Chapter Seventeen
“Can no one follow my orders?” Balor smashed his cigar out, tempted to lift his eye patch and send his younger brother flying against the wall.
“Easy, bro,” Lucifer said easily, pouring them both cognac from the Waterford decanter. “I’m just the messenger.”
“Like hell,” Balor said as he took the snifter.
Lucifer grinned. “Hell isn’t all that bad. At least, from my standpoint.”
Balor glared at him with his good eye. “When did I give you permission to follow the vampire to California?”
He flopped into the oversized, leather armchair and flung his leg over one side. Lucifer’s smile faded. “Since when did I start taking orders from you?” Swirling his brandy, he added, “Besides, if I had not gone, you wouldn’t have known about Carl’s antics.”
Downing his shot, Balor reached for the decanter again. “What did that fool think he was doing, showing up at the tourist park and then making a clumsy cycle attempt to abduct the woman?”
“When I let him talk, he begged me to tell you that he was trying to make up for his past mistakes.”
“Why would he beg you to tell me that? Do I look like some kind, forgiving jackass?”
“Hardly.” Lucifer shrugged. ‘It might have had something to do with the fact that he had a porno star’s thirteen inch dick shoved down his throat before I hog-tied laced his ass with cayenne pepper and then screwed him myself until he passed out. You shouldn’t be having any more trouble getting him to follow orders though. I branded his balls with a curling iron for good measure.”
Balor laughed. “Where did you get a curling iron?”
“We were in the porner’s dressing room. I got inspired.”
“Did you take care of the porner?”
“I paid him off. He’ll be more than happy to work for ‘Lucien’ again.”
“Good. Now what about our other problem? Sigurd hasn’t been behaving either.”
“The dragon is your problem, dude. All I did was thaw him out of the Artic, like you asked.”
“You have an affinity with fire just like the dragon does. Can’t you persuade him to stop making this manic appearances?”
“Maybe. I prefer to keep my distance though. Sigurd belongs to Odin, Tanio’s arch-enemy—and I deserted Tanio long ago. He still wants to destroy me.”
“I don’t know why the fire god doesn’t sic Pendragon back on Sigurd.”
“Since we haven’t seen him, I suspect Brighid has him locked up in Avalon.”
“Damn my goddess granddaughter,” Balor muttered. “As soon as I can get my hand on even one of those relics, I’ll destroy Avalon myself.”
“You’ve still got a shot at the platter. They’ve been searching churches from what Landon said, but with no luck.”
“Do you really think someone from the Priory would hide the platter in plain sight?”
“Depends. It could be a brilliant strategy since neither you nor I are exactly welcome in churches.”
“I can take some charred skin, if need be,” Balor answered, remembering the last time he tried to step inside one of those places. He had nearly been incinerated. “I prefer to let the vampire do the dirty work though. It can’t be too pleasant for him either since Christianity doesn’t take kindly to blood-suckers either.”
Lucifer shrugged again. “It’s strange. According to Landon—the boy can really get talkative to keep a dick out of his mouth—Myles doesn’t seem affected by anything. Maybe that girl is more protection than we think.”
“That girl has a connection to the Pendragon. Sigurd sensed the tattoo immediately.” Balor narrowed his eyes in thought. “If there is a drop of immortal blood in her, she would indeed be valuable to us. Brighid always protects her own. Maybe I need to revisit my original thoughts on kidnapping the bitch.”
“It didn’t work last time. The vampire will be on his guard now.”
Balor snorted. “It didn’t work because Carl Landon is a stupid kid. Every one of the biker gangs in California has at least one man who answers to me. Maybe it’s time to call in the pros.”
“I’ll set it up,” Lucifer said.
* * * *
Chloe still had a hard time processing the reality of seeing a dragon. They had stopped at Sutter Creek overnight to wait out the storm and for Gavin to “nose about” as he put it. Apparently, Sigurd had made an appearance only for them since no one else reported a sighting.
