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was
worse
than that man. Michael cringed inwardly. Sophie thought he had betrayed her. Worse, she thought he could control her emotions, which he couldn‟t unless he used black magic and he was a sworn protector of the Light. Goddess, he had hurt Sophie!

Like a wounded animal, would she seek shelter in the arms of someone familiar?

Would she give Robert another chance? From the conversations Michael had with the

man, as well as the long list of rogues and rakes he‟d dealt with over the centuries,

Michael knew his type. Those men loved the hunt. They sweet-talked women into

believing they cared. They lavished compliments and gifts and attention until they had

their quarry cornered as deftly as the proverbial deer- in-the-headlights. Once the

conquest had been achieved, they moved on to other prey. Michael had seen it,

thousands of times. Unfortunately, it worked only too often since the women they

targeted were innocent, if not naïve, of such motives.

Morgan‟s fingers trailed up his arm again, her hand resting lightly on his chest,

palm flattening against his nipple. “Why don‟t you forget about her and let me make you feel good?”

Her touch, inadvertently, was close to his heart and a chakra pathway opened for

him. Morgan had her psychic shields down, concentrating on trying to seduce him, and

he probed her other thoughts. The image of the man who drifted on the periphery of her

mind surprised him.

Michael looked down at her. “Tell me,” he said a low voice that was deadly

calm, “how do you know Adam Caldwell?”

* * * *

Sophie stopped just short of the doorway to her office staring at Michael and

Morgan. Morgan was running her hand seductively over his chest, and practically

purring at the man. He said something to her, too low for Sophie to hear, but Morgan

just gave him a coy look and a sultry smile.

Well, if Sophie needed any affirmation in not trusting a
warlock,
this was it. All that supposed sincerity of his—and Dear God, she had actually thought him to be sincere

and maybe even honest—was just a scam.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked as she entered the room.

Michael jerked away from Morgan as if burned by a flame. No doubt Morgan,

with her long, blue-black hair and alabaster skin, was a hot number in his eyes. The tight, low-cut blouse she wore practically had her boobs popping out. Why had Sophie not

noticed before how provocatively Morgan dressed?

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 62

“You aren‟t interrupting anything,” Michael answered. “It seems that Morgan

knows Alan Caldwell and I was wondering how they met.” He looked back at Morgan,

waiting for an answer.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she said and flounced over to Sophie‟s desk,

straightening some paperwork. “I went to Mr. Smith‟s a few months ago looking for

Sara and Alan was there. We met a couple of times for drinks. Why?”

“It seems that Caldwell knew I was a warlock. Did you tell him?”

Morgan cast her eyes at Sophie and then back to Michael. “I might have.”

“You know we don‟t make that information public, Morgan. Too many people

get the wrong idea or want magical help.”

“Alan didn‟t seem to care that I was a witch,” Morgan replied and glanced at

Sophie again. “Is that what your little misunderstanding was about?”

Sophie glared at Michael. “I didn‟t realize I was the subject for public discussion.

Perhaps you should leave.”

“Not until you‟ve heard me out, Sophie.” He turned to Morgan. “Close the door

on your way out.”

She pouted and then tossed her head. “Just remember what I said.”

“I‟m not even going to ask,” Sophie said as she sat down stiffly behind her desk.

“However, if you think I‟m still going to go hunting some mythical sword with you,

forget it. Use your magic to find it.”

“I would, if that was all that was necessary,” Michael said mildly and pulled a

straight back chair close to the side of Sophie‟s desk, “but Pendragon‟s appearance tells me you are needed to come with me.”

Sophie studied him. “Dragons don‟t exist. I came to the conclusion last night

that he is an illusion. You somehow sent it so that I‟d buy this whole story.”

“He‟s real, Sophie. You‟ve seen the scorch marks on your grass.”

“You could have put those there too,” she said stubbornly.

“But I didn‟t.” Michael leaned closer and she caught that unique woodsy scent of

him. “I don‟t know what I can do to convince you, but I did not send you that dream.”

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Well, I certainly didn‟t enter
your
mind.”

“No. Tanio did it.”

“Oh, yeah. The fire-god guy. I‟ll admit, you are really good with illusions. You

almost had me convinced all this stuff was real.”

“It‟s all real. Why do you think the media has camped out all this time?”

Sophie stared into space. “Maybe it‟s some kind of group-hallucination. Stage

magicians do it all the time.”

A shadow crossed Michael‟s face. “Sleight-of-hand and hypnotic suggestions are

not magic.” He sighed. “My guess is that Tanio tapped into my head—without my

permission, but gods never think they need it—and decided to show you an extra benefit

that could be had.” He held up a hand before she could protest. “I‟ll admit it was my

fantasy and I suppose I should apologize for fantasizing about yo u, but I swear, I don‟t make any moves unless they‟re welcomed. I‟ve told you that before.”

She turned back to look at him. “You admit you fantasize about me and yet you

expect me to travel with you? Spend nights in hotel rooms next to each other?”

He smiled, showing his dimple. “I guess you mean in
separate
rooms next to

each other?”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 63

Sophie felt her face heat at the implication of what she said. God, how Freudian

could she get? “Definitely
separate
rooms—that is,
if
I were going with you, which I‟m not. Dragons and fire-gods? Not to mention horned-demons. You almost had me

believing it, but then I remembered how fanatical Mr. Smith is when he‟s onto

something. He‟s a real medieval aficionado and he‟s wealthy enough to indulge himself.

