IK2 (14 page)

“You‟re on,” she said to Alan. “Tomorrow.”

* * * *

For at least the hundredth time, Michael wanted to kick himself for throwing the

proverbial gauntlet down to challenge Sophie. She wouldn‟t be here this morning,

donning a fencer‟s mask, facing that linebacker, Caldwell.

Of course, she refused to look at Michael where he sat on the side bench. He

recalled their earlier conversation, when he‟d arrived at her house, pushed through the

lingering reporters, and rung her bell.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I‟ve come to escort you to the gym,” he answered.

“I don‟t need an escort. I‟ve driven myself there for years.” Her eyes had

narrowed. “You‟re not still thinking you‟ll fight in my place?”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 57

“I‟m more of a match for him than you. No disrespect intended.”

She had practically rolled her eyes. “This isn‟t some kind of duel. It‟s a fencing
match. There are rules. I‟ll not get hurt.”

“Still. I‟d like to the honorable thing and fight for you.”

She‟d stared at him, as though he had taken leave of his senses. “What are you?

Some throwback to medieval knights?”

Michael sighed now as he watched Sophie assume the first guard position. He

had not been a knight of the Round Table, but he
had
met King Arthur once in Cornwall.

He‟d had his nephews with him—Gawain, Gaheris, Gareth—and they all impressed him

with their fighting skills. Arthur had even invited Michael to come to Camelot, but then that married lady had mucked up his life and he‟d had to flee to Brittany to keep his head attached.

Still, a strong sense of chivalry stayed with him. It was obviously something

twenty-first century women didn‟t appreciate.

Michael watched as Caldwell lunged at Sophie. She spun, light on her feet, and

cut to her right. There was a clash of engagement as Caldwell parried and moved closer

to press her sword. It was just what Michael had feared would happen. The big man

would push the flat of his sword against hers and her upper body strength would be no

match for him. If he hurt her, Michael would make him pay…

His jaw nearly dropped as Sophie passed her blade beneath Caldwell‟s and

disengaged. She sprang back and feinted left. Caldwell thrust straight into open space and stumbled. Michael started to laugh and stopped. Caldwell‟s aura blazed a deep

maroon-red as he regained his footing and moved into a fifth guard position. A chill

swept over Michael. That stance was as close to medieval warfare as modern fencing

got. This was no longer a game.

Caldwell lunged once more and Sophie parried, not sensing the danger. He

reposted and thrust again, using a series of quick jabs as he advanced on her. Sophie

retreated, blocking the now stronger blows as best she could. She had no shield.

“This isn‟t a duel. It‟s a fencing match. There are rules. I‟ll not get hurt.”

Like hell she wouldn‟t. She was almost backed against a wall. Caldwell was

intent on winning. He‟d draw blood in another minute.

Michael leapt from the bench with preternatural warlock speed, brandishing his

right arm, envisioning Excalibur and creating the illusion that he carried a flaming sword.

White-hot light flared from his other hand to Caldwell‟s rapier. Caldwell howled in pain as the metal heated and flung the sword away. He bent over, clenching his hand and

cursing.

Sophie grounded her sword and raised her visor, looking bewildered. “What just

happened?”

“Your friend just came at me with a fiery sword,” Caldwell said through clenched

teeth.

Sophie cut her eyes to Michael who held out his hands, palms up.

“Do you see a sword?” he asked. He prayed she had not; he‟d created the illusion

for Caldwell, but he hadn‟t had much time to fine-hone it. Sometimes the magic flowed

over.

Her brow creased and she looked back at Caldwell. “What sword?”

“The damn, bloody sword he was swinging,” he replied and then straightened,

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 58

giving Michael a calculating look, as though he were remembering something. Then he

turned to Sophie and shook his head. “You probably didn‟t see it. It wasn‟t there. The damn thing was only an illusion.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about? Are you ill?”

Caldwell snorted. “I am fine. Your friend was messing with my head.”

Her frown deepened. “How? I didn‟t see him do anything.”

“Of course you didn‟t. He didn‟t want you to see anything.”

“You‟re not making any sense. Perhaps we should call a doctor…”

“I‟m fine, I told you.” Caldwell pointed to Michael. “He‟s the one who‟s not

normal.”

Sophie‟s gaze flitted to Michael and then back to Caldwell. “I don‟t…”

“Your friend,” Caldwell interrupted, “is a friggin‟ warlock.” He smiled coldly at

her surprised expression. “Or didn‟t he tell you that?”

* * * *

Sophie sat in the passenger seat of Michael‟s sport car, focusing on the traffic

flow on Central Expressway as they made their way home from the fencing episode. As

usual, it was bumper-to-bumper and speeding along a good fifteen miles over the posted

limit, but the flowing mass of metal was somehow comforting today. Normal people

doing their normal routines, probably going to very normal jobs downtown and then back

to normal lives in the „burbs this evening.

Her life certainly wasn‟t
normal
.

“Are you angry with me?” Michael asked as he gave her a quick glance.

Sophie felt a swell of hysteria rising in her throat. Maybe she should just ask

Michael to drive over to Parkland Hospital and she‟d check herself into the psycho ward.

No dragons or warlocks there. Or, if there were, some nice nurse would give her a nice, little pill to make it all go away.

“Tell me you aren‟t really a warlock,” she said without much hope.

He gave her another quick look. “Sorry, but I am.”

She drew a shaky breath. “What…what exactly does that mean?”

“Can we wait until I get you home to talk about this? It‟s complicated.”

“I want to know
now
.”

Michael sighed. “I was born with special intuitive powers. Over the years, I‟ve

been trained to use them.”

Sophie looked at him. “Do you curse people?”

