Chapter Nine #2
Michael’s eyes darkened. “He didn’t. I give you my word that Excalibur exists and that a demon who wants to control and maybe destroy the world is hunting for the same Sword.
We have to find it before he does.” He stood and walked to the door and then turned.
“I’m going to have a little talk with Tanio.
When I come back, you’ll have your proof. ”
Sophie sat mutely at her desk after he was gone.
It was all so confusing. Nothing made sense, and she had always been ruled by logic.
One possibility was that she truly was having a nervous breakdown, but everything else in her life seemed rational and real.
The clinic functioned. Clients trusted her with their pets.
Augustin still gave her his special nuzzle…
Or maybe Mr. Smith, who loved to meddle, really was playing a hoax. But what Michael had said about the media hovering for days niggled at her. They couldn’t all be fooled, could they?
She shut her eyes, not wanting to think of the other option.
Maybe demons, dragons, faeries and warlocks existed and she had been too oblivious to see.
Maybe there was some grandiose scheme in the universe to have good battle evil.
Certainly the unrest in the Middle East had been raging for years now.
Suicidal terrorists had created fear in the hearts of sane people.
Drug cartels murdered people for no reason.
World-wide economies were crashing… Maybe some evil force really was behind it all.
Maybe Michael was right about everything. How could she know for certain?
****
The dragon lay dozing, his eyes fluttering as his tail clinked gently against the rocky floor of his cave.
In his dream, he was back with Uther and the Roman legions.
Although Rome had long left Britain to defend itself from the Byzantine empire, Romulus Augustulus still allowed soldiers of Roman descent to train in his armies.
And that is where the Pendragon left Uther, once he learned that Rome held other pleasures.
He had first seen her as a wild, white mare, her sleek, silvery neck arched gracefully, mane and tail flowing as she galloped over the steep slope of a hill, sure of her footing, hooves seeming to float above the ground.
Being a young dragon back then, he thought to have a bit of sport with the free, feisty horse.
So it came as a surprise to him to find his fireballs ricocheting back and actually knocking him onto his haunches.
When the smoke cleared, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen stood in front of him.
Dressed in a white tunic trimmed in gold thread, her long, moonlight-colored hair flowed around her, but her dark eyes flashed their own fire.
“You dare to trifle with me, Dragon?” she asked.
Pendragon flicked his tail and blinked. ‘I wanted to play with the horse.”
She stared at him and then she lifted her head and sniffed, taking in his scent. “You are not from here. Where is your home?”
“Briton. I am mentor to a young soldier who wants to take his country back from Vortigern.”
The woman tilted her head. “What is this soldier’s name?”
“Uther. He takes my name also. I am called Pendragon.” He said it rather proudly and rattled his scales.
She ignored him, seeming to be in deep thought. “It is written in the wind there will be mighty battles in Briton, but your Uther will not lead them. However, his son will overcome the Saxon swine.”
Pendragon puffed smoke. “How do you know this?”
She raised her arms to the sky and laughed.
When she lowered them, she was clad in full warrior armor, a Lorica segmentata covering her shoulders and breasts, with strips of heavy leather hanging over a shortened tunic.
Slender yet muscular calves were encased in leather strips that held hobnailed sandals tight to her feet.
In one hand she held a spatha and, in the other, the spear-like pilum.
“Because I am Epona, goddess of horses and soldiers.” Her eyes blazed sparks of fire. “I will be there.”
The dragon stirred in his sleep and slowly became aware that he was no longer alone in his lair. He opened a cobalt eye to see Tanio and the warlock. He sat up abruptly, banging his head on the hard ceiling.
“Is something the matter with the girl?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” Tanio answered with a look at Michael. “Do you want to explain or shall I?”
“I will,” Michael replied and proceeded to inform Pendragon of all that had taken place. “So you see,” he concluded, “Sophie thinks I conjured up everything. She doesn’t think you are real.”
The dragon snorted, flames shooting out the cave. “Not real? I will visit her again tonight then, and the next night as well.”
Michael shook his head. “Your visits are keeping the media on high-alert looking for a story. If we’re to find Excalibur, we don’t need reporters following us. Besides,” he added, “she needs to get close enough to touch you, to communicate with you. Then she’ll have to admit you exist.”
The spikes on Pendragon’s head raised with interest. “Can you help her shape-shift? She can really see for herself what a dragon is like then.” Memories of Epona shifting to dragon form flashed through his mind. They’d soared over Rome’s hills together, made dragon-love—
“She’d never speak to me again if I even tried that,” Michael said.
“Then what?” Pendragon asked. “She can come out into the street, I guess. I’ll not burn her.”
“Your size is a bit intimidating,” Tanio replied. “But perhaps there is a way—”
The dragon’s eyes turned midnight blue. “If what I’m thinking you’re thinking, the answer is no.”
Tanio removed his flaming cape and swirled it over the Pendragon’s head. “I’m afraid the answer is yes, my friend,” he said.
****
Balor looked around the empty warehouse in a drug-invested neighborhood of south Dallas.
No one would bother him here. No one would call the police if they heard screaming.
No one had questioned when they’d dragged Caldwell in.
Whatever people inhabited the streets and tenements around them would not care.
It was the most perfect place for punishment.
“You did well, my pet,” he said to Morgan.
She looked up from filing her nails. “He should be coming around soon. I didn’t drug him too much.”
Balor smiled and turned his attention again to Caldwell, still passed out. “I grow weary of waiting.” He gestured to one of the two body-builders he’d recruited from a bar. “Throw some water on him.”
Caldwell sputtered as the bucket of cold water sloshed over him, and he tried to sit up. He fell back, unbalanced, since his hands were bound behind him. “What the hell?” He struggled back into a sitting position and glanced down at himself. “What’s going on? Why am I naked?”
“You are in need of some discipline.”
“Why?”
“You disappointed me, Alan. I had not thought you so weak that you would lose control in a fencing match with that slip of a girl.” He shook his head. “That loon, Smith, fired you when he found out. We have made no progress on even knowing where to look for the Sword. I needed you in that house.”
“I can get back in. I’ll—”
“You will learn to control your temper, Alan. And your first lesson starts now.” He gestured to the man holding the spiked strap. “Begin.”
Unfortunately, Caldwell was more stoic than he’d thought.
Baylor grew bored and let his thoughts drift to the female veterinarian, wondering how uptight she’d be.
If she could resist a warlock—Morgan had told him about their argument—she might be colder than fish in the Arctic Ocean, which would make it extremely enjoyable to make her melt.
Or at least pleasure him as often as he wanted it. She didn’t believe in supernatural beings. She wouldn’t recognize him.
He might just have to pay Sophie Cameron a visit himself.