Chapter Eleven—True Identity #2
He wondered if that would really be so bad.
Arriving in Britain along with Julius Caesar had been a beginning to some very long lifetimes.
Ridding the world of the devil’s own spawn was a worthwhile endeavor, but Lucas couldn’t be responsible for ending Gavin’s immortality, too.
Not unless the vampire wished it. But Balor deserved to die for nearly burning Sara at the stake.
It brought back, way too vividly, the image of Gwenhwyfar nearly suffering the same fate.
And then, after her rescue, the story got twisted around to making Arthur’s knights believe she was having an affair with Lancelot.
He’d never seen a woman more loyal to her husband. He should know. He’d been there.
Lucas sighed as he drove back to the ranch house. Michael would be returning soon, and he’d need to put in an appearance. He just hoped he hadn’t scared Sara witless.
She let him in with a small nod. He tried to give her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay. I won’t hurt you.”
Her blue eyes searched his face. “I may not be as afraid of your wolf as you think I am.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That may not be wise, lass.”
She shrugged. “It didn’t hurt me the first time, did it?”
Before he could answer, he heard tires crunching on the gravel, and Michael and a woman with strawberry-blonde hair approached.
“This is Dr. Sophie Cameron,” Michael said as introduction and looked around. “Where’s the wolf?”
Sara shrugged. “When it woke up, it growled and I opened the door. It left.”
Pretty close to the truth, Lucas thought and almost grinned.
The vet frowned. “How badly was it hurt? I hate to think of it being vulnerable prey to the coyotes.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Lucas said. “I got here just about the time it woke up. The wound wasn’t too deep.”
Michael gave him a slanted look as he lifted the pendant over his head and handed it back to Lucas. “Good thing the wolf showed up, since neither of us could do anything to help Sara.”
“Good thing,” he said as he slipped the gold cross back on and met McCain’s skeptical look.
He wondered, again, just how much the warlock really knew. And if, quite possibly, there was yet another Immortal in this world.
****
Sara was tired the next morning when she arrived at her boss’s mansion, but now that Baylor had the manuscript, they didn’t have time to waste.
She was thankful that when Michael dropped her off last night—Lucas had insisted on it and she knew he still didn’t trust himself—to find that Nim had survived. The faerie was a bit battered, but angry as Hades that the curse Merlin had put on her restricted her to the house and Sara’s workplace.
The sunlight streaming in the window of the study did nothing to alleviate Mr. Smith’s chalky face as he listened to Sara and Lucas explain what happened the next morning.
“I’m glad the manuscript is gone,” he said when they finished.
“The thing has a curse on it. Perhaps the facts that the vault at Rosslyn cannot be excavated due to Trust laws and the Money Pit defies all kinds of scientific inventions should serve as warnings. The Holy Grail isn’t meant to be found.
Isn’t that why Galahad took it to—where was it? Egypt?—in the first place?”
“Sarras,” Sara corrected, “near what’s now Gaza. But the Grail and the other Hallows were found again. In Jerusalem. The Templars have been the guardians for centuries, keeping them hidden—”
“Precisely,” Mr. Smith interrupted, “and maybe they should stay that way. I’m putting a halt to this. It’s not worth getting you killed, my dear.”
Sara exchanged a quick glance with Lucas. “If the Hallows fall into the wrong hands, a whole lot of people are going to get killed. Entire nations could be destroyed.”
Mr. Smith pursed his lips. “Adam Baylor can’t be that powerful.”
Lucas leaned forward in his chair. “He is that powerful. The man is connected to terrorist leaders around the world. How do you think they have all that money to spend? 9/11 took years of planning. And the Hallows will only enhance that power.”
“You’re saying there’s really magic connected with them?” Mr. Smith asked incredulously, “other than the allure of people’s perception of them because of the Arthurian legends?”
Lucas looked at Sara and she nodded. He turned back to the older man.
“Yes. The power in the Hallows is ancient. Given by the Celtic gods to their chosen people, the Tuatha de Danaan, before they became Sidhe. The power is neutral. Whoever owns the Hallows controls them. Balor now has a copy of the manuscript. We’re in a race against time. ”
Knowing her boss’s affection for the melodramatic, Sara added, “Just think, Mr. Smith, you may be the one man who can save the world.”
He preened. “Well, in that case…”
****
Sara glanced sideways at Lucas, covertly, later that afternoon.
