The Immortals III: Gavin

by Cynthia Breeding

  “You’re not going to swoon, are you?”

  “I’m fine.” Chloe said to hide the fact that her body still tingled.

  If only she were the swooning type.

  * * * *

  Gavin folded the brochure they’d gotten at the De Young Museum and handed it to Chloe as they walked outside. “I am beginning to think my theory of the platter being hidden in the open might be flawed.”

  “Well, Mom said she didn’t recall seeing anything at either the mission or here that resembled what you think the platter looks like,” Chloe replied.

  Gavin refrained from saying he knew exactly what the platter looked like. He’d seen it once. Merlin had brought it to court, along with some candlesticks, just before Galahad set out on his quest for the Grail. The sorcerer said both had been used in some sort of visionary procession that would help find the Grail. Even though no one had been allowed to touch it except Galahad, Gavin had felt its power resonating.

  He hoped he’d be able to detect that feeling again if he got close to it.

  “Did you know Golden Gate Park is larger than Central Park in New York?” Chloe asked. “Or that it has buffalo?”

  He had a hunch Chloe was trying to make him feel better. When was it that he’d noticed she was almost always cheerful? He glanced at her orange hair with it strange pink strands, more spiked than ever with the strong winds blowing off the water and at her large eyes the color of the bay and forced a smile. “I do not think I have ever seen a buffalo.” And, he realized, he hadn’t. Not in the nearly fifteen hundred years of existence. His time had all been spent in Europe.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re kidding! Tell you what—let’s rent some horses and ride by their paddock!”

  He was about to refuse since his senses still told him danger lurked somewhere close and the sooner they left the area the better, but the idea of getting on a horse again was nearly irresistible. All the knights had been superior horsemen. “I suppose an hour or so will not interfere with the travel plans.”

  Ten minutes later they were mounted and headed down a bridle trail toward the buffalo area. God’s blood, it felt good to be back in the saddle, even if his horse was not a spirited stallion ready to run like the wind. This wasn’t a battlefield, after all. People weren’t supposed to get hurt.

  Chloe had taken the lead on the fairly narrow path and Gavin had to remind himself which century he was in. His basic instinct was to lead, not follow, but then he realized he had the privilege of watching her delectable bottom bounce in the saddle as her mare began trotting. A vision of Chloe naked, astride him, her bottom slapping against his belly, breasts bouncing as she rode him hard made him grip the saddle with his thighs. His horse tossed its head, picking up the signal to run.

  “Easy,” he soothed and circled the animal around. The horse had more spirit than he realized and it wanted to run. It probably didn’t get much of a chance. Gavin held him back, waiting for Chloe to put some distance between them, so he could let the horse gallop to catch up. The gelding pranced in place, anticipating. “Soon,” Gavin said, rubbing his neck. “Soon.”

  His acute hearing picked up the sound only seconds before two motorcycles careened around the bend, heading straight for Chloe. Her startled mare reared and she slipped backwards, hitting the ground with a thud.

  The cycles skidded to a stop, one of the fully-helmeted men jumping off to pull a disoriented Chloe up toward him.

  Gavin’s fangs elongated and he was on the man like a flash of lightning. Grabbing the leather collar of his jacket, he flung him aside and turned to the other rider, barring his teeth. The man throttled up and sped off. His partner crawled to his bike and followed him. Every instinct told Gavin to follow them, but Chloe was hurt.

  He sank down beside her as she groaned. “Sit still. Let me make sure nothing is broken.” Sliding his hands over her shoulders and slender arms, he felt her tremble. He was all too aware of the heavy fullness of her breasts as his fingers felt her ribs. Forcing himself to concentrate, he ran his hands down the sides of her thighs, resisting the urge to explore anything closer to where he would like to be. He began to sweat, even though the day was cool. Where was the Templar discipline when he needed it?

  Chloe trembled again and Gavin drew her close. Her arms went around his neck, clinging as her soft, round breasts pressed against him. He drank in her scent as her warm, pliant lips touched his.

  Templar training be damned. Gavin crushed her to him, his tongue probing her mouth, tasting her sweetness as she swirled her tongue around his. He deepened the kiss, his hands splaying down her back, tucking her bottom firmly against his aching shaft. Chloe made a little mewling noise and fitted herself more fully to him. Gavin stroked her back, his hands finally cupping her head as his mouth left hers to trails kisses along her chin and down her throat. He felt his fangs snap.

  He only wanted a little sip.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gavin jerked back. God’s Blood! What had he almost done?

  Chloe looked dazed. Had she felt the needle prick of his fang point before he retracted it? He couldn’t tell. From the way passionate way she kissed him—his groin tightened painfully at the memory—he didn’t think she was hurt, but he still asked.

  “I’m fine,” she answered as he helped her up.

  Her eyes lingered on his mouth and Gavin wondered if she was going to kiss him again. He was not at all sure he had the will power, Templar training or not, to withstand another onslaught of her deliciously sweet, hot mouth. She took a shuddering breath and looked away.

  “I’m just not sure what happened. I don’t think motorcycles are allowed on these trails.”

