maybe,” Michael answered with a little shrug.  “That old woman left the Tarot card for us to find.”

Sophie shook her head.  “I can’t believe I’m actually starting to think this all makes sense.”  She turned to look at the real world slipping by past the window.  They passed a roadside store where a somewhat worn sign advertised: “Jumbo PoBoys and Hog Head Filé with Cracklins” and smiled.  It certainly wasn’t the Café du Monde, but it was real in its own way.  She wondered what the local Cajuns would make of the story that Michael told her. 

As if he knew she needed time to contemplate, Michael was silent.  Sophie took in the low-lying marsh of the Delta covered with reeds and weeds, cane, and patches of water hyacinth.  Across the bayou, craggy cypresses hung out over the water, trailing Spanish moss.  It was an oddly serene setting.  She cracked the window and inhaled.  Damp earth, various aromas of plant vegetation and the tang of salt-air filled her nostrils while the cry of gulls and terns filled her ears.  The real world. With a sigh, she turned back to Michael.  “I still don’t understand why a twentieth century descendent of a secret order of Templars would decide to bury Excalibur on land owned by pirates who—even if they were privateers operating under a Letter of Marque from Cartegena as they claimed—still were considered criminals by the Americans?”

“Recall your history, Sophie.  The British offered Jean a lot of money and an officer ship in the Royal Navy for aiding them up the river, past the forts, through the swamps and into the city.   Instead, Lafitte helped General Jackson defeat the British in the Battle of New Orleans even though Claiborne had a warrant out on him.  The whole crew was pardoned after that.  But, to answer your question,” Michael said as eased the car onto Grand Isle’s main street, “the Priory has always had warriors as well as scholars and I think whoever was the guardian of the sword might have seen a bit of irony in honoring someone who actually fought, not because he had to, but because it was the right thing to do to protect the country he loved.”  He stopped the car in front of a local bait shop.  “Just like King Arthur did.  That’s the connection.”

Sophie looked around the narrow street and across the scrubby land to cottages and a slip of blue-water that was the bay.  “The sword is here?”

Michael smiled as he got out of the car.  “It’s close, Sophie.  Very close.”

* * * *

“Most folks want me to take ‘em past old Fort Livingston,” the old, grizzled guide said as he poled the pirogue away from the dock in Grand Isle and headed toward a narrow inlet nearly invisible in the swamp grass. “Not that there’s anything there these days, I tell ‘em.  Just oyster and salt grass and black mangroves.  A herd of wild ponies.  Them pirates’ houses long gone, blowed away by too many hurricanes to remember.”  He looked from Michael to Sophie, a gleam shining in his black eyes as his weathered face cracked into what might have been a smile.  “Some say, though, the spirit of Lafitte walks there on certain nights.  I tell ‘em it’s the wind howling or maybe the devil.”

Sophie shuddered a little, wondering what the man would say if he knew there really were demons and dragons out there.

“Strange, though,” the man continued, “there’s been odd streaks of lightning in the sky the last couple of nights, but not a storm around.”

Sophie could practically see Michael’s ears prick up as his gaze sharpened on the guide like wanted prey.  She hoped the panther wasn’t about to make a showing and scare the man witless.  The pirogue was only a little less stable than a canoe and she really didn’t want to fall into murky water invested by snakes and gators.  But Michael kept his tone mildly interested.

“Just lightning?  No thunder?”

“Nope.  Least ways, not that I heard.  One old woman claimed the streak looked  like some kind of dragon, but old Lucy’s a bit daft in the head.  Always claims to be seeing things in those cards she uses.”

“Cards?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah.  The fortune-telling type.  She goes into the city couple of times a week to make money off the tourists.”

Michael flashed Sophie a look and she knew he was thinking of the Tarot-reader they’d seen.  She shivered slightly although the mid-day air was warm and humid.  Their guide poled through the narrow stream which opened into a slightly larger bayou.  The water lay still and for a moment, Sophie felt as though she were surrounded by a globe of bluish-green light.  It was hard to tell where the water ended and the land began as they moved into a narrower inlet again that seemed to be crisscrossed with other streams.  It was a labyrinth of swaying grasses, high enough so any horizon that might be out there couldn’t be seen.  Here and there a chêniére rose slightly above the surface, its hard white shells forming a ground of sorts for oak trees that somehow amazingly grew here.