He was researching on Mr. Smith’s computer while she sat in the comfortable chair in front of the desk, the Templar Shield propped up beside her.
His tawny hair just brushed the collar of his shirt and his face in profile highlighted the straight nose, strong jaw and full lips.
She remembered how passionate his kiss had been and how she loved the taste of him and sighed.
They had a job to do and precious little time to do it in. But where to look next?
She spread a deck of Arthurian Tarot cards across the desk. The deck was done by a woman named Anna-Marie Ferguson and Sara had been using them in place of the traditional Rider-Waite deck for several years. Maybe they would hold a clue since the Hallows were ingrained in the Grail legend.
She picked up the Ace of Spears card, labeled The Grail Lance. “Before the Christians associated this with the Spear of Longinus,” she said, “it was believed to have been the Celtic Spear of Redemption.”
Lucas nodded although he didn’t look up. “The Tuatha de Danann Hallow. We knew that.”
“But,” she said as she picked up the Major Arcana Sun card, “it was also known as the Spear of Lugh. The Sun God.”
Lucas’s hand stilled and he turned to look at her. “Yes?”
“The sun represents consciousness just as the moon does the subconscious. As the sun rises, its warmth increases, just like Gawain’s strength increased until the sun reached its zenith.
” She smiled. “It’s an interesting contrast. The Spear represents the element of air, something which you can’t see.
Intuition, inspiration to create…” She broke off and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, Lucas was still watching her, an odd expression on his face.
“I think we have to use logic here as well as intuition. We already think that “dawn’s gate” is east because the sun rises there.
And if the Spear is the ancient Sun God’s, that would make sense.
And we know, esoterically, that east represents birth or inspiration.
” She paused. “How far south could Sinclair’s men have gone? ”
If he were surprised by the change of subject, he didn’t show it. “They discovered America,” he said. “There’s no reason to think they wouldn’t have followed the coast south to see how far it would go.”
“Exactly. And where were the first settlements in America?”
“I’m Scottish, remember?” Lucas said with a smile.
For a moment Sara lost herself in his whiskey-colored eyes and then let her gaze center on his full, sensual mouth as it curved up, revealing strong, white teeth. Teeth that could become fangs, she reminded herself sternly. Damn. She forced herself to refocus.
“The first settlement was St. Augustine in 1565,” Sara said, “although there had been a couple of attempts before that. Then in 1584, Roanoke colony was established although it didn’t last long.
If the Sinclairs moved the Hallows because of the Scottish Inquisition, which didn’t begin until 1590, either of those two locations might be a possibility. They were already here.”
She fingered the cards and picked up the Queen of Spears. Dindrane. “How appropriate that she would be its queen,” Sara said softly, “for it was she who led Galahad aboard the ship that took the Grail to Sarras.”
“I remember that,” Lucas said.
“What?”
“I mean, I remember reading something about that legend.” Lucas stood and came around to her side of the desk. “But don’t forget the possibility that the manuscript may have been written much later, perhaps only fifty years ago.”
Sara rubbed her temples. “Don’t overwhelm me. Let’s go with my theory first. It’s a place to start.”
“Once we’re there, where would we look?”
“Somewhere there are both roses and oak trees, according to the verse.”
“Gardens, maybe? There must be hundreds of them.”
She looked up at him. “It must be some place where there is a balance of power between the male and the female. That’s what the oak and the rose symbolize. Where could we find that?”
Lucas frowned. “If we were in Europe, I would say old churches. The cathedrals that the Templars built always included pagan feminine symbols while supposedly supporting the male-dominated Roman church. Here, I don’t know.”
“Churches might be a good place to start, then.” She smiled suddenly. “Baylor probably wouldn’t think of looking there.”
Lucas paused. “Even if he did, it’s one place Baylor couldn’t look.”
****
Sara hated keeping secrets from Michael or from Brianna, but how could she tell them that Lucas was a werewolf?
And that, Goddess help her, she was in love with him?
But at least now she understood his elusiveness.
Lovemaking wasn’t exactly the time anyone was the most rational, and if the wolf slipped out…
“I can’t believe that man actually tried to burn you alive!” Brianna said as she set white candles at the quarters of the pentacle rug that took up most of her living room floor. “What did the police say?”
“They’re investigating the death of the two men in the car. Michael gave them a description of Baylor—said he’d passed him as he was coming to my place. He didn’t mention what happened to me.”