Michael got out of his car, the hair at his nape still prickling. As he walked toward his condo he saw it—a thin, black line snaking across the tiled walk, almost blending in with the grout. Malevolence. Evil. Someone had been here bent on destruction.
Michael raced to his door and tried the handle, not surprised when it opened easily. His wards were gone, their white light totally diminished. Whoever had broken in had powerful magic. He released his senses again. Nothing. The intruder was no longer here.
Stepping inside, Michael scanned the living room. Two original oils by Ruebens still hung on the wall. Everything else seemed to be in place too, except for a couple of over-turned chairs. He righted them and went into the office. Computer still there, plasma TV as well. The closet had been ransacked though. Boxes torn open and the contents tossed out. He moved to the bedroom and groaned at the sight. The bed was overturned, clothes and shoes in both closets strewn about the floor. Yet, several twenty dollar bills and the gold Templar cross still lay on his dresser.
Michael leaned against the doorjamb, thinking. Whoever had broken in wasn’t interested in material goods, but rather something specific. Something that could be hidden away.
Like a small dragon.
Understanding shot through him like a bolt of lightning. Sophie’s ex had seen the dragon. It was the dragon Robert wanted. Publicity? Blackmail? Michael didn’t know. Robert had probably taken Morgan along to use her magic to help subdue Pendragon. As if that would work. They’d both have gotten singed good.
Since Sophie seemed to have disappeared, Michael’s condo would be the next logical place to search. But Robert possessed no magic and Morgan’s was still too weak for her to have broken through his wards, much less destroyed them. Whoever had broken in wasn’t entirely human.
Balor? Michael had never known him to do his own dirty work, but if he were desperate to get to Pendragon— and if he picked up the dragon’s scent and followed the trail—
Dear Goddess of Avalon! He had left Pendragon with a middle-aged human woman who would not be able to protect herself at all.
Michael grabbed the gold cross and raced out the door, hoping he wasn’t too late to save Stephanie.
* * * *
“How is it that this warlock keeps eluding you?” Lucifer asked idly as he sipped a nineteenth century cognac in his ultra-modern living room.
Balor glared at him with his good eye. “Careful, little brother! Even you would be wise not to defy me.”
Lucifer grinned and pushed a blond curl away from his forehead. “It is rather amusing in a warped way. You control some of the greediest political leaders on Earth, as well as blood-thirsty warlords, to say nothing of the insane people you recruited to serve the terrorists, and yet this one warlock—and by my own horns, he works with the Light which puts him at a disadvantage—manages to keep a step ahead of you. You aren’t slipping, are you?”
For an answer, Balor raised his eye patch. A deadly bolt of lightning slashed through the air, piercing Lucifer’s shoulder and leaving a black, smoking hole in its wake.
Lucifer’s eyes flashed red and then returned to blue. He dusted the soot off his silk shirt and rubbed his shoulder. “That smarted, old man. And this shirt cost several hundred dollars. You might be a tad more careful with your temper.”
“Don’t push me then!”
“Fine. Drink your brandy. I stole it from Napoleon’s own cellars.” Lucifer settled back in his leather armchair. “Tell me how you plan to punish Morgan for not capturing Pendragon. I’ll be glad to rape her again.”
Balor swirled the brandy slowly and inhaled the vapor before he spoke. “That won’t be necessary. Morgan followed my instructions and called me as soon as they found the house empty. Who knew the Cameron woman would disappear with a broken leg?”
“And Pendragon went with her.”
“He must have. I searched the warlock’s place myself, just to make sure he wasn’t there. But I did discover something else.”
“Oh? What?”
“Michael McCain is not just any warlock. His wards were stronger than any I’ve encountered since Arthur built Camelot. McCain is an Immortal.”
Lucifer’s eyebrows rose. “One of the Round Table knights?”
“I don’t think so. He and Lancelot—Lucas Ramsey—didn’t know each other. Very competitive. I tried to turn that into antagonism once I found out who Ramsey really was, but it didn’t work.”