“This here’s called the “tremblin’ prairie”,” the old man said as he turned the pirogue in yet another direction, “on account of you can’t really tell if anythin’ is solid or not.”

Sophie sincerely hoped their guide knew where he was going since she was thoroughly confused, but now she could understand how the pirates felt safe from pursuit.  The governor’s soldiers would easily have become lost.

“This is it,” the old man said as the pirogue scraped against a hard shell beach dusted lightly with sand.  “Temple Island, although there ain’t nothin’ left here either.”

Michael stepped out of the boat into shallow water.  Before Sophie could join him, he picked her up and carried her to the relatively dry ground a few inches above the gently lapping waves. 

“My chivalrous knight,” Sophie teased and gave him a quick kiss, missing the odd look that fleetingly crossed his face.

He smiled.  “No need to get your feet wet.  Come on.”

Sophie followed him up the slight incline toward tall, live-oak trees that formed somewhat of a haphazard circle.  She felt a slight chill slide over her as she passed between two of them and then looked up to find Michael watching her.

“You feel it too?” he asked.

“Feel what exactly?”

“The air feels heavier here, almost as though there is a lack of energy.”  Michael took her hand and moved to the center of the circle.  “The native Indians held ceremonies here, most likely sacrificial rituals. This is where slaves were sold, families split. There’s a pall hanging over the place.  So much sorrow.”

Sophie glanced around slowly, half-expecting transparent wraiths to rise from the ground, wailing. “You’re talking about ghosts?”

Michael shook his head.  “Only residue now.  The spirits are gone.”

“Great.  That makes me feel better.”  She looked up to see a dab of sunlight dribbling through the leafy branches.  “So why would a twentieth-century Templar bury Excalibur here?”

“Justice.  Excalibur has been called the Sword of Justice, as well as the Sword of Fire.  Burying it here is symbolic of righting the wrongs that have been done in this place.”

“Is everything symbolic?”

“Not everything.”  He grinned.  “I’d say making love to you is pretty much the real thing.”

“You’re thinking of sex now?”

“Sure.”  His grin widened.  “Isn’t that what all men have on their minds most of the time?  Besides, don’t tell me you didn’t want a quickie on the way down here.  How about if I lean you up against that tree over there?  We could give some positive energy back to this place.”

“Michael McCain!  You don’t expect me to...  I mean, that old man could come up here any minute.”

“I can create an invisibility illusion.  He won’t see us.”  He moved closer, putting his arms around her waist, nuzzling her nape, tugging on her ear gently with his teeth.  “Oaks are sacred trees to druids.  The energy force will be incredible—past anything we’ve done so far.”

Sophie leaned back in his embrace and stared at him.  “How can it get better?”

“Ah, you flatter me,” he said and slanted his mouth over hers, teasing her lips with his tongue until she made a mewling noise deep in her throat and opened to him. 

Sophie hardly noticed how he back-walked her to the tree.  Strangely, the bark didn’t feel rough as he pressed her back and unbuttoned her shirt, his hands cupping and kneading her breasts. He bent his head to take a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking back and forth over the tip before he turned his attention to the other and suckled it thoroughly.  Warm tropical air fanned over the wet nipple that he’d just laved and her spine began to tingle where the trunk touched her.  Michael’s hard, hot cock brushed against her belly.  When had he unzipped his pants and pulled her shorts down?.  His mouth claimed hers again, taking and demanding, as he spread her legs and lifted one thigh over his. 

“Keep your eyes open for this,” Michael whispered.

Sophie grasped his shoulders and then gasped as his thick erection

filled her.  The sensation of being partially clothed, yet totally vulnerable was incredible. She rocked her hips against him, wanting him deeper.  He responded with slower, more leisurely thrusts, making her ache even more for him, but she had learned that this pace would make her body nearly insatiable and the climax would be earth-shattering. As their bodies found their natural rhythm, Sophie looked up to see the tree’s branches begin to sway in unison, the leaves fluttering as though a gale were whipping through.

“The tree—“

“Shhh,” Michael murmured, “just enjoy.”

