It was always wise never to show weakness in front of Adam.
“Maybe Sigurd could trail them as well,” she said off-handedly.
“Can you convince him to do it discreetly?” Lucifer asked. “The more we can keep the media’s attention captured here, the easier it will be to follow them.”
“Of course.” Morgan flicked her lashes at him. “I’ll just give him some extra attention tonight when we meet.”
Balor laughed. “It’s a good thing those dragons can morph down to dog size or you might be out of commission for awhile.”
Morgan smiled. The animal was a lot gentler than Adam had ever been. And, even better, she could absorb the dragon’s powerful energy, even if he reduced his size to a large dog.
Only Adam Baylor did not know that.
Chapter Twelve
“Not again! Oh, my heavenly stars, not again!” Mr. Smith stood at the front door, wringing his hands and staring at Captain Johnson.
Chloe nearly collided with Gavin as they came running into the foyer from separate rooms. From the number of flashing squad car lights, she could only guess another body had been dumped nearby.
“That damn demon needs to be returned to hell,” Gavin muttered so low that Chloe wasn’t sure she heard him right. She frowned. The theory—hard to believe—was that a dragon or some other monster animal was loose in Dallas. What did Gavin mean by “demon”?
“It was the same M.O.,” the captain said as Benton ushered them into the adjacent parlor, a firm grip on the arm of a trembling Mr. Smith. He practically collapsed in an armchair. Silently, the butler poured him a stiff drink and gestured to the rest of them.
“No thanks,” Chloe said as Gavin shook his head.
“Can’t while I’m on duty,” Captain Johnson said although he looked longingly at the brandy bottle.
Chloe guessed accepting the dragon theory might go down better with a good snifter of French cognac. “Was it a man or woman? Have you ID’d her?”
“Woman. From what she was wearing—or not wearing—she’s probably a streetwalker.” He consulted his small notepad. “What I can’t figure is how—or why—downtown hookers are ending up in this neighborhood, shredded and mangled.”
Mr. Smith’s hand shook as he set down his empty glass. “Could it possibly be a dragon?”
The officer’s lips formed a thin, tight line. “I would think we’d have gotten reports of a dragon flying around. We certainly did when that red streak lit the skies a few months ago.”
Chloe felt sorry for him. The poor guy just didn’t want to admit that there might be some paranormal creature around. From what Jake had said, people actually saw something that looked like a red dragon. It even sat on the street in front of the vet’s home one time.
Mr. Smith picked up his refilled snifter. “Maybe it isn’t in its original shape.”
Captain Johnson looked at him warily. “A dragon theory is pretty far-fetched. I hope you’re not trying to tell me it—what’s the word they’re using in those teen fantasy movies? Oh—yeah—that it shapeshifts?” His glance shifted to Mr. Smith’s glass and allowed himself a small smile that really looked more like a grimace. “I hope we aren’t going to start rumors about vampires and werewolves, too.”
Gavin looked at him sharply. “Has there been mention of anything like that?”
“No. And there had better not be. Good God, it’s bad enough we don’t know what’s causing this, let alone get all the crazies involved.” He turned back to Mr. Smith. “What did you mean though?”
Mr. Smith burped, his eyes owlish. “Well, Sophie had a smaller version of the red dragon, but she called it a Gila monster. It flew with her and Michael when they hunted the…” He stopped. “I mean, they were searching for a rare treasure for me and she took it with her.”
“A Gila monster. Some pet.” Captain Johnson closed his notepad and stood. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything else. And meanwhile, everyone who’s staying here should stay inside—we don’t know what is loose. And have your PR lady keep the comments as neutral as she can.”
Mr. Smith nodded, looking hopefully at the brandy decanter which Benton firmly closed and replaced on the small service bar. “Would you see the officer out?”
Chloe furrowed her brow as Morgan appeared in the doorway, still clad in a negligee that was practically transparent, but she only listened half-heartedly as Gavin told Morgan what Captain Johnson had said.
The information that maybe the dragon could reduce its size would certainly explain how it could go undetected. However, she had a strong inkling that anything as powerful as a dragon—or whatever it was—would not stay small for long. Jake had said the red one appeared to be over thirty feet long. Where would a dragon that big go?
Chloe remembered Morgan’s remark about filming in the desolate regions of Palo Pinto County. She’d been there once on a school field trip studying the Comanche. They’d used the twisting gullies and huge outcrops of boulders and hidden caverns as a way to disappear from the cavalry that pursued them. What better place for a dragon to hide?
Darn it. She’d missed a good story regarding the red dragon since she’d been in California visiting her mother. Maybe a little trip out to Palo Pinto would prove enlightening. Chloe wished she could leave immediately, but she couldn’t take a chance on the media following her or, for that matter, Gavin or Mr. Smith stopping her. Evening would be better. With her old car, the media would think she were only staff going home. She kept her emergency might-have-to-wait-for-an-interview gear in the trunk, so she could sleep out tonight and start searching as soon as dawn cracked in the morning.
She needed a good story—one she could dedicate to Jake. He didn’t deserve to be forgotten. And neither did those two poor women.