“No. That‟s black magic. It comes back to haunt you.”

“Do you lure people away? Lock them in dungeons or trees or whatever like that

witch did with Merlin?”

A corner of his mouth quirked up in a little smile. “Nope. And Nimue is—

wasn‟t—a witch. She‟s a faerie.”

“A faerie. Of course.” Sophie turned her attention back to the cars speeding past.

So
normal
. Not one of those people had issues with dragons landing on their lawns, or men wearing fire-capes, or faeries flying around. Not to mention a sexy- looking

warlock— She snapped her head back suddenly to study him.

“Is this how you really look? Or is it an illusion covering up horns and a tail?”

He grinned and shook his head. “
Demons
have horns and tails, not warlocks.”

“And I suppose demons are running loose too?” She tried to laugh, but her voice

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 59

cracked.

Michael sobered. “I can assure you they are. Adam Baylor is one. That‟s why it

is so important that we find Excalibur before he does. Can you imagine what a demon

would do with the kind of power the sword has?”

Sophie felt the blood drain from her face. She turned back to stare at the cars, not

seeing them. All this talk of supernatural beings was too much. She was a logical

person. There were logical reasons for everything. Weren‟t there? She didn‟t want to

think about fire-breathing dragons or demons from hell, or wherever they came from.

Parkland was beginning to sound really cozy.

They rode in silence the rest of the way home while she tried to get a handle on

the nonsensical information that Michael had given her. She hardly noticed when he

stopped the car in front of her house. Thankfully, there were no reporters lingering about.

“I have one other question,” she said.

“Sure. What?”

“Can you get inside a person‟s mind? Know what they‟re thinking?”

“Sometimes. It‟s easier when someone is angry or highly emotional. They let

their psychic shields down.”

Highly emotional. Like in sexual climax. Sophie felt her face grow hot. Did he

know about the dream? Dear Lord. Then another thought hit her and she narrowed her

eyes. “Can you put thoughts into someone‟s head?”

Michael hesitated.

“Can you?”

“I can create an illusion. One time, I created an illusion of being a panther to save

a woman from being accosted in a park. This time, Caldwell thought he saw a flaming

sword in my hand.”

“And you can make the person actually feel it? Alan thought it burnt his hand.

That‟s why he threw his rapier down.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my God.” Sophie fumbled for the door handle and stumbled out of the car.

“You were in my head the other night. You put the dream there! How dare you?”

“Wait. I can explain.” Michael opened his door. “I‟ll walk you—“

“No. You stay right here. I don‟t need any more of your illusions right now. And

I thought Robert was a liar! You‟re worse! You made me do—made me
feel
—things—I never… You
controlled
me.”

With a sob, she turned and ran for her front door.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 60

“I told you Sophie called and said she was running late. Why do you keep

pacing?” Morgan asked petulantly.

“We had a misunderstanding yesterday. I need to talk to her.” Michael didn‟t

add that he had gotten her voicemail several times last night.

Morgan gave an exasperated sigh. “That‟s no surprise. The woman is as

unemotional as Mr. Spock.”

If Michael hadn‟t been so tense, he might have laughed. Sophie‟s response in the

dream they‟d shared had been anything but unemotional. Gut level passion and desire

burned in her and he‟d wager anything he‟d owned in his long existence that she‟d truly

be a wild thing in bed with him as well.

But the dream should never have been allowed to enter Sophie‟s mind. He tightly

controlled his fantasies. He knew Sophie had been hurt and didn‟t trust men. The last

thing he would want her to think was that he just wanted casual—albeit it blazingly hot—

sex with her.

He hadn‟t counted on Tanio hanging around after the full-moon ritual, but that

was probably because Pendragon had awakened. They had worked closely forging

Excalibur. Still, to invade his dreams—it was something the trickster, Loki, might have done.

“Are you listening to me?”

Michael focused his attention on Morgan. Her full lower lip was protruding in a

pout so he must have missed something. “Sorry. What did you say?”

Another sigh came from her. “I said she‟s not one of us.”

As if Morgan would know. Michael hadn‟t sensed that Sophie was a witch, but

she did have some sort of special powers. Protective powers, maybe, since she had

instinctively used them to save the puppies from being stepped on.

The counterpoint to “demons from hell” were “angels from heaven” which is how

the modern world thought of it. And Avalon, shrouded in the mists of Time, was

probably closer to a concept of “heaven” these days than it had been when it was an

island guarded by the Lady of the Lake. None the less, its priestesses had been protectors of animal and human life and its male sector, the druids, protectors of earth as well. But, Michael supposed, it didn‟t really matter much what names were put to the ancient battle of good versus evil.

“There are relatively few witches still alive,” Michael replied.

“I don‟t mean that. Sophie isn‟t like
us
.” Morgan slanted a look at him through her lashes.

He grew wary. “Like us?”

“We feel. We lust for life…to experience pleasure. We‟re not afraid to take sex

when and where we can.” Morgan got up from her desk and moved toward him, her

usually sultry sway somewhat stiff, although her mouth was curved in a silky smile.

“From the way you‟re walking, I think you may have been indulging in that

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 61

activity fairly recently.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, but then she placed a hand on his arm. “Why

don‟t you let me work some of that tension out of you?”

“I‟ll be fine once I‟ve talked to Sophie,” he said and withdrew his arm.

“Well, that may be awhile.”

“How late is she running?”

Morgan shrugged. “I think maybe she might have said she had to talk to her

husband…”

“
Ex
-husband,” Michael said and tried not to grit his teeth.

“Whatever. He sure calls here a lot though.”

Michael stared at her. He had felt confident that Sophie harbored no remnants of

love for her former husband, but after last night—what had she said? That he, Michael,