Their auras blended, becoming one.  Sophie stared in awe over Michael’s shoulder as rainbow hues swirled around them.  The hues intensified as he thrust harder and deeper, the reds and oranges glowing like fire.  She could feel the inferno building inside her too, the torrid flames leaping higher and higher, making her skin super-sensitive—and then, just as the inferno spilled over her like molten lava, white light exploded from the tree, surrounding them both, blinding her with its brightness as the world swirled around her with dizzying speed.

Slowly, she became aware that she was sitting on the ground, propped up against the tree.  There was no wind, but the oak was now just a burnt stub of a trunk.  “What—what happened?” she asked.

Michael smiled and held up the sword.  “This,” he said.

* * * *

They arrived back at the hotel just before dusk, Excalibur locked securely in the leather-covered steel case that Smith had given them.  “I want to get this into the hotel safety vault right away,” Michael said as the valet drove their car away. “Then I’ll call Smith and tell him to send his pilot for us first thing in the morning.  The sooner we get back to Dallas, the better I’ll feel.”

“Me, too.  I’m going to go up and tell Pendragon the good news.”

“Don’t take too long. I’ll meet you out front. We can walk to the Market and grab a bite.”

Sophie nodded and took the elevator up to their floor.  “Good news!” she said as entered the suite.

“It’s about time,” the dragon replied after she’d finished her story.  “It will be good to see that sword again.  I helped forge it, you know.” 

“I guess I’m not surprised,” she said with a smile.  “I knew there had to be some reason you were sent here besides supposedly protecting me.”

“I haven’t done much in that category at this size,” Pendragon grumbled.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to return your regular size once we get back,” Sophie soothed.

“Damn right.  And there’s still that little matter of Sigurd to square away.  Has he been seen here?”

“I think so,” Sophie replied.  “There’s been some sort of strange lightning out by Grand Isle and Grand Terre.”

“Just wait until I get my claws into him,” Pendragon said.  “He won’t be terrorizing humans anymore.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow.  “Wasn’t that what you were doing when you first arrived?  If I remember correctly, you rather enjoyed frightening humans to within an inch of their lives.”

The dragon looked sheepish—or at least as sheepish as something covered in metal scales and spikes could look.  “Well, that was before I discovered that humans made ice cream.”

Sophie laughed and got up from the couch where she’d been sitting.  “Okay.  You just have to stay small a little longer.  We’ll fly back to Big D tomorrow morning.  I’ll bring you some ice cream when we get back from dinner.”

She rode the elevator down and started to cross the almost empty lobby and then she noticed the crowd of people on the sidewalk out front.  An ambulance, lights flashing, pulled to a stop. 

“What’s happened?” she asked the nearest bystander, trying to see through the crowd for Michael.  Maybe he was still with the security people?

“Hit and run,” a middle-aged woman said in a hushed whisper that still sounded somewhat excited.  “This nice-looking man—well, he was really good-looking, like a movie star or something—anyway, he was standing on the sidewalk and this car with its windows tinted all black came careening down Decatur, hopped the curb—“

But Sophie was gone, pushing her way through the throng.  “Let me pass! That’s my friend!” She gave a final shove and broke through.  Michael was being placed on a stretcher and she rushed to his side. She picked up his hand, but he didn’t respond.

“How badly is he hurt?” she asked.

“Broken ribs for sure,” the medic answered.  “Probably a concussion.  The ER will check for internal injuries.”  He pried her hand away gently so they could slide the gurney into the ambulance.  He’ll be at Tulane if you want to follow us.”

“Yes, of course.  I’ll get my car.” 

She watched for a moment more as the ambulance hit its siren and sped off.  It was hard to believe that Michael was hit.  She’d always thought of him as some invincible hero, but now he was hurt.  Concussions could be really dangerous, especially if there was head swelling.  Her legs began to shake and her body trembled.

A strong male arm grasped hers, steadying her.  “Are you all right?”

She looked up into the blue eyes of a college kid with curly blond hair, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.  “Yes, thanks.”

“That was your friend?” he asked.

“Yes.  And I’m fine,” she said as he continued to hold onto her.  “I’ve got to get my car to go to the hospital.”

“You don’t look fine.  You’re pale and you’re sweating.  Signs of shock.  You shouldn’t be driving.”

“You look a little young to be a doctor,” Sophie said wishing she really didn’t feel so shaky.

He smiled, which made him look even younger.  “Maybe I will be one day.  But hey, my car’s right here.”  He pointed to the drive where a valet stood beside a vintage Mustang.  “The hospital is just a few blocks away.  If you trust me, I’ll give you a ride.”

