The Immortals I_Lucas

by Cynthia Breeding

  “What have you done?” Sara screamed as she opened the door and jumped out.

  “Don’t worry,” Baylor answered. “It’s just an injection that’ll put it out for awhile.” He leveled the gun at her. “Now you go visit the snakes and bring me that manuscript like a good girl.”

  Sara was tempted to get behind that tree and start running. If she zigged and zagged enough she could dodge a bullet and she knew the terrain. The dense mesquite would hinder Baylor and there were boulders not far away that had multitudes of crevices large enough to hide in. The Comanche had done it numerous times and seemingly disappeared. But she couldn’t leave Michael.

  She saw where the earth was soft and reluctantly stooped over and scooped it away. The original manuscript lay encased in a super-size Glad bag. She was surprised that Mr. Smith had agreed to part with it. Maybe for all of his dramatics, he had a real heart inside of him after all.

  “Here,” she said as she returned to the car. “It’s the real thing. Please let me tend to Michael.” While she was gone, Baylor had pushed him into the back seat and tied his hands. Did the man carry rope with him everywhere?

  “Don’t think so,” Baylor said as he tucked the manuscript under one arm. “Get in and drive us back to the house.”

  “Michael needs an ER. Just let us go,” Sara replied. “You got what you wanted.”

  “Not quite everything,” Baylor answered with a smile. “You still owe me for all my trouble, remember? And I know just how I want to be repaid.”

  * * * *

  Thunder rolled in the oppressive air as the lobo padded quietly through the tangle of sage and mesquite, his nose to the ground. Sara had been here recently and he scented the evil that was Balor too. Michael’s smell was fainter which could be because he wore the pendant that Lucas had given him, but it could also mean that his life force had been depleted. Lucas growled, thinking the pendant had probably held back the warlock’s ability to shape-shift.

  He held back the urge to throw up his head and howl. If McCain were hurt, Sara was in real danger. And then he smelled smoke. Head up, the wolf began loping towards its source.

  * * * *

  Sara tugged frantically at the rope that bound her to the post. The bastard had already pulled her hands around the stake and tied them and then he had wrapped additional rope around her chest and waist and thighs so she was trussed like a turkey and not able to wiggle more than an inch or two. Michael had been dumped out on the ground, but he was still passed out and in any case, he was bound, too. At least, Baylor seemed to have forgotten his plan to rape her. She should be grateful for that miracle anyway. Dear Goddess. Am I really going to die?

  Baylor was playing with a small pile of twigs and leaves he’d lit, not far from her. She could smell the acrid air. With the storm that was brewing a good gust of wind would blow the embers right toward her and ignite the newspaper he had stuffed among the kindling that surrounded her.

  A sudden blaze of lightening followed by an instant clap of thunder made her jump. Or at least as far as the rope would let her.

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky and be struck down,” Baylor said as he fanned a little more smoke her way. “Lightning’s quick. You won’t even know what hit. Burning, on the other hand is slow. And quite painful.”

  She suddenly recalled the vision that Brianna had shared with her. It hadn’t been Gwenhwyfar…it had been her. Somewhere she’d heard that the smoke killed the victims first. She felt hysteria wavering on the edge of her sanity. Please, Goddess, hear me…Brighid…

  She thought she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and then suddenly, a hundred and fifty pounds of golden wolf raced by her and lunged at Baylor, knocking him over and sending the lit stick he’d been holding onto the wood around Sara. The paper began to smolder.

  Snarling, the big lobo sank its fangs into the man’s throat, its massive paws mauling him.

  And then the gun fired. For a moment, the wolf hovered over Baylor and then it swayed and fell over senseless, blood running from a wound in its side.

  Chapter Eleven

  Baylor staggered to his feet and clutched at his spurting jugular. Within seconds, the flow stopped and the wound began to close. He aimed his gun at the wolf’s head. And then, with a vile curse, he stuck the automatic in his pocket.

  “I kill you, damn Templar, and I kill me.” He looked up to see tiny flames seeping from the kindling. “Let’s see how you like your witch when she’s burned to a crisp.” He grabbed the manuscript and went to his own car, spurting gravel as he drove away.

