“But she isn’t human,” he said.
Chapter Fourteen
This time it was Carl Landon who hung semi-suspended from the leather straps and steel girder in the South Dallas warehouse. Balor watched dispassionately as Lucifer reamed the gagged kid’s ass. “Don’t let him pass out, Lucien,” he said, using his brother’s modern name. “I want him to feel every minute of pain.”
Lucifer grinned, looking for all the world like some college kid pulling a frat hazing. “Not to worry.”
Balor shifted his attention to the others in the room. Morgan was licking her lips, no doubt remembering how Lucifer’s big, thick cock had felt in her. Alan Caldwell was pretending disinterest as usual and Toby Clark was clearly terrified. Good. He liked to give his minions reminders of his power. Of course, they had no idea of who “Lucian” really was.
Balor began to pace in front of them. “Things are not going as well as they should. The video-cam that Caldwell placed in Sophie Cameron’s home is worthless if she’s not there, as is the wire-tap at the clinic. It’s most unfortunate that the lady had that car accident.”
“But she was lucky you were following her!” Morgan said quickly.
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that before,” Balor said and wondered why she was giving him such a wide-eyed look. Was she hiding something? He filed the thought away. “Furthermore, the woman seems to have been spirited away while Mr. Landon says he was watching the front of the house.” Balor ignored the garbled sounds coming from the kid. “It seems that when she left, she didn’t bother taking the key ring with her that had the GPS on it.”
Toby Clark blanched even further at that statement and Balor almost smiled. Let him think that maybe he was next. He glanced back at Lucifer. His brother had lowered the contraption and Landon was now on his knees in front of him. Lucifer removed the gag and inserted his bloodied cock into the kid’s mouth, circling his neck with a grip powerful enough to snuff him if the kid decided to bite and began to thrust. “Make it good,” Lucifer whispered to him, “and I may let you go.” Landon squeezed his eyes shut, tears running down his face as he began to suck. Balor turned back to his minions.
“She’s probably with McCain,” Alan said.
Brave of the man to speak. But then, Balor appreciated Caldwell’s guts. “Undoubtedly she is. But the warlock seems to have disappeared as well.”
“I’m sure you have a back-up plan,” Caldwell replied, eyeing him steadily.
Had anyone else said that, Balor would have considered it fawning. “Of course.” He motioned to Morgan. “My pet. Would you bring our other pet out for these gentlemen to meet?”
She gave Lucifer a big smile as she brushed past him and he grinned, watching her hips sway as she went by. He suddenly stilled Landon’s head and shot his wad down his throat. The kid gagged and flopped to the floor. Lucifer stepped over him and went to Balor’s side. “I wouldn’t call Sigurd a pet in front of him, bro.”
Sounds of steel-like claws tapped the concrete floor of the warehouse as the white dragon lumbered forward, his metal scales rattling as he looked at the humans. His spiked neck scales rose and smoke streamed from his nostrils.
“Nicht heir!” Lucifer said sharply.
The dragon rumbled, the sound thundering off the walls and settled onto his haunches, thumping his speared tail once for good measure.
Landon had managed to crawl toward the others and now all three men looked warily at the white dragon that Morgan still stood beside.
“There are two dragons?” Caldwell finally asked.
“Very good,” Balor answered. “Yes, and they have been rivals for a very long time. This is Sigurd and he has agreed to help us track the warlock and his red dragon, along with the woman.”
“How?” Caldwell asked.
The dragon emitted another small puff of smoke. “Still stand!” Lucifer ordered and then looked at Caldwell. “I don’t think Sigurd cares to have his abilities questioned.”
“No indeed,” Balor added. “He already knows the red dragon’s scent and since he has come to us, he’s picked up both the warlock’s and the vet’s as well. He’ll be able to get us fairly close to where they are.” Balor looked down at Landon. “I’m going to give you one more chance to prove your worth before I turn you over to the bookmakers.”
“Yes, sir,” Carl managed to gurgle through the foamy spittle in his mouth.
“Sigurd scented them last night at Love Field. It wasn’t hard to obtain a copy of the flight plan. They’re in Charleston. You will fly there, rent a car and follow them.”
“But how will I know where to find them?” Landon managed to say.
“Lucian will be accompanying you and he’ll be in contact with the dragon.” Balor smiled. “And just think of the enjoyable evenings you’ll have.”
The kid’s face turned ashen as Lucifer reached down and stroked his cheek. “And I’ll enjoy every moment of teaching you all kinds of new skills. You’ll be a different man when I get through.”
* * * *
Soft light swirled around Sophie’s head as she drowsily listened to muted voices in the background. They must be in the motel, but she didn’t remember how she got there. Those pain pills were really something. She turned over in the bed, burrowing her head deeper into the pillow and drifting back into the odd dream of the Mediterranean seaside she’d been having.
“What did you mean, Sophie isn’t human?” Michael asked. “She’s not an immortal.”
“Perhaps not,” Pendragon replied, “but goddess blood flows in her veins.”
“Whose?”
“Epona’s.”
“How do you know that?” Michael demanded.
The dragon chuckled, only it sounded more like surf crashing against the beach. “Because I mated with Epona in human form. Sophie is a descendent of the child we produced.”
Michael moved closer to the bed and Sophie sighed softly as a feeling of warmth washed over her, like gentle summer waves. “Then she has dragon blood too?” he asked, sotto-voce.