She knew she shouldn’t trust a stranger, but this was a friendly college kid—and there were plenty of people around.  Someone who had ill intentions wouldn’t want to have a lot of witnesses.  She did feel a little dizzy and she certainly knew the signs of shock.  The kid was right.  She shouldn’t be driving.

“Well, okay.  Thanks.”

“Great,” he said as they walked to his car and the valet helped her in.  “I’ll have you there in no time.”  He buckled up, then put the car in drive.

“I’m really glad to meet you, Sophie,” he said as they pulled out of the hotel driveway. “My name is Lucien.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Hi, Lucien,” Sophie said as they swung into traffic and then stopped, a

cold chill running down her spine.  “How did you know my name?”

He smiled.  “Relax.  Your boyfriend called your name before he passed out.

When you showed up, I assumed you were Sophie.”

“Oh.”  That made sense.  The Mustang made a right turn and Sophie

glanced at the street sign.  Tulane Avenue.  Well, they were on the right road.  This was just a nice college kid, helping her out. She was only worried and jittery because Michel was hurt.

A short distance later, the assorted buildings of the University hospital and

the clinics came into view.  She breathed a sigh of relief as Lucien slowed the car down and turned into an adjacent lot to park the car.

“Thanks so much,” she said, reaching for the door handle.  “I really

appreciate your help.”

“No problem,” Lucien said and leaned over to pull the door closed.

“There’s just one more thing, though.”

“What?” Sophie asked uneasily, aware that although he wasn’t touching

her, she was trapped between the seat and his body. 

“Just this,” he said.

Sophie felt the sharp sting of a hypodermic needle in her arm.  Her vision

began to blur and she struggled to open the door, but her arms were sluggish as though weighed down with bricks.  She started to scream, but her throat closed and her tongue felt thick.

Lucien put the car back in gear.  “The effects will wear off in about an

hour,” he said, “but you may wish they didn’t.”

Then he laughed.

* * * *

Dimly, Michael was aware of voices around him.  He tried to

remember what happened.  He’d been standing on the sidewalk, waiting for Sophie—  The car!  His warlock adroitness had discerned the danger seconds too late, which meant the car had been warded.  Balor’s work no doubt, but Michael hadn’t sensed the heavy, black power that hung in Balor’s aura.  The driver had been human, which was good or he’d probably have more than broken ribs.

He squinted, slowly opening his eyes to a glaring white light overhead.

Colors swirled around him as he tried to focus.  He was attached to some kind of machine.

“He’s wakening,” a female voice said briskly.

A man in a white coat bent over him, shining an obnoxious flashlight into

his eyes.  “No dilation,” the doctor said, “but I still think we should do an MRI.”

He was in the hospital.  Now he remembered the ambulance and the sound

of Sophie’s voice drifting toward him.  An MRI was out of the question; they’d find out he wasn’t totally human.  His ribs were almost totally mended too.  There wasn’t a logical answer he could give to that.

“No MRI,” he said distinctly as he began to sit up.

“Lie still.  You’ve had a concussion,” the doctor said with a firm hold on his shoulder. 

Michael’s head was totally clear, but he did as the doctor asked.  “I really feel fine,” he said.  “No MRI.  I—I’m claustrophobic.”

“We can give you a Valium,” the doctor replied. 

He did not need to be taking drugs.  They’d limit the control he had on his powers.  Michael shook his head and sent a telepathic message.  Since the doctor was concentrating on him, the message went through easily.  “Nope.  Don’t do drugs.”

The doctor hesitated, frowning.  “All right.  We’ll keep you for observation for a few hours.”

“I need to make a phone call then,” Michael said.

“Sorry,” the nurse replied.  “Cell phones aren’t allowed in the ER.”

He sighed, wishing he could just get up and walk out, but that would call too much attention to himself.  He gave the nurse an appreciative look and smiled.  “I understand.  Could you make the call for me from a landline?”  When she agreed, he gave her the hotel number and a message for Sophie.  A few minutes later, he was alone, except for the machine that monitors his vital signs.  Thankfully, those were all human.

As he pushed himself into a sitting position, something niggled at the back of his mind.  Why wasn’t Sophie out in the waiting room?  He was sure she had been there on the street.  Surely, someone would have told her where he was taken.  He closed his eyes, envisioning the hotel room, seeking a mind-link. 