Still, Chloe kept looking uneasily around her as they spent the next day and a half trooping in and out of a dozen churches.
“Try to relax,” Gavin said as they drove into Columbia late in the afternoon. “The dragon was sent to scare you.”
“It worked.” Chloe looked over at him. Outwardly, he seemed calm, but his jaw was set so firmly it seemed chiseled out of stone and he kept moving his gaze from side to side, although slowly enough most people wouldn’t detect it. Having spent so much time alone with him in the car, Chloe had become attuned to his little quirks—or at least the public ones. She spent the rest of her time fantasizing about what his bedtime habits were. She still hadn’t got past his door, darn it.
Chloe looked around as they got out of the car and gave a surprised gasp. “Look at the wooden sidewalks! And the old western store fronts! Everything seems so authentic!”
“It should be. The travel guide said it’s a working town.”
“And look! People are in period costumes! How cool!” She reached inside her hobo-bag purse and pulled out the somewhat tattered guide as a tourist-filled stagecoach drawn by four clomping horses rattled by. “Parts of the movie High Noon were filmed here—and there’s a real blacksmith shop as well as the gold-panning thing. Oh,” she said excitedly, “and a Masonic Temple! Didn’t you say the Mason guys descended from the Templars? Maybe that should be the first place we look.”
“That is a good idea.” Gavin smiled at her and Chloe felt herself grow warm and tingly. Geez. She was pathetic reacting to an off-hand compliment and a small smile as though Gavin had lavished oodles of heat-sizzling declarations of passion. Like that was going to happen.
He took the guide from her and then frowned. “The original building was destroyed by the 1854 fire and the rebuilt one torn down around 1890. The current one dates to 1950. Probably too new for the platter to be there. But,” he said as he handed the book back, “we can look.”
She should have known that was too easy, Chloe thought as they trudged up Kennebee Hill later to where St. Anne’s Church stood. “The book says it was built in 1856,” she said as they walked up the marble steps to enter the small church. Clear glass windows lined the side walls with narrow, wooden pews filling the interior.
They moved closer to the white altar graced by three gilded arches painted with celestial angels serving as a backdrop. “It’s beautiful,” Chloe said and then noticed that Gavin at taken his shades off and was staring at the Madonna, nearly transfixed.
“What is it?” she asked. “Catholic churches always have statues of the Virgin Mary. Is something wrong with it?”
He forced his gaze away and turned to her. “No. Of course not.” He looked at the communal silver plate and sacrificial cup sitting on the altar. “No golden platter here either.”
“Well, there’s a museum in the Knapp building. We can try that next.”
It held no clues either. Chloe felt discourage by the time they finished touring it. “What now?”
Gavin glanced at his watch. “We might as well get rooms here tonight, unless you want to continue on.”
Chloe shook her head. “I think I’d like to play tourist for a little while. Why don’t you book the rooms and I’ll meet you at the Charles Saloon in about an hour?”
Gavin looked up and down the street. “I don’t think I should leave you alone.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. All the shops are still open and the place is crawling with tourists. Not a dragon in sight.”
His mouth quirked a little. “Still—”
“Go on! Guys hate trailing after women while we shop. I promise I’ll stay right here on the main drag.” She gave him a little push. “I’ll be fine.”
Gavin hesitated and then nodded. “Promise me you’ll not wander off on your own.”
He almost sounded like he cared. Maybe a girl could get used to having a knight-in-shining-armor. “I promise.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Chloe enjoyed the many shops filled with friendly clerks dressed in crinolines and bonnets. At the blacksmith shop, men dressed as miners tipped their hats to her and she found herself entering the play-world of the 1800s. And she really wished she had a costume too when she finally sat down in a wooden armchair at Charlie’s. Being in Columbia was almost like being on a movie set.