  Sara tried not to choke as a plume of smoke lifted. She struggled with the bindings. Dear Goddess, I don’t want to die! Help me! Brighid, I call on you!

  She felt the first splatter of a raindrop and then another. She lifted her face as the heavens opened and rain began to fall. Her tears mingled with it as the fire was doused and she could breathe again. “Thank you, Great Mother,” she whispered.

  Michael began to stir as the cool water revived him. He shook his head and struggled to sit up. It took another moment before he realized that Sara was tied to a post. He staggered drunkenly toward her.

  “My God! What—where is the devil?”

  “Gone,” Sara said. “You’re more accurate than you think. He really is the devil.”

  Michael edged around her and, back to back, began fumbling with the ropes on her wrists. Finally he got one end lose. As soon as her hands were free, Sara quickly unwrapped the rest of the bonds and then untied Michael’s hands. Then she rushed over to the wolf and dropped down beside it.

  “It’s still alive,” she said as she felt its pulse in the massive chest. “Help me get him inside where it’s dry.”

  Together they managed to lift the big lobo and carry him inside close to the hearth. “I’ll light a fire,” Sara said. “You need to go for a vet.”

  “I’m not leaving you here by yourself,” Michael said.

  “I’ll be fine. Baylor thinks he’s killed me. He’s got the manuscript. He won’t be back. This wolf saved my life. I have to try and save his. Now go.”

  Michael rose reluctantly. “I won’t be long. I also need to notify the sheriff that there are two dead men in a car that went into a ditch not far from here.”

  The street-fighters. Sara wondered if Baylor would stop and take his money back. She nodded and walked him to the door, making sure to draw the bolt after him.

  She lit the wood in the hearth and then grabbed some towels from the bathroom. Slipping down beside the wolf, she pressed a towel to the wound but realized it was no longer bleeding. In fact, the blood had coagulated quite quickly.

  The wolf stirred and she drew back. It was a wild animal after all and wounded. What it do when it awoke inside a building? Was it strong enough to attack her?

  She started to ease away and then stopped, staring, not believing what she was seeing. It couldn’t be.

  The lobo was transforming. Its hind legs straightened and its forelegs stretched even as the chest began to broaden and the muzzle receded. Its face widened as the fur was replaced with firm bronze skin. In another moment, a naked Lucas lay in front of her, eyes closed. The wound had completely healed.

  Sara sank back to the floor. She knew otherworldly creatures existed. She had seen her share of manikins, dryads, undines, and sylphs in her use of white magic. She had called on elemental forces, too. And Nim was a powerful, ancient faerie. But she had never believed in human shape-shifters. That was something Hollywood had thought up. But it did explain, in a very unnerving way, the unusual color of his eyes. And maybe it explained the animalistic lust she felt for him whenever he was around her.

  Her attention turned to the physical. The towel she had used to press against the wound covered Lucas’ groin. She had seen his biceps bulging from beneath the tight fabric of a polo shirt, but the defined pectoral muscles of his chest and hard flat abs were the work of the gods. The heavily corded muscles of his thighs and calves would have done honor
to Cernunnos himself. Her eyes lingered on that intriguing bit of cloth covering what she really wanted to see.

  Her hand reached for it and then withdrew. She shouldn’t do this. But he would never know. She stole a glance at his face, but his eyes were still closed, his breathing deep and relaxed. Her fingers itched. Just one little look.

  She lifted the corner of the towel and then involuntarily gasped. Even in repose, his shaft was long and thick. What would it be like…? She longed to stroke it and feel the satiny texture of the smooth skin that covered it. Then, to her fascination, it suddenly began to harden and grow even bigger as it raised itself toward her.

  “Like what you see?” Lucas asked.

  She felt her face flame as she dropped the cloth. To her mortification, he was not only awake but seemed amused at her embarrassment. How long had he been pretending to be asleep? Best to go on the offensive.

  Sara forced herself to look him in the eye. “I think you’d better explain to me what it was I just saw. And I don’t mean your, uh, present state.”