  He was pretty sure they weren’t either—and he didn’t think those two riders were out to enjoy the park. One of those jerks had tried to pick Chloe up. Had they meant to abduct her? Was it part of Balor’s master plan? Perhaps to hold her hostage to get to Guinevere? If she were immortal, Balor would want to know.

  Unfortunately, the riders’ faces had been completely shielded by dark visors and they’d worn plain leather jackets and jeans, so there were no identifying marks Gavin could make. He’d gotten the license number of one of the cycles, but he’d wager they were rented.

  He should have paid more attention to the hair on his nape rising. His instincts rarely let him down, but he’d been distracted watching Chloe’s pretty rump bouncing in the saddle.

  Mistakes like that could be dangerous, even for a vampire. For a mortal woman, they could be fatal. Gavin would not let his guard slip again.

  “If you are feeling better, Miss Whitney, I would suggest we get these horses back to the stable. Do you think you can ride?”

  Chloe rolled her eyes at him. “Of course I can ride. The first rule after being thrown is to get back on. It wasn’t the horse’s fault anyhow.”

  Gavin had to admire her spunk, even if he planned to keep his distance. Chloe had more spirit than any woman he’d met in centuries. “I would suggest we collect your things from your mother’s and get started then.”

  “Can’t we wait until morning?”

  He hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to tell her. The sooner they were away from her mother, the safer both of the women would be. “Do you remember the reason I brought you with me was because I thought you might be in danger?”

  Chloe frowned. “Yeah. You never said why, not that it mattered. I was going to come along anyway.”

  “It matters, Miss Whitney. I have reason to believe what just happened was no accident. I am not sure why, but I think Adam Baylor is very much interested in abducting you.”

  “Abduct—you mean kidnapping? Me? Why? I’ve never even done a story on the guy.”

  Gavin could hardly tell her he suspected it was because of her mother. “All I have are theories at this point. However, it is possible that those bodies the dragon left were meant to lure you out.”

  Chloe’s eyes rounded like saucers. “But—you mean I might be hi
s next murder victim?”

  “Doubtful. I think Baylor wants you alive.” Gavin helped Chloe mount and vaulted onto his own horse before he was tempted to let his hands linger where they shouldn’t. “But that does not make the situation any safer. The man has trained terrorists. He is a master of torture. Whatever information he wants from you, he would get.”

  “And you’re going to protect me from this monster?”

  “Yes.”

  She rode up alongside him and gave him a long look. “Why?”

  Gavin clenched his jaw and avoided looking back. “Because I may have led him to you.”

  * * * *

  Gavin Myles had to be the most exasperating man she had ever met. How a man could kiss that passionately—Ha! She had known there was fire under that icy façade—and then calmly return to addressing her as “Miss Whitney”, acting as though nothing had happened, she didn’t understand. Geez. He’d curled her toes just kissing her. Luckily, she’d been sitting on the ground and didn’t need to use them to stand on.

  But that wasn’t the only enigma Gavin represented. After making the statement about leading the Baylor guy to her, Gavin had refused to elaborate all the way back to her mother’s. Nor had he explained what this guy—much less a dragon—would want with her in the first place. Chloe hadn’t done any articles on organized crime. She wasn’t famous—or infamous—and she certainly wasn’t wealthy.

  Nor had Gavin been willing to stay for a late lunch. For someone who usually preferred to stay inside during the afternoon because the sun was stronger then, he’d been in an awful hurry to get on the road. It was almost like he thought someone was chasing him. Chloe barely had time to get her duffel and leave a copy of the poem-clue for her mother to meditate on when she’d been propelled through the doorway.

  Now, as the car approached Sutter Creek, she glanced sideways at him. “You can’t just not talk. Why won’t you tell me why you think I’m in danger?”

  “The less you know, the safer you are.”

  “That makes no sense. How can I protect myself if I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking out for?”

  “There is very little you can do to protect yourself. Not from evil incarnate.”

  “That’s pretty purple-prosy, even for a Halloween story,” Chloe said, “except it’s still a week away.”

  He glanced toward her. “Purple prosy?”

  “Yeah. You know. A little over-the-top? Like I’m supposed to be all scared and shivery because some terrifying, inhuman monster is lurking out there? The man may be vile and immoral and even a heinous villain, but ‘evil incarnate’? Give me a break.”

  “Adam Baylor is all of those things, Miss Whitney. The reason so many of the world’s dictators were able to rule with iron fists for so long was because Adam Baylor provided their power bases.”

  “The guy must be ancient then.”

  Gavin grimaced. “Age has nothing to do with it.”

  “Well, if he’s so powerful, how come so many of these dictators have fallen? Maybe the old guy is losing his touch.”

  “Do not jest, Miss Whitney. If Adam Baylor finds even one of the Celtic relics, he will have enough power to rebuild any empires he may have lost.”

  Chloe was about to tell him how ridiculous that was, but he was being so serious, she held the remark. “You really think a thing—even if it is a solid gold platter from ancient times—has power? Cool as it sounds, it’s pretty hard to accept.”

  “Why? Metal is an energy source. Gold is an energy source. This platter is an energy force. There are people who know how to use that, for good or evil.”