“Of course it wouldn’t. Lancelot inherited Lugh’s Spear of Light—“
“Don’t remind me. I was only seconds away from retrieving it.” Balor swallowed the bitter bile that rose in his throat at the memory. “That’s why it’s imperative that we don’t let the sword get away from us.”
“I agree, bro, but first we have to find the Pendragon and the girl.”
“Exactly,” Balor said and set the empty brandy snifter down. “And one dragon can scent another. It’s time to unleash Sigurd.”
Lucifer lifted his glass in mock toast. “And may the white dragon win again.”
* * * *
“Where are you taking me now?” Pendragon griped as he tried to curl himself into a ball that would fit the sport’s seat in Michael’s car. “I kind of liked that lady, Stephanie.”
Michael glanced over at him as they headed back to his condo. “I thought you didn’t like humans.”
The dragon rattled his scales. “Well, this one was nice, once I convinced her I wasn’t going to burn her alive.”
“You spoke to her? I told you—“
“I didn’t speak to her.” He pulled his lips back in a dragon-smile. “I put my head in her lap and rubbed.”
Michael almost lost control of the car. “You gave her a hand-job?”
“A head job, warlock. My claws would have torn her skin.” Pendragon looked quite pleased with himself. “She squirmed around and liked it.”
The idea of plump, middle-aged, looks-like-a-grandma Stephanie in the throes of passion was almost more than Michael could imagine. Pendragon had it all wrong. “More likely she was trying to get away from you. Are you sure you just didn’t scare her half-to-death?”
He blinked his cobalt eyes. “She let me do it more than once and she made all those funny noises humans make. And afterwards,” he added with a thump of his tail that threatened to shred the leather on the dashboard, “she fed me ice cream. Chocolate ice cream. When did humans invent that wonderful concoction? I love ice cream.”
“Forget ice cream. If I let you stay with her, she’d be in danger. Somehow, Balor found out you’d been down-sized and he wants to capture you while you’re in that state.”
Pendragon sobered. “If I returned to my full size—“
“No. He’d find you for sure then. I can’t split my power trying to protect you and Sophie too. Once I find her, that is.”
“She’s at that Smith man’s mansion.”
Michael gave him a quick look. “Smith was one of the first people I called. The butler said she wasn’t there.”
Pendragon lifted a leathery wing in what seemed to be the equivalent of a human shrug. “He lied.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“Because,” he said smugly, “that other vet told Stephanie last night on the phone.”
Michael pulled over to the side of the road. “She what?”
“Last night on the phone,” the dragon said in a pseudo-patient voice, “Stephanie called the vet to ask her what to feed a…a Gila monster, and asked if there was any news about Sophie. Allison said Sophie had called her.” His lips curled back again. “They didn’t think I understood English.”
Michael started the car and slipped back into traffic. “I was planning to keep you at my place since it’s already been burglarized, but I think now we’ll just stop in so I can pack some clothes and we’ll head to Smith’s. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
Moments later they pulled into his parking lot. Michael paused at the door. The wards he
’d reconstructed were still in place, so no one had returned. “We’re okay,” he said and opened the door.
Pendragon slipped past him and headed to the kitchen. “Do you have any ice cream?” he asked.
“No.”
“I love ice cream,” the dragon said in a hurtful tone. “Don’t I deserve a reward for finding Sophie for you?”
Michael shook his head as he headed toward his bedroom. “Mr. Smith’s kitchens probably have all kinds of flavors, if you’ll let me pull a few things together.”
“Well, hurry then.”
Michael pulled a back-pack out of the closet and threw some toiletries along with jeans and t-shirts into it. He glanced at the Templar cross lying on his dresser. He usually left it home because it had tracking qualities that another Immortal could use to find him, but it could also be protective—and Lucas had left it behind for him. Wrapping it in a strip of white silk that he used for rituals, he laid it in the backpack and returned to the living room.