  The smile faded from his eyes, turning them almost metallic. “I didn’t mean for you to see the wolf.”

  “What…what exactly are you? Human?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Mostly human,” he answered. “We all have a beast inside us. Mine just tends to materialize on occasion. It’s a…” He hesitated as though searching for the right word. “It’s a genetic defect.”

  “Are there others like you?” The idea of the average person on the street changing into a wolf was unsettling. Her world felt like it was spinning on its side.

  “Perhaps. I’ve never met another wolf.” He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners in a very human way. “Are you frightened of me now?”

  She tilted her head. “Can you control it?”

  He looked serious again. “As long as I hold my emotions in check. I obviously lost it when I saw what Balor was planning to do to you.”

  Her blood heated. Did he care for her or would he have come to the rescue of anyone in that situation? “Were you the wolf who came to my aid the last time I was here at the ranchita?”

  He nodded and watched her carefully.

  She took a deep breath, remembering how she had thought the animal had grinned at her when it loped off into the woods. “What Turned you that time?”

  “You were in danger. It was easier to fight the she-wolf in my lobo form. I didn’t have to kill her since she understood I was the alpha-male.”

  He was certainly the alpha-male all right. Even now, while she was still trying to accept the reality that he was a werewolf, she was drawn to his magnetism. The reality of what that deliciously hard, nude, bronzed body could do with her made her inch closer and she saw the lust in his eyes as his lids lowered partially and a corner of his mouth quirked up.

  He reached over and pulled her down across his chest. His mouth slanted over hers, his lips warm and firm as his tongue probed for entry. Sara teasingly denied him and he sucked on her lower lip, causing her to whimper as raw passion overwhelmed her and drew deep into her belly.

  One hand slid slowly upward along her ribs to caress the rounded mound of her breast. His fingers kneaded it gently while his thumb flicked over the already hardened nipple. Sara moaned and arched against him.

  His tongue thrust deep into her mouth, his lips ravaging hers as their bodies pressed together. And then he growled.

  Sara suddenly found herself on her back, but Lucas had moved away from her. He was hunched over several feet away. “Leave,” he rasped, “the beast wants you. I don’t know that I can control it so soon. Move away!”

  Even as he spoke, his eyes turned predatory. She scrambled to her feet and stared at him. “What’s—“

  He bared his teeth and she could see fangs. She thought only vampires had those. Not that vampires existed. She felt a bubble of hysteria rising in her throat. But what did she know? Lucas made a noise that sounded suspiciously like the beginnings of a howl.

  She stepped back quickly as Lucas turned and ran for the door. She went to the window and watched his towel-clad body disappear into the brush.

  Dear Goddess, she was in love with an alpha-wolf.

  * * * *

  Lucas took a deep breath as he slowed to a walk, willing the wolf back down. To his surprise, it whined. He couldn’t ever remember it doing that before.

  He should have known not to take the risk of kissing her when he was in a weakened state from the transformation. To say nothing of healing the wound.

  He reached his car parked well off the road and quickly put on the clothes he had left there when he had called the wolf. The familiar lethargy had not hit him yet, probably because the taste of Sara still lingered in his mouth and kept his testosterone running wild.

  Bel’s fires! He’d nearly bitten her. And for a wolf, that was a big mistake. He didn’t know if he could actually Change someone, like Gavin could, but he really didn’t want to wish his way of life on anyone.

  He paused. She really had taken the discovery better than he thought. And she still wanted him. The pure scent of female arousal had nearly saturated his still sharply canine senses. He wondered what she’d do if he told her he was immortal too. Lucas gave a short bark of a laugh. What in blazes was he thinking? The only two living who knew were Gavin and Balor.

  Balor. He had nearly killed him today. Had wanted to rip his throat out as much as the wolf did, even knowing that ending Balor’s life would also put his and Gavin’s into the totally human span of years and they would die too.

  He wondered if that would really be so bad. Arriving in Britain along with Julius Caesar had led 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 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 way of introduction a 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 did 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 thankf
ul 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.”