The Immortals I_Lucas

by Cynthia Breeding

“No. The disc/platter/pentacle’s element is earth and its direction north. The chalice, of course, holds water and its direction is west. The direction of sunset and the Otherworld, according to Celtic legends. The sword is fire—as in the avenging archangel Michael—the direction is south. And the spear,” she said with emphasis, “is the element of air and its direction is east, just like dawn.” She put the paper down triumphantly. “And Nova Scotia is east of here.”

  Lucas gave her a little smile. “Unless the world has shifted off its base, yes.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go to Oak Island.”

  “I still think we’re wasting both time and money to go there. In over two hundred years of excavating, and millions of dollars spent, not to mention lives lost, nothing has been found.” Lucas raised a brow. “There’s a reason it’s called the “Money Pit”. It’s also privately owned. We probably couldn’t even set foot on it.”

  “Ah! I did some research on the internet last night,” Sara said. “It’s currently for sale. Now if the owner wants to sell it, he’s going to have let people see it, right?”

  “And we look like millionaire investors looking for a place to throw away our money?” Lucas asked.

  Sara thrust her chin out. “Well, I’m sure a Scotland Yard man could figure out a way to gain access.”

  Lucas hid a smile and gathered up the papers. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a wee bit stubborn?”

  She looked out the window. “Never.”

  The smile burst into a grin. “You aren’t too good at lying either.”

  “That’s because I’m out of practice. I prefer telling the truth.” Sara turned back to him. “Okay. Maybe I am a “wee” bit stubborn.” Michael had used the word “tenacious” more than once and even Brianna had cautioned her about being willful. She had to be careful in rituals not to influence others by projecting her will. Hmmm…she prodded the edge of Lucas’ mind just a little and got a fleeting image of a large dog curled up asleep. And then nothing. His shield snapped up.

  She found him watching her, his golden eyes trained on hers. “Are ye into mind games, lass?”

  She got the distinct feeling that she was dabbing a toe into some very deep and dangerous waters. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He slid his chair closer, placing one hand on the back of her chair, his arm trapping her between the table and his body. With his other hand, he cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him as he leaned forward.

  “Ye are a channeller, lass. I felt it yesterday. Who are you? What else are you?”

  Before she could answer, she felt his mind touch hers. It was with such strength that she felt as though she had been pushed against a wall and held there. Not that her willing body would have minded the actual physical act. Trapped by his arms, his muscular body pressed hard against her breasts and abdomen, with no place to turn and every wiggle only increasing the pleasurable fiction… By the Goddess, I can’t let him see that! She closed her eyes and concentrated on making her mind go blank.

  The pressure inside her head eased and when she opened her eyes, he had released her, a somewhat amused expression on his face. Dear Goddess. She hoped her face wasn’t flaming like her errant body was. She jumped up and started toward the door.

  “I’ll just go and make the flight and hotel reservations.”

  “One room or two?” Lucas asked teasingly.

  Damn! He read my mind. She didn’t answer, but slammed the door behind her.

  * * * *

  He shouldn’t have teased her, Lucas thought as they stood waiting for their luggage at the Halifax airport the next day. Not when he knew too well what the wolf could do and that he had to keep this relationship platonic.

  But he hadn’t expected to enter into such a purely erotic and physical scene. Even now there were moments when he could still feel the soft sponginess of her breasts crushed to his chest, the hard nipples penetrating his shirt. Her soft belly had rotated against his and in a moment, if she hadn’t closed her mind off to him, he would have slipped a leg between her thighs and had her ride him… The wolf perked up its ears.

  He groaned slightly as the baggage carousel began to turn. All he had wanted to do was teach her a lesson not to go probing into other people’s minds uninvited and look what it got him. Sara affected him far more than any woman had since he joined the Templars. This was not going to be an easy trip. At least she had booked two rooms.