Pendragon picked up his telepathic signal.  “What’s going on?  Where are you?”

“At a hospital. Never mind that.  Where’s Sophie?”

“Don’t know.  She came up here to tell me about the sword, then said she was going down to meet you.  She said she’d bring me some ice cream.”

“Forget about the ice cream for a minute.  What time is it?”

“Nine o’clock.  Why?”

He’d been in the ER a little over an hour.  Where in the hell was Sophie?

He stretched his mind-link, searching the surrounding area.  Nothing.  It was like she disappeared into thin air.

Then the hair along his nape began to prickle, always a sign of imminent danger.  He looked around the room, probed the hall with his mind.  Nothing there.  But still…

And then, faintly as though from a great distance, he felt Sophie’s presence, accompanied by a thick, murky, dense fog.  Balor.  Dear Goddess, the demon had Sophie!

Michael began tearing off the various pads that were attached to him.

Machines beeped and he could hear footsteps running down the hall toward him.  He muttered an incantation, cloaking himself from human sight, as he slipped out the door as two nurses brushed past him.

And then he heard Sophie scream.

* * * *

Pendragon was waiting for him when Michael burst through the hotel door, the steel case holding Excalibur under his arm. 

“Do you know where she is?” he asked.

Michael shook his head.  “I got a small impression that she was north of here and then the mind-link went black.  She may be unconscious.  We’ve not time to lose.  Get into your cage so we can leave.”

Pendragon snorted smoke.  “I’d be a hell of a lot more effective if I could return to my original form.”

“I’m going to summon Tanio,” Michael said, “but we need to be outside when he appears.  I don’t want to have to deal with the police finding a full-grown dragon and blown out walls.”

Michael screeched the brakes to a stop a short time later as they drove into the city park past the fairgrounds.  “This will have to do,” he said as he opened Pendragon’s cage.  “Thank the Goddess it’s dark.”  Chanting an incantation, he lifted Excalibur high.

“Tanio, I summon thee!”

* * * *

When Sophie slowly awakened it was to the sensation of lying on damp grass.  She could hear water lapping nearby, but it lacked the salt smell of the Gulf.  Ponchartrain, she thought groggily as she opened her eyes to dim light.  They must be in a very secluded area for it to be so quiet and dark.  As she struggled to sit, she felt a metal chain hit her arm and realized that she also had a metal collar around her neck.  Lifting the chain, she followed its length a short distance to a stake driven into the earth.  She was chained like a dog.

A chuckle sounded from behind her.  Twisting around, she saw three men not far away.  One of them was Lucien, another was the kid that had been on the Charleston street and again on the boat.  The third man was deep in the shadows, but it was he who spoke.

“You did well, brother,” he said.  “She’s a fine-looking piece of ass.  I think we’ll wait just a bit until her brain is fully functioning before we take turns screwing her.  I want her to feel the full impact.”

Her muddled brain tried to absorb that information.  “You…want to rape me?”  She looked from one young man to the other.  “Why?  Either of you could have your pick of girls your age—“

The shadow man laughed again.  ‘Well, maybe Landon could pick up a girl his age, but you have no idea how old Lucifer is.”

Lucifer?  His name was Lucien.  Wasn’t it?  Lucifer was the devil—Her blood chilled.  The guy in the shadows had called him brother.  Was he… Balor?  Demons had her! She tugged frantically at the steel collar, but it held fast.

Balor stepped out of the shadows and walked toward her, adjusting the patch over his eye.  “You’ll be needing this to unlock the collar,” he said as he held up a key, “but we’re not ready for that just yet.  First, we’ll have a little fun.”  He reached down to jerk the chain, sending Sophie sprawling face-down into the grass.  Balor placed his boot between her splayed legs.  “Don’t make this too easy for us, okay?”  He laughed as she scrambled away.  “That’s better.  The reason you aren’t bound is because we—at least Lucifer and I do—like a woman with a little fight in her. Regrettably, for you, you won’t be able to get too far away.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sophie asked when she’d backed as far away as possible from him.

“That should be obvious.  For Excalibur, of course.  Landon did a fine job of getting the warlock out of the way so we could hold you for ransom.”

“We haven’t found the sword.”

