IK2 (7 page)

She yawned as she sat down at her desk and checked the email. A couple of

adoption applications and the usual jokes and political comments of the day. She deleted a cutsy note from Robert. At least there were no nasty little queries about whether she

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 27

was insane or just out for publicity that had been coming in the past week. No crank

phone calls either, tying up her receptionist. The interview she had given Toby never

appeared in the paper and she had mixed feelings about that. It probably was not of that much interest since the media had moved on to other stories. She was a dim memory.

But she did remember what had happened. Try to deny it she might, but that

dragon had been
real.
Only Michael seemed to accept that.

Michael. She tried not to think about how her skin tingled at the mere brush of

his fingers or how his body heat had enveloped her while they were at the computer a few days ago—her traitorous body had waited in anticipation of his hands running over her

shoulders, down her arms and encircling her waist as he pulled her up against him….

Sophie toyed with a pencil absently. Michael had not touched her. Why would

she want him to? Physical attraction only led to disastrous results. For men, sex was a conquest and a carnal release of momentary passion. She had experienced that during her single years of dating more than once. For her, sex was an emotional investment—

putting her faith and trust in someone who would share all of his life with her. And she had thought Robert was the one. Even though he turned women‟s heads just walking

through a room, he had kept his attention riveted on
her
. He had said and done all the right things to make her feel special…. In the end, it had all been a sham. She had just been another trophy he wanted to acquire.

No, physical attraction needed to be restrained. Definitely.

Her hands stilled. Damn it. She could not deny that she was physically attracted

to Michael. Her body hummed when she saw him. When he got into her personal space,

she felt as though she were physically being pulled toward him. Like he was some big,

hunky magnet that she had no ability to step back from. Definitely dangerous.

Absolutely dangerous for her to even be thinking…

Sophie grabbed her dragon keychain and headed for the door. Enough of this

wool-gathering. It was already dark outside and she needed to head home. Tomorrow

morning, she would go to Mr. Smith‟s to take Princess‟ stitches out. Surely Michael

would not be there if she arrived bright and early.

She had just locked the door when she heard the whirring of leathery wings. A

bright light nearly blinded her. She felt the dragon‟s hot breath even before she turned around.

It was sitting on the street, its spiked tail with the spear tip wrapped around its

front claws, showing no sign of aggression. It blinked its cobalt eyes slowly, then tilted its head as if to study her.

It reminded her of an over-sized dog.
Avatar
-sized. Maybe she really was losing it. How did someone know if she were having a nervous breakdown anyhow? Still—

She took a step closer. The dragon didn‟t move. She closed her eyes, then slowly

re-opened them. It was still there. Hesitantly, she ventured another step. The dragon tipped its head, almost as if it were nodding. A small puff of smoke escaped from its

nostrils, but no flame of fire.

“What do you want?” she asked in a voice slightly above a whisper. She probably

really was losing it, standing on her lawn talking to a metal-scaled dragon as though she were trying to calm a nervous cat. But it was an animal, living and breathing. Why had it come again? Was it hurt in some way she could not see? If it needed her… “Can I

help you?”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 28

The dragon pulled back its lips, exposing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Sophie drew

back. Obviously, it didn‟t need her
help
. But it stayed where it was and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if it was smiling, like some dogs do. A hysterical bubble of

laughter rose in her throat. Next, she‟d be imagining it would roll over and want its belly rubbed. Did dragons have soft underbellies?

Porch lights were snapping on down the street and she could hear doors slamming

as her neighbors started shouting. One of them was running toward her with a raised

shotgun.

“Go!” she said to the dragon. “Get away before they kill you!”

The dragon blinked once, then turned its massive head, releasing a stream of fire

that snaked along the tarred street, before it rose gracefully in the air, its wings beating rhythmically. The shotgun fired and the dragon roared, sending another ball of flame

rolling down the street. One of her neighbors shrieked and Sophie could hear the sound

of sirens coming closer.

She covered her face with her hands. Not again! Just when she thought the

nightmare was over….

A gently firm hand touched her shoulder. She separated her fingers and peered

out.

“I‟m here,” Michael said.

Instinctively, she leaned into his warm, solid body. He put a comforting arm

around her and led her back toward the clinic, taking the key from her s haking fingers

and getting them inside, away from the prying eyes of the gathering crowd.

“The police will be here any minute,” she said, her voice quivery. “I don‟t know

that I can go through this again.”

Michael turned her in his arms so she was fac ing him. He held her close enough

that his body heat enveloped her, along with the strangely comforting woodsy scent

tinged with a hint of heather. His hands soothed her back in long, slow strokes. His

voice rumbled low in a language she did not understand, but the cadence was rhythmic

and slow, relaxing her. She should step back…but it felt so good. No one had made the

effort to console her since her parents were killed several years ago. If she could just linger a bit .....

The blare of police siren cut off abruptly and she knew she‟d have to face them.

With a sigh, she began to pull away, but Michael‟s hands slid upward over her shoulders

and cupped her head. He bent down, brushing her lips with his in a light, gentle gesture that was leisurely, yet promising. Sophie felt herself softening, melting against him,

wanting
him…

With a start, she broke away, her hand to her mouth, staring at him. What

affected her thinking whenever she was near him? There were police pounding on the

door, for God‟s sake.

His mouth turned up at one corner in a smile, but his eyes smoldered a different

message, which she tried to ignore as she made her weak-kneed way to the door.

