“Did he get them?”
“Yes. But the prince didn’t have what the Reaper wanted.”
“The Fountain of Youth?” Nathan asked.
“No. The Holy Grail.”
“He’s looking for the Holy Grail and the Fountain of Youth?”
“According to Thomas.”
The Holy Grail and the Fountain of Youth. Two powerful things. Maybe that was the key. But he still had no idea where any of the relics were besides the spear. “Did Thomas see the Holy Grail?”
“He only saw sketches in a journal the Reaper carried with him. Thomas said the Reaper protected this journal like gold. Thomas assumed they were the relics the Reaper was desperate to find.”
Nathan’s heart pounded harder. “What did the journal look like?”
Brandi gave him an odd look at the question. “I think Thomas said it was leather. He took the page with the sketch of the relics, but he lost it. Sometime before he died, he stole the entire journal, but the page was missing.”
That’s because it was in Jake’s bag. “Did Thomas have any idea why the Reaper insisted on hiring Jake?” Nathan asked.
“At first Thomas thought Jake was working with the Reaper.”
So had Nathan. “Thomas changed his mind?”
“He found out that Jake tried to save those girls. That tormented Thomas. He didn’t know about them until then. Neither did the Reaper. Thomas said he would have killed the prince himself if he’d known. He figured the Reaper would have too. Thomas said the Reaper has done some bad things, but he’s very protective of children. Not that it would have mattered in the prince’s case. The Reaper would have killed him anyway.”
“For the relics?”
“For the relics,” Brandi said. “Always the relics. I’m going to destroy the relics and kill the Reaper.” Her lips thinned and she looked almost regretful. “I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way.”
“We’re on the same side,” Nathan said. “We’re both trying to stop the Reaper.”
“He might not be the only problem,” Brandi said. “How much do you know about the Reaper?”
“As much as money can buy.” Which wasn’t that much when it came to someone as elusive as the Reaper.
Brandi shrugged. “There are some things money can’t buy.”
“Get to the point.”
“Thomas found out something shocking when he was in Iraq. The Reaper has a child.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A TAXI DROPPED Kendall and Jake at the entrance of Glastonbury Abbey. They’d left a message for Nathan, telling him what they had discovered about the Blue Chalice, the abbey, and the Tor. The area drew many tourists, nature lovers, and spiritual enthusiasts. As soon as they entered the grounds, Kendall knew why. She could feel the energy in the air. “This place is powerful.”
“It’s old,” Jake said. “According to that book, there’s at least two thousand years of history here, maybe more. Is that gonna make your senses go into overload?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” That it was so old made her think even more strongly that there could be a connection to an old secret order.
“Let’s dive in, then. If it gets to be too much, let me know.”
“You’ll play knight in shining armor and rescue me?” She didn’t know why she’d said it, and wished she hadn’t as soon as the words left her mouth.
That odd look crossed his face again; then he grinned. “I’d make a damned fine knight. Rescue the damsel, earn a kiss as a reward, then dump her into the arms of a grateful father or lover, and off I’d go to the next damsel.”
“Your concept of knighthood is whacked. Knights were selfless, honest, defenders of truth, and often chaste.” Although many knights had been married, and some had committed adultery. Like Lancelot, one of the greatest knights. “I don’t think you need to apply.”
“I’m honest and true.”
“You stole power bars.”
“A selfless act so a damsel wouldn’t starve.”
“There’s the chastity problem. It doesn’t take a psychic to know you like sex.”
“That doesn’t mean I get much.”
Was he kidding? With his looks? She gave him a look of disbelief.
“I’m not as nondiscriminating as you might think.”
“You’re no virgin.”
“I might as well be,” he muttered. “And you might want to remember who turned who down the last time.”
That shut her up. She would have spent the night with him in the tower if he hadn’t gallantly walked away.
“If that doesn’t qualify me for knighthood, I don’t know what does. I saved your virtue.”
