The Immortals III: Gavin

by Cynthia Breeding

  “I like the way you work,” Lucifer called out.

  Giving him a quick glance, she raised her arms and closed her eyes, trying to sense the dragon. Her scrying glass had shown her this terrain last night. She began a summoning chant and then went still as Sigurd appeared in her mind.

  “What do you wish, lovely witch?”

  “Make yourself known. Come to me.”

  “Your Master wishes to cage me.”

  “I have no Master.”

  Sigurd tilted his large head, his ruby eye studying her. “Perhaps you do not, but I wish to keep my freedom.”

  Morgan willed herself deeper into her trance. “You are more powerful that two men.”

  Sigurd chuckled. “I am more powerful that an army of men. Those you deal with are not human, little witch.”

  “Not human? What are they, then?”

  “I cannot say.”

  She tried a different tactic. “Do you remember how much you like my stroking you, Sigurd?”

  He puffed smoke and rattled his scales. “Do you think to tempt me into coming to you?”

  Morgan smiled. “Yes, Sigurd, I do.”

  She opened her eyes and gestured to Lucifer. Grinning in understanding, he ripped off his clothes and was beside her in seconds. Grabbing her waist, he tilted her upside down. She caught his ankles with her hands as he wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust his cock into her, pounding hard.

  “Do you wish to see another man enjoying me, Sigurd?”

  “You think to tempt me?”

  “You know how much I like to please a man who pleases me. Do you want to watch me with Lucien? Or would you like for me to pleasure you, dragon?”

  Thunder rumbled and the earth trembled as huge rocks splintered in the air. Sigurd’s leathery wings flapped, flattening nearby scrub oak. His huge form settled in the dust as he belched fire.

  “Enough!” Balor roared.

  Lucifer gave a final deep thrust and leaned over Morgan’s shoulder, nipping her as she peaked. Almost as quickly, he dropped her on the ground and jerked away.

  Sigurd pawed the ground, his spiked neck scales rising. “Do not drop my woman like that again.”

  Dazed, Morgan sat up and reached for her dress. The side of her throat hurt, but not in the place that Lucien had nipped. She rose to her feet.

  “We’re glad we found you, Sigurd,” Balor said affably. “I can arrange for a truck to pick you up and bring you to the warehouse—”

  “No.”

  Balor continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “You will be more comfortable there out of these elements. I will see your every need…” He gave Morgan a curious glance. “…provided for.”

  “I will not come.”

  Balor started to lift his eye patch, but Lucifer stopped him. “I think it’s safer to leave him out here, bro.”

  Balor frowned. “Why?”

  “It’d be hard to explain a dragon in Dallas, dude. Think about it. If Morgan can summon him whenever we need him…” Lucifer looked at Sigurd. “…that would work, wouldn’t it?”

  The dragon raked back his lips in what might have been a grin of sorts. “I will obey the little witch.”

  “Thank you,” Morgan said as she went to him and petted his large muzzle. “You won’t regret it.” She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Later.”

  “Well, then,” Lucifer said. “We need another favor of you.”

  Sigurd carefully brushed a claw against Morgan’s breast and inclined his head toward Lucifer. “What is it?”

  “We need another body deposited on Smith’s lawn.”

  “I don’t want more bodies found,” Balor hissed.

  “Bro. The media’s losing interest. Nothing’s turned up on the platter. We need to keep Morgan at the mansion. Follow my drift?”

  Balor stared at Lucifer for a good moment. “Unfortunately, I do.”

  “No problem then. I’ll pick up another hooker and when I’m finished with her, Sigurd can do his thing.” Lucifer turned to the dragon. “Can you meet me tomorrow night?”

  “Only if the little witch summons me.”

  “I will,” Morgan said kissing his leather cheek and stepping back. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “Tomorrow night then,” Sigurd said and rose in a puff of smoke. He flapped his great wings and soared from sight.

  “That’s settled then,” Balor said. “Now let’s get the hell back to civilization.”

  As they walked back to the car, Morgan put her hand to her neck where the pain had been. That spot was sore, but for the life of her, she didn’t know why.

