Chapter Eleven—True Identity #3
Her friend stopped selecting sticks of incense and looked at her in astonishment. “Why on earth not? That demon tried to kill you!”
“What would I say, Bri? That some stranger got it into his head to carry out a witch’s execution out in the middle of nowhere?
For what reason? And if I said I knew who he was and that he wanted the manuscript so he could search for the Holy Grail, the media would have a field day with it; that is, if I weren’t sent to John Peter Smith Hospital as a psycho case.
And you know how Mr. Smith feels about being dragged into anything that might include a search of his private vaults. ”
“I still think you should have reported it.”
Sara shook her head. “Lucas says the last thing we need is a horde of people searching and digging and snooping.”
“Ah, your Highlander god,” Brianna said, “and why didn’t he get to you sooner?”
If only she could tell her friend that he did. That he had saved her life. “He came as soon as he could,” she said stubbornly. “He had to track Michael from a distance so Baylor wouldn’t think he was being followed.”
“And Michael,” Brianna replied as she set the onyx bowl filled with water in the middle of the pentacle’s inner circle. “How did he let himself get taken? His magic should have been more powerful than that.”
Sara thought again about the illusion of the fiery Sword. Sometimes she wondered if Michael did, indeed, have gifts he hadn’t shared with the Circle. “Baylor had a real gun,” she answered, “we were both concentrating on that. No one suspected a drug-laced taser.”
“It drives home my point,” Brianna said. “I know how strong Michael is, and from what you’ve told me about Lucas, he sounds like one of those medieval warriors that protected the pilgrims on the Crusades—”
“Templars,” Sara said, with a laugh since history had never been Brianna’s thing. Then she sobered, remembering the Celtic cross Lucas wore. The one he had given to Michael…
“Whatever. The thing is, if these two alpha males can’t protect you, who can?”
“Brighid.” Sara winked at her friend. “Woman power and all that. Now, are you ready to scry?” Brianna had the gift of Sight and Sara had hoped she could provide some clue as to where they might search.
“I’ll try,” she said as she knelt down by bowl and closed her eyes to meditate.
Sara lit the candles, softly calling the quarters as she moved clockwise around the circle. Then she lit the appropriate incenses—frankincense, sandalwood, honeysuckle and musk—and placed them in their holders. She sank down opposite Brianna.
For long minutes Brianna stared at the still water, eyes glazing.
And then it began to stir, sloshing from one side of the bowl to the other.
Her friend’s eyes widened, but Sara could not discern what she saw.
Which was just as well, considering that she had fainted the night of the new moon ritual when she had seen the Templar warrior overcome by what she now recognized was Baylor.
Brianna reached out her hand and the water stilled. Slowly, she shifted her gaze to Sara. “Wind,” she said, “a storm at sea.”
“A hurricane?”
“I don’t think so,” Brianna answered and shivered. “I felt cold. There was this huge tree in a graveyard…it split in two.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s all I saw.”
The Druid’s tree! And a graveyard. Churches had graveyards. Sara could feel the tiny hairs on her arms begin to rise. They were on the right track after all!
She hugged her friend and they closed the circle, sending the elementals back to their respective homes. “You’ve done more than you know.”
Brianna hugged her back. “Just come back alive, will you?”
****
Baylor hung up the phone in his new hotel room.
The man he’d paid to interpret the manuscript had been exterminated.
Now all he had to do was place another call to a high-ranking Middle Eastern official who would allow the news to trickle down to exiled leaders that holy Christian relics would soon be found that, if defiled by members of the True Faith, could yield power for them.
That ought to be good for another few rounds of frenzied jihad.
He snorted. Mortals were so easy to manipulate.
The phone rang just as he was about to pick it up. Only Caldwell knew he was here. “Yes?”
“She’s alive.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. How could she be? He’d seen the fire begin to burn before he left. The warlock had been out cold. The Templar, immortal though he was, would have needed at least an hour to heal before he could resume shape. She would have been roasted by then.
“We’re talking about your working partner, I assume?” Caldwell would be calling from his cell and Baylor didn’t want to take the chance on being intercepted.
“Correct. I went by this morning to pick up some papers I’d left.”
On purpose. Baylor had not wanted to draw attention to Caldwell by having him suddenly disappear from Smith’s right after Sara Kincaid’s death.
Damn the witch. She has more lives than her proverbial cat-familiar. And she’s eluded me—ME—twice. Twice! It was a good thing he didn’t believe in self-flagellation. For himself, that is.
“What do you want me to do?” Caldwell asked.
“Nothing.” He could hear the surprised silence at the other end of the phone.
“Could you repeat?”
Baylor sighed. “You heard me. Nothing. She’s not the main concern now that I’ve got the manuscript. The Templar is. He’s the one we have to watch.”
“Got it.”
“Is the GPS still working on the bitch?” Baylor asked.
“Give me a minute.” There was a short pause. “Yep. I’ve got the blip on my mobile. Still working.”
“Good. Then we can follow them. If they find anything before I can get this damn script figured out, I’ll be there to take it away from Ramsey.”
Caldwell laughed. “I’ll take care of the girl.”
“You do that,” Baylor said as he hung up. Good luck. He suspected Brighid’s divine hand in Sara Kincaid’s charmed life. And if that were true, the bitch would be as powerful as the Templar. Odds Baylor didn’t like.