Jordan (41 page)

With no other choice, Lucan jumped into the dark shaft. He fell about twelve feet before frigid water closed over his head
and ripped away his glasses. His flesh went numb, but he managed to keep a grip on his waterproof flashlight. His lungs seized
and his vision blurred. Forcing his shocked limbs to move, he kicked for the surface. And heard Marisa’s scream. Turning around,
he swam in the direction where he’d last seen her.

Already his teeth chattered. He struggled for breath, and his waterlogged clothing and boots weighed him down. The raging
current swept him under, but his concern was for Marisa. She’d been in this icy water too long. Clenching his teeth, he kicked
harder until he was finally close enough to grab Marisa’s shoulders. They had only minutes to find a way out before hypothermia
set in.

He pulled her close. “I’ve got you.”

When she didn’t reply, fear poured through his system. Fighting to lift her head above the surface, he shined his light around
the cave in search of a shoal or a shallow pool.

Marisa lifted a quaking hand. “There.”

Just ahead, the river forked. One side widened, the other narrowed.

Using most of his remaining strength, he steered them toward the wider fork, praying it wouldn’t take them deeper underground.
His prayers were answered when they rounded a bend and the water leveled out onto a dirt embankment.

He pulled Marisa out of the river, and together they lay on the bank, panting, shivering, and exhausted. When she didn’t speak,
he aimed the light on her. Her eyes were closed, her face pale, her lips blue. He wrung some of the water from her clothing,
then rubbed her limbs with his own freezing hands.

Her eyes fluttered open. “One word…about my hair, and I’ll s-smack you up side the head.”

“You look good in mud.”

She slapped at his shoulder but didn’t have the strength to land the blow.

He smoothed her hair from her eyes. “Save your strength. I don’t want to have to carry you.” She needed to walk to keep the
hypothermia at bay.

“W-wuss.” She crawled up the bank until her back rested against a dirt wall.

Lucan focused on survival. “We’ve got to get moving or we’ll freeze.”

“You wrung the water from my clothes. What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Of course you’re fine. J-just like when y-you were in Namibia and that black mamba bit you?”

“I lived.”

“Barely.” Marisa took his hand and tried to stand, but her knees buckled. She grabbed the wall behind her for support and
it began to collapse on top of them.

Lucan lunged and threw his body over hers, shut his eyes, and prayed they wouldn’t be buried alive. Clumps of cold mud cascaded
over them and bounced aside.

“You okay?” Lucan asked.

“Oh, now I’m really having f-fun.” Marisa spat dirt. “So glad you s-suggested”—her teeth chattered uncontrollably—“th-this
little vacation.”

Lucan shoved to his feet. “Think what a great adventure story you’ll have to write.”

“I don’t want to
be
the story.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “But you love this shit. You’re probably getting off on—”

Wow.
Her telepathic thought interrupted her words midsentence. And her amazement came through in waves—surprising waves that peaked
with astonishment.

“What?” He spun around to see exactly what had shocked her, and he froze. He focused his flashlight on the unearthed urn,
hardly believing his eyes or his luck. The intricate design made dating the piece easy. “It’s Tintagel ware.”

“Tinta-who?”

“Tintagel ware is an ancient indigenous pottery. Fifth or sixth century. More evidence that Cadbury Castle really was King
Arthur’s home base.”

They both jumped aside as another slice of wall and more pottery crashed down, revealing a hidden room. At the sound of breaking
terra-cotta, Lucan winced. An ancient scroll poked from the shards, and he dashed to pull the paper from the muddy earth before
the dampness reached it.

Old and fragile, the antiquity had survived in amazing condition. He balanced the flashlight between his shoulder and chin,
unfurled his find, and squinted, wishing for his lost glasses.

Marisa peered over his arm, her reporter’s curiosity evident. “What is it?”

Lucan stared, his pulse racing in excitement. The astrological map revealed the Sun, the Earth, planets. And many stars. But
what had his heart battering his ribs was the line drawn from Earth to a star far across the galaxy. He was looking at an
ancient map of the heavens. His mouth went dry. “This is a star map.”

“Why do you sound so surprised? Even the most ancient cultures were into astrology.”

“Astronomy,” he corrected automatically. “I’m no astronomer, but this looks…far too accurate for its time. King Arthur, remember.
The Age of Chivalry.”

“Yeah, right.”

Lost in thought, he ignored her sarcasm. “This map has details the Hubble telescope might not pick up, yet it’s thousands
of years old. It’s unbelievable.”

“So it’s a fake?”

“I’ll have to perform tests…” He squinted at the map. His gaze moved on to the distant stars and their planets. “Hell.”

“What now?”

He pointed to the map. “This moon is named Pendragon.”

“Wasn’t that King Arthur’s last name?”

He nodded and squinted. “And written right under Pendragon is the word
Avalon.
”

“Avalon? Is that significant?”

“Avalon was a legendary isle ruled by a Druid priestess called the Lady of the Lake,” he answered. “She helped put Arthur
on the throne. And according to the stories, Avalon was also where King Arthur left the Holy Grail.”

“The Holy Grail?” Disbelief filled her voice.

“The powers of the cup are legendary. If the myths are true, the cup might cure physical ills—cancer, heart attacks, and…”
He hesitated before breathing out the word. “Sterility.”

Though neither his sister nor her husband was officially sterile, like most of Earth’s population, they couldn’t have children.
Her recent miscarriage had been her second in as many years. If the cup truly existed and he could find it, his sister—and
hundreds of thousands of others—could finally carry a child to term.