  * * * *

  Women were trouble. And now he had two of them to keep an eye on. Gavin swirled the after-dinner brandy Mr. Smith had poured for all of them in the library and wished he were able to put a healthy dose of synthetic blood in it.

  Dinner had been excruciatingly long. Caldwell was invited to stay and, for some reason, Chloe seemed to hang onto his every word as though he were some rock star that had dropped in.

  Gavin had wanted to follow her outside yesterday when she’d run out of the room, sunlight be damned. Yet—what could he say to her? She’d caught him in what looked like a passionate embrace, but he could hardly tell her it was because he needed to taste Morgan’s blood.

  And then there was Morgan. She was gone for the day by the time he’d risen and when she returned, she smelled of sex. Not that he cared about that, but his sharpened senses detected demon-scent as well. He’d have to start tailing her which would only make Chloe think he was actually interested in Morgan.

  But then, he wasn’t sure Chloe even cared. She seemed totally enthralled with Caldwell.

  Women were definitely trouble.

  “Did you have an enjoyable afternoon?” he asked Morgan.

  She slanted a look at him through her lashes. “Did you miss me?”

  He gave her a careful smile, aware that Chloe had stopped talking to Caldwell. To his relief, Mr. Smith jumped in before he had to answer.

  “Of course we did, my dear! We’ve become accustomed to your presence.”

  “Where did you go?” Caldwell asked almost too casually.

  Morgan hesitated before she answered and Gavin wondered about the look she exchanged with Caldwell. “I had some business to attend to out in the country.”

  “The country?” Alan and Gavin asked in unison.

  Morgan thrust her lower lip out in a pout. “You needn’t act so surprised. It was a possible location for a photo shoot.”

  “A photo shoot?” Chloe asked.

  Morgan smiled at her. “I model. Didn’t you know?”

  “No, I didn’t. I guess I’m not surprised.”

  “So where?” Alan asked with a grin. “One of the area lakes with a sandy beach?”

  Again, there was hesitation, then Morgan shook her head. “Actually, we went out to Palo Pinto County near the place the Kincaid woman had. A Texas magazine contacted my boss about doing a spread on the disappearances. That country is so desolate they thought it would make a good backdrop.” She turned to Chloe. “You might want to go out there. Since you’re a local news writer, maybe you could contribute something and get a by-line.”

  Chloe looked puzzled and Gavin didn’t blame her. Morgan and Chloe weren’t exactly best friends.

  “I’ll be glad to take you,” Alan said.

  “Thanks. Let me think about it.”

  The conversation turned then to more trivial things and Gavin excused himself, wanting to get back to his room, pour a shot of blood, and contemplate what was going on beneath the surface of tonight’s conversation. Something was off.

  He made his way to the second floor and slid the bolt shut on his bedroom door. Something shimmered in the moonlight that streamed in his window and he didn’t need to turn on a switch to know what it was.

  “It’s about time you got here,” he said to Nimue.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nimue folded her transparent wings, floa
ted into the armchair beside the unlit fireplace and looked around. “Nice place. Sara never let me come here with her.”

  “Probably so you wouldn’t get into any mischief,” Gavin said grimly.

  She blinked her kaleidoscope eyes at him innocently. “When have I ever done that?”

  “Please. I grew up watching you torment Merlin every chance you got.”

  “Torment? The old coot kept telling me I couldn’t play with magic because I’m a faerie! Particularly because I’m a girl faerie. Now how fair is that? He let the elves and wood fauns do whatever they wanted.”

  “If I remember correctly, they were limited to the forests.”

  “Only because their maker, Cernunnos, wanted to keep them close.” Nimue waved her hand dismissively. “I answer to the Lady of the Lake and she is far more trusting.” She tilted her head to study Gavin. “You were one of the few knights who could actually see me. I wonder if it was because of your mother’s unusual abilities?”

  His mother’s unique skills were still a sore point with Gavin, even after all these years. Better to change the subject. “So what took you so long to get here?”

  Nimue shrugged. “I left Merlin’s cave the day before yesterday—”

  “Merlin’s cave? What were you doing there?”

