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 life 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 lights.
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 rooftop, 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 1830s garb, complete with boa, bonnet and bustle. Her gaze held Michael’s as 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 offered anything they could use in their hunt. 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, just 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 rearview 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. And 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, as 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 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 palm 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. “Natives, 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 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 midway down the island chain.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then you’re in for a real treat.”