IK3 (21 page)

his hands on it and why that can’t be allowed—” Gavn stopped, aware that

Chloe’s attention had been diverted to a clump of bushes not far away where

excited tourists milled about in the near darkness.

A fireball exploded suddenly near the group. Women shrieked as something

white flashed through the air nearly as fast as lightning, leaving only a

burning bush in its wake. Gavin’s nape prickled.

Sigurd.

****

Gavin had spent the night hunting, but found no more traces of the dragon.

He remained uneasy. From the reports he’d read regarding the search for

the sword, the dragon had manifested in both Charleston and the Florida

Keys. Traces of scorched grass were found near Lake Ponchatrain as well.

Sigurd would have had no trouble tracking the warlock and veterinarian

since they traveled with Pendragon, but the only conclusion Gavin could up

with for being able to track Chloe was the connection with the red dragon

tattoo—and she had said her mother had one as well. Had the whole horrid

devastation following Camlann followed Genievre and himself through the

centuries to the present? Was this bigger than finding the platter?

“I didn’t think it possible, but you haven’t said a word since we started down

Route 49 this morning,” Chloe said as rain pelted the windshield and thunder

boomed overhead.

“I am trying to concentrate on the road. These are not exactly the best

driving conditions,” Gavin replied as a gust of wind blew the hard rain nearly

sideways.

“You really think that puff of white smoke last night was the dragon?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” she replied. “First a red

dragon—or something—was sighted. A big one. You say there’s a white

dragon loose. What we saw last night wasn’t big. We’re not even sure what

it was. There was a fireball and what looked like white smoke. The police are

investigating whether it was a malfunctioning bomb. Why are you sure it

was Sigurd?”

“I just am.”

Chloe shook her head in frustration and went back to looking at the brochure

they’d gotten. “Changing the subject then. There are a number of churches

along this old Mother Lode trail, but a lot of the original ones burned in fires

around 1861-62. Others were built twenty-plus years later. If your theory is

that some member of the Priory arrived here not long after the 49ers,

wouldn’t that limit us to which churches to check out?”

Chloe had a quick mind. Another little trait that Gavin liked. He was finding

more and more to like about her which made him uneasy for an entirely

different reason. He had no right getting involved with her—either physically

or emotionally—when she didn’t even know what he was. Even if he could

get her to believe that vampires existed outside of novels and film, she’d

probably be thoroughly disgusted with the whole gruesome aspect of blood-

drinking. She might even be frightened enough to leave and right now she

needed his protection even if she didn’t realize it.

“Do any of the churches meet that qualification?” he asked.

She nibbled the end of the pencil she was holding. Gavin tried not to notice

how her soft lips closed over the tip. He pushed away the thought of how

that warm, pliant mouth might feel closing over him.

“Just one,” Chloe answered. “St. Ann’s in Columbia. It’s just outside a state

historic park and is the oldest original church still standing. I’d say it’s our

best bet.”

“At least it will be one more place to eliminate,” Gavin said and then braked,

tires squealing as a bolt of lightning struck in front of them.

“Lord! What was—” Chloe didn’t finish the sentence. Instead her eyes

rounded as she stared past him.

Gavin turned his head, although he already knew what he would see.

Sigurd swooped down, his leathery wings brushing the roof of the car before

he soared upward and out of sight.

“Can no one follow my orders?” Balor smashed his cigar out, tempted to lift

his eye patch and send his younger brother flying against the wall.

“Easy, bro,” Lucifer said easily, pouring them both cognac from the

Waterford decanter. “I’m just the messenger.”

“Like hell,” Balor said as he took the snifter.

Lucifer grinned. “Hell isn’t all that bad. At least, from my standpoint.”

Balor glared at him with his good eye. “When did I give you permission to

follow the vampire to California?”

He flopped into the oversized, leather armchair and flung his leg over one

side. Lucifer’s smile faded. “Since when did I start taking orders from you?”

Swirling his brandy, he added, “Besides, if I had not gone, you wouldn’t

have known about Carl’s antics.”

Downing his shot, Balor reached for the decanter again. “What did that fool

think he was doing, showing up at the tourist park and then making a

clumsy cycle attempt to abduct the woman?”

“When I let him talk, he begged me to tell you that he was trying to make

up for his past mistakes.”

“Why would he beg you to tell me that? Do I look like some kind, forgiving

jackass?”

“Hardly.” Lucifer shrugged. ‘It might have had something to do with the fact

that he was hog-tied at the time and had a gay actor’s thick dick shoved

down his throat while I laced his ass with cayenne pepper and screwed him

myself until he passed out. You shouldn’t be having any more trouble getting

him to follow orders though. I branded his balls with a curling iron for good

measure.”

Balor laughed. “Where did you get a curling iron?”

“We were in the actor’s dressing room. I got inspired.”

“Did you take care of him?”

“I paid him off. He’ll be more than happy to work for ‘Lucien’ again.”

“Good. Now what about our other problem? Sigurd hasn’t been behaving

either.”

“The dragon is your problem, dude. All I did was thaw him out of the Artic,

like you asked.”

“You have an affinity with fire just like the dragon does. Can’t you persuade

him to stop making this manic appearances?”

“Maybe. I prefer to keep my distance though. Sigurd belongs to Odin,

Tanio’s arch-enemy—and I deserted Tanio long ago. He still wants to destroy

me.”

“I don’t know why the fire god doesn’t sic Pendragon back on Sigurd.”

“Since we haven’t seen him, I suspect Brighid has him locked up in Avalon.”

“Damn my goddess granddaughter,” Balor muttered. “As soon as I can get

my hand on even one of those relics, I’ll destroy Avalon myself.”

“You’ve still got a shot at the platter. They’ve been searching churches from

what Landon said, but with no luck.”

