IK2 (17 page)

and think.

“Here you are,” Morgan said as she set down the cup of steaming brew.

“Chicory-flavored.”

“Thanks.” Sophie took a grateful sip. She was getting used to the strong, slightly

bitter taste of chicory. She needed all the help she could get this morning.

“You‟re welcome.” Morgan laid down the morning newspaper. “The interview

you did with that newspaper reporter is in here. I thought you might want to read it.”

Sophie glanced down at it as Morgan left to answer the phone. That interview

seemed so long ago, although it has only been three weeks or so. Back then, life was still semi- normal. Sure, a dragon had been sighted, but she had still clung to the idea that it was some sort of technical gadgetry that had created it. Little did she know she was

going to have it
living
with her.

Sophie scratched at an itch behind her ear absently as she skimmed the article.

The young reporter had actually quoted her accurately. She almost smiled at how

insistent she had been that the dragon could not be real. Ha. She knew better now.

Pushing the newspaper aside, she rubbed her temples. What in the world was she

going to do? Michael had stayed late to help her get acquainted with Pendragon. He‟d

even offered to spend the night on the sofa.

As if
that
would help. The idea of a half-clothed warlock—or maybe even a

naked one—how did she know what he slept in?—was too much mind-overload. Or, she

thought giddily, the idea of a virile, good- looking, muscular male on her sofa was too

much hormone-overload. Way too much.

She had slowly regained consciousness last night to the sensation of Michael‟s

fingers gently brushing her hair back and then sliding his warm hands slowly down her

cheeks and neck to her shoulders. He had stroked her arms, softly crooning in some

language she didn‟t comprehend, although her body, it seemed, understood perfectly

what he was doing, since her female parts started to tingle even as the rest of her fe lt like a weightless, boneless, quivering mass.

Lord, if she reacted to him like that when she was half- unconscious, what would

she do awake? And traveling with him? Based on last night‟s conversation between

Michael and Pendragon, it no longer seemed she had a choice about traveling.

“We need to get started as soon as possible,” Pendragon said. “I don‟t want to

stay in this small form any longer than I have to.”

“You‟re going with Michael?” Sophie asked in surprise.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 71

“I am going with Michael and you,” he replied, revealing sharp teeth in what was

supposed to be a dragon-grin, “although I think I could protect you better in my original
form.” He turned bright, cobalt eyes on Michael. “I could fly ahead and scout the

territory...”

“No,” Michael interrupted. “It was a mistake to draw so much media attention to

you in the first place. I‟ll create an illusion that you‟re a wolfhound and you‟ll travel in
the cargo hold.”

“From what you‟ve told me about these new flying objects, it will be cold in

there,” Pendragon said and puffed smoke at Michael. “Reptilian forms prefer warmth.”

“You aren‟t exactly a lizard,” Michael answered, “and it‟s only for the flight to

Virginia. From there, we‟ll rent a car and drive the coastline down through Florida and
up the Gulf coast. You can ride in the back seat.”

“I‟d be more help scouting for you,” Pendragon said as small sparks of flame

shot from his snout.

“Careful!” Sophie managed to say. “You‟ll set the house on fire!”

He rattled his scales. “Sorry.”

“We really don‟t want to draw any more attention to ourselves,” Michael

explained. “Right now, Baylor doesn‟t have a copy of the second riddle and he doesn‟t
know where we‟re going. Let‟s keep it that. Besides,” he added, “you can use

heightened sense of sight and smell just as well like you are.”

Sophie sighed and stood, chewing her lip in frustration. She paused, half- way out

the door and ran her tongue to the corner of her mouth. Cold so re? She was prone to get those when she felt stressed. Just what she needed.

She spent the next two hours busy with her furry charges. Allison had agreed that

she looked horrible and in need of some sleep, so she was going to leave at lunch. First, though, she had to clean out Augustin‟s stall.

She led him to the small paddock behind the stable. “Sorry I can‟t take you for a

ride today, boy, but you can kick up your heels out here. There‟ll be oats waiting for you later.”

The horse nickered and lowered his head, bumping gently against her shoulder

and then he snorted and cantered away. Sophie smiled and turned back to the stall. She shoveled out the old straw and replaced it and made sure there was fresh hay and oats in the trough and then brushed at her cheeks, trying to clear the dust particles that were

making her itch.

Turning on the a/c in the truck, she waited in the driveway as a Lincoln Navigator

drove past. She didn‟t recognize it, but someone down the street was probably getting

company. She glanced at her watch. It was barely past noon. She put through a text to Michael asking him to meet her at Mr. Smith‟s. She wanted to look at the manuscript

again. She still had questions.

And then, she‟d go home and deal with a real live dragon.

* * * *

“Sophie‟s not here yet?” Michael asked as Smith met him in the study. “She sent

me a text a half hour ago, asking that I meet her here.”

“I know,” Mr. Smith said. “She called me about the same time. You know how

traffic can be. Or someone may have walked in with a sick pet. Sophie would never turn an animal away.”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 72

That was true. Michael had to admit that he admired her for that. Last night,

once she‟d recovered from her faint, she had appeared to accept that she had a talking

dragon in her home, and she had responded admirably. Pendragon had practically

preened, rattling his scales, when she asked him about his lair and horde and other

dragon-questions. No doubt she‟d have him eating out of her hand within a few days.

Hell, Michael wouldn‟t mind eating out of her hand either. Or, for that matter,

nibbling some very luscious parts of her. Her soft, full breasts had pressed against his chest as he‟d caught her and he‟d wanted nothing more than to roll her nipples between

his fingers until they hardened to tiny peaks that he could suck into his mouth. Her

rounded rump fit perfectly into his hands as he‟d laid her on the sofa and his enhanced

senses picked up the faint trace of her unique feminine scent. How delicious it would be if she were fully aroused! To strip off her jeans and fit himself between her thighs and savor her juices as he laved them through her slick folds and then teased that tiny little nub into pulsation—
that
was what he really wanted.