Pendragon was sitting by the door, oddly contemplative. He sat so still, he seemed to be more statue than alive. Only the raised spikes on his neck bespoke of trouble.
“What is it?” Michael asked.
“Sigurd.”
“The white dragon?”
Pendragon nodded. “I smelt him before, but he was leagues away and something was binding him. He’s much closer now.” He stood, shaking his scales, turning them into armor. “And he’s loose.”
* * * *
Sophie paused at the top of the stairs, wondering if her ears were playing tricks on her. She could have sworn she heard Michael’s rumbling baritone in the hall below. She had dreamed about him again last night, another erotic dream in which he laved her nipples, turning them into tight little buds, then nibbled his way down every inch of exposed skin as he removed her clothes slowly. His clever tongue had swirled into her core, then teased its way toward the hard, pulsating nub that begged for attention…
She had awakened hot and wet and wanting him.
“I know Sophie’s here, Benton. She called Allison yesterday.”
Damn! It was him! Sophie leaned against the wall. She’d known better than to call Alli, but she wanted to check on her horse. If Robert had followed him—
Straightening her shoulders, she reached for the handrail. Michael was here. If he had been followed, there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. And she didn’t want to make the butler or Mr. Smith lie for her any longer.
She made her way carefully down, taking one step at a time, the way the physical therapist had showed her to do. Reaching the bottom, she extended the four-pronged walking cane and walked slowly toward the foyer.
“I’m sorry, Sir—“
“It’s all right, Benton. I’ll talk to him,” Sophie said and met Michael’s gaze. Heat washed over her like a hot flash at the smoldering look in his dark eyes. They practically burned into her as he contemplated every inch of her, starting with her mouth, lingering on her breasts, moving downward past her waist. She felt dampness gather between her legs and leaned on the cane for support. Dear God, if he could practically make her come with just a look…
The dragon smirked, lifting a corner of his mouth to expose a fang. “Glad to see us?” he asked.
Before she could answer, Mr. Smith came into the hall. “I thought I heard voices in here.” He looked quickly from Michael to Sophie. “Is everything all right?”
“No, everything is not all right,” Michael replied, “and I’m not talking about why Sophie decided she should hide from me. The white dragon has been turned loose which means that Balor is probably hot on our trail.”
“Oh, dear. I thought that nasty man was in London,” Mr. Smith said.
“He’s been spotted in Dallas,” Michael answered and gave Sophie a discerning look. “Are you well enough to travel?”
“She’s supposed to have another week of therapy—“
“I’m fine,” Sophie interposed. “The therapist said yesterday that my leg healed faster than anyone she’d seen.” She held up her cane. “If I use this, I shouldn’t have any problems. When do you want to leave?”
“The sooner the better,” Michael replied. “I’ll call the airlines and see what the earliest flight to Charleston is.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Smith said. “I’ll arrange for my private plane to fly you there. It will take less than an hour for the pilot to have a flight plan ready.” He turned to Sophie. “My dear, are you sure you’re well enough to do this?”
She nodded. “We’ve delayed long enough. If we can leave this evening, perhaps no one will follow us.”
“All right then. I’ll call my pilot. And, take this with you.” Smith opened a glass cabinet filled with antique guns and removed a long, leather sheath from the bottom. He handed it to Michael. “You can use this for the sword. The inside is steel-lined.” He turned to Benton. “Have the chef prepare a quick meal, would you?”
“Right away,” the butler said and turned to go. Pendragon ambled after him, then stopped and stared at Michael.
Michael sighed. “Hmmm—would you happen to have any ice cream?”
“Certainly. Several kinds. Would you like some for dessert?”
“Not me.” He pointed to Pendragon. “Gila monsters seem to be very fond of it though.”
Pendragon glared at Michael and blew a puff of smoke. Mr. Smith’s eyes widened at the sight, but Benton merely looked down his nose at the dragon.
“Very well, sir,” he said.
