Dark Lord of Kismera: Knights of Kismera (41 page)

IT WAS A WARM DAY in early October. Warm enough that Drace, working alone in the stable that housed the new horses, had stripped down to a short sleeve t-shirt and worn Levis. He cleaned and rebedded the stalls while the horses were turned out in their pastures.

Cerise strolled in wearing a bright floral print dress and crimson high heel shoes. She stopped in front of the stall where Drace was spreading fresh shavings.

Drace looked up and then leaned on his pitchfork. “A bit overdressed for barn duty,” he observed dryly.

She shook her head. “Ha, ha!” she said sarcastically. “Just came back from town and thought you might like your mail.”

Cerise watched as he flipped through the small stack, then stopped and turned a postcard over to read it.

He had lost some weight since they’d returned from Europe and had become quiet and withdrawn. Stress showed on his face. Cerise knew he wasn’t eating or sleeping well, and judging from the odd times of night she woke and saw his light on, he was having nightmares often. She was worried about him but didn’t have a clue how to help.

Drace had finished the postcard and raised a brow at one envelope in particular then took the stack and tucked them in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I need to finish this so I can bring the horses in,” he said bluntly and went back to spreading.

“Sure. I’ll see you later,” she replied and walked back down the center aisle.

“Cerise!” Drace called after her, making her pause. “Thanks for getting my mail.”

“No problem,” she said as she continued out of the barn.

W
h
en he finished with the horses for the day, he walked to his house and made a sandwich, which he ate but didn’t taste. Then he showered, combed out his wet hair, and stood looking at his reflection for a moment. His hair had grown out and he considered cutting it short again,
become a more civilized looking man.

A vision of the MacKinnon he had seen at Culloden flashed through his mind, hair so like Drace’s.
No,
a voice said in his head,
you are as you should be.

He sat on the edge of his bed in his underwear and flipped through the mail again, wondering whether he would sleep that night. There were two bills in the pack, a couple of pieces of junk mail, and the postcard. It was from Joe in Las Vegas, letting him know he and Candy had finally tied the knot.

He gave a little laugh at that. Joe had been a bit of a player when it came to women. But when it came to Candy, she had led him by his balls. Drace guessed Joe’s heart had finally followed. He made a note to send them a wedding gift and a note of congratulations.

The last envelope he paused over, mixed with anticipation and dread. It was from Maggie Shaffer, the archeologist he had emailed from Paris. He had forgotten he had given her his home address.

He checked the postmark and saw the letter had been mailed from Egypt. She had been on site as Cerise had suggested. He took a deep breath, swung his legs onto the bed, leaned against the headboard, and opened the envelope. It was a short note in small flowing script. A few grains of sand fell from the folds and there was a partial ring on it as if she put a coffee mug on the corner to hold the paper down.

Drace brushed at his chest and read. Maggie stated she would be back in Washington D.C. in two weeks from that date and invited him to call to discuss his interest in her book. There was a phone number followed by her signature and that was it. Drace looked at a calendar and saw she should be in D.C. now.

Drace checked his alarm clock: nine-thirty. He wondered if it was too late to call. Deciding to risk it, he reached for his cell phone and, checking the note for the number, dialed. It rang three times and then a woman with a voice like whiskey, hot and smooth, answered. “Hello?”

“Is this Maggie Shaffer?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“This is Drace MacKinnon. I just received your note today. I hope I’m not disturbing you this late.”

“Oh no, I was just going over some notes from our last dig. I’m glad to hear from you.”

Drace heard papers shuffling in the background.

“You said you wanted to discuss my interest in your findings,” he said.

“Yes. Honestly, I find it odd that someone like you would be interested at all.”

Her comment miffed him. “Someone like me? What do you mean by that?”

“Actually, I’ve met you before although it was a brief encounter,” she said. “A girlfriend took me to Vegas for a vacation on my birthday a couple of years ago. I have a silver bell that the Black Knight gave me.”

“I see,” Drace said, amused. “And the Black Knight would have no interest in Egyptian mythology?”

“Something like that,” she answered playfully.

“Well, now I’m a horse breeder in Charlottesville who happens to have a reason to be interested. I’ve studied a bit.”

“Oh? And you majored in what?”

“I have a Bachelor of Science in Agricultural and Applied Economics with a minor in Animal Science.”

“So the Black Knight is a smart guy,” Maggie stated, a little more impressed.

“No, but Drace MacKinnon is,” he said. He got out of bed and wandered to the kitchen,

“So, what’s the interest in Arahtok? He’s an obscure deity no one has really ever heard of. How did you hear of him?”

“It’s actually kinda personal,” Drace replied, pulling a beer from his fridge and opening it. He pondered a second on how much information to divulge. “What would you say if I knew someone who worshipped him?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “Some one as in one person or as in a group?” she asked.