  “Still. It’s hard to believe.”

  “Did you believe in dragons before the sightings?”

  “Well—no, I guess not.” Chloe took a deep breath. “So you’re saying this guy is like a sorcerer?”

  “Not a sorcerer, Miss Whitney.”

  “Well, what then? A devil?”

  “Not in the sense that the Christian world views it.” Gavin hesitated as if searching for the right words as he parked the car along the historical main street and shut off its engine. “Adam Baylor is a demon.”

  * * * *

  Gavin was afraid he’d said too much as they walked into the Visitor’s Center. Probably the only thing that prevented Chloe demanding to know about demons was that they were surrounded by tourists.

  “We’re getting ready to close,” the young man at the information desk said, “but I can give you a brochure and sign you up for the Gold Mine Tour tomorrow or maybe you’d rather try the wine-tasting? The vineyards in this area produce great wines.”

  “Thanks,” Chloe said as she took the brochure, “we’ll need to talk about what we want to do.”

  Gavin had a hunch Chloe did not mean tourist traps, although she was quiet as they drove to a nearby motel to secure rooms for the night. It wasn’t until after they’d finished dinner that he noticed the determined look in her eye.

  “Let’s walk,” she said, “because I want to talk.”

  At least she hadn’t asked him to go to her room. After that kiss, he wasn’t at all sure he possessed the self-control he’d always prided himself on. This woman got to him like no one had since Gwenhwyfar. And, like Arthur’s queen, the attraction was not merely lust. Chloe had the same quality of spirit and independence that was both admirable and foolhardy enough that Gavin had the urge to protect her. Of course, trying to protect Gwenhwyfar had led to all sorts of problems. A wiser man would put as much distance as possible between himself and a woman who brought out all kinds of emotions that had been packed away for centuries. But he couldn’t leave Chloe with Balor and his minions loose. Gavin just hoped that she thought his posed indifference to her was real.

  “What do you want to talk about?” he asked as if he didn’t know.

  Chloe looked heavenward as though asking for patience in dealing with someone who obviously was none-too-bright. “Demons. Spill.”

  “Spill?”

  “Tell me about demons,” she said as though addressing a dimwit child.

  Some American slang took getting used to, he thought, as they walked down the street toward Bryson Park. Tourists still strolled around, but Gavin found an empty bench near some cottonwoods. She shivered in the rapidly cooling night air and Gavin fought the urge to draw her close and put his arm around her. Instead, he forced himself to keep a respectable space between them and offered Chloe his jacket.

  “You’ll freeze,” she said.

  Little did she know vampires were immune to weather. “Britain stays cold. I’m used to it.” Gavin swirled the jacket over her shoulders. His heart gave a strange lurch as she drew his jacket closer and sighed contently, enveloping herself in his scent.

  “Now,” she said and broke his train of thought, “no more delay tactics. What are demons?”

  Where to start? “They are entities who are the driving forces behind all that is wrong in this world— envy, avarice, pride, gluttony, anger, sloth—”

  “Are you talking about Dante’s Seven Deadly Sins?”

  “Dante only summarized them, but yes,” Gavin answered. “All wars that have been fought have had one or more of these causes behind them. All the inhumanity that has been wrought on mankind—indescribable annihilation, torture and degradation—can be contributed to these “sins” as they’ve been labeled. Demons have been behind each and every movement.”

  Chloe studied him. “So you’re saying demons are the devil’s helper, but not the devil himself?”

  Gavin shook his head. “The notion there is a “devil” was inspired by Constantine in the fourth century when he decided the best way to unite all the conquered countries of the Roman Empire was to embrace a new religion called Christianity. And, for the most part, it has been effective, but evil is a force that has been in existence long before then. Demons are entities that control that force.”

  “And you’re saying these…demons…take human shape? That’s kind of far out, even fo
r my imagination.”

  “I guess “far out” is another American expression,” Gavin said, “but I gather it means “hard to believe”? He went on as Chloe nodded. “Look at it this way. The best-selling books and top-grossing films have to do with wizardry, vampires, and werewolves. Why do you suppose there is such an interest?”

  Chloe started to laugh. “Those are for kids.”

  “Young adults. Our future,” Gavin answered. “Perhaps they know their battles may involve the paranormal.”

  She sobered. “Oh, come on. You don’t expect me to believe vampires and werewolves are running around?”

  Chloe must not have seen Gavin’s supernatural response to the motorcyclists. He should feel relieved, but a part of him wanted her to believe in what he was. And that thought almost stopped him cold. He had never wanted to share that information with anyone. He shrugged. “You did not believe in dragons, either, if you recall.”

  “I—” Chloe opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Maybe there is another explanation. Captain Johnson thinks there is. Anyway, for the sake of argument, if this golden platter is maybe in a church, how would a demon get it? And wouldn’t it, like, incinerate something that evil touching it?”

  “A church would offer good protection, which is why we are stopping at some of the more likely places, but there is nothing in the clue that indicates a church was used. In any event, the platter contains neutral energy which can be used for either good or evil, which is why Adam Baylor wants to get his hands on it and why that can’t be allowed—” Gavin 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.