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dragon-blood.” Her eyes widened. “It
was
a dream…wasn‟t it?”

Michael stopped, pulling her back a little from the crowd. “According to him,

you are descended from the Roman goddess, Epona. She protected soldiers and horses.”

Sophie scowled. “That‟s impossible. I‟m Scottish. Well, American, but my

family‟s ancestry is Scottish.”

Michael leaned down to whisper in her ear. “And Scotland is where the Templars

managed to escape with their treasure. The relics were part of that, remember? There are no coincidences, Sophie.” He straightened. “Besides, didn‟t you admit you have a

special affinity for horses?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“No buts. Look.” Michael pointed to the Dock Theatre across the street. As the

twilight turned to dusk, the soft, yellow glow of the old- fashioned streetlamps lit the buildings and behind them, a lavender-colored mist seemed to be forming. It became

brighter and the crowd around them grew quiet.

Suddenly the silence was rent with a deafening roar as several bolts of what

looked like lightning flashed through the air, followed by the furious flapping of leathery wings as a white form streaked through, dipping almost to the roof top and then lifted off, disappearing into the night.

People panicked, milling about, pushing at one another to get away before the

thing returned. A young man with long brown hair brushed against them and Michael

pushed Sophie behind him, setting an invisible ward so people scurried around them. He

scanned the sky for a return, but was pretty sure this had been for show. Balor wanted

them to know that he knew where they were. He felt Sophie‟s fingers tapping his

shoulder.

“Don‟t worry. We‟ll be safe,” he said. “I‟ve got us shielded.”

Sophie raised her arm and pointed. “Then why is she watching us?”

Michael followed her direction to the second floor of the theatre. A young

woman stood quite still, seemingly unaware of the panic ensuing on the street below.

She was dressed in 1830‟s garb, complete with boa, bonnet and bustle. Her gaze held

Michael‟s and then she slowly faded away.

“You‟ve just met your first ghost, Sophie,” he said.

* * * *

Two days later, they were headed down I-95 toward Miami and the Keys.

Museum Mile had turned up nothing nor had several museums in Savannah and St.

Augustine. Sophie shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Is your leg hurting again?” Michael asked.

“Just a little,” she answered as she stretched it as much as she could, “but I‟m not

taking any more pain pills. It was bad enough seeing that apparition. I don‟t want to be seeing ghosts where there aren‟t any because of drugs.”

“Drugs weren‟t affecting you,” Michael answered. “What you saw was real, or at

least as real as a person from the past can be. Charlestonians pretty much take her in

stride.”

“Well, they sure didn‟t take the white dragon in stride, did they?”

“He swept by so fast they aren‟t sure of what they saw, thank God.”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 102

Pendragon rumbled from the rear of the SUV. “Sigurd and I have unfinished

business. I wish you‟d let me get a crack at him.”

Michael glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Just be glad that in your smaller form,

he couldn‟t scent you that well, or you might be ash by now”

He roared, only it sounded more like a growl. “Britain nearly fell because of him.

I want my revenge.”

“And perhaps you‟ll get it,” Michael said, “but the time isn‟t right. We need to

keep you hidden as much as possible. The media went into a frenzy over that sighting.

We can‟t afford for anyone to see you too.”

“At least, we weren‟t the target this time,” Sophie said. “The reporters took it as

some strange phenomenon associated with that purple light.”

“Only because the dragon flew through so fast that people hardly could see what

he was. At least, he didn‟t spot us.”

“I wouldn‟t be too sure of that,” Pendragon said. “Dragons have eyesight sharper

than an eagle‟s.”

Sophie turned in her seat to look back at him. “Then why did he leave us alone?

We were easy targets out in the street like that.”

“I doubt that we‟ll come to any harm until we find the sword,” Michael said.

“Balor doesn‟t know where to look this time, so his best hope is to have us followed.”

“But then why let us know about the white dragon? Wouldn‟t he want to keep

Sigurd as a secret weapon?”

“No doubt,” Michael replied, “but you may have noticed, dragons are not exactly

docile animals.”

“Damn right,” Pendragon said from where he sat.

“They don‟t always follow rules either,” Michael added with another glance in the

mirror.

“Why should we?” Pendragon asked. “We were here before you were and we

aren‟t afraid of demons either.”

“Balor is a more powerful than your average demon,” Michael replied.

“Hmmph!” Pendragon thumped his tail hard.

“Careful!” Michael said. “We have to turn this car back in. Anyway, it‟s just as

well that we know Sigurd is out there. He‟s probably wearing a GPS device as well, so

Balor can put his human minions on our trail.”

Sophie looked from the dragon to Michael. “Maybe we should just abandon this

idea. If Balor doesn‟t know where the sword is and it stays hidden, wouldn‟t that work

out just fine?”

Michael shook his head. “Remember when I told you the relics would stay

hidden for years only to resurface when there was a need for them?”

“Yes, but…”

“We wouldn‟t have been called to do this, Sophie, if something big wasn‟t getting

ready to happen.”

“You mean like more terrorism?”

“That‟s only a start,” Michael said. “Something is looming on the horizon that is

bad enough—evil enough—to destroy human kind. Totally.”

* * * *

“It‟s hard to believe there was actually a fort all the way down here during the

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 103

Civil War,” Sophie said the next day as they sped down the Overseas Highway that

spanned crystal turquoise waters. Waving palms trees and seagrape vines pushed up from

the sand on small islands that greeted them along the way. Dolphins frolicked in the

shallow waters, spraying droplets that sparkled like diamonds in the sunshine. Sports

fishermen zoomed past in expensive vessels, leaving wakes that spewed white foam

behind them. Farther out, majestic sailboats glided slowly across flat seas. She took a deep, contented breath, the first in days. “It‟s hard to think that battles were fought in this paradise.”

