Page 30 of Knight of the Sword

Michael watched as Caldwell lunged at Sophie. She spun, light on her feet, and cut to her right. There was a clash of engagement as Caldwell parried and moved closer to press her sword. It was just what Michael had feared would happen. The big man would push the flat of his sword against hers and her upper body strength would be no match for him. If he hurt her, Michael would make him pay—

His jaw nearly dropped as Sophie passed her blade beneath Caldwell’s and disengaged. She sprang back and feinted left. Caldwell thrust straight into open space and stumbled. Michael started to laugh and stopped. Caldwell’s aura blazed a deep maroon-red as he regained his footing and moved into a fifth guard position. A chill swept over Michael. That stance was as close to medieval warfare as modern fencing got. This was no longer a game.

Caldwell lunged once more and Sophie parried, not sensing the danger. He riposted and thrust again, using a series of quick jabs as he advanced on her. Sophie retreated, blocking the now stronger blows as best she could. She had no shield.

“This isn’t a duel. It’s a fencing match. There are rules. I’ll not get hurt.”

Like hell she wouldn’t. She was almost backed against a wall. Caldwell was intent on winning. He’d draw blood in another minute.

Michael leapt from the bench with preternatural warlock speed, brandishing his right arm, envisioning Excalibur and creating the illusion that he carried a flaming Sword. White-hot light flared from his other hand to Caldwell’s rapier. Caldwell howled in pain as the metal heated, and he flung the sword away as he bent over, clenching his hand and cursing.

Sophie grounded her sword and raised her visor, looking bewildered. “What just happened?”

“Your friend just came at me with a fiery Sword,” Caldwell said through clenched teeth.

Sophie cut her eyes to Michael who held out his hands, palms up.

“Do you see a sword?” he asked. He prayed she had not; he’d created the illusion for Caldwell, but he hadn’t had much time to fine-hone it. Sometimes the magic flowed over.

Her brow creased and she looked back at Caldwell. “What sword?”

“The damn, bloody sword he was swinging,” he replied and then straightened, giving Michael a calculating look, as though he were remembering something. Then he turned to Sophie and shook his head. “You probably didn’t see it. It wasn’t there. The damn thing was only an illusion.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about? Are you ill?”

Caldwell snorted. “I am fine. Your friend was messing with my head.”

Her frown deepened. “How? I didn’t see him do anything.”

“Of course you didn’t. He didn’t want you to see anything.”

“You’re not making any sense. Perhaps we should call a doctor—”

“I’m fine, I told you.” Caldwell pointed to Michael. “He’s the one who’s not normal.”

Sophie’s gaze flitted to Michael and then back to Caldwell. “I don’t—”

“Your friend,” Caldwell interrupted, “is a friggin’ warlock.” He smiled coldly at her surprised expression. “Or didn’t he tell you that?”

****

Sophie sat in the passenger seat of Michael’s sport car, focusing on the traffic flow on Central Expressway as they made their way home from the fencing episode. As usual, it was bumper-to-bumper and speeding along a good fifteen miles an hour over the posted limit, but the flowing mass of metal was somehow comforting today. Normal people doing their normal routines, probably going to very normal jobs downtown and then back to normal lives in the ’burbs this evening.

Her life certainly wasn’t normal.

“Are you angry with me?” Michael asked as he gave her a quick glance.

Sophie felt a swell of hysteria rising in her throat. Maybe she should just ask Michael to drive over to Parkland Hospital and she’d check herself into the psycho ward. No dragons or warlocks there. Or, if there were, some nice nurse would give her a cheery little pill to make it all go away.

“Tell me you aren’t really a warlock,” she said without much hope.

He gave her another quick look. “Sorry, but I am.”

She drew a shaky breath. “What…what exactly does that mean?”

“Can we wait until I get you home to talk about this? It’s complicated.”

“I want to know now.”