The Immortals II: Michael

by Cynthia Breeding

  “So how do you know the sword is in the South? Which, I might add, is a fairly large expanse of land.”

  “Such a skeptic. The logical place to look for the sword is in the south.”

  Maddeningly he stopped talking and she wanted to rail at him to tell her straight and simple. Then he grinned at her. She was fairly sure the air was sparkling with invisible pheromones again. What was so irresistible about his grin anyhow? This was the wicked one—a little lopsided, the left corner of his mouth tilting up a bit more than the right. His eyes smoldered slightly, as if inviting her into some lush, dark, secret world that her traitorous body seemed to want to go to. Maybe her self-imposed celibacy since the divorce was getting the best of her. Maybe she should invest in one of those vibrating “Rabbits”. She resisted smiling back.

  “Why the South?” she asked again, hoping her voice wasn’t quivering like some parts of her body were.

  “Forces of nature,” he said, an amused expression crossing his face. “The concept of the Tarot is a guideline for the laws of nature. Logical. The suit of Swords symbolizes the element of fire. Fire protects and provides warmth. The cycle of life flows clockwise. As the east is symbolic of dawn and beginnings, the south is symbolic of summer and achievement. So it would be logical to seek the sword in the south, wouldn’t it?” Michael tilted his head waiting for her answer.

  Sophie mulled it over. “Perhaps,” she finally said, “but where in the world would you start?”

  “I’ve given it some thought. If the theory of a general like Lee or another military leader being a member of the Priory is true, we need to check Civil War sites that are near lakes probably no farther north than the Chesapeake.

  “That’s not exactly a lake.”

  “No, but Charleston has a good harbor that’s been used for centuries and it saw its share of battles. I’ll be through with adjuncting in couple of weeks. We can leave the first part of June.”

  Sophie raised her brows. “You really think my involvement is crucial to your finding the sword?”

  “Yes. The Pendragon would not have made his presence known to you otherwise. I don’t know what your role is, but you have one.” Michael smiled, the dimple appearing. “You will help me, right?”

  She hesitated and then nodded. “I guess I could. I have some vacation time coming. But this will be strictly business. No expectations of making it personal. Separate rooms. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Michael said solemnly. “I really need your help.” He leaned across her to open the door, taking care not to brush against her. “I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.” Then he grinned.

  The dimple wasn’t there. As Sophie stepped out of his car, she had the distinct impression that he had never forced any woman to do what she didn’t want to do because the thought to refuse him probably never entered any woman’s head.

  Blast him. Well, he would find out that she was different. He would.

  * * * *

  The Landon boy had ceased yelling a good twenty minutes ago and, more recently, had quit fighting the ropes that had him splayed on his stomach and tethered to the bedposts of the elaborately decorated master bedroom in Baylor’s suite. Alan and Toby sat in armchairs near the window, trying to appear nonchalant about what he was doing, but Morgan licked her lips, eyes gleaming with arousal, as she watched Baylor thoroughly ream the young man’s ass.

  Baylor particularly enjoyed humiliating Carl. The kid was good-looking with his long brown hair and green eyes. He worked out religiously at a gym whenever he wasn’t gambling and was extremely proud of his virility. He also had a real aversion to gay men which made it all the more pleasurable for Baylor to mortify him. And it served as a good example to Alan and Toby that Baylor exacted his due when he was not obeyed.

  Carl was limp now, the blood from Baylor’s grinding into him trickling down his thighs. Baylor snorted in disgust and gave a final, vicious thrust, relieving himself. What enjoyment was there in causing pain if the kid passed out?

  He withdrew and reached for the towel on the bed stand to clean himself. “That little demonstration was because Mr. Landon chose to be in a poker game rather than tailing Sophie Cameron the second time the dragon appeared. If I had known of his absence, I’d have been there myself.” Balor looked around. “Any questions?”