  “A penance of sorts.” She grimaced. “The Lady thinks Merlin and I should let bygones be bygones.”

  “I imagine that is going over well.”

  “He’s still his grumpy old self.” Nimue gave Gavin a pixie grin. “It’s even worse since he has all that company.”

  “Company? Merlin is a loner.”

  “Not any more. Lancelot showed up with the spear and a girlfriend. Merlin nearly had an apoplexy. He thought she was Gwenhwyfar. Then Tristan arrived with the sword and his girlfriend too. The cave is getting a bit crowded, not to mention all that testosterone that is floating around.”

  “So that is where they have all disappeared to,” Gavin said thoughtfully. “No wonder the police have had no leads. Why doesn’t Merlin send them back?”

  “He would if he could. When Merlin cast the spell to bring the relics back to him, he forgot to forestall the messengers. I told you he was an old fool.”

  Gavin ignored the last remark, although in he almost agreed with her. Merlin had never liked him. “So they’re just stuck in the Otherworld?”

  “ There’s some sort of time-lock on the portal between the worlds. It only opens outward once a year on Beltane. But I wouldn’t say they’re stuck. They spend most of their time in their bedchambers, if you get what I mean.”

  Gavin did. Lancelot had always been a ladies’ man. Tristan—whom he assumed was the warlock—he didn’t know, except by the legend that had grown up around him and Iseult, the wife of King Mark of Cornwall. Of course, who knew if they were true? The myths around Lancelot and himself certainly weren’t. “If they can’t leave, how can you?”

  She looked indignant. “I’m a faerie!”

  “And in typical flighty faerie fashion, you took almost three months to get here.”

  “Hey. Not my fault. I ended up taking a detour to Avalon.”

  Gavin stared at her. “The Goddess summoned you?”

  Nimue nodded, scattering silver and gold sparkles around her. “I could hardly refuse, could I? We had tea.”

  Tea. In Avalon. Trust Nimue to focus on something trivial like that. Gavin frowned at her. “Can you get to the point?”

  Nimue glared at him, her eyes spinning shades of purple, green and blue. “I am. She slid her hand into the pocket of the spun-silk web that was her gown and pulled out a piece of parchment. “Here. Have fun.”

  Gavin unfolded the note. It was written in ancient Gaelic, but he wouldn’t take him long to decipher it.

  “I expect I’ll see you soon,” Nimue said.

  When he looked up, she was gone and all he could hear was her laughter, chiming softly in the air.

  * * * *

  Gavin and Mr. Smith seemed pre-occupied when Chloe entered the library the next morning. The heavy drapes were drawn to block the sun, but she could see they were both engrossed with two pieces of paper. “What’s that?”

  Gavin started as Mr. Smith looked up and beamed. “We have the next clue!”

  Chloe thought she heard Gavin moan. He didn’t want her to see it?

  “Miss Whitney. Mr. Smith and I have some business to attend to. May I ask why you came in here when the door was closed?”

  She’d already decided that Gavin went all snooty-English on her when he was keeping something under wraps. So—he didn’t want her to see the letters or whatever they were. Well, reporters had tough skin.

  “I was looking for Alan.”

  “I’m sorry, my dear,” Mr. Smith said. “He called earlier and said he would not be in today. Some business to attend to.”

  “Has he mentioned how long it will take him to finish the book?” Gavin asked.

  Was he trying to divert her attention? Her reporter’s senses alerted even more. “I don’t know,” she said and turned directly to Mr. Smith. “May I see those?”

  “No,” Gavin said at the same time that Mr. Smith nodded and handed the two sheets to her.

  This time she knew Gavin definitely groaned. He was also looking highly annoyed. Geez. If this were finally the clue to finding that Celtic relic, you’d think he’d welcome the idea that two—or in this case three—heads were better than one.

  Chloe looked down. The older piece of parchment was written in a language she couldn’t read along with a drawing that looked like a line of triangle-peaks. The other paper held what she assumed was a translation. She read aloud:

  Where gold glistens

  In hidden terrain

  There lies buried

  An ancient remain

  In the lee

  By the sea

  She furrowed her brows. “This is it? Who sent it?”