  They proceeded on to clear Customs and then to car rentals. They grabbed some lobster rolls at the ever present Golden Arches and were soon headed east for the relatively short drive to Mahone Bay. Once there, they turned left at Grandall’s Point onto the causeway. Lucas had managed to get clearance through the offices of Triton Alliance and when they reached the gate near mid-island, they were dispatched through. They circled the swamp and finally came to a small parking lot that had been used for workers of the many drilling projects that had been done.

  It was just past noon and the calm waters of the bay reflected the deep blue of an almost cloudless sky. Spring this far north was still crisp and cool and he noticed how Sara pulled her windbreaker closer.

  “You’re cold. Do you want my jacket?” Before she had time to answer, he stripped it off and placed it around her shoulders. He lifted her hair out from under it and settled it on her back. He thought he felt a quick intake of her breath.

  “You’ll freeze,” she said.

  “This flannel shirt will be fine,” he said. He hadn’t felt really cold in centuries. “Come this way. The original pit is over there.”

  They walked a short distance to a fenced off area. “This is as close as you’re going to get,” Lucas said.

  Sara looked frustrated. “There’s no marker or explanation or anything.”

  “This isn’t a tourist spot,” Lucas answered, “at least, not yet. Depends on who buys it, I guess. But you’ve got to admire the intelligence of whomever built this.” He pulled some notes out of the pocket of his jacket, his fingers grazing the top of her breast and smiled inwardly at her sudden intake of breath. “Over two hundred feet deep, oak platforms every ten feet, charcoal filter at forty feet, coconut fiber found at sixty, and finally, at ninety feet there’s an inscribed stone.”

  She looked up at him. “And a Halifax professor deciphered it to read that forty feet deeper lies two million pounds of treasure. I got that off the web.”

  Lucas nodded, thinking how blue her eyes were in this crisp, clean air. “So they kept digging deeper. Then somewhere below one hundred fifty feet, they finally hit a vault—cement, no less—but all that was recovered eventually was a piece of parchment with the letters ‘vi’ or ‘ui’ on it. But the real ingenuity,” he continued, “was the two flood tunnels that kept booby-trapping any efforts to reach the bottom of the pit.”

  Sara’s brow furrowed in thought. “I think I read that they cross the island and were hidden in manmade beaches. Right?”

  “Yes,” Lucas answered and stuffed the notes in his jeans. Better not take a chance on touching her again. The wolf’s ears were pricked forward. “Whoever designed this had more than a passing knowledge of advanced hydraulics, because those tunnels could move six hundred gallons of ocean water per minute.”

  “Quite a feat,” Sara agreed, “considering this was all supposed to have been built over four hundred years ago. Now who would have the kind of knowledge needed to build something like this then?”

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s a question,” Lucas said with a smile as he watched the sunlight glisten almost raven-blue off Sara’s dark hair. He resisted the urge to curl some of the silky strands around his finger.

  “It isn’t,” she answered, seemingly unaware of his distraction. “Masons could have done it. Like the ones who built Roslyn Chapel in the 1400’s. Men who descended from the Templars who fled to Scotland. The Templars were builders of great cathedrals in Europe, weren’t they?”

  He nodded, remembering the rou
nd design that was typical of a Templar church. The circle was more pagan than Christian. Which made him think of the picture in Sara’s apartment and the standing stones of Avalon. How much did Sara really understand of those power symbols in her home? He didn’t dare probe her mind again…not unless he wanted to suffer the effects of a painful erection.

  “Are you listening?” she asked.

  He forced himself to refocus, especially since the wolf had alerted to his interest. Did those full pouting lips have to be so inviting? “Yes. Go on.”

  “I think it all ties in. If the Sinclairs had claimed this island before the Scottish Inquisition, why wouldn’t they move the treasure here? And certainly, the Hallows would be the most important!”

  “The Templar’s treasure may indeed lie down below,” Lucas answered, “but the guardians of the Hallows would never have left them together. What if, somehow, the wrong person—like Baylor—found them? The Sinclairs would most certainly have hidden them in four separate locations.” Hell, I told Galahad to take only the Grail to Sarras, but would he listen? For six hundred years--until Payen’s original Templars and I could begin digging at Solomon’s Temple—the treasure lay vulnerable..