“Do you really think someone from the Priory would hide the platter in plain

sight?”

“Depends. It could be a brilliant strategy since neither you nor I are exactly

welcome in churches.”

“I can withstand some charred skin, if need be,” Balor answered,

remembering the last time he tried to step inside one of those places. He

had nearly been incinerated. “I prefer to let the vampire do the dirty work

though. It can’t be too pleasant for him either since Christianity doesn’t take

kindly to blood-suckers either.”

Lucifer shrugged again. “It’s strange. According to Landon—the boy can

really get talkative to keep a dick out of his mouth—Myles doesn’t seem

affected by anything. Maybe that girl is more protection than we think.”

“That girl has a connection to the Pendragon. Sigurd sensed the tattoo

immediately.” Balor narrowed his eyes in thought. “If there is a drop of

immortal blood in her, she would indeed be valuable to us. Brighid always

protects her own. Maybe I need to revisit my original thoughts on

kidnapping the bitch.”

“It didn’t work last time. The vampire will be on his guard now.”

Balor snorted. “It didn’t work because Carl Landon is a stupid kid. Every one

of the biker gangs in California has at least one man who answers to me.

Maybe it’s time to call in the pros.”

“I’ll set it up,” Lucifer said.

****

Chloe still had a hard time processing the reality of seeing a dragon. They

had stopped at Sutter Creek overnight to wait out the storm and for Gavin to

“nose about” as he put it. Apparently, Sigurd had made an appearance only

for them since no one else reported a sighting.

Still, Chloe kept looking uneasily around her as they spent the next day and

a half trooping in and out of a dozen churches.

“Try to relax,” Gavin said as they drove into Columbia late in the afternoon.

“the dragon was sent to scare you.”

“It worked.” Chloe looked over at him. Outwardly, he seemed calm, but his

jaw was set so firmly it seemed chiseled out of stone and he kept moving his

gaze from side to side, although slowly enough most people wouldn’t detect

it. Having spent so much time alone with him in the car, Chloe had become

attuned to his little quirks—or at least the public ones. She spent the rest of

her time fantasizing about what his bedtime habits were. She still hadn’t got

past his door, darn it.

Chloe looked around as they got out of the car and gave a surprised gasp.

“Look at the wooden sidewalks! And the old western store fronts! Everything

seems so authentic!”

“It should be. The travel guide said it’s a working town.”

“And look! People are in period costumes! How cool!” She reached inside her

hobo-bag purse and pulled out the somewhat tattered guide as a tourist-

filled stagecoach drawn by four clomping horses rattled by. “Parts of the

movie High Noon were filmed here—and there’s a real blacksmith shop as

well as the gold-panning thing. Oh,” she said excitedly, “and a Masonic

Temple! Didn’t you say those Priory guys descended from the Templars and

Masons? Maybe that should be the first place we look.”

“That is a good idea.” Gavin smiled at her and Chloe felt herself grow warm

and tingly. Geez. She was pathetic reacting to an off-hand compliment and a

small smile as though Gavin had lavished oodles of heat-sizzling declarations

of passion. Like that was going to happen.

He took the guide from her and then frowned. “The original building was

destroyed by the 1854 fire and the rebuilt one torn down around 1890. The

current one dates to 1950. Probably too new for the platter to be there.

But,” he said as he handed the book back. “We can look.”

She should have known that was too easy, Chloe thought as they trudged up

Kennebee Hill later to where St. Anne’s Church stood. “The book says it was

built in 1856,” she said as they walked up the marble steps to enter the

small church. Clear glass windows lined the side walls with narrow, wooden

pews filling the interior.

They moved closer to the white altar graced by three gilded arches painted

with celestial angels serving as a backdrop. “It’s beautiful,” Chloe said and

then noticed that Gavin at taken his shades off and was staring at the

Madonna, nearly transfixed.

“What is it?” she asked. “Catholic churches always have statues of the Virgin

Mary. Is something wrong with it?”

He forced his gaze away and turned to her. “No. Of course not.” He looked

at the communal silver plate and sacrificial cup sitting on the altar. “No

golden platter here either.”

“Well, there’s a museum in the Knapp building. We can try that next.”

It held no clues either. Chloe felt discourage by the time they finished

touring it. “What now?”

Gavin glanced at his watch. “We might as well get rooms here tonight,

unless you want to continue on.”

Chloe shook her head. “I think I’d like to play tourist for a little while. Why

don’t you book the rooms and I’ll meet you at the Charles Saloon in about

an hour?”

Gavin looked up and down the street. “I don’t think I should leave you

alone.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. All the shops are still open and the place is crawling

with tourists. Not a dragon in sight.”

His mouth quirked a little. “Still—”

“Go on! Guys hate trailing after women while we shop. I promise I’ll stay

right here on the main drag.” She gave him a little push. “I’ll be fine.”

Gavin hesitated and then nodded. “Promise me you’ll not wander off on your

own.”

He almost sounded like he cared. Maybe a girl could get used to having a

knight-in-shining-armor. “I promise.”

For the next forty-five minutes, Chloe enjoyed the many shops filled with

friendly clerks dressed in crinolines and bonnets. At the blacksmith shop,

men dressed as miners tipped their hats to her and she found herself

entering the play-world of the 1800’s. And she really wished she had a

costume too when she finally sat down in a wooden armchair at Charlie’s.

Being in Columbia was almost like being on a movie set.

She ordered a drink and when the waitress brought it back, she also slid a

ticket toward her. “Just sign your name on the back and we’ll put it the jar

for a drawing for a free stagecoach ride. It’ll be the last one for the evening.”

Chloe loved horses and she’d watched several groups of laughing tourists go

by in the coaches earlier. Gavin might even like it—he certainly was a superb

rider. And who knows? Maybe she could bump against him enough to get