Lucas nodded. “A carrier of one of the Hallows more than likely traveled alone and dressed simply so as not to attract unnecessary attention. If the person were “warded” in some special way, why couldn’t that person also be shown where to put the treasure and guided to write the code words in the manuscript?”
She felt goose bumps rising at the thought. “That’s a lot of what-ifs,” she said.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Rosslyn wasn’t built for the Christians, as you know. Perhaps a priestess of Brighid was granted special Sight.”
Sara felt a distinct nudge in her mind and she looked sharply at Lucas. Did he have any idea that she worshipped the Goddess? And that her own intuition still told her the Spear was somewhere in the Northeast? But his expression was bland as he met her look. “So you think that this…priestess…would know that two or three hundred years later a building would be placed in a significant location and point the way to a Hallow?”
“Is that really so unusual? Prophecies have been made from beyond Time. Look at Nostradamus.” He smiled a little. “And the Spear was probably the last to be buried.”
“Why?”
“It was the one Hallow most seen,” Lucas answered. “Excalibur, the Grail, and the dish from the Round Table all disappeared after Arthur’s death. The Spear did, too, but it somehow resurfaced.”
“How do you know all this?” Sara asked.
For a moment he hesitated, his eyes darkening to brandy color. Then he pointed at the computer. “Research,” he said. “It’s all there if you look hard enough.”
“So tell me.”
“You know the legend says that the Spear will fly straight and true and never turn against its holder?” When she nodded, he added, “Did you also know that it was once the Spear of the Sun god, Lugh?” She nodded again and he gave her a strange look. “Well,” he continued, “legend has it that the god chose to become human and wield his Spear for the good of mankind, but in the transformation, it was lost to him. It surfaced with Herod the Great. Lancelot carried it for Arthur. It found its way to Helena, mother of Constantine. Charlemagne led his people with it, and then it disappeared, to be recovered during the First Crusade.”
“By the Templars?”
He nodded. “Some say it was the first thing they discovered.” He paused with his eyes closed, his hand clenching as though he were holding the Spear himself. Then he gave himself a shake and looked at Sara. “We must find it before Baylor does, since the power works for whoever owns it.”
“But it has other powers too, doesn’t it?” Sara asked.
Lucas looked wary. “Like what?”
This was as good a place as any to plunge in. To give him a hint of what she was. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to. It was more of a feeling that he needed to know.
“I’ve done some arcane studies,” she said and shifted a little in her chair as Lucas’s gaze intensified. “As part of my degrees in ancient and medieval history. In Earth’s beginning, Fire met primal Ice, and then came Wind, bearing the Wisdom that would allow the elements to co-exist, but itself unknown.”
Lucas looked fascinated. Which was more than she could say for 99% of her students when she taught the course. “Wind also tore at the World Tree, Yggdrasil, and fashioned a Spear from one of its branches. So the Spear is symbolic of wisdom, insight, and inspiration. The Spear of Lugh lights the way to that wisdom just like the sun lights the day.” She stopped, surprised that Lucas’s eyes hadn’t glazed over. Her students would probably have been asleep by now.
But a brightness shone in his eyes that made her think of the sun itself blazing through them. And he looked tense, like an animal about to spring. She could almost see him brandishing the Spear. A mighty Highland warrior, bare-chested, biceps flexing as he hoisted the weapon overhead…
“I…never thought of it like that,” he finally said.
She pushed the image of that powerful body out of her mind and started to continue when his cell phone rang. With a look of annoyance he answered it. Then the look was replaced with a scowl and a soft curse. He looked over at her as he disconnected.
“I’ve been called back to Scotland,” he said.
****
What an absolutely rotten, stinking time to be called back to Scotland Yard. An old professor had been murdered and Balor was more than likely stalking them. He was pretty sure he had been lured out that night in Halifax, and he had his suspicions about this recall too. Not that he thought Commander Nolancould be influenced even by Balor. Lucas hadn’t met a man more honorable or dedicated to his work since Arthur’s time, but it seemed strange that security had somehow been breached in the museum that held the still unclassified artifacts from his last dig. And Lucas was the one who had done the official inventory.
He thought about Sara as he settled into the business class seating of a Boeing 737, where he could stretch out his long legs. It was madness, he knew, to keep finding excuses to touch her. Hell, how could he make himself so hard just by massaging her neck? The glimpse over her head at the computer revealed the tops of rounded breasts and he’d fought the urge to lean down and give her an upside-down kiss. He had barely contained the wolf as she arched and bared her neck to him. And yet, he realized, the wolf’s low growl in anticipation of the bite had not happened. But he couldn’t trust the beast.
On landing, he turned his cell phone on the minute the flight attendant announced it was safe to do so and punched in Sara’s number. She answered on the third ring, sounding breathless.
“Hi,” he said. “Where were you?”
“In the shower,” she answered.
He had an image of her standing there, naked, droplets of water running down her silky skin. Or maybe she was toweling off, pressing the cloth against her breasts or bringing it between her legs… He refocused and glanced at his watch. Almost noon. A little late for a morning shower.
“You okay?”