  “Well, if they’re here, they’re safe,” Sara said in a dejected voice. “There isn’t anything you or I can do that hasn’t already been tried.”

  “That’s why I think this whole thing was built as a ruse. No one can get to the bottom. Would the Sinclairs really want to keep the Hallows hidden forever?” He paused and then added, "Aren’t we forgetting the verse? It says, “Seek first the Spear”. Wouldn’t that indicate that the Hallows are in four different places?”

  She looked up at him, hope rekindling in her eyes. “That’s true.” Then her face fell. “But even if the Sinclair ships came this far, where else would they have gone? America hadn’t been discovered yet.”

  Lucas laughed. “Don’t be too sure about that. I could tell you stories of both the Norse and the Celts being in America five hundred years before Columbus. But seeing the doubt on your face, perhaps I could show you something tomorrow that would prove American shores had been breached before 1492.”

  “What is it?” Sara asked, letting the excitement rise in her voice.

  Lucas grinned. “Ah, lass. Ye’ll have to wait.”

  She grabbed his arm. “Come on! That isn’t fair! Tell me!”

  He shook his head, secretly enjoying the warmth of her touch as she clung to him, face uplifted. All he would have to do his dip his head a little to claim her soft lips…

  “Ye’ll just have to sleep on it, lass.”

  The wolf growled. He suspected he might not be getting any sleep at all.

  * * * *

  Baylor stepped out from behind some scrub bush a good distance from the money pit. He couldn’t take a chance on the Templar’s wolf scenting him, but he’d still been close enough to see that they hadn’t found anything important, although the fact that the girl—what had Caldwell called her? Sarina? No. Sara.—was keeping a tight hold on a big leather purse gave him a good clue the manuscript copy was in it.

  There had been some animated conversation though and then the girl had stepped close and Ramsey had almost kissed her. It was something Baylor filed away for future use. He’d follow them and wait for nightfall. If Ramsey took her to his room, he could search her’s. And if not… He shrugged. He was very good at what he did.

  * * * *

  Sara sighed contentedly as she looked out the dining room window in their hotel to the softly rippling sea. The moon had just begun to wane and its silver light danced upon the small waves like thousands of tiny diamonds. Maybe now she could get Lucas to talk to her. Maybe more?

  “It really is pretty here,” she said.

  “It’s probably the flattest piece of land in all of Canada,” Lucas said as he poured her some wine and then reached for his water. “And the fishing off the Grand Banks some of the best in the world.”

  “And most dangerous,” Sara answered. “Didn’t you see The Perfect Storm?”

  “Aye. But ye should sail the Hebrides in the winter sometime. Even wearing five layers of fine Shetland wool and having foul-weather gear canna keep the howling wind and churning sea from turning a man into ice.”

  “No, thanks,” she said with a laugh and a shudder. “Some risks I don’t need to take.” She took a sip of the Chardonnay he’d ordered and then stopped as she realized his eyes were on her mouth. She tried not to think about the risk she was taking at the moment. Or maybe she did want to. She was confused.

  On the entire flight up here, he had worked on a laptop computer. But the cramped express jet that the airlines were using these days to save money still had their thighs touching on occasion. She had tried diligently to read a book, but she had to keep reminding herself to turn the pages.

  He’d also been strictly business at the money pit until that very last remark about showing her something tomorrow. She had felt his muscles tense on his arm when she’d touched him and his lips had been just inches from hers. She was almost positive he had dipped his head toward hers. And now, in this very romantic setting, he was talking about geography? And wearing five layers of clothes? She wondered if it was a subtle warning on his part. The happy little buzz from the wine faded. Fine. She certainly was not going to throw herself at him. Definitely. Not.

  He motioned for the check and yawned. “It’s been a long day and we have an early flight.”

  Not exactly a romantic gesture. So be it. She wasn’t ready to go sit in her room. Sara glanced at her watch. “It’s just past ten o’clock. I think I’ll take a walk and smell that fresh salt air. We don’t get much of that in Dallas.”