So my guess is, when his assistant came back from London with that manuscript, he

decided to sponsor an expensive scavenger hunt. He‟s told me over and over that I need

a little adventure in my life. How much did he pay you to arrange all this? ”

Michael‟s eyes darkened. “He didn‟t. I give you my word that Excalibur exists

and that a demon who wants to control, and maybe destroy, the world is hunting for the

same sword. We have to find it before he does.” He stood and walked to the door and

then turned. “I‟m going to have a little talk with Tanio. When I come back, you‟ll have your proof.”

Sophie sat mutely at her desk after he was gone. It was all so confusing. Nothing

made sense and she had always been ruled by logic. One possibility was that she truly

was having a nervous breakdown, but everything else in her life seemed rational and real.

The clinic functioned. Clients trusted her with their pets. Augustin still gave her his special nuzzle….

Or maybe Mr. Smith, who loved to meddle, really was pla ying a hoax. But what

Michael had said about the media hovering for days niggled at her. They couldn‟t all be fooled, could they?

She shut her eyes, not wanting to think of the other option.

Maybe demons, dragons, faeries and warlocks existed and she had been too

oblivious to see. Maybe there was some grandiose scheme in the universe to have good

battle evil. Certainly, the unrest in the Middle East had been raging for years now.

Suicidal terrorists had created fear in the hearts of sane people. Drug cartels murdered people for no reason. World-wide economies were crashing… Maybe some evil force

really was behind it all.

Maybe Michael was right about everything. How could she know for certain?

* * * *

The dragon lay dozing, his eyes fluttering as his tail clinked gently against the

rocky floor of his cave. In his dream, he was back with Uther and the Roman legions.

Although Rome had long left Britain to defend itself from the Byzantine empire,

Romulus Augustulus still allowed soldiers of Roman descent to train in his armies.

And that is where the Pendragon left Uther, once he learned that Rome held other

pleasures.

He had first seen her as a wild, white mare, her sleek, silvery neck arched

gracefully, mane and tail flowing as she galloped over the steep slope of a hill, sure of her footing, hooves seeming to float above the ground. Being a young dragon back then, he

thought to have a bit of sport with the free, feisty horse.

So it came as a surprise to him to find his fireballs ricocheting back and actually

knocking him onto his haunches. When the smoke cleared, the most beautiful woman

he‟d ever seen stood in front of him. Dressed in a white tunic trimmed in gold thread, her long, moonlight-colored hair flowed around her, but her dark e yes flashed their own fire.

“You dare to trifle with me, dragon?” she asked.

Pendragon flicked his tail and blinked. „I wanted to play with the horse.”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 64

She stared at him and then she lifted her head and sniffed, taking in his scent.

“You are not from here. Where is your home?”

“Briton. I am mentor to a young soldier who wants to take his country back from

Vortigern.”

The woman tilted her head. “What is this soldier‟s name?”

“Uther. He takes my name also. I am called Pendragon.” He said it rather

proudly and rattled his scales.

She ignored him, seeming to be in deep thought. “It is written in the wind there

will be mighty battles in Briton, but your Uther will not lead them. However, his son will
overcome the Saxons swine.”

Pendragon puffed smoke. “How do you know this?”

She raised her arms to the sky and laughed. When she lowered them, she was

clad in full warrior armor, a Lorica segmentata covering her shoulders and breasts, and
strips of heavy leather hung over a shortened tunic. Slender yet muscular calves were
encased in leather strips holding hob-nailed sandals tight to her feet. In one hand she
held a spatha and in the other, the spear-like pilus.

“Because I am Epona, goddess of horses and soldiers.” Her eyes blazed sparks

of fire. “I will be there.”

The dragon stirred in his sleep and slowly became aware that he was no longer

alone in his lair. He opened a cobalt eye to see Tanio and the warlock. He sat up

abruptly, banging his head on the hard ceiling.

“Is something the matter with the girl?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” Tanio answered with a look at Michael. “Do you want to explain

or shall I?”

“I will,” Michael replied and proceeded to inform Pendragon of all that had taken

place. “So you see,” he concluded, “Sophie thinks I conjured up everything. She doesn‟t think you are real.”

The dragon snorted, flames shooting out the cave. “Not real? I will visit her

again tonight then and the next as well.”

Michael shook his head. “Your visits are keeping the media on high-alert looking

for a story. If we‟re to find Excalibur, we don‟t need reporters following us. Besides,”

he added, “she needs to get close enough to touch you, to communicate with you. Then

she‟ll have to admit you exist.”

The spikes on his head raised with interest. “Can you help her shape shift? She

can really see for herself what a dragon is like then.” Memories of Epona shifting to

dragon form flashed through his mind. They‟d soared over Rome‟s hills together, made

dragon- love…

“She‟d never speak to me again if I even tried that,” Michael said.

“Then what?” Pendragon asked. “She can come out into the street I guess. I‟ll

not burn her.”

“Your size is a bit intimidating,” Tanio replied. “But perhaps there is a way…”

The dragon‟s eyes turned midnight blue. “If what I‟m thinking you‟re thinking,

the answer is no.”

Tanio removed his flaming cape and swirled it over the Pendragon‟s head. “I‟m

afraid the answer is yes, my friend,” he said.

* * * *

Balor looked around the empty warehouse in a drug-invested neighborhood of

south Dallas. No one would bother him here. No one would call the police if they heard screaming. No one would question a drugged man being dragged in. Whatever people

inhabited the streets and tenements around them would not care.

It was the most perfect place for punishment.

He looked up at the steel girder from which dangled a leather strap, the thick

studded collar at its end turned inside out, so that the blunted spikes poked against the neck of the unconscious man who lay naked on the floor.

“You did well, my pet,” he said to Morgan.

She looked up from filing her nails. “He should be coming around soon. I didn‟t

doze him too much.”

Balor smiled and turned his attention again to Cald well, still passed out. “I grow