She hadn’t wanted it spared then. Now she was glad, because she and Jake were just too complicated to get tangled up in bed.
“A true knight wouldn’t remind a lady of such things.”
He said something very unknightly, and they walked on. They passed several couples and families, and the occasional loner staring off into space, meditating or seeking some connection to the earth. The abbey grounds were beautiful and the ruins magnificent. They were in various stages of deterioration, only pieces of a foundation or wall in places, but others were remarkably intact, like the abbot’s kitchen, a medieval kitchen, and the Lady Chapel.
As they made their way through the ruins, impressions flew at Kendall, bits and pieces of the past. And there was a lot of past here, as the lady at the gift shop had said. This was once the greatest abbey in Europe. Saint Patrick had lived and died here. King Arthur had been buried here, along with Guinevere, if the stories were accurate. And underneath the Lady Chapel was supposedly where Joseph of Arimathea built the first Christian structure in Britain, a wattle and daub church.
“You holding up?” Jake asked.
Kendall nodded. “I just feel… full.” Sometimes she felt in colors and sensations that she didn’t even know how to explain, sometimes visions, sounds, or smells. She could even hear snippets of conversation, but not enough to tell what was being said. There were conspiracies here. She could feel them in the air.
Occasionally they encountered someone in period clothing. Near one wall, four monks walked side by side, hands folded in front of them. “They look authentic.”
Jake looked up from a marker he was studying. “Who?”
“Those monks by the wall.”
“Uh… I think they might be.”
Kendall frowned. “Real monks. Well, I guess monks would be interested in the ruins too. I mean, this was an abbey.”
“Kendall… There aren’t any monks.”
“Right there, near the end of that wall—damn.” The monks had vanished.
“Ghosts?” Jake asked.
“Or more memories of the past? Whatever they are, I seem to be seeing a lot of them.”
“Sure you don’t want to go on that fishing boat with me?”
She sighed. “Ask me in a week.”
“The only ghost I’d like to see is King Arthur so I could ask him if he knows where the Fountain of Youth is. Think you could ask him?”
Kendall glanced at him in surprise, not sure whether he was joking. “I’ve never talked to a ghost.”
“With all the encounters you’ve had?”
“I haven’t had that many until recently. And they never talked.”
“Let’s go see if King Arthur’s feeling chatty today,” Jake said.
“The bodies aren’t here anyway,” Kendall said. “They were stolen.”
“His spirit might be here.”
A marker directed them to King Arthur’s grave located near the Lady Chapel. Kendall sat beside the grave, overwhelmed with a sense of sadness. And oddly enough, guilt.
“Are you OK?” Jake asked, kneeling beside her. He put a hand on her shoulder but immediately pulled it away.
“Sorry, I just tapped into something,” she said. “You felt it too, didn’t you, when you touched me?”
He didn’t answer, but he seemed dist
urbed. He put his hand on the grass, eyes dark, face tense, then suddenly stood. “I think it’s this place. Let’s get out of here,” he said quietly. “If we’re not going back to the hotel, we’ll have to find a place to stay. We can come back here later.”
Before she could stand, Kendall heard voices approaching. She turned and saw a group walking toward them led by a black-haired woman in a long blue dress.
“The grave of King Arthur and his queen, Guinevere,” she announced in a somber, theatrical voice.
“Want me to scare them off?” Jake asked.
She had no doubt he could do it. Kendall shook her head and stood.
“Oh, there’s someone here,” the woman said. “We’ll have to come back. We can go to the museum shop.” She started to shoo the group away.
“Wait,” one of the other women said. “They’re leaving.”
The woman turned back toward the grave. A look of frustration crossed her face as she walked closer. The rest of the group followed her like sheep.
