Page 52 of Knight of the Sword

“Perhaps not,” Pendragon replied, “but goddess blood flows in her veins.”

“Whose?”

“Epona’s.”

“How do you know that?” Michael demanded.

The dragon chuckled, only it sounded more like surf crashing against the beach. “Because I mated with Epona in human form. Sophie is a descendent of the child we produced.”

Michael moved closer to the bed and Sophie sighed softly as a feeling of warmth washed over her, like gentle summer waves. “Then she has dragon blood too?” he asked, sotto voce.

“It’s why Brighid sent me,” Pendragon answered. ‘She may be the last of her kind.”

“I know she has magical powers,” Michael said, his voice still low. “I saw how she slammed Caldwell into the wall without being near him.” He looked up at the dragon. “Epona was known to take the field both as a human warrior and in her horse-form. Is it possible that Sophie could shift?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a shifter, but dragon blood would make her very strong if she tapped into it.”

The breeze freshened and the voices faded as the salty tang of the sea became stronger. Sophie watched turquoise water ebb and flow across the wide expanse of sand as the warmth of southern sun flooded her.

As she contentedly curled into a ball, a magnificent white horse tossed its head and looked at her before turning and galloping down the beach.

****

“Do you think Pendragon will be okay?” Sophie asked Michael as they walked down Church Street toward the Fort Sumter Visitor Education Center to catch the ferry that would take them to the actual fort in the middle of Charleston Harbor.

“We left him with a gallon of chocolate ice cream,” Michael replied, “and he has orders to stay put and not make any noise.” He gave her a smile. “We can hardly take him walking with us.”

“I know. We’re trying not to draw attention to ourselves. It’s bad enough I have to use this cane.”

“The cane no one will pay attention to, but we want to stay under the radar if Sigurd shows up,” Michael said, looking around. “The last time I visited here, there was a good amount of paranormal activity going on. Hopefully, all the unusual energy will confuse him.”

“What kinds of paranormal activity?” Sophie asked suspiciously. “If you’re going to tell me vampires and werewolves are fighting it out—”

“No, nothing like that,” Michael said. “It’s more like ghosts.”

“Ghosts? What kinds of ghosts?”

“Various kinds. Pirates were a problem in the 1700s. Twenty-nine of them were hanged and left to rot at Battery Park to scare other pirates off. One of them supposedly still wanders around here looking for his head.”

“Get real.”

“I’m just telling you what the tourist brochures say,” Michael said with a grin. “Seriously, though, so much of Charleston was damaged by war and natural disasters through the past three centuries that a lot of these old homes have literally been rebuilt. Negative energy like grief and anger get absorbed into the walls and, over time, are trapped there with each renovation.”

Sophie shook her head. “If there wasn’t a live dragon back in our hotel room, I’d say this is all stuff and nonsense.”

“Not at all,” Michael answered. “Take the old Slave Mart. We might not like to think about it, but a lot of slaves were tortured. Some didn’t make it.” He pointed to the Queen Street intersection sign. “The next two blocks are a real hub for ghosts. Three churches with their graveyards, Pirate’s Courtyard, the old Planter’s Hotel—now the Dock Theater—but it had its share of rowdy and raucous behavior. In the evening, purple light can be seen hanging in the air around the place. I can show you later when we get back.”

Sophie craned her head to look at the huge churches. “That one certainly has a high steeple,” she said.

“St. Phillips.” Michael answered. “Its steeple was used as a lookout during the Civil War.”

She turned to him. “How do you know so much?”

He grinned. “Google?”

“Funny.”

“The oldest church in the city has a high steeple too,” Michael said as they stopped on the intersection with Broad and he pointed westward toward Meeting Street. “St. Michael’s.”