  “I can’t let you go by yourself.”

  It sounded like an order to stay in, not a suggestion that he’d join her. Like she didn’t go out after dark back home? “I won’t wander far. I’m sure it’s perfectly safe with these many tourists about.”

  “It’s not that,” Lucas answered and glanced around. “I’ve had the feeling all evening that we’re being watched.”

  Sara looked around too. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she’d had the same feeling. That something sinister lurked in this peaceful place. “I don’t see anyone who looks suspicious. Maybe our nerves are on edge because of the murder.”

  “So you feel it too.” It wasn’t a question and she looked up at him. The candlelight reflected in his golden eyes like tiny bits of flame and she was reminded suddenly of the wolf who had chased the other away. Its eyes had looked like tiny bits of flame lit them too. Suddenly she shivered.

  “You’re cold,” Lucas said, “and with the sun down, it’ll be colder outside. If you want your walk, wait until morning.”

  She didn’t argue as he took her arm and led her toward the stairs. They stopped in front of her door and he took the key from her, unlocked it, and stepped inside. For a moment, the butterflies rallied for a flight from their perches in her stomach. Was he really thinking of staying with her? It was an odd way to go about it. And he hadn’t even asked her if she wanted him to stay. Really, a certain amount of etiquette did apply here. She wasn’t just going to jump into bed with him! Much as I’d like to…

  He handed her the keys and stepped back into the hall. “Everything’s fine here. I’ll be next door if you need anything. Just call. I’ll wait until you bolt the door.”

  He closed it and she slid the lock into place. She should have known he was just making sure there weren’t any bogeymen sitting in the corners. She really had to get a grip on her fantasies.

  * * * *

  Lucas was stopped by a worried-looking waiter just as he was about to enter his room.

  “Sir. I’m glad I found you. Your wife left her purse at the table.” He handed the leather bag to Lucas who dug into his pocket for a tip that the young man accepted.

  For a moment, he thought about knocking on her door and returning the purse, but it had been difficult enough making himself le
ave the first time after seeing the king bed turned down for the night. If she answered the door in lingerie, he wasn’t sure that he’d be leaving again any time soon. Wife. He hadn’t even corrected the waiter. I don’t need to start thinking like that. Not with what I am. Decision made, he entered his own room and stashed the bag inside his suitcase and locked it. Then he sniffed the air.

  Balor was close. He had felt the oppression all evening, just hovering on the edges of his senses. It was the reason he didn’t want Sara outside this night. But now he would find him.

  He walked to the window and opened it. They were on the second floor of a small, private inn and below him was a terraced garden with a small gazebo, its canopy not far from the window. An easy leap for a powerful wolf.

  The wolf alerted in anticipation as he stripped his clothes. His sense of smell was much keener when he was in the lobo’s body, even though the shape-shifting was exhausting. He closed his eyes and concentrated on becoming one with the wolf. He felt his face elongating, the muscles in his jaw and throat strengthening as he dropped to all fours and crouched, waiting for the powerful haunch muscles to fully form. His amplified hearing picked up no movement from next door. Sara would be safe until he got back.

  He leapt through the window, landed on the canopy, and sprang to the ground. His enhanced night vision adjusted to the darkness immediately. His sensitive nose told him there were no humans in the garden, but he wasn’t seeking a human.

  Staying in the shadows of buildings, he loped easily down the sidewalk, turning left into a side-street and then right and right again until he came to an expensive hotel with a liveried doorman. Trust Balor to spare no expense. He sniffed cautiously at the sidewalk, sending the mental message to the doorman that he was merely a scoundrel dog. Balor had been here, but his scent was old.

  Turning, he followed the scent back to the water near his hotel. And then it was gone. The wolf nearly howled in frustration. Balor had gone into the sea to avoid detection. But where was he now?

  Lucas made the leap back to the window, his paws sinking into the thick carpet on the floor of his room. Before he made the transformation back, he scented once more. Nothing. No one had been here.