Chapter Four #2
“Yes.” Michael leaned forward in his chair.
“I know you may not believe me, but each of the relics holds power—energy, if you’d rather call it that—from the four elements of wind, fire, water and earth.
The power is neutral. Whoever owns the relic can use that power for good or evil.
Can you imagine what someone like Baylor would do with that?
He could, literally, annihilate the world. ”
“So you have to find this Sword—this Sword of Fire—before he does?”
“Excalibur,” Mr. Smith said emphatically. “That is its name.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Please. Let’s not bring in the whole Arthurian myth again.
I can—sort of—accept the theory that these relics might have a certain electron or proton predilection that produces a form of energy.
But magic? That doesn’t exist in the real world.
” When no one answered her, she looked from Mr. Smith to Michael.
“What? You two really believe this is all magic?”
“Can you deny that the Pendragon is real?” Michael finally asked.
“He’s visited you twice.” She looked crestfallen at that, and Michael wished he could be kinder, but she had to understand.
“With you, seeing is believing, I think. A thirty-foot dragon is hardly something you can miss, and he certainly is not mythical anymore, is he?”
Mr. Smith clapped his hands in delight. “Of course! That makes sense! Our Sophie needs proof and poof!” He giggled at his play on words and then sobered. “My dear, you must take some things on faith.”
She sighed. “Okay. I can’t say I’m convinced about this magical power thing, but if these relics are as old as you think they are, they’re valuable in their own right. So where are you going to start looking?”
Michael grinned. “The question is where are we going to start looking?”
She gaped at him. “We?”
His grin broadened. “Remember I told you I thought the dragon was going to help us find the Sword? He wouldn’t have led me to you if you weren’t meant to be a part of this.
” He reached inside his jeans pocket and pulled out a paper.
“To answer your question, this is the second riddle that provides the clues.”
“Excuse me.” The butler stood in the doorway.
“Yes?” Mr. Smith said.
“That Mr. Caldwell who wrote the weapons article is here to see you, sir.”
Mr. Smith frowned. “Have him make an appointment. I’m busy right now.”
The butler hesitated. “He said it was rather important. Something about his publisher wanting to do a book on your entire collection.”
Mr. Smith’s eyes sparkled at the thought. “Oooh. A book…” He turned to Michael. “Would you and Sophie mind if I talk to him for a minute?”
“Of course not,” Sophie said and stood.
Michael stood too. “No problem. I can explain the clue to Sophie over lunch.”
“Sorry. I’m booked solid into the late afternoon,” Sophie replied.
“Tomorrow then,” Michael said as Caldwell entered the study.
It was at that precise moment that one of the puppies nipped Princess a little too hard and she sent him sprawling. The pup rolled into Caldwell’s pathway as his foot came down. Princess yelped and leapt, but she was not close enough to save her little one.
Before Michael could toss a bolt of light to aid her, Caldwell spun to his left, pushed by some unseen force. He slammed into the doorjamb, cracking his head in the process. Dazed, he clung to wall as the puppy limped away.
The slight movement of Sophie flexing her fingers drew Michael’s eye.
His warlock senses saw the bright bits of violet sparks still pulsating from her fingers.
She had saved the pup from being crushed by using her powers.
Was she even aware of it? His gaze sought hers, but she was already rushing over to the small ball of fur that Princess was fussing over.
Taking the pup gently, she felt its leg and paw. “I don’t think there is anything broken, but I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon when I’m through with work and check on him,” she said.
Mr. Smith nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”
“I must apologize also,” Caldwell said as he moved gingerly into the room, keeping an eye on the dogs. “I’m not usually that clumsy.” He gave Sophie an appreciative look and held out his hand. “Alan Caldwell.”
She took his hand. “Sophie Cameron.”
“She’s my veterinarian,” Mr. Smith interposed. “And she fences. I was hoping you two would meet!”
Michael did not care for the matchmaking tone in Smith’s voice. In spite of his near fall, Caldwell exuded a kind of cockiness that came from someone used to getting his own way. And Michael definitely did not want the guy having his way with Sophie. And he was holding Sophie’s hand way too long.
“We really should be going, Sophie,” he said to her.
Caldwell gave him an assessing look, one that any male recognized as a challenge. Michael crossed his arms and widened his stance. Caldwell smiled slightly and released Sophie’s hand. He looked back at her and inclined his head. “Perhaps we could discuss fencing sometime?”
The air around Michael fairly crackled and he pulled the energy back before its force planted Caldwell squarely on his ass—which was where he belonged, but Michael had been a warlock too long not to heed the first rule to “Harm None” with personal use of his magic.
Sophie gave him a strange look and he wondered if she had felt the potent charge he retained. She turned back to Caldwell.
“Perhaps if we meet again, we can have that discussion, but I really must be going now.” She gave Michael another odd look and moved to the door.
As they left, he wondered again if she had felt the magic he’d almost used—and if she truly was unaware of her own powers. How could she deny magic when she had it?