Kendall stopped a few feet away, curious about the woman. Obviously she had, or was pretending to have, some paranormal abilities. Pretending, Kendall guessed, but she had always been intrigued by others with some unique abilities, wondering where they had gotten theirs. Most that she’d met were frauds. Occasionally she met someone with real abilities. She’d yet to meet anyone with her same gift, and she often wondered if that was what she searched for. Validation that she wasn’t a complete freak.
“Do you think his spirit is here?” one of the women asked. She had brown hair, brown pants, and a brown shirt.
“I think this would be more effective in the moonlight,” the black-haired woman said. “We could come back tonight.”
“Let’s try, please,” the woman in brown said.
The leader walked close to the gravesite. She closed her eyes and held out her hands over the plaque. She started to sway slightly.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Jake said too loud.
Kendall shushed him. “I want to see what she’s doing.”
“Arthur,” the woman called. “Are you here, Arthur?”
“I think I feel something,” the man in the group said.
“Like he’s drowning in shit maybe,” Jake suggested.
“I don’t think so,” Kendall said, looking at the figure that had materialized over the grave. “Oh my God.” This last was said louder than she’d intended.
The woman in blue turned. She looked irritated, until she saw Kendall’s face. Her eyes widened. “Everyone sit and hold hands. Close your eyes and think about King Arthur and Guinevere.” As soon as the group was seated and eyes closed, the woman hurried over to Kendall with the grace of a linebacker. “You saw something, didn’t you? I’ve seen that same look on Lizzie’s face. Did you see Arthur?”
Jake had stepped closer to Kendall. The woman hadn’t noticed him in her excitement.
“I’m not sure what I saw.” Kendall had seen something, but it wasn’t Arthur. She’d seen a woman with blood covering her face and clothes, standing next to the woman in a long blue dress.
“Tell me what it was. Please. If I don’t give them something to keep them occupied until Lizzie gets here, this group is going to leave,” she whispered harshly. “I have a fortune wrapped up in this trip. Half the group got a stomach virus and canceled. Then Lizzie didn’t show up. That’s my psychic. It’s not easy to get into Little Saint Michael’s. I’m desperate.”
Before Kendall could attempt unraveling what the woman had said, Jake spoke up. “Little Saint Michael’s?”
The woman looked at Jake and her expression changed. “Oh. I didn’t see you,” she said, appraising him. “That’s where we’re staying.”
“We’ll be glad to help out,” Jake said. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jake, her assistant.”
Kendall stared at Jake. “Wait a minute—”
“I believe we should help out in time of need,” Jake interrupted.
The woman raised an eyebrow at Jake. “You don’t look like a psychic. You look more like a male stripper.”
Jake’s jaw clenched, but he folded his hands over his chest in an imitation of a spiritual man. “Physical appearance is of little worth.”
The woman nodded and gave his physical appearance another appraising glance. “I’m Halle. I’m the tour guide. We’re supposed to be on a three-day trip to discover King Arthur. We’re planning to see as many King Arthur sites as possible. Tonight we’re doing a moonlight meditation. Tomorrow’s a big day. We’re going to Camelot. Then later that evening we’ll attend a moonlight tour of the abbey and a séance near King Arthur’s grave. If we’re not too tired, the next day we want to get in a hike to the Tor and visit Tintagel, King Arthur’s birthplace, and Merlin’s cave.”
“Lots of moonlight events,” Jake said.
“The moonlight gets people in the mood for magic. If you could meet me at the house in an hour, we’ll make arrangements.” She started to walk off but turned back. “Thank you,” she whispered before rushing off to her followers who were peeking around with frowns on their faces.
“I’m sorry,” Halle announced. “I’m feeling faint. I need to meditate to restore my strength. We’ll have to come back tonight.” She ushered the group off amidst complaints.
Kendall turned to Jake. “What are you doing?”
“Getting us in to see the Blue Chalice without breaking the law.”
“I’m not a psychic. I’m not going to pretend to contact King Arthur for some unwitting group.”
“Then we break in. Or we could demand the chalice at gunpoint.”
“We don’t even have extra clothes.”
