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“You were right, Mr. Smith. The manuscript does seem to talk about the Holy

Grail.” She waited while he gleefully clapped his hands several times. “I assume you’re familiar with the Otherworldly progression that Percival saw when he visited the maimed Fisher King?”

Mr. Smith nodded. “Of course. Candle bearers, a spear that dripped blood, a platter to catch it on and, finally, the Grail Maiden carrying the chalice.”

“Did you know that Galahad collected all these things after the defeat at

Camlann? And that he took them with him when he sailed to Sarras?”

Her boss looked dumbfounded and Lucas tilted his head to study her. She just

hoped he’d let her finish. “It’s a rather long story.”

“We have time. Tell me.” Mr. Smith said.

“Please,” Lucas added, his golden eyes flickering with amusement.

She ignored that. He should be looking serious. If he wanted any kind of funding at all, Mr. Smith would need to think the treasure was really big. And what could be better than a twenty-first century quest for the Holy Grail?

Briefly, she told him of Galahad’s arrival in Jerusalem and later, the Templars unearthing the treasures and the finally bringing them to Scotland under the guardianship of the Sinclairs. And that the Sinclairs may have brought the treasure to an island in SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 51

Nova Scotia that had a mysterious pit built on it.

Mr. Smith was silent a moment and then his eyes widened. “Are you telling me there’s a chance that all three artifacts might still be together?”

“Maybe. But Galahad took Arthur’s sword with him as well.”

Her boss looked at her bug-eyed. “Excalibur? Are you saying it exists?” He put a hand dramatically over his heart. “My dear, do you realize the value of finding both the Holy Grail and Excalibur? And to think I’d own both in my private collection!”

Lucas cleared his throat. “Having just seen a small part of what you own, I can imagine how you must feel. I’ll admit, having been on the dig that unearthed the manuscript, I’d like to see these relics myself. But perhaps the humanitarian thing to do would be to allow the world to see them as well. If I remember the legend, the Holy Grail was supposed to be a healing instrument and the round platter symbolic of the equality of the people who sat at the Round Table. The Sword of Truth and the Spear of Light offer tolerance and understanding. With the right marketing and promotion, perhaps people would learn to believe again. What a service you would do to allow the world to experience that.

Sara nearly gaped at him. Here she was, trying to revive a myth and he was

interweaving the real story into it. Then she frowned. Marketing and promotion sounded so commercial. So potentially corrupt. Did Michael have a point after all?

Besides, if the Hallows really were found, their power had to stay secret and

hidden. Real power and strength came from within and it was the way the Goddess worked. Change the way people think and people changed their behaviors. And with the Hallows, that work could be done through the universal network of white witches.

“Perhaps Mr. Smith is right,” she said. “It might be too dangerous to expose such artifacts to the whole world. What if the wrong person got a hold of them?”

Lucas narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Ummm. Perhaps it might be wise to

keep them private until all of them are found. It would make a much better impression to offer the whole collection at one time.”

“Yes!” Mr. Smith clapped his hands excitedly. “I would at least own them for awhile until I made a decision. Now I think the two of you should make plans to travel to this Oak Island you told me about.”

Travel with Lucas? The two of them alone? A thousand butterflies fluttered

madly about her stomach, batting their wings against each other. Her blood heated as her pulse suddenly raced. She found herself gulping for air.

“I doubt that there’s anything in Nova Scotia worth spending time on,” Lucas

said. “Modern treasure hunters have scoured the island and the infamous Money Pit keeps flooding despite recent attempts at excavation.”

Sara’s blood chilled at his words. He didn’t want to travel with her. Maybe all of this tingling response she had to him was all one-sided. He’d certainly not acted interested in her this morning. But did he think she was just going to sit in Texas and wait for him to make all the discoveries? Well, he’d better think again.

“I think it’s an excellent place to begin,” she said and looked straight at Lucas.

“I agree,” Mr. Smith said.

Lucas held Sara’s gaze. For a fleeting moment, his amber eyes turned predatory, but then the look disappeared. “I travel light and fast. No frills. ‘Twoud be hard for a lass to keep up.”

SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 52

She lifted her head. “I’m the queen of carry-on. I’m sure I can handle whatever pace you set. Try me.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Ye might have a care what ye ask for, lass.”

* * * *

Caldwell whispered into his phone.

Baylor could hear the tinge of excitement in his voice and he sighed. Mortals, eve con-men it seemed, got all sentimental over the grail. Like there really was something spiritual and mystic about it. The cup held power and the man who held the cup controlled that power. To yield it as he pleased. To control the world.

By the devil’s own horns, he’d tried to lure Galahad down that path centuries ago.

To see what could be had if one but wanted to use the power. It had been easy enough to set Mordred against his father, but Galahad had refused to be swayed, not by comely young women who bared their breasts for him, nor for gold or the promise of fame that would surpass Lancelot’s. The Hallows had slipped away from Baylor, aided by the Immortal who had helped the boy sail away.

“Did they say where they were going to look for it?” He tried to keep the

impatience out of his voice.

“Something about an island with oaks. In Nova Scotia, I think. I couldn’t hear that well through the door.”

Baylor reached for the bourbon decanter in his hotel room and poured a healthy swig into a shot glass. He was aware of the island. Isolated and hardly inhabited, it had been a perfect hiding hole for pirates. In the late eighteenth century three boys digging for lost treasure discovered a shaft that led to a platform ten feet below the surface. The platform’s planks were rotted and they removed them only to find another shaft and another platform and then still another at ten foot intervals. Finding nothing of value, they finally gave up, but the mystery remained of why anyone would dig the shafts. In the early nineteenth century interest was revived and more digging—and more

platforms—were found.