* * * *
Women were definitely trouble—and trying to keep up with two of them was more than even his vampiric skills could handle. Thankfully, Morgan had been busy fielding calls and requests for interviews over this latest murder and Gavin went searching for Chloe to establish road rules for the trip west. Rules he was pretty sure she wouldn’t want to follow.
Only she was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t in her room or the library or the gardens. Caldwell hadn’t seen her since lunch and Gavin didn’t remember seeing her either, having been preoccupied in keeping his keen hearing attuned to Morgan’s conversations on the phone in case she tried contacting the demon. Even he could not be in two places at once. Gavin sighed, wondering what karma he was repaying in being plagued with a woman who had demon-infested blood and a stubbornly independent female who did not heed good advice. Chloe had been told to stay indoors. Did she listen? Of course not. Worse, Gavin suspected her dragon tattoo had somehow attracted Sigurd’s attention—and if that were true, the free-spirited waif could be in real danger.
Muttering darkly, he went back to her room. Her clothes hung neatly in the closet and her suitcase was under the bed. He poked his head into the adjacent bath and realized her toiletries were missing. Why would she—He stopped in mid-though, spying a note propped up against the soap dispenser.
It only contained one line—that she was on a story and would be back the next day. Gavin cursed roundly. No doubt the ‘story’ had to do with the murders which meant she was setting herself up—albeit it unknowingly—to be the next target.
Folding the paper, he placed it in his jean pocket and grabbed a shirt she’d left draped over a chair. Holding it to his nose, he closed off his other senses to fully inhale her scent. He’d give a century of time if Lucas were here to shift into wolf form to track Chloe down, but he was on his own.
With luck, he would find her before the dragon did.
* * * *
Sunset turned the granite-streaked boulders of Palo Pinto County into varying hues of pinks and lavender, even as the sky gave up its last streaks of red and orange to deepen into indigo.
Chloe added broken-off mesquite branches to her small fire in the area she had c
leared and settled into her sleeping bag. She could have slept in her car, but the night was perfect for being outdoors. For October, the air was still warm, and soon thousands of sparkling diamonds would light a velvet-black sky. In the distance, she heard coyotes yipping to each other and smiled. Some people thought they were a nuisance or even dangerous, but she had always enjoyed listening to their songs. Besides, the fire would keep them away as it would wolves and bobcat.
Burrowing into her downy nest, Chloe allowed herself a grin. In a few more days, she and Gavin would be headed west, without Morgan. Gold-mining country lent itself to camping out, something an Englishman had probably never done. Nestling together in a sleeping bag could be way more than just cozy… Still smiling, she turned on her side, closing her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
“Mmmm,” Chloe murmured sometime later as a callused male hand slid down her shoulder to cup and knead her breast. Warm lips caressed her ear, trailing kisses down her throat as she turned sleepily over to invite more contact. “Gavin?”
“Shhhh, do not speak,” he said and laved a nipple while he rolled the other one between his thumb and forefinger. He slipped his thigh between her legs, rubbing delicious friction in just the right spot.
“Mmmm,” she said again and wrapped her arms around his strong back, stroking the smooth skin over hard muscles and then moaned softly as his hot, wet mouth covered her breast and he began to suckle. “That feels so—”
“Do not speak!”
He raised himself and, in the darkness, all she could see were his darkly glittering eyes before his mouth took hers. His tongue thrust into her mouth, deep and demanding, as he spread her legs and moved over her, his hard erection probing her slick entrance—
A low growl brought her bolt-upright and awake. Chloe clutched the bedding. The fire was still burning. No coyote would get that close—she peered into the darkness and then gasped.
Two huge, white hounds, their eyes glowing red, sat on the haunches watching her. Between them a man stood, but he wasn’t Gavin. Chloe squinted, barely able to make out his form. He was bare-chested and perfectly-muscled, his hair long and he exuded pure male sexuality and—she squinted harder—it looked like he was wearing a set of antlers on his head.
Either she was still dreaming or some oddball sect was having strange rituals out here in the country. She looked around, but saw no one else. “Who are you?” she asked.
“My name is not important to you. This is my land.”
Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. He thought she was a trespasser. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that anyone would mind if I camped here for the night.”
He smiled, flashing extremely white teeth in the darkness. “I do not mind at all. Were you enjoying yourself?”
“I— I was asleep, dreaming.”
“Are you sure?”
What did he mean by that? A chill ran down her spine. Could he have been—no, she was still fully clothed. She looked up uneasily. Something was way off here.
“How did you find me?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded calm. He glanced at the fire and then back at her and she felt her face heat. Of course, fire kept animals away, but it also attracted humans. These hills belonged to Comanche at one time. Maybe this guy was a Native American, practicing some religious thing. That would account for the antlers. “Am I imposing on tribal land?” She stood slowly, hoping those monster dogs were under his control. “I’ll leave immediately.”
He took a step closer. “I was about to hunt, but it can wait. Why don’t we finish your dream?”