“At least they’re clean. We can have Nathan send some more things,” Jake said.
They did need to get inside the house, and this was the perfect excuse. “I’ll do it, but just until we see the chalice.”
They sat for a few minutes and planned their ruse. She was a psychic from America. Jake was her assistant. They would use their real names in case Nathan wanted to find them, especially since Jake had already blurted out his. It might be a mistake since the Reaper could find them too.
“This is… wrong. I feel like some kind of circus fortune-teller.”
“It’s survival.”
Kendall rolled her eyes. “Is there anything you haven’t done in the name of survival?”
“Not much.”
Kendall and Jake had a little time to kill before they went to meet Halle, but not enough to go back to the hotel. They bought toiletries and extra clothes—the same damned sweatpants and shirts from the same store they had stolen from earlier today. Just in case it took them overnight to find the chalice, Jake said. He slipped an extra two hundred pounds under the register when the woman was bagging their items.
Carrying their things, they stopped by Wearyall Hill to see the place where Joseph had thrust his staff into the ground. Kendall’s head was getting thick with impressions of the past, but she had a feeling that time was running out.
“Looks like someone got overenthusiastic with pruning,” Jake said, looking at the trunk of a tree with shoots growing out in places.
“Vandals cut off the limbs of one of the trees. Such a shame. It came from a cutting that was grown from the tree Joseph planted two thousand years ago. If you believe the myth.”
“Hell, I’d believe most anything at this point. You could try touching it.”
She closed her eyes and touched the tree. Nothing.
“Not happening?”
“No. I think I’ve had enough impressions for one day.”
They showed up at Little Saint Michael’s, and Halle met them in the lobby. She took them into a quiet room where she fully explained her dilemma. She was a tour guide with a small group in Florida that specialized in enlightenment retreats. They were planning to visit many of the places where King Arthur roamed. Camelot, Tintagel, his grave, and Merlin’s cave. The goal was to contact King Arthur, but her psychic hadn’t s
hown up. “She’s never done anything like this before. We need the money, especially with all those cancellations, but I don’t know anything about spiritual stuff. I play tour guide, she contacts the dead.”
Kendall had a bad feeling that Halle’s psychic was the angry ghost she had seen at King Arthur’s grave. “When did you hear from her last?”
Halle pursed her lips. “The day before we left. She was on her way to visit a client.”
“What does she look like?”
Halle frowned. “Auburn hair. Slender.”
That could have been the woman Kendall saw, but she didn’t see her well because of the blood. It could have been someone connected to the abbey. The woman had been wearing a long gown, but that didn’t mean she was from the past. Halle also wore a long gown. Kendall didn’t say anything yet. She didn’t want to alarm anyone needlessly, and if she was in fact dead, it was too late to help her.
Halle gave them a tour of the place. It was a cozy house. Lizzie was a long-standing companion, which entitled her to use Little Saint Michael’s. There were several bedrooms and a sanctuary upstairs called the Upper Room. The house had access to the Chalice Well Gardens twenty-four hours a day.
“I’m afraid we only have one room left,” Halle said. “The one Lizzie was going to stay in.”
“Of course,” Kendall muttered.
“It’s OK,” Jake said. “We’re married.”
“I’m sorry. The room has twin beds,” Halle said.
“Damn,” Jake said.
“Perfect,” Kendall said.
Halle looked surprised.
Kendall sighed. “He steals the covers. We have to sleep in separate beds at home.”
Halle grinned at Jake. “I wouldn’t worry about covers with him in my bed.”
Jake returned Halle’s grin, looking a lot more like the male stripper than the spiritual-assistant/husband he was supposed to be.
Kendall poked him with her elbow.
“Dinner is at seven,” Halle said. “You’ll have time to rest or do some sightseeing before we meet in Arthur’s garden at the Chalice Well at nine p.m. Will that work for you?”
“What is the group expecting from this meditation?” Kendall asked.
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