Balor adjusted his eye-patch lifting it just a bit and Sophie doubled over in pain as if a knife had seared her. 

“I’d suggest you don’t lie to me,” he said.  “You’ve been followed everywhere by Landon, Lucifer and by my pet, Sigurd.”

A low snort came from behind a stand of trees and Sophie swung her head in that direction just in time to see a white hide slide past the trunks.  Another low roar sounded, accompanied by smoke.

“Sel still!” Lucifer commanded. 

Balor picked up the chain again and tugged.  Sophie dug her feet into the soft ground and grasped the collar to avoid being choked.  Balor tugged harder and she stumbled forward.  “It’s too bad your warlock won’t be around to watch the three of us rut with you,” he said, “but you can tell him how good it was after we get the sword.”

“Rape isn’t my idea of fun!” Sophie hissed as she was forced to take another step forward.

“She’s right,” Lucifer said and stepped forward.  “Let’s make this more exciting.”  He took the key from Balor and unlocked the collar.  “There now.  You can run.  We’ll catch you of course, but this is a little more sporting.  I’ll even give you a head start.”

Sophie rubbed her neck.  “Like a fox in front of hounds?” 

Lucifer grinned.  “The chase always arouses me.”

Sophie didn’t wait to hear more, but turned and fled, running faster than she even knew was possible.  Behind her, she heard him laugh and then he was on her, knocking her to the ground.  She twisted around, pummeling his chest.

He laughed again. “Fight me, bitch. It makes me hard.”  His eyes glowed red as horns sprouted from his head. 

Sophie screamed and thrashed and then felt a surge of power in her fingertips.  Forcing herself to concentrate, she sent the purple light at Lucifer.  He cursed and put his hands around her throat.  “You damn little white witch,” he hissed.  “You dare—“

He stopped suddenly, tossing Sophie aside, as a mighty roar filled the air.  Sophie rolled, gasping for air and looked up. 

Pendragon, in his full, lethal size flew straight at them, Michael riding astride, holding a flaming Excalibur high. He leapt to the ground as the dragon swooped low and then rose again.

A snarl sounded from behind the trees as the white dragon rose into the air, shooting a flare of fire at Pendragon.  The red dragon roared back with a fiery volley.  Leather wings flapping furiously, they flew at each other, claws extended, jaws open.  Their thunderous clash shook the earth as they grappled with each other, talons ripping into metal scales.

Silver light shimmered around Michael as he stalked toward Balor, Excalibur in hand. 

“Showtime,” Balor said and lifted his patch.

Heavy, black air surrounded them, so dense it made breathing difficult.  Sophie squinted, able only to see the flickering light around Michael and the strange flame that clung to the sword.  She tried to concentrate on where Balor was.  Her magic may not be strong, but maybe it would help.

Lucifer morphed into demon form, horns steel-tipped and fangs exposed as he circled around the blackness behind Michael.

“Your back, Michael!” Sophie yelled and shot purple light toward Lucifer.  He turned, hissing, caught the light in one clawed hand and prepared to hurl it back in the form of a cannon-ball when Tanio manifested. 

“You will stop,” he said.

Lucifer sneered at him.  “You no longer control me, god.”

“Perhaps not, but now that I’ve found you, I can destroy you.”  He raised a hand beginning an incantation in a foreign tongue. 

Lucifer hesitated, then threw the cannonball down as he sprouted wings and lifted into the air, moving at preternatural speed.  Behind him the white dragon roared and disappeared into the night as well, with Pendragon in hot pursuit.

Sophie turned her attention back to the fight that was taking place between Michael and Balor.  All she could make out was the flaming sword lunging forward, slashing to the right and left as Michael advanced.  Each time, it was met with an invisible clash of something heavy and solid black.  Pure evil emanated from that source, but Sophie could not see what it was.

From the distance came the sound of sirens wailing, no doubt summoned by the roars of the dragons and the smoke from their battle. 

Tanio moved toward Sophie, his blue hair blazing as he pointed toward the lake.  “Call the Kelpies, daughter of Epona.”

Sophie stared at him.  “Kelpies?”

“Faerie water horses,” Tanio explained irritably as the fight grew more vicious and the sirens became louder.  “They will save you and Michael.  Hurry.  You don’t have much time before the police will be here.  They cannot find the sword.”