* * * *
Sophie glanced sideways through her lashes at Michael’s profile as he drove the rented SUV out of Charleston’s airport. There hadn’t been much opportunity to talk privately with him. Mr. Smith’s chauffeur had driven them to Love Field where a pilot and copilot waited so the conversation had been general.
“I hope you understand why I wanted to stay hidden,” Sophie ventured. She’d tried briefly to tell him about Robert’s tenacity and obsession with winning, whether it was a court case or something or someone he wanted.
A muscle twitched in Michael’s stubble-lined jaw. “I’m supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around.”
“Hey-what am I back here?” Pendragon asked from the folded-down back seat area. “I’m supposed to be protecting her too.”
Sophie glanced back at him and smiled. “I’m sorry I left you.” She turned back to Michael, but he kept his eyes on the traffic. “I know you’re upset with me, but we got away, didn’t we?”
‘That’s not the point,” Michael said and grimaced as his cell phone rang. He glanced at the Caller-ID and handed it to Sophie. “It’s Smith. See what he wants.”
Sophie tapped the “On” button. “Hi, Mr. Smith. We’re in Charleston. Just arrived a little bit ago—What?” She listened in silence for several minutes and then responded with, “We’ll stay in touch with you then.”
“What is it?” Michael asked when she put the phone down.
“There’s been another dragon sighting at the clinic. It was all over the morning news.”
“Sigurd?” Pendragon rumbled, poking his long head through the space between the front seats. “I knew I smelt him!”
“Who is Sigurd?” she asked in a shaky voice.
Michael took a deep breath. “You remember the story of King Vortigern trying to build a castle and each night it would collapse? And how the sorcerer, Merlin, told him it was because a red dragon and a white fought in the ground below?”
Sophie frowned, wishing she hadn’t taken the pain pill earlier. It was making her thinking foggy. “I think I remember something about that. But what in the world does it have to do with this?”
“That was us!” Pendragon said. “The damn white bastard had help from Balor or I would never have been defeated.”
Sophie rubbed her temples, feeling the headache already starting, in spite of the medication. There was another dragon flying around? “So now you’re telling me this faerie tale is true—“
&nbs
p; “No faeries,” Pendragon interrupted. “Dragons don’t bother with them. They’re too flighty.”
Sophie rubbed her forehead harder. “Of course. I forgot. Faeries are real, too.”
“Look,” Michael said as he eased the car into the motel parking lot and switched off the ignition, “I know you have a hard time accepting this other world that you didn’t know existed, but it does. The white dragon was sent by Balor to find us. He doesn’t have any clues for finding the sword other than to follow us. And when we do, he’ll want backup to deal with Pendragon.”
“He’s not going to win this time,” the dragon said. “Why not let me go back there now, in my real form, and take care of Sigurd? That will be one less problem.”
“Can’t. I don’t give the orders. The Lady of Avalon sent you to protect Sophie,” Michael said.
“Sigurd will pick up my scent and follow us,” Pendragon answered.
“He’s already got Sophie’s scent,” Michael replied. “That’s why Balor sent him to the clinic. Hopefully, since you are in small form, your scent won’t be as evident.”
“You…you’re saying that now we have a dragon following us too?” Sophie asked, trying to think coherently.
“And Balor won’t be far behind him,” Pendragon said.
Sophie closed her eyes and hugged herself. “All I ever wanted was a nice, normal life.”
Pendragon snorted small spirals of smoke. “But you’re not—“
“Enough,” Michael said and eased himself across his seat to pull Sophie toward him, cradling her with one arm while his other and stroked her brow soothingly.
Even in her dazed state, Michael felt good. It had been weeks since she’d touched him and the chemistry was still there, almost as if there were a special current vibrating around them. Sophie nestled against his hard chest, the warmth of his body feeling like a snug cocoon. He murmured something, soft and low, that Sophie couldn’t understand, but she let herself be lulled into relaxing in his embrace. The last thing she sleepily remembered hearing was Pendragon.
The Immortals II: Michael Page 15