And could not have. They had to find the sword.

Mr. Smith was eyeing him with interest and Michael began to wonder if the man

had some sort of sixth sense no one else had picked up on. With his fixation on the

medieval world and particularly all things Arthurian, there just might be a drop of

Druid‟s blood in his ancestral line. Michael didn‟t believe in coincidences. There was a reason the manuscript had gotten into Smith‟s hands.

“I take it that Sophie has agreed to go with you, after all?” Smith asked and

smiled coyly. “You must have been very persuasive.”

Michael‟s groin tightened at the thought of how very persuasive he would like to

be, but not for any reason involving the sword—unless he wanted to count getting his

own sword sheathed in her tight, hot scabbard. He doubted that she‟d welcome that kind

of bold advance though. The jerk who‟d hurt her had done a pretty thorough job.

Wooing—an odd word in today‟s world, but it seemed to fit—Sophie would take time

and patience and tiny, little steps in building her trust. Still, he could hardly tell Smith that Sophie‟s persuasion was because a dragon was now residing at her place.

Michael smiled and shook his head. “Sophie‟s an intelligent woman. I think she

finally realized that there is a real danger to society if Excalibur falls into the wrong hands.”

Smith stopped smiling. „I‟ve never met Adam Baylor, but if he was responsible

for poor Professor MacDonald‟s death…”

“He was,” Michael said, “but we‟ll never be able to prove it.”

“I tried to have him investigated,” Smith said soberly. “I hired the best spies

Interpol had to offer. They raised questions. Had suspicions. Nothing conclusive.”

“And there won‟t be,” Michael said, wishing he could explain that even Merlin

had not been able to ferret Balor out. Demons built layers of illusion around themselves and, in this technological age, shielded themselves with barriers of protective hardware, software, and human minions to do their dirty work.

“No man can maintain a flawless fraud,” Mr. Smith said. “He‟ll slip up

eventually and my spies will be waiting.”

No
man
could. Michael wished he could tell Smith that Balor was really a

demon, but the fewer humans knew that immortals existed, the better. Smith thought

they were battling for power over the corruption of drug cartels, terrorists, and semi-sane SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 73

political leaders who strived for dominion. And all that was true, but it was the ancient, exiled god who controlled these factions as though they were puppets. According to the

prophecy of Avalon, only one deity could destroy Balor and that was his own grandson,

Lugh—and even Lugh would need his Spear. If Nimue were correct, the Spear was safe,

waiting for its owner.

“I hope you‟re right,” Michael said. “Meanwhile, we need to keep the sword

away from Balor. As soon as Sophie gets here, I‟ll call the airline and make reservations for us to fly out of here. The sooner we can get started, the better.”

Mr. Smith checked his watch. “I wonder where she is.”

A strange tingle began at Michael‟s nape as tiny bits of violet light started to

sparkled along his side vision. “Something‟s not right,” he said, just as the phone rang.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 74

Sophie wiped her brow and adjusted the a/c setting as she eased into the traffic on

I-30. The day certainly had turned hot. She felt tiny bumps on her skin, almost like a heat rash. Turning down her visor, she checked her face in the mirror. Her cheeks

looked flushed, but she didn‟t feel feverish. Lifting the visor, she concentrated on the traffic. As usual, it became denser the closer she got to Dallas.

Slipping in a golden-oldies CD, she began to hum along with the Rolling Stones

“Can‟t Get No Satisfaction” smiling at the irony of the song. She had been perfectly

satisfied
not
to get satisfaction since her divorce. Life was simple without a man in it.

Until Michael had shown up, that is.

What was it about him anyway? Oh, sure, he was sculpted like a Greek god, with

muscles in all the right places and his rakish grin, longish-hair, and dark, penetrating eyes were bedroom sexy. But Sophie hadn‟t thought about bedrooms—other than for getting a

sound night‟s sleep—in a long time. And she certainly wasn‟t taken in by cover model

good looks either. Robert had those as well and she knew how
that
turned out.

But…she couldn‟t remember Robert ever making her skin tingle, with every

nerve ending on edge, as it did when Michael merely brushed his fingers against her

cheek. Even just his closeness as they sat in his car, sens ing his body heat and unique male scent was enough to bead her nipples. And the fantasy dream they‟d shared—she‟d

never had that strong a climax in her waking life ever.

Sophie felt her face heat even more at that thought and rubbed at her eyes. They

were beginning to burn. The ozone level must really be high today. She gave herself a

little shake and focused on the traffic.

Yes, life had been so simple before Michael. No dragons flying through the sky

or residing in her home. No media-blitz. No mythical swords to find and no demons

lurking out there to destroy the world.

Not that she believed in omens or superstitions, but she wondered now how

coincidental that meeting at been at the Palo Pinto clinic when Michael had stopped in

with the strange request to rescue a wolf that couldn‟t be found.

She rubbed her eyes again as her vision began to blur. Had some sort of chemical

been released into the air? Pulling out the CD, she turned on the radio. Blinking here eyes, she fiddled with the dials to find a news station.

A horn blared beside her. Too late, she looked up, realizing she had drifted into

the next lane. She jerked the wheel to her right, over-correcting and felt the truck spin out of control. Air-borne momentarily, it landed heavily on its side on the sloping

shoulder of the road.

Dazed, Sophie lay there, wondering why everything around her was still reeling.

Vaguely, she heard brakes squealing to a stop and footsteps running towards her. A