“I don’t have that kind of magic!”

“Yes, you do.  The Kelpie will obey you since Epona is their goddess.  Water is not my element.  I cannot summon them.  Send for them.”

Feeling like a fool, Sophie ran to the lake bank.  Raising her hands, she concentrated on sending the light through her fingertips.  The lake remained placid, the sirens only a block or two away. 

“Nothing is—”  She stopped as the water began to stir, swirling in ever-widening circles as something roiled beneath the surface.  Rogue waves rose as the water began to churn.  Sophie watched in amazement as two sleek, grey heads emerged, followed by powerful equine bodies.  The horses rose gracefully about the water, landing on either side of Sophie, lowering their heads as they bent one leg. 

“Hurry up and get on,” Tanio said as Michael raced toward her.  “I’ll hold Balor back.”

“But we’ll drown!”

“No, we won’t,” Michael said as he reached her.  “Look.”

She looked back at the lake. The water had risen into a spout, creating a hallow vertex in the water.  Balor threw more of his black magic at them and one of the Kelpies nudged her as Tanio raised a fire wall. 

“Go!” he said.

Michael lifted her onto the back of one Kelpie and mounted the other.  They leapt through air and then dove beneath the surface.  Sophie felt the wet shock of coldness and clung to the Kelpie’s mane, sure that she would drown as the water closed over their heads, but somehow a bubble of air remained around them.  “How can this be happening?” she asked Michael as the Kelpies gently settled on the lake floor.

He grinned and pointed.

Sophie followed the direction of his hand.  A beautiful woman stood just beyond their bubble, dressed in an iridescent gown of changing greens and blues that swirled gently with the water’s movement, her blonde hair floating behind her. 

“Welcome to my home,” the Lady of the Lake said.

Epilogue

Sophie shook the dampness out of her hair as they emerged from a tunnel into a dry cave.  How they had managed to walk in an air bubble on the floor of Lake Ponchartrain she didn’t understand and something about the tunnel had felt different, almost as though Michael and she had crossed time periods.  Still, he had not hesitated when the Lady bade them follow her.

Glancing around the cave, she gasped in awe.  What she had though were electric lights were actually hundreds of candles set into niches that reflected the sparkling facets of thousands and thousands of crystals.  A fire was banked in a stone hearth along one wall and just past it was a darkened passageway.

Footsteps echoed from it along with some foreign mumbling as an elderly man with a flowing white beard emerged.  His vivid blue eyes widened as he saw them.  “Not another one,” he grumbled and turned to the Lady.  “Couldn’t you have just brought the sword yourself?”

“Now Merlin, mind your manners,” the Lady said mildly as though speaking to a child who has been told to do so many times.  “Our guest has special powers.”

“Eh?” Merlin looked at Sophie as if he were to about to dissect her to learn what they were.  “She’s not a faerie, is she?  Nimue is handful enough.”

“No,” Michael answered, “but she’s inherited the blood of Epona.”

Merlin looked startled.  “So that’s why the Pendragon was let loose.”

Sophie looked from Merlin to Michael.  “Have I had another concussion?  Just exactly where am I and why do you refer to this man as Merlin?”

“Because I am Merlin!” His white, scraggily brows furrowed.  “Is she as ignorant as the other one?”

Sophie drew herself up.  “I don’t know who the “other one” is, but I am not stupid.”

“Didn’t say you were,” Merlin replied sagely. “Just ignorant.”

Before she could ask what he meant, more voices sounded in the passageway and soon a tall, tawny-haired man and a brunette woman stepped out, holding hands and wearing satisfied smiles that gave Sophie a hint of what they had been doing not long ago. They looked familiar.

“Hi, Sara,” Michael said.  “Good to see you again.”

Sara.  His friend that had searched for the spear.  This was the couple who had been at the ranchero in Palo Pinto County the night Michael had taken her there to tend to a wolf. 

Michael nodded reluctantly at the man built like an ancient warrior.  “Ramsey.”

The man assessed Michael before replying. “McCain.”

The candle flames could have frozen from their icy tones. Sara had been a good friend of Michael’s and she was obviously in love with the hunk she was clinging to.  Could Michael be jealous?  Sophie’s stomach suddenly felt like she swallowed lead.  His hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“I am not jealous,” he said with an amused smile.