For the first time, Chloe became aware of a large, white horse grazing some distance behind him and then the impact of what he said sunk in. She felt as though she’d swallowed hot lumps of coal. “How did you know—”
“Because I created it.” He smiled again, holding out his hand, and then suddenly went still. Both dogs alerted, scenting the air, hackles rising, while the horse raised its head, ears pricked forward. Chloe heard a rustling sound and spun around. Dear Lord, she hoped it wasn’t more of his friends.
Gavin was walking toward her, a scowl on his face. Chloe didn’t think she’d ever been so glad to see anyone in her life. She didn’t even care how angry he was or how he had found her, only that he was here.
Chloe turned back to explain to the man that she wasn’t alone, only there was no one there.
Chapter Thirteen
Seeing her face turn chalky, Gavin leapt the additional yards to her side, grabbing her arm, and resisting the strange protective urge to enfold her in his embrace. “Are you going to swoon again?”
Some color came back into her face as she managed to glare at him. “I do not swoon! I—you—that is, I—was just surprised, that’s all.”
He would wager she was and not by him. It wasn’t every day that the God of the Wild Hunt let mortals see him. Had Cernunnos’ intention been to rape Chloe or was there some other elemental link that had drawn the god to her? Gavin hadn’t seen him in centuries, but from what Smith told him, apparently the fire god, Tanio, had appeared to the veterinarian. Avalon must be pulling out all the stops if the gods were returning—which probably meant that Balor was becoming more powerful.
Still, at this point, it would be better if Chloe not remember what had just taken place. Mesmerizing her didn’t work, but he could plant the idea that everything had been a dream and she had only just awakened.
“What are you doing out here?” Gavin asked.
“How did you find me?” Chloe countered.
He sighed. Of course she wouldn’t answer a simple question straight-forwardly. “You were not that difficult to track, Miss Whitney.” She looked somewhat affronted, but he could hardly relent and he certainly could not tell her the erotic dream had helped him zero in on her location. “I have no idea who else might be following you.”
She frowned. “Why would anyone be following me?”
Gavin stepped closer and immediately regretted it as her spicy fragrance drifted over him. The sense of fear she’d felt moments earlier had opened her pores and he could also smell the richness of her warm blood gushing through her veins. Coupled with the dream he’d managed to latch onto, Gavin’s groin tightened as his fangs began elongating. He clenched his jaw.
“You were told to stay inside Smith’s mansion.”
“I’m a reporter. It’s my job to find out what’s going on.”
“There’s a killer loose, Miss Whitney. It is the police department’s job—and mine—to find out why that is occurring. We do not need—or want—your help.”
Chloe drew herself up to her full five feet and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you saying that because I’m a girl? This is the twenty-first century. There are even police-women in America, in case you didn’t know.”
Gavin almost smiled at her indignation. He had always liked women with fiery tempers and Chloe was practically sputtering. He resisted the urge to goad her further since he was already fighting his baser instinct to have just a tiny taste of her. “I do not think you understand the danger you may be in, Miss Whitney.” Including from himself.
Hesitating slightly, she asked, “What kind of danger?”
“Am I correct in assuming you came out here to search for the dragon?”
Chloe looked mulish and for a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer, but then she nodded.
“Have you considered the dragon may be looking for you?”
Her eyes widened in surprise and her mouth dropped open. Gavin tried not to focus on how those parted soft lips made him want thrust his tongue inside and kiss her senseless. Resolutely, he closed his mind off to that thought.
“Why would the dragon be looking for me? Assuming there is a dragon.”
“Captain Johnson’s resistance aside, I think we can all assume the dragon exists. Let’s rethink the Arthurian legends.”
“Huh? Why? What do the knights of the Round Table have to do with what’s going on now?”
He wished he
could tell her how very much some of the knights were involved, but admitting who he was wasn’t an option. “Not the knights precisely. You remember reading about Vortigern trying to build a castle that kept falling down?”
Chloe’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. Mr. Smith said something about Merlin telling him two dragons were fighting beneath the surface each night.”
“I’m impressed.” When Chloe gave him a suspicious look, he smiled at her. “Really. Most people forget—or don’t care—about how it all started, but to those of us with Celtic blood, it does.”
“Am I in for story-telling time?”
“In a way. Bear with me. Vortigern tried building his castle in Wales. The red dragon—symbolized by a red lion these days—was the pendragon—the Great Protector—of the land. Vortigern invited his father-in-law, King Hengist of the North and his brother, Horsa, to join him. They brought their talisman, a white dragon named Sigurd.” Gavin scanned Chloe’s face to check for the glazed look that took over so many humans when history was being told, but she was giving him rapt attention, which he found disquieting. Clearing his throat, he went on. “What was supposed to represent unity between the nations turned out to be a deadly fight for Britain’s independence.” Gavin paused. “The fight seems to have recommenced.”
“But why? Didn’t all that stuff happen like a thousand years ago?”
Longer than that, Gavin wanted to say, but he had to be careful. “The items that Mr. Smith is searching are ancient Celtic relics as old as the legends. They hold power.”
Chloe’s eyes rounded. “You believe that? I mean, I can see where they might be worth a lot if they’re that old—”
The Immortals III: Gavin Page 10