  Toby shook his head quickly, his face pale. No doubt he was remembering some of the special tortures he’d endured in the past. Caldwell looked at him steadily, his hatred smoldering just beneath the surface. Baylor almost laughed. Caldwell had taken a branding a few months ago rather than be shagged by a couple of Baylor’s bodyguards. In truth, Baylor admired Caldwell’s standing up to him, although he would never let him know it. “Well?” he asked.

  “Nope.” Caldwell answered. “I think everyone here understands you. I disabled the doc’s car and offered to give her a ride home. Your remote webcam is now installed inside her living room.”

  Baylor turned to Toby. “And for once, did you get something right the first time?”

  Toby gulped, but managed not to look away. “Yes, sir. I gave her the dragon keychain with the GPS chip inside. Anytime she has those keys, we can track her.”

  “Good.” Baylor gestured to the bed where Carl was groaning. “See what you saved yourself from?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you, my pet.” Baylor walked over to Morgan on the small settee and fondled her breasts through the thin material of her low-cut blouse. “You looked a bit gloom when you got here. Are you going to tell me you weren’t successful?”

  “I got in,” she said. “I’m her girl-Friday now and the audio-bug is under her desk.”

  “Then why so glum? You know I reward you well for doing what you’re told.”

  Morgan tossed her ebony hair back. “That damn bitch has Michael wrapped around her finger!”

  “Forget the damn warlock. I’ll have Caldwell kill him once we find the sword.”

  “No! Don’t harm Michael! He’s—” She stopped, her expression telling Baylor that she knew she had said too much. “Kill the bitch instead.”

  “I might,” Baylor replied, “but I intend to have a little fun with her myself first. Depending on how pliable she is, I may keep her around.” He brought his hand up to stroke Morgan’s face. “I think I’d enjoy watching you with her…doing it gently, softly, really making her come with your tongue in her. That would please me indeed.”

  With a chuckle, he turned to the men. “We’ve got everything in place. The next time that dragon is sighted, I am sure Mr. Landon will let me know. Isn’t that so?” he asked, not turning to look at man, but he heard the faint “Yes, sir” that he needed. “Caldwell, ingratiate yourself with that idiot Smith. He’s bound to have the second riddle somewhere. Work on Sophie Cameron too. You said she likes to fence? Do something with that.”

  Caldwell grinned. “Oh, I intend to.”

  “No drugs this time. Even though it was Ramsey who messed up your plans with Sara, we don’t know that the warlock didn’t find out about that little incident.”

  “No drugs.”

  “Good. Toby, get that story published. I may need for you to go back and get more details.” Baylor opened the bedstand drawer and pulled out a business card. “This is an editor who owes me a favor. Call him.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And Morgan. You truly are my eyes and ears in that office. The Cameron woman might have a copy of the riddle. See if you can find it for me, won’t you sweetness?”

  “If it’s there, I’ll find it.”

  “If you do, I might even let you play with your warlock boy.” He watched her face light up for a mere fraction of a second before she carefully schooled her expression. Morgan might just make a good pupil of his, after all.

  Lucifer’s horns! He needed some humans he could actually trust…if such thing could be done. His drug cartels were becoming unruly, fighting amongst themselves and killing too many people. How many time
s had he told the warlords that a country would submit to be running by corruption, if the common folk didn’t fear for their daily lives?

  All the bickering was slowing his profit margin as well. The terrorist training camps he sponsored were clamoring for more money and more recruits. With all the attention on securing the borders, even Baylor was having a hard time of it. Once the sword was his, all that would change. Evil and corruption would rule the world.

  Meanwhile, he might just need to have a talk with Lucifer. After all, he was his brother.

  Chapter Six

  It had taken every bit of centuries-old willpower to keep from touching Sophie when he opened her car door, but Michael had managed it. Even now, two nights later, he could still smell the fresh, herbal cologne she wore and more importantly, the actual scent that was her essence seemed to linger in the air about him.

  He couldn’t remember any woman having such a tenacious hold on him—not the married one who’d almost gotten him killed so long ago nor the beauty who had healed him afterwards. The irony in this situation was that Sophie didn’t even care. She was totally oblivious to his usual charm and the few times he’d tried to mind-touch, her emotional shields were firmly up. That was unusual in itself.