Damn it.  He’d read her mind again.  She was really going to have to establish some rules about that, but then she heard Merlin cackle.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Sara’s man said with a frown.

Merlin wiped at his eyes, trying to contain his mirth.  “You wouldn’t, Lancelot.  It’s a good thing you and Tristan here never met at Arthur’s court; you’d have run each other through.”  He chortled again.  “Two peas in a pod.”

Lancelot?  Tristan? 

“I can see you’re confused,” Sara said to Sophie and smiled.  “I was, too, when I first got here.”

“Where is “here” exactly?” Sophie asked. 

“We’re in Merlin’s cave in Cornwall—“

“England?” Sophie interrupted.

“Yes. I believe you met Lucas last spring, only he really is Lancelot.”

“As in King Arthur and Gwenhwyfar?  That Lancelot?”

He looked pained.  “Gwen and I were never anything but friends. Besides that was a long time ago.”

“It certainly was…” Sophie’s voice trailed off as comprehension began to sink in.  “Are you telling me that you were alive then?  In the—what was it—sixth century?”

Lancelot bowed slightly.  “I am an immortal knight.”

Sophie looked into his golden eyes, trying to see if he was jesting, but he looked steadily back at her with no trace of a smile. An immortal knight.  Well, why not?  She already met a dragon and seen two demons and Michael was a warlock—She stopped her train of thought and turned to him.

“Did Merlin call you Tristan?  As in Tristan of Lyonesse who stole his uncle’s wife from him?”

Michael scowled.  “Iseult chased me and damn-near got me beheaded. The writers got it all wrong.”

“Good luck with that,” Lancelot said wryly. 

“Well, they did!”

“Be that as it may,” the Lady of the Lake said as she moved between them, “both of you left enough trembling damsels in your wakes to last more than a few lifetimes.  The priestesses in Avalon will be glad to know you’ve each found your mate.” 

“More lovey-dovey talk and goo-goo eyes from another pair then,” Merlin said with a sigh. “Can’t an old man just be left in peace and quiet?”

“You certainly can,” Michael answered and handed the sword to the Lady.  “We’ve got to get back.  Pendragon is loose out there as well as Lucifer—not to mention Balor.”

“It’s not quite that simple,” the Lady explained.  “It seems that the Celtic relics want to be reunited before we use them again.  The return-time portal remains locked for now.”

Michael arched a brow.  “For how long?”

“Until next Beltane if the Platter and Grail can be found by next Beltane when the cycle will be complete. Merlin will be your host until then.”

Merlin snorted.  “What did I ever do—“

“Think of it this way,” Sara said with a mischievous look.  “You’ll be getting rid of Nimue for awhile.”

As if on cue, the faerie fluttered in from the passageway.  She eyed Michael appreciatively and Sophie put her hand on his arm possessively.  She didn’t plan to compete with a faerie, even though this was one was exquisitely beautiful.

“Don’t worry,” Michael said with a quirky grin.  “Nim and I go back a long way as friends.”

“It sounds like you have an awful lot of female friends,” Sophie said.

Lancelot started to laugh, but quickly stopped as Sara shot him a look that said he had no room to talk.

Nimue looked from one man to the other.  “Things should get interesting around here soon.  I suppose I have to leave though?”

“I am afraid so,” the Lady said and twisted the ruby pommel of the sword to reveal a hidden hollow space.  She took out a small scrap of paper.  “This holds the clue for the Platter,” she said as she gave it to Nimue. 

Nimue tucked the paper inside the low neckline of her gossamer silvery-white gown and batted nearly transparent wings.  She looked once more from Lancelot to Tristan.  “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone, will you?” she said with an impish smile and then disappeared.

Sophie eyed Michael.  “I think you owe me a long explanation, Tristan.”

This time, Lancelot did laugh.  “The bedrooms are down the passage.  I find that’s the best place to do any explaining that Sara wants.”

She punched him playfully.  “Speaking of which—“

“No need to say more,” Lancelot said and picked her up in his arms and strode away.

Merlin groaned. “Not again. That man has the stamina of a horse.”  He looked suspiciously at Michael.  “I suppose you do too?”

Michael grinned.  “I’d have to, since my mate is descended from Epona.”  And then, before Sophie could retort, he pulled her toward him and claimed her mouth with a thorough kiss.

The End.