“Throughout the ages,” he continued, “many men, including Arthur’s own Knights of the Round Table, have searched for Avalon
and the Holy Grail. Legendary stories of the Grail’s healing properties exist in many cultures, yet no one has found it.”
He pointed to the small moon on the ancient map. “Maybe that’s because Avalon wasn’t on Earth.”

“You’ve lost your mind.” She sighed, but the catch in her voice exposed her wishful thinking that after all this time despairing,
she might be able to hope again.

“A search for the Holy Grail might be the most exciting thing I’ll ever do.”

“It might also be the last thing you ever do. Didn’t you learn your lesson when you went in search of Preah Vihear antiquities?”

“The golden statue of the dancing Shiva I found in the Khmer temple was worth—”

“Ending up in a Cambodian jail?”

“Just a little misunderstanding. We got it squared away.”

She cursed under her breath. “You sure you don’t have a death wish? Or are you just an adrenaline junkie?”

She was fussing only because she loved him, so he ignored her rhetorical questions. Besides, he wasn’t the only twin who took
calculated risks. As a reporter for the
St. Petersburg Times,
Marisa had placed herself in danger often. They were some pair. She wanted to report the present to change the future. Until
now, he’d believed humanity was headed for extinction, and he had studied the past because the future looked bleak. But if
he could find the Grail, the past just might offer hope.

Marisa sighed. “We need to dig out of here.”

He carefully rolled up the parchment and placed it in the dry sample bag he’d pulled from his backpack. Then he shined the
light on the broken pottery. Kneeling, he began gathering as many shards as he could carry.

He reached for a particularly large piece, covered in an array of signs and symbols, when he spied daylight glimmering through
a tiny opening on the far wall of the hidden room. A way out. “Time to go.”

“Now you’re in a hurry?”

“Don’t you want to find out if this map’s authentic?”

She sighed. “I’m more interested in warm, dry clothes.”

“Do you realize what we may have found?”

“We? Just you, my brother. Avalon? The Holy Grail? A cure for cancer? The idea is more than crazy. It’s nonsense. But knowing
you, you’ll find a way to follow that map to Avalon.”

“If the star map pans out, you’ll want first dibs on the story—don’t deny it.”

“You’re a restless, adventure-seeking fool. That stupid map is going to take you straight to outer space.”

He could only hope.

As they deny the world, not only in the spirit realm but in the material plane, the world will cease to exist.

—T
HE
L
ADY OF THE
L
AKE

1

Eight years later, half a galaxy away

C
ael was going to die. Not with the dignity a High Priestess was due. Not even with the respect afforded a physician.

And it was all her own fault. When she’d thought she’d seen her owl, Merlin, flapping frantically in the cooling conduit,
she’d foolishly attempted a rescue. That had been mistake number one. Instead of calling maintenance for help, she’d grabbed
a ladder, yanked off the outer grid, and crawled into the ductwork. Mistake number two. She’d forgotten to take a flashlight.
Mistake number three. And now she was stuck in the dark conduit, half frozen, her hair held firm by the intake valve, her
hand caught in the mesh screen meant to keep out rodents.

She’d shouted for help, of course, but no one had heard. With her robes and feet dangling into the hallway, she would have
been hard to miss, but her coworkers never came down the hall to the High Priestess’s office. Being High Priestess wasn’t
all it was assumed to be. Yes, she lived in a magnificent residence, free of charge, and her people revered her, even enacting
a special law to allow her to be both priestess and healer, but the average Dragonian wouldn’t think of stopping by for a
chat, never mind asking for her medical opinion.

While she believed her empathic ability was a gift that enabled her to use her healing skills wisely, her people too often
looked at it as a curse. A curse that might blast them if they looked at her the wrong way…so most preferred not to look at
her at all.

To her regret, she’d treated only a few patients since she’d joined the Avalon Project’s team of specialists, which included
astronomers, archeologists, physicists, engineers, geologists, and computer technicians. Unless they had an emergency, her
coworkers preferred other, less daunting healers. And if she didn’t turn up for work in the lab tomorrow, she doubted anyone
would search for her. They’d assume she was attending to her High Priestess duties.

So she was stuck. Alone as usual.

And Merlin wasn’t even here. Mistake number four. Had she imagined that the owl had needed her help? She should have known
better. The bird was crafty. He wouldn’t fly into a conduit that had no exit. He wouldn’t get stuck as she had. It would be
just her luck if she died here of dehydration.

“Damn it.” She pounded on the metal wall with her free hand and yelled. “Just turn off the cooling coils, hand me a knife,
and I’ll cut myself free.”

No one answered. The suction from the intake valve threatened to snatch her bald. Again she wrenched her wrist, but the mesh
held her fingers in a clawlike grip. Tired, cold, she closed her eyes and dozed.

“Lady?” Someone tugged on her foot.

She awakened with a jerk and almost yanked her hair out by the roots. Teeth chattering, her side numb, she figured she must
have been dreaming of rescue.

Then she heard the same deep and sexy yet unrecognizable voice again. “Are you stuck?”

What did he think? That the High Priestess slept here because she liked being frozen into an ice cube? “Please, can you get
me out?”

A warm hand grasped her ankle, and an interesting tingle shot up her leg as he tugged.

“Ow! My hair is caught in the intake valve, and my hand got stuck in the mesh when I tried to free myself.”

She was about to ask for a pair of scissors or a knife, when she heard the duct metal creak and a thud. Then a