  Michael parked his sports car in the caleche parking lot near the lake and got out. The Sisterhood Circle was meeting tonight, the first full moon after Beltane and he would be joining them to counter-balance the feminine energy of their magic. He took his white Druid’s robe out of the trunk and wondered what Sophie would say if she knew what he really was. By the Goddess, he would love to initiate her into their rites, especially that of Hieros Gamos—the Sacred Marriage that “married” ancient Celtic kings to their lands through a sexual ritual with a priestess of the Goddess. In times past, on-lookers would then choose partners and couple as well, adding their sexual and spiritual energy to that of the Rite to guarantee bountiful harvests.

  Michael had a distinct feeling that sex with Sophie would be a spiritual high as well as a physical one. He couldn’t deny that he would love every moment of touching her, stroking his hands over her, slowly undressing her and savoring the feel of her full breasts in his hands. Her aureoles would ruche as his fingers teased ever closer to the tight little buds that he would suckle, gently at first and then drawing deeper. Nor could he deny how much he would enjoy spreading her legs and burying his face between them. He could almost taste the slight saltiness of those slick, wet folds. He would leisurely lick and nibble and kiss until she shattered against him.

  All of that would be pure, male lust—but once he thrust inside her and felt the heat of her tightness sheathing him, he knew that the power of his magic would connect them. It would be Hieros Gamos in its own way.

  With a start, he realized Brianna Frazier was standing beside him. Almost guiltily, he wondered how long she had been standing there. Brianna was their Seer and his aura must have been flaming red with his lustful thoughts.

  “I’m almost ready,” he said as he slipped the robe over his head.

  “I can see that,” she said with an amused smile.

  Even in the semi-darkness of dusk, it must have been easy for her to spot the hard bulge that strained against his jeans. “Sorry—“

  She placed a hand lightly on his arm. “Don’t be. Male sexual energy can be a potent force for us tonight.”

  He looked at her. She was slender, almost fragile, with long pale hair and porcelain skin. Her face was beautiful in a classic way, gentle and composed. She looked more like a madonna—especially since the witches wore pale blue robes—than someone who would find sex amusing.

  Tonight she was wearing verdant green, the color of growth and prosperity. It was Sara’s robe and it seemed strange to see Brianna in it. “You’re officiating?”

  She nodded. “The others chose me since Sara is miss—not here.”

  “I’m glad. You are the most neutral and fair-minded of all of them.” He squinted toward the clump of trees near the lake where the other witches were preparing. “Is Morgan here?”

  “Yes. She has a strange energy radiating from her tonight.”

  Michael’s senses went on alert. “Light or dark?”

  Brianna frowned. “You know we practice white magic only.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Michael said softly. “There’s something about Morgan I don’t trust.”

  “She’s young and she’s new. Perhaps she’s just not totally comfortable yet?”

  “I don’t think that’s it. She disliked Sara, remember?”

  “That’s because you and Sara were such good friends. I think Morgan has a crush on you.”

  “I certainly didn’t encourage that.”

  Brianna replaced her frown with an impish smile. “You are a warlock—women are supposed to be enchanted by you.”

  Too bad Sophie didn’t know about that theory. It certainly would make things easier. He sighed. The seduction of Dr. Sophie Cameron was going to take a very long time and right now, he needed her help in finding the sword.

  “You know about the dragon sightings, don’t you?” he asked.

  Brianna looked puzzled. “Sure. It’s been all over the news. It’s appeared at some vet clinic twice.”

  “That’s been no accident. That veterinarian is going to help me find Excalibur.”

  Her eyes widened. “The second relic?”

  “Yes.” Michael was glad he didn’t have to explain. Brianna was Sara’s best friend and understood what they had undertaken.

  “What does that have to do with Morgan?” she asked now.

  “I don’t know, but she showed up at Sophie’s—the vet—clinic and now she’s working there.”