“It’s why Brighid sent me,” Pendragon answered. ‘She may be the last of her kind.”
“I know she has magical powers,” Michael said, his voice still low. “I saw how she slammed Caldwell into the wall without being near him.” He looked up at the dragon. “Epona was known to take the field both as a human warrior and in her horse-form. Is it possible that Sophie could shift?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a shifter, but dragon-blood would make her very strong if she tapped into it.”
The breeze freshened, making the voices fade, as the salty tang of the sea became stronger. Sophiei watched turquoise water ebb and flow across the wide expanse of sand as the warmth of southern sun flooded her.
She curled into a ball contentedly, as a magnificent white horse tossed its head and looked at her before turning and galloping down the beach.
* * * *
“Do you think Pendragon will be okay?” Sophie asked Michael as they began walking down Church Street toward the Fort Sumter Visitor Education Center to catch the ferry that would take them to the actual fort in the middle of Charleston Harbor.
“We left him with a gallon of chocolate ice cream,” Michael replied, “and he has orders to stay put and not make any noise.” He gave her a smile. “We can hardly take him walking with us.”
“I know. We’re trying not to draw attention to ourselves. It’s bad enough that I have to use this cane.”
“The cane no one will pay attention to, but we want to stay under the radar if Sigurd shows up,” Michael said and then looked around. “The last time I visited here, there was a good amount of paranormal activity going on. Hopefully, all the unusual energy will confuse him.”
“What kinds of paranormal activity?” Sophie asked suspiciously. “If you’re going to tell me vampires and werewolves are fighting it out—“
“No, nothing like that,” Michael said. “It’s more like ghosts.”
“Ghosts? What kinds of
ghosts?”
“Various kinds. Pirates were a problem in the 1700s. Twenty-nine of them were hanged and left to rot at Battery Park to scare other pirates off. One of them supposedly still wanders looking for his head.”
“Get real.”
“That’s what the tourist brochures say,” Michael said with a grin. “Seriously, though, so much of Charleston was damaged by war and natural disasters through three centuries that a lot of these old homes have literally been rebuilt. Negative energy like grief and anger get absorbed into the walls and, over time, are trapped there with each renovation.”
Sophie shook her head. “If there wasn’t a live dragon back in our hotel room, I’d say this is all stuff and nonsense.”
“Not at all,” Michael answered. “Take the old Slave Mart. We might not like to think about it, but a lot of slaves were tortured. Some didn’t make it.” He pointed to the Queen Street intersection sign. “The next two blocks are a real hub for ghosts. Three churches with their graveyards, Pirate’s Courtyard, the old Planter’s Hotel—now the Dock Theater—but it had its share of rowdy and raucous behavior. In the evening, purple light can be seen hanging in the air around the place. I can show you later when we get back.”
Sophie craned her head to look at the huge churches. “That one certainly has a high steeple,” she said.
“St. Phillips.” Michael answered. “Its steeple was used as a look out during the Civil War.”
She turned to him. “How do you know so much?”
He grinned. “Google?”
“Funny.”
“The oldest church in the city has a high steeple too,” Michael said as they stopped on the intersection with Broad and he pointed westward toward Meeting Street. “St. Michael’s”.
Sophie choked on suppressed laughter. Michael thumped her back gently, yet firmly, and then turned her, grasping her arms. “Are you all right?”
All right? Being reminded that there was a Christian saint with the same name as the sexy warlock whose intense, dark eyes were holding her as mesmerized as his hands on her arms were was an absurd irony. There certainly was nothing saintly about Michael. Even now, with his thumbs so close to brushing the sides of her breasts, her nipples had pebbled. Her belly thrummed, wanting to press against him and feel the delicious length of his hard manhood. He stirred feelings in her she had long repressed, made her think wanton thoughts of him—them—naked, her legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him deep inside—Good God!
She pushed away. “You’re spelling me, aren’t you?”
One of his dark brows lifted. “I don’t think I can. Your shields are too strong. Even if I could, I gave you my word I wouldn’t.” A corner of his mouth twitched and then lifted into a half-grin. “But I can scent your desire. I wouldn’t turn you down.”
“Stop it!” Sophie felt more confused than ever as she started walking as quickly as she could. It didn’t help that the place between her legs had grown damp. She could practically smell her own arousal. “What do you mean, my “shields” are too strong?”
Michael matched her pace. “You’ve got powerful magic, Sophie. It keeps anyone from probing into your mind.”
“I don’t have magic!”
“Yes, you do,” he said as they approached the door of the Visitor Center. “Remember what happened when Caldwell almost stepped on one of the puppies? He didn’t go veering into that doorjamb by himself. You sent him there.”
Sophie stopped and stared at him. “How did I do that? I was across the room.”
“That’s just it. Purple light streaked from your fingers. Probably not visible to most people, but it was there. Why don’t you let me help you learn to use it? At least,” he said as he opened the door and ushered her inside, “think about it. We can talk later.”
She recalled that crazy dream she’d had earlier this morning. Something about dragons and goddesses and battles—but that was just a painkiller-induced, hazy dream. Michael and Pendragon had been in the room, talking. But—what had they said? Something about her not being completely human? What did that make her then?
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 live 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 light. 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 seve
ral 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 roof top 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 1830’s garb, complete with boa, bonnet and bustle. Her gaze held Michal’s and then 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. 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 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.”
The Immortals II: Michael Page 16