  “Private messenger,” Gavin said.

  “It came last night,” Mr. Smith added. “Thank goodness, Gavin was still up.”

  A strange look crossed Gavin’s face before the impassive mask that he often wore replaced it. Chloe tucked away the thought for future analysis. He was being secretive again, but why?

  “So how does this ‘clue’ give you an indication where to look?” she asked.

  “There are pictures in ancient Gaelic books as to the relics. The spear was made of oak, rowan and yew; the sword smelted out of a meteorite. The platter is solid gold.”

  Chloe stared at him. “Solid gold? No wonder you don’t want anyone else finding it.”

  Again, a strange look passed over Gavin’s face. “Its age is more important that the metal, but it’s another reason I believe Mr. Smith is right in looking toward the west to find it. The California Gold Rush took place in the mid-1800’s. That drawing could represent mountains. Assuming that someone in the Priory of Sion removed the artifacts from Oak Island after all the digging started, it’s plausible that person took it to a place where gold was plentiful. It could even be displayed openly in some places.”

  “Just like Edgar Allen Poe’s The Purloined Letter,” Mr. Smith said.

  An English major she wasn’t. But Poe always held a fascination for romantics and she wrote romance. “Leaving it out in full view where no one would think to look?”

  “Exactly,” Gavin said, actually looking somewhat impressed. “California is loaded with Missions and museums, any of which could be displaying the platter and have no idea of what they actually have.”

  “Cool,” Chloe said, meaning it this time. “When do we leave?” She didn’t wait for the inevitable “You aren’t going”. “Don’t even think to leave me behind. I have great sleuthing abilities and I know how to ferret information out of people. Besides, the police aren’t coming up with anything and I want to do something to avenge Jake’s death. He was hanging around here because the disappearances that had to do with the other relics. I can help.” She glared at Gavin, waiting f
or him to defy her.

  Instead, Gavin scrutinized her. At last, he sighed. “I doubt that you can help, Miss Whitney, but I have reasons to think you might be in danger if I left you behind. So, yes, you will be going with me.”

  Shocked that he had acquiesced, it wasn’t until later that she wondered what he had meant about her being in danger.

  * * * *

  “So the clue finally arrived,” Balor said as Morgan accepted the glass of chardonnay that Lucifer poured for her at the hotel suite. “You did well, my pet.”

  Morgan shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting Adam to know just how lucky she had been to overhear the conversation. “I suspected something when Gavin and Smith closeted themselves in the library this morning. That stupid reporter left the door ajar which made eavesdropping a cinch.”

  “Did you manage to find out how the message was delivered?” Lucifer asked.

  “Gavin said it came by special messenger.”

  Balor’s expression sharpened. “It wasn’t sent to Smith?”

  “It didn’t seem to be.”

  “That’s interesting.” Balor exchanged a look with Lucifer and Morgan wondered what that meant. “It seems we have another player here.” He turned back to Morgan. “When are they leaving for California?”

  “I’m not sure. In a day or two probably.”

  “Hmmm. Not much time to get my henchmen in place.” He walked over to the small desk by the window and opened a drawer, taking a small object no bigger than a dime out of it. “Here,” he said to Morgan, “it’s a GPS. Slip this into that reporter’s purse. Neither she nor Myles have met Carl Landon. I’ll get him to track them.”

  “He didn’t do such a good job last time,” Lucifer said.

  Balor smiled coldly. “I think getting his butt reamed thoroughly by me taught him a lesson. I might just do it again before he goes as a reminder. Nothing like a homophobic, macho kid quarter-staked on his belly with that tight ass exposed, just waiting to be ripped and bloodied. That really gets me off.”

  Morgan kept her face impassive. Carl was a nice kid with shaggy brown hair and a cute smile most women found irresistible. Unfortunately, he also had a gambling problem which Adam Baylor had generously ‘paid off’ and now owned him. That Carl was a winner with the ladies and proud of his lean, muscular body were two things Adam had zeroed in on—and used. Morgan had actually felt sorry for the kid after one multiple male-rape job that had worked him over, leaving him bloody and raw for not attending to an assignment.