“Lots of battles were fought here even before the Civil War,” Michael said.

“Indians, Spanish Conquistadors, pirates, Caribbean islanders…”

“Googling again?” Sophie asked with a smile. She was beginning to appreciate

the hidden academic in him. With his sexy grin and smoldering dark eyes—not to

mention a body that belonged on a romance cover—it was way too easy to react to him

physically and forget the man had a brain. Just what kind of a female version of a

chauvinist was she turning into?

He smiled back. “I just like to know a little bit about the places I‟m going. Are

you hungry?”

“I guess. Breakfast was a long time ago.”

“Good. Ever had conch fritters?” he asked as he pulled into the parking lot of a

Dairy Queen mid-way down the island chain.

“I don‟t think so.”

“Then you‟re in for a real treat.”

“Do they have ice cream here?” Pendragon asked.

Michael rolled his eyes. “That‟s pretty much of a sure thing. I‟ll be right back.”

Ten minutes later, they were on the road again, Sophie savoring the crispy fried

morsels of conch meat and Pendragon happily slurping up what had to be the biggest dish

of ice cream that Dairy Queen had ever sold.

“I know you said the sword would be found in the South because of the Celtic

calendar and the symbolism,” Sophie said as she licked her fingers, “but if one of the

Priory scholars brought it here, wouldn‟t the South have won the war?”

“Good point,” Michael replied, “but remember, the spear had actually been seen

during World War II. I suspect the other relics may have surfaced around that time as

well.”

“So why pick a Civil War site to hide the sword then? Why not a World War

site?”

“Too new. If the relics did surface during the 1940‟s, there weren‟t any museums

built yet to honor the war—and the war was not fought on American soil.

Besides, the irony of hiding the sword that never lost a battle in some designated

Confederate spot would be the perfect cover.”

“Well, Key West is as far south as you can get,” Sophie said.

“That‟s what I‟m hoping,” Michael answered.

And yet, several hours later, they walked out of the historical museum located in

the East Martello Tower disappointed.

“We‟ve still got Fort Taylor State Park to look at as well as Fort Jefferson.”

Sophie raised her brows. “Going to the Dry Tortugas will be a whole day event.

Do you think we can leave Pendragon that long?”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 104

“I‟ll get him some ice cream,” Michael said as they headed back to the SUV, “and

make sure the “Do Not Disturb” sign is on the door. Meanwhile, we can play tourist

tonight and hit Mallory Square and Pirate‟s Alley.”

“It would be nice to relax for a few hours and not worry about the sword,” Sophie

admitted, “or dragons.”

Michael grinned. “Well, we have one dragon who unfortunately is turning out to

be an excellent chaperone.”

Sophie felt herself blush. She had been thinking about breaking free of her more

stoic self for one night and joining the revelers on Duval Street. She‟d been here once with friends while she was in college. It had been a wild and unforgettable night. She‟d actually gotten drunk or maybe it was stoned. She‟d never smoked pot, but plenty of

people that night did and she remembered the pungent odor. Afterwards, she‟d staggered

off with a guy who looked a lot like Michael. That had been the first time a man had

spread her legs over his shoulders and licked her
there
—as if on cue, dampness grew between her thighs. If Michael…

She heard his soft laughter and felt her face heat even more. “Are you reading my

mind?” she demanded as she tried to manage a glare.

“A little. You had your shields way down.” He chuckled and put his arm around

her shoulder casually and then leaned over to whisper in her ear. “If that‟s what you

want, all you have to do is ask.”

His warm breath tickled her nape, sending delightful tingles down her spine while

his hand draped over her collarbone, his fingertips a hairsbreadth away from brushing the tops of her breast. She felt like her knees had jellied. Her traitorous body was doing it to her again. She wanted this man. Shouldn‟t want him. Men were trouble, her rational

mind said. Her body‟s every nerve fiber screamed otherwise.

They reached the car and Michael dropped his hand to open the door for her.

Even though the late afternoon air was warm and humid, the place where his arm had

been suddenly felt cold.

He grinned again as he pulled the seatbelt out for her. “Anytime, Sophie.”

She settled back against the headrest while he walked around to the driver‟s side.

Her thighs quivered. Good God. What if she actually said yes to Michael? She felt

herself grow wet and folded her hands tightly in her lap.

Thank God for a dragon chaperone.

* * * *

In spite of the fact that the trip to Fort Jefferson had not turned up any information

about the sword, Michael bit back a grin as the boat headed toward the mainland. Sophie had been quiet for most of the trip, behaving very properly. Almost primly. Right now, she was leaning over the rail, seemingly entranced by the crystalline water and the coral reefs below the boat.

But he knew better. She wanted him.

That knowledge, which he had gleaned when she let her shields slip, washed over

him like the warm Floridian waters, leaving in their ebb the tendency to want to dive

right into the surf and take her with him.

She liked oral sex.

By the Goddess, it was one of his favorite things to do. Making love to a

woman—nuzzling , nibbling, licking, suckling, kissing—was not complete until he had

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 105

fully tasted her. Everywhere.

He would be delighted to nestle between her legs, using his hands to open her

folds, inserting a finger into her wet, hot core, spreading the slick juices along those inner lips, teasing her bud with his thumb.... He had caught a slight scent of her personal

muskiness before, but now he wanted to thoroughly inhale the perfume of her arousal and

put his mouth to her, laving slowly back and forth before suckling that little pleasure nub to bring her to climax.

Because now he knew she wanted him. He gathered those erotic images into a

thought- form and sent them to her with a gentle nudge. The form bounced back to his

mind. Her shields were firmly back in place again.

But he was willing to wait. He was, after all, centuries old.