More than two hundred years later, at a cost of millions of dollars and several lives, the shaft had still not been penetrated. In 2004, they’d even tried using cryogenic freezing to keep the tunnels from flooding. The last he’d heard, its owners put it on the market for seven million.

But no one knew when the original shaft had been dug and the Hallows had

disappeared with the rest of the Templar treasure in the early 1300’s. He had cursed Brighid then, for he knew she had completely shrouded those ships from his view, just as she kept Avalon hidden from him. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be waiting at Oak Island when they got there. If they discovered anything, it might be worth talking to his foreign investors about.

“Let me know when they’re leaving,” he said. “And how are you doing on the

assignment I gave you?”

Caldwell laughed confidently. “Don’t worry there. I’m taking the chick to lunch.

Maybe we’ll have a little afternoon delight.”

“Just make sure you get the copy before you leave.” Baylor tossed back the rest of his bourbon. “And don’t forget the video.”

* * * *

SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 53

Lucas laid down his notes on the small desk in the library and rubbed his eyes.

Not that there was anything wrong with his eyesight. The words blurred in front of him because he wasn’t concentrating on them. All he could think of was Sara.

How in the hell was he going to keep this thing platonic if they were going to be traveling together and she’d be sleeping in the next room? The thought of her slipping out of some tiny bit of sheer lingerie and stepping into the shower naked in the morning aroused him more than anything had in years. He pictured himself with her, watching the water glide over satin shoulders and flow over soft mounds of breasts, sliding down the slight swell of stomach to nestle in dark curls at the juncture of thigh. His hands would follow the water’s trail …

He tore himself out of the fantasy. God, she wasn’t even in the room and look what she did to him. He didn’t need to look. He could feel what she did to him. The wolf growled.

“Not now!” He wondered if he’d ever tame the beast. He thought about what

Sara had said earlier about the lobo being docile. If only she knew.

No, it would be better if he could travel by himself. Balor must surely have

recognized him yesterday. He would know they were both after the same thing and would be watching. Another reason to travel alone. Lucas could lure him away and Sara would be safe if she stayed in town. And Caldwell should be leaving in a day or two.

Perhaps he’d wait until the man was gone.

Lucas looked at his watch. It was well past two o’clock. Sara should have been back from lunch with Caldwell. She had suggested grabbing hamburgers at some local mom-and-pop operation about a mile from here. How long did it take to eat a burger?

He felt the hair start to bristle on the back of his neck even as a chill went through him. The wolf whined. Something wasn’t right.

He hoped he could find the damn restaurant.

* * * *

Sara squirmed. She had long since finished her burger and gone to the restroom and now sipped sparingly on the margarita he had waiting for her when she got back.

The beer was Alan’s third and she was getting a headache listening to him talk.

He motioned the waitress over. “Another round,” he said.

“No, really. I’ve got to get back. There’s work to do,” Sara started to get up and then sat back down quickly, feeling a bit woozy. Wow. The bartender must have put in a double shot of tequila. She’d only had half the drink and she was the one driving. Better let the effects wear off. “No more for me, thanks.”

“As I was saying,” Alan continued, “I think it’s great you’re running your own employment agency and working for Smith. How do you do it?”

She wasn’t sure why she had told him about the temp agency. She guessed it was because it would keep her from talking about work and the manuscript.

“The agency pays the bills. The historical stuff is my hobby.”

“When do you have time for a social life?”

She giggled. Picking three losers had been enough. Who needed a social life?

But why was she giggling? It wasn’t even a funny question. Some tequila.

“Well, there’s Michael …” now why had she said that?

SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 54

Caldwell tilted his head. “You have a boyfriend?”

She giggled again. At her age, she wouldn’t call any man she went to bed with a boy. “Uh, he’s a friend. We … work together.” She blinked to bring Alan back into focus and felt her stomach lurch. “I don’t think I feel very well.”

He was instantly sympathetic. “There’s a flu bug going around. Why don’t I

drive you home?”

Her head started swimming and she grabbed the edge of the table to balance

herself. “I hardly ever get sick.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alan said as he reached for her purse. “May I get your car keys out?”

She nodded dumbly. There wasn’t any way she could drive. The room was

spinning. She didn’t feel sick. She felt drunk, but she didn’t know how that could be.

Alan took her keys and placed them in his side pocket and then pressed down to make sure they were safe before he came around the table and helped Sara up from her chair. “Just put your arm over my shoulder,” he said as he led her toward the exit.

The door nearly hit them in the face as it flew open and Lucas stomped in.

“Sara! Are you all right?” He lifted a hand and tilted her chin.

She peered at him owlishly. “Lucas? Wh … whath are youth doing heere?”

He gazed at her steadily. “Are ye drunk, lass?”

“I dun know.”

Lucas shifted his look to Caldwell. “You got her drunk?” His voice was low and flat and only a fool would not have alerted to the danger.

“No!” Caldwell said quickly and undraped her arm. She stumbled into Lucas

who caught her securely by the waist.

“Where were you going with her?”

“She got sick, man. I was taking her to her place and then I was going to call a cab from there.”

“Right.” Lucas dug into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys and handed them to Caldwell. “My rental. Take it back to Smith’s. Give me her keys.”

“Wait a minute,” Caldwell protested. “What are you going to do with her?”

“I’m going to make sure she’s okay,” Lucas answered. “The keys. Now.”

Reluctantly Caldwell pulled them out of his pocket and brushed his thumb against one of them flicking off a bit of clay-colored debris. “Here. Don’t rape her.”

Lucas’ eyes glowed pure gold and Caldwell instinctively stepped back.

“I’ve never forced myself on a woman. Have you?”

Caldwell’s cell phone rang. With a look of relief, he answered it. The look was quickly replaced with a frown.