Drace definitely had her attention now. He leaned a hip against the counter. “As in a whole race of people,” he gave her then took a pull from the beer bottle.

“There is a function at the Smithsonian in two days. I don’t have an escort for the event. Would you be willing to volunteer and we can discuss this over dinner and some boring speeches? I’m with the department of Egyptian studies so I have to attend. I’ve already got the tickets and it would be a shame to waste one.”

“What’s the dress code?”

“Dressy, but not a tuxedo event. I assume that you have a suit?”

“No, but I can borrow one from the Black Knight,” Drace joked. “I have a suit so relax. Let me get a pen and you can give me the time and your address. That is if you don’t mind riding in a truck. The limo is in the shop.”

She laughed, a low husky sound. “The truck is fine. Have you found your pen?”

Having retrieved a pad and pencil from the counter, he tore off a grocery list. “Yeah,” he said, and took down her information and then they ended the call.

H
ands roamed over his chest and he reached for her, pulling her down against him. “God, I missed you,” he whispered into her hair as he rolled her over.

“As I have missed you. Love me, Drace.”

His answer was to trail kisses down her throat, making her moan. “Baby, I want you,” he murmured against her breast. He sheathed himself fully into her. “Jesus, Ki,” he breathed, his hips moving, desperate for her.

She arched under him, calling his name. He couldn’t wait, but she was already clenching around his length. “Ki,” he groaned, his breath sobbing in his chest, and then he followed her over the edge.

“Don’t leave me, Drace. I need you. Your child needs you,” she cried out, reaching for him.

Drace came awake, the aftershocks following him into awareness. He lay trembling and covered in sweat. “Shit,” he cursed, realizing he was alone in his big bed, covers kicked around his ankles.
That
hadn’t happened to him in years. He felt like a teenage boy and was faintly embarrassed. He lifted his head to look at his clock: 4:55a.m. He dropped his head back down. “Shit, shit, shit.” He got up and headed for the shower. Afterwards he changed the sheets and then dressed.

He was pouring a second cup of coffee when he realized something his dream Ki had said. Coffee sloshed over his hand, causing him to drop the mug into the sink where it shattered. Drace swore violently. For a moment rage bubbled black behind his eyes, making him light headed. He made it to a seat at the table and put his head between his knees.

Ki was pregnant. He knew that with a certainty, although he wasn’t sure how, and he was almost as certain that she had known it before she had gone back.

Drace sat up and pushed his hair off his face with one hand. He took deep breaths and let his temper cool. In its place came hurt and confusion.
Why didn’t she tell me?

Drace put his elbows on his knees, bowed his head, and felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes. His throat clogged.
I’ve fathered a child I’ll most likely never see.

Anger came back hot in him and the pain threatened to consume him. Drace got up and went to his bedroom. He opened his closet door and took his sword and belt from the hanger on the back. Carrying it in a clenched fist, he went out to the stables.

The horses all stuck their heads over their stall doors and whickered greetings, hopeful for an early breakfast. The only one who didn’t call out was Pride, who stood quietly, ears and eyes focused on his master. It was as if he could feel Drace’s emotions.

Drace entered the stall with Pride’s halter and lead. He slipped it on the stallion’s head and led him out into the barn aisle. With a twist, he swung up from the ground and rode out of the barn bareback, walking the horse outside into the darkness.

There was a hint of sun as dawn approached and Drace kept Pride to a walk until it became lighter. Once he could see clearer, Drace asked Pride for a rocking canter.

They went down the lane between pastures and into the hay meadows. Drace entered the woods on the other side and brought Pride down to a walk since it was still too dark under the trees for speed.

They moved deeper into the woods and came out into a natural clearing. Drace had set up some targets there for practicing the joust, to keep his aim true. There was also a dead tree he had been hacking on with his sword and a punching bag to hit or practice dagger attacks. It was exercise if nothing else.

Pride stopped at the edge of the clearing, knowing this place. Drace normally rode him when he came to train and he truly enjoyed carrying his master in the joust.

Drace slid off Pride’s back and unsnapped the horse’s lead, letting him loose to graze. He knew Pride would not leave him.

On the way Drace had tried to keep his mind clear by concentrating on the sound of Pride’s hooves and nothing else. But now, he let the thoughts come in as he drew his sword, hanging the scabbard in a tree. Drace stripped off his sweatshirt to the tee he wore underneath, tossing it to the side.

He swung his sword in arcs to loosen his muscles and then went to the dead tree and began to attack it. At first he slashed at it with practiced strokes but as his emotions took over there was no finesse. Wood chips flew as he hacked at the tree. One piece flew back and caught him under the eye along his cheekbone. Blood streamed down his face.

Drace went at it until he ran out of air and energy. He sank to one knee, sword point in the ground as he leaned on it, thinking about the dream.
Had it just been an erotic dream or was there some sort of message? Was there trouble?
Why Ki didn’t have magic to reach out to him?