She ordered a drink and when the waitress brought it back, she also slid a ticket toward her. “Just sign your name on the back and we’ll put it the jar for a drawing for a free stagecoach ride. It’ll be the last one for the evening.”
Chloe loved horses and she’d watched several groups of laughing tourists go by in
the coaches earlier. Gavin might even like it—he certainly was a superb rider. And who knows? Maybe she could bump against him enough to get him thinking about…
Grinning, she scribbled her name on the ticket and then sat back to savor the atmosphere. It really was too bad they hadn’t taken more time to enjoy the whole Gold Rush thing.
A few minutes later, a cowboy swaggered in, wearing chaps and boots with real spurs that jangled as he walked toward the bar. His Stetson was pushed back on his head, tawny curls brushing the collar of a blue chambray shirt. A full moustache, several shades darker than his hair, drooped around a rather full mouth that turned into a friendly grin as he greeted the waitress and reached into the drawing jar to retrieve a ticket. Turning it over, he drawled, “Chloe Whitney?”
She raised her hand and he sauntered over. “Howdy, Ma’am. I’m the stagecoach driver. You’re the lucky lady that gets the last ride tonight.”
He had the brightest blue eyes—and they reminded her of someone, although she couldn’t remember just who. “I’m waiting for someone. He should be along shortly.”
“Oh, sorry, Ma’am. The boss has strict rules the horses need to be put up before it gets dark. The ride’s only about ten minutes. Just give Lucy…” He pointed toward the waitress. “…his name and she’ll tell him you’ll be back in no time.” He winked at Chloe. “Doesn’t hurt to keep a fella waiting once in a while.”
That was true. Maybe if weren’t waiting for Gavin like a friendly puppy… Chloe smiled. “If you’re sure it won’t take too long?”
“Not long at all.”
She told Lucy who would be looking for her and followed the driver out. He helped her into the coach. Two dark-haired men with beards and a blonde woman were already inside. Tourists obviously since they were all dressed in jeans and t-shirts. They nodded at her and continued talking about a bike ride to Yosemite National Park. Chloe peered out the window as the stage lurched forward. The horses began trotting, causing the coach to rock from side to side.
“Gosh, I hadn’t realized how bumpy these things were,” Chloe said.
The blonde smiled. “Just wait till they get to runnin’.”
None of the coaches Chloe’d seen earlier had gone faster than a walk. These horses were already trotting and they were near the edge of the tourist area. “Why would the driver run the horses? Isn’t that dangerous?”
That drew a laugh from one of the men. The blonde leaned forward. “Gotta have a little danger to make life excitin’ I always say. Just consider it a special ride.”
The stage made a sharp turn and the horses broke into a canter. Chloe went flying off her seat to land in the arms of one of the men. He pinned her to him.
“What—let go of me!” Chloe pushed against him but she might as well have been trying to move a rock wall.
“Well, the bitch really made it easy for us, didn’t she?” he asked as the coach came to an abrupt stop and the door was flung open. Two sets of hands reached for her.
Chloe kicked out and heard a satisfying thud followed by a rapid curse. “I’ll cut you for that,” someone snarled as she was dragged outside, still being held by her captor. Several huge motorcycles were parked nearby.
“You will not,” the driver said as he jumped down from the seat, all trace of an accent gone.
“Bug off. We’re not being paid to take crap.”
The driver’s eyes flashed red briefly and the man with the knife dropped it. “You are being paid very well to take whatever kind of crap I choose to dish out. Is that clear?”
The blonde smiled at him while the men mumbled their agreement. “Mr. Baylor wants this woman alive,” he said. “I am sure each of you is aware of how dire the consequences will be if she is harmed?”
The men went pale, but Chloe hardly noticed. The blood was pounding so hard in her head, she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Mr. Baylor— Adam Baylor?
Dear Lord. Why had she not listened to Gavin? She fought down the hysteria rising in her throat. If she ever needed a knight-in-shining-armor, now would be a good time.
Only he didn’t even know where she had gone.