The problem of a centuries-old dragon showing up on her doorstep was easier to

handle than the problem of Michael. Way easier.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 29

Michael watched as Sophie clipped the stitches with a steady hand, pulling gently

to remove them from the little terrier. It was quite a contrast from the emotional state she had been in last night when he arrived at her clinic.

Of course, there had been a big, red dragon breathing fire at the silly fools who

thought a twenty-gauge shotgun shell would pierce his armor.

Michael hadn‟t meant to kiss her either. Centuries spent as a male—to say

nothing of enhanced warlock abilities—told him this woman had been hurt and not likely

to succumb to any intimate gestures without a solid relationship. He had meant to

comfort her, ease the despair he felt in her, but the desperation he‟d seen in her eyes at the arrival of the police had triggered that kiss. And, by the Goddess, her lips had been soft and warm and moist just like he imagined the wonderful juncture between her legs

would be— His reverie ended as Mr. Smith entered the study, carrying a folder.

Sophie looked up. “Is that the manuscript?”

“It is indeed,” he replied and sat down at his desk. Princess bounded to him, her

three puppies tumbling over each other as they wobbled after her.

Michael laughed and scooped the pups up in his hands as he took one of the two

chairs opposite Mr. Smith. “Your mom needs a rest,” he said to them as Mr. Smith slid

the folder toward him.

Sophie approached more slowly and sat in the other chair. “Shouldn‟t something

this old be kept in an environmentally-controlled compartment or something?”

“Oh, this is just a copy,” Mr. Smith said. “The original is in my vault. I have

very good security. Go ahead. Read it.”

Michael let one of the puppies nibble on his finger while they waited for Sophie

to finish. Princess watched him anxiously and he finally set the pups down and gave her a pat on her head. “There you go, Mama,” he said as she sniffed her offspring.

Sophie put the manuscript down and shook her head. “I can believe the Templars

found some ancient religious relics. Anyone who is interested in history knows the

original nine spent their time digging around Solomon‟s Temple rather than “protecting”

Christian pilgrims on Crusade. Stories of the vast Templar treasure are legendary. I can even believe that they managed to smuggle it out of France and to Scotland before that

dreaded round-up on Friday the 13th. But magical? How can an inanimate object wield

power?”

“I don‟t blame you for being skeptical,” Michael replied. “You‟ve been trained to

deal with facts and proof. For the sake of argument, let‟s assume the Templars did get

the treasure—whatever it was—to Scotland and under the protection of the St. Clair‟s,

who opposed the French king and his somewhat dubious alliance with England. Studying

history, it‟s pretty safe to bet that it was the Templars who were the “warrior force” that gave Robert the Bruce his victory at Bannockburn. Are you okay with that?”

Sophie shrugged. “I suppose. But what does a lesson in Scottish history have to

do with Celtic relics supposedly handed down by some mythical gods?”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 30

Mr. Smith pursed his lips at that. “My dear Sophie. Your name means

“wisdom”, did you know?”

She frowned at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Tsk. Tsk,” Mr. Smith replied. “A wise woman would be willing to accept new

ideas and concepts, wouldn‟t she?”

“Concepts, yes, but…”

“Just keep an open mind, my dear.”

Sophie grunted and turned back to Michael. “Go on, please.”

“I‟m going to have to back-track a little for you to understand how this particular

manuscript was written,” Michael said. “Excalibur is one of four sacred relics that were entrusted to a secret order of Templars referred to as Priory of Sion…”

“Are you going to go
DaVinci Code
on me?” Sophie asked suspiciously.

Michael shook his head. “The relics were passed down through the Merovingian

bloodline and the Priory was the elite guard trained to protect them.”

“Whose bloodline?”

“The Merovingian kings of Gaul, also known as the Sorcerer Kings, were

considered quite a threat to the Roman Church in the sixth century because of their

knowledge and use of esoteric and occult skills.”

Sophie grimaced. “So how are French kings from fifteen hundred years ago

relevant to the manuscript? It isn‟t
that
old.”

“Patience, my dear,” Mr. Smith interjected.

“They‟re relevant because they were descendents of the Fisher Kings, who traced

their lineage back to Joseph of Armathea.” Michael eyed Sophie as though waiting for

her to interrupt again, but she was silent, so he continued, “Pelles, the king during

Arthur‟s time, had a daughter named Elaine who married Lancelot…”

“And Galahad was born and eventually found the Holy Grail!” Mr Smith clapped

his hands excitedly. “Doesn‟t it all just fit together?”

Sophie studied him, wondering if both of these men were slightly insane, but

before she could comment, Michael went on.

“I can see the skepticism on your face, but it‟s the truth. However, to move

forward and answer your original question—the manuscript was probably written in the

twentieth century, but in medieval Gaelic so only those who were meant to read it

would.”

“There aren‟t too many people who major in medieval languages, are there?”

Sophie asked.

“No, but the Priory still exists.”

“Uh-huh,” Sophie said.

Michael smiled. “I know it‟s hard to believe, but each of the relics would have

been protected by a person with interest in that field. The spear and the sword are both battle weapons, so my guess is they would have had a military guardian. Someone like

General Lee or Winston Churchill or maybe even Patton.”

“Patton?”

“Well, you know he loved history and believed in re-incarnation. He spoke of

battle sites where he had fought before.”

Sophie stared at him. “You‟re saying these men were members of an ancient

secret order of the Templars?”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 31

“I can‟t say that. No one knows who members of the Priory are except for the

Grand Masters, who are always referred to as
Jean
.”