  “Coincidence?”

  “You know there are no coincidences.”

  “Sometimes Fate works in ways we don’t understand. Maybe she’s there to help in some way.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, let it play out. Destiny is what it will be.” She gestured toward the trees.

  “The others are waiting.”

  Michael nodded and followed her, drawing up his hood as he stepped into the middle of the circle the witches had formed. Each of them held a small, blue, glass globe with a candle. They raised these now as the rounded sphere of the moon began to show on the lake’s horizon and began their soft chanting.

  It was his part of the ritual to call the elements and normally, he called in proper rotation beginning with the east, but tonight he faced west first. “Llyr, god of water, be with us.” He turned north. “Pridd, god of earth, be welcome.” Facing east, he continued, “Awyr, god of air, come swiftly.” Then, he pivoted south. “Tanio, god of fire, join us.”

  He held his breath, waiting to see if the Pendragon would appear. Tanio was the god he answered to, but nothing red streaked across the sky. Instead, the water ruffled, white-capping as the wind began to blow. Leaves rustled and then, suddenly, the blue globe that Brianna held left her hands and crashed to the ground. The candle’s flame spiraled upward and there was a collective gasp from the group as it took the shape of a small dragon, its fiery tail flicking back and forth as it hovered in front of Michael and then it flickered to earth. Michael looked down.

  The scorch mark the flame left was in the form of a sword.

  * * * *

  The Pendragon roused himself, his yawn vibrating off the walls of the small cave. He had been dreaming of his lair with its hoard of bright, shining jewels when he heard the call to Tanio.

  Blast the warlock for waking him! Smoke flared from his nostrils before he controlled his anger. It was bad enough that he had to deal with humans again—foolish creatures who thought they could injure him with tiny pellets from a long object that one of them aimed at him. He contemplated. The metal object the human had used belched a puff of smoke itself when it made that cracking sound. Perhaps he would have to swoop down and take it from the next insipid mortal who thought to harm him. It might be an interesting piece to add to his h
oard, although its dull burnished color could not compete with silver and gold.

  Golden light shone at the entrance to his present cave a moment before the fire-god strode in. As always, orange fire circled his loins while red flames cloaked his bare shoulders. His blazing blue hair flared out behind him. He crossed his massive arms and glared at the dragon.

  “You have not found Excalibur.”

  The dragon clicked his tail, spines half-rising in irritation, but he kept his voice even. “The warlock and his mortal have no idea where it is.”

  “Brighid sent you to help them.”

  He leveled his cobalt stare on the god. “I am here to protect the human.”

  Tanio laughed suddenly. “And how you hate to do that.”

  Pendragon ruffled his scales, the sound clanging in the small space. “It was a human who so foolishly threw away the sword in the first place.”

  Sobering, Tanio nodded. “Bedwyr meant to return it to the Lady, but Manannan intercepted it, thinking it was his own sword, Answerer.”

  “Ah, yes, a sea-god who should have stayed in the oceans,” Pendragon replied with a snort. “How could he mistake the sword of fire for his?”

  Tanio shrugged, sending off sparks that floated in the air. “Llyr banished him from the Lake for that bit of foolishness. Unfortunately, it also caught Balor’s attention.”

  “Balor has been hunting it since then?” Pendragon asked.

  “It would seem so. Luckily, Talesin found the sword and in time, it passed on to the Lion-Heart and found its way to Sarras to reunite with the other relics.” Tanio frowned, the flames of his cloak leaping around him. “This time, humans might not be so lucky. Balor has become extremely powerful in the mortal world while you slept. Excalibur in his hands would mean total chaos and destruction.”

  The dragon nodded thoughtfully. “And if he has Sigurd to help him—“

  “What?” Tanio’s head came up sharply, blue spikes from his hair flaring wildly. “The white dragon lies buried deep in the northern ice. Only my fire can melt his prison.”

  “He has been called forth,” Pendragon answered. “I have smelt him.”