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His host stared at him. “But who in the last half-century would have knowledge of such a thing?”

Besides Balor and me? “The Sinclair family has heirs,” Lucas answered, “and the Templars are still around, although many of the traditions have been lost. Then there’s the Prieuré de Sion.”

Mr. Smith looked startled. “Like in The Da Vinci Code? They’re real?”

“They’re real,” Lucas answered and wondered again if Patton had been a

member. “And that inner circle would have enough esoteric knowledge to recognize a Hallow. They’d also have the expertise to produce the manuscript and leave an encrypted message.” He remembered now that the anonymous message left at the

museum in Glasgow, alerting them to the location of the dig, had been written in very formal English reminiscent of the late Renaissance period. It should have been a clue.

Benton knocked on the open door and both men looked up.

“Excuse me, Sir,” the butler said, “but there’s a young man on the phone

inquiring about Miss Kincaid. When I told him she was not here, he asked to speak to Mr. Ramsey.”

Lucas picked up the phone on the desk. “Hello?”

“Michael here,” the warlock said without preamble. “Where’s Sara?”

The back of Lucas’ neck began to bristle. “I thought she was with you.”

There was a short silence. “I talked to her yesterday afternoon. I was running late and told her to ask you to take her home.”

The guy was cocky, Lucas thought. So sure of himself that Sara might not be

tempted? What was I supposed to do? Wait until he got there and then leave? Still, Sara didn’t say anything. Then he remembered he hadn’t exactly been civil yesterday. A pang of guilt shot through him. He hadn’t even given her the shield he’d brought back.

“She didn’t say anything,” he said and endured another pause on the other end.

“So you two had an argument?” Michael asked.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Lucas answered.

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“Right. But I guess she didn’t tell you then.”

“Tell me what?” His wolf was beginning to pace restlessly.

“Nothing happened, man. Not that I would have minded, but I slept on the sofa.”

The guilt twisted in Lucas’ gut like a sharp knife. She had tried to tell him, but his wounded ego hadn’t let him listen. Now she appeared to be missing. He could already feel the wolf trying to break out.

“Did you go over there?” he asked and willed the wolf back down.

“Yeah. I drove by last night, but the place was dark and her car was there, so I figured you had taken her somewhere, maybe to eat. Then this morning, I called and there was no answer, so I drove over. The place was locked up. I just got back.”

Every nerve ending was screaming for the beast to be released. Lucas sensed

danger and its name was Balor. There had been no forced entry the other night either.

How could he have been so stupid to let damn male pride get in the way of protecting her? Centuries of Templar discipline and he’d let jealousy overcome him. No more. He and the warlock would have to work together if they were to find Sara.

“We have a problem,” he all but growled. “Get over here.” He could have sworn the rumble that preceded Michael’s voice sounded like a panther.

“On my way,” he said.

* * * *

Sara sat huddled on the floor of her own cabin on the ranchita in Palo Pinto County. Somehow the thugs who had kidnapped her knew of this place. She tugged at the ropes binding her wrists and then winced as the bonds bit deeper. Her ankles weren’t in much better shape and she wiggled her toes to keep her feet from getting numb. At least they’d taken the gag out of her mouth.

She studied her captors as she leaned against the wall near the sofa. They were sitting at the table throwing dice that one of them had brought. They looked like brothers, one in his early twenties, the other about her age. They both wore jeans and tee-shirts. A white slash on the lower arm of the older one carved through an intricately scrolled tattoo. Probably an old stabbing wound. The younger man’s nose was crooked and flattened on one side. Both of them wore backward baseball caps over somewhat stringy brown hair. Street fighters.

“She looks like a good screw,” the younger one said as he glanced over to her.

“We could each have a turn before anyone shows up.”

“Shut up,” the older one said and threw the dice. “We ain’t bein’ paid to bang her. The guy wants her fresh.”

Reluctantly, the younger one turned his attention back to the game and Sara

breathed a small sigh of relief. A reprieve, at least for a little while. Hopefully by now, Michael would have called, but then she remembered that he thought she was with Lucas.

And Lucas thought she was with Michael. How long would it be before anyone thought to actually look for her?

And what about poor Nim? Had that last pitiful attempt to help her actually killed the faerie? She squeezed her eyes shut to keep back the tears.

Nim had come to her on her fifth birthday. She had just begun to notice the bright little movements of sylphs twinkling in shafts of sunlight and had actually seen a tiny green manikin riding a blade of grass. Her mother had been excited when she told her and said something about having a ‘gift’ and that night Nim had come to her.

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“I will be your protector from the Darkness,” the faerie had said and Sara’s five-year-old mind had asked why she couldn’t just turn on a light. The faerie had smiled and said it was a different kind of Darkness that she was referring to.

And Sara had learned, as she matured and her mind opened to the higher planes

through meditation and esoteric study, that it was all too easy to use Power for personal greed and self-fulfillment. Nim had always been there, guiding her so that she wouldn’t manipulate others. Each person must have free will. And once, just once, when Loser Number One had made off with her cash and she was preparing a real curse, Nim had lifted a mystic veil and given her a glimpse into the dark world where entities existed that fed off of fear and hate. Sara still shuddered at the thought of almost taking that path.

The path that Adam Baylor was on.

Every time Lucas had talked about Adam Baylor, Sara had felt a cold dread

creeping into her bones. The man was one of those entities who fed off of fear and hate.

She began to chant silently, calling in the Light, letting it fill her. She had to stay strong. She had a feeling she was about to meet the devil.

* * * *

Michael had only been at the mansion a few minutes when the doorbell rang again and Benton soon appeared in the doorway to the study.

“This just came by Express Mail,” he said as handed a flat package to Mr. Smith.

“Did you see the truck?” Lucas asked. “What did the guy look like?”

The butler lifted his head and sniffed. “It was a mail truck, sir. The man was in uniform. Medium height, medium build, brown hair, brown eyes.” He turned to his employer. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, no, you may go,” Mr. Smith said distractedly as he pulled at the cardboard tab. “I wonder what …” his voice trailed off as he pulled a single paper out. He read it quickly and turned pale.

Lucas took the paper. “A certain young lady would appreciate it if you would

kindly produce the document that was purchased at Sotheby’s auction. She is sure you will know to what she is referring.” Baylor. Such polite language. He would never put a threat in writing.

“No address to deliver it to?” Michael asked as he looked over his shoulder.

“He’s too clever for that,” Lucas said and swore under his breath.

“Who’s ‘he’? Do you know who’s behind this?”

Lucas nodded. “A man named Adam Baylor. He had a representative at the

auction. He’s … he’s a collector, too.” No need to tell Smith the whole story.

“Adam Baylor …” Mr. Smith knitted his eyebrows together. “Doesn’t he own

an international brokerage house? Seems that I’ve heard the name.”

“That would be the man,” Lucas answered grimly. “He’s also suspected in

laundering money for terrorists world-wide.”

“Oh, my,” Mr. Smith said and put his hand over his heart. “Then our Sara is in real trouble.”

If only you knew. Lucas paced the floor, the wolf snarling inside him.

“What happens next?” Michael asked.

Lucas stopped. How could the guy look and act so calm? There seemed to be a

blue light defining the edges of his aura. Warlock magic? He took to pacing again.

“Baylor is a sadistic son-of-a-bitch,” he said. “He’ll make us wait. Give us time to SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 107

worry. Then he’ll call.”

Mr. Smith started wringing his hands. “My number is unlisted.”

Lucas grimaced. “That won’t be a problem for him.” But what would happen to

Sara in the meanwhile? For once, he wished he didn’t know how cruel his grandfather could be. He knew the man would look for any weakness and use it against her. Balor liked to thoroughly humiliate his victims as well as inflict real pain. Lucas closed his mind to the torture and mutilations that had been inflicted on the women in the French, Spanish, and Scottish Inquisitions, all of which had been orchestrated by none other than Balor manipulating the minds of zealous, unbalanced priests.

“Shouldn’t we call the police? The FBI?” Michael asked.

“No!” Mr. Smith and Lucas answered him at the same time. Lucas knew not all

of Mr. Smith’s ‘collection’ was purchased legitimately and the man wouldn’t want police getting involved in an investigation.

“Sara will be dead if Balor gets any whiff of police being involved,” Lucas said.

He would have to Shift and he didn’t want to have to explain when he did it. “Trust me.

I know the guy.”

Michael looked doubtful, but to everyone’s relief, the phone rang.

Mr. Smith’s hand shook as he picked up the receiver. “Hello?” His face

blanched as he listened to the message and then slowly hung up.

“I’m to meet him at a Circle K off Loop 820,” he said and swallowed hard. “He said to come alone.”

“It’ll be a pay phone,” Lucas said. “And then they’ll send you to another and probably a third one. They’ll be looking for a tail.”

“Can’t you just ride with me in the car and stay hidden?” Mr. Smith stammered.

“My guess is when you get to the Circle K another car will be waiting for you to use,” Lucas said, “and it will have a monitor to check if you use your cell phone.”

Mr. Smith began to tremble. “Oh, my .... ”

“Did the guy call you by name?” Michael interrupted.

“No. Why?” The man’s eyes were dilated with fear.

“Then it won’t matter who goes. As long as it’s just one person. I’ll go.”

Lucas had been about to suggest the same thing, but now he reconsidered. He

was ninety-nine percent sure Michael was on their side, but what if he wasn’t? What if Balor really were controlling his mind? Sara would be defenseless. However, he’d rather have McCain out in front of him that following behind. And this would make it easier for him to shift. He could barely contain the wolf right now, even after centuries of practice.

He took the pendant off from around his neck. “Wear this,” he said as he handed it to Michael. “I’ll be able to find you.”

Mr. Smith started to open his mouth to ask a question, but snapped it shut.

Michael just gave Lucas a long look and then slipped the cross over his head.

“Let’s get the show on the road then,” he said.

* * * *

Sara recognized the man instantly. Even though he was impeccably tailored in an expensive Armani suit and silk tie, she would have known that eye-patch anywhere. It was the man from the shadows at Sotheby’s. The air suddenly became oppressively still, like low-hanging black clouds before a major storm.

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He hardly glanced her way. “Well done,” he said to the two men as he sat down at the table and placed a bottle of Glenlevit scotch on the table. “You’ll be well-rewarded. Have either of you gentlemen tasted this before?”

Manipulator. Both of them probably had criminal records a yard long. But they straightened in their chairs and the younger one grinned.

“Can’t say that we have.”

Baylor gave him a cultured smile. “Then you’re in for a real treat. Glasses?”

The older one went to her cupboard and came back with three glasses and Baylor poured the liquor. “To a good job, well done,” he said and lifted his glass.

The brothers drained theirs as though they were chugging beer, which is probably what they were used to, Sara thought as she watched covertly. She noticed that Baylor didn’t really swallow any of his.

“Well, now,” he said after they’d finished a second round, “let me pay you so you can be on your way.” He looked over at Sara and grinned. “I have plans for the lady.”

The men snickered, took their money and left.

Baylor remained sitting at the table until he heard the engine fade away into the distance. Then he took a linen handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped his fingerprints off the glass and the bottle. “I wouldn’t drink any of that if I were you,” he said as he came over and sat down on the sofa near Sara.

A chill ran through her, whether from his presence or the fact that he had all but admitted the liquor had been poisoned. And the incriminating evidence would lead to her. If she were still alive, that is.

“You want the document,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “A woman that gets right to the point. I like that. So why don’t you tell me what you know?”

Sara clamped her mouth shut.

“The manuscript is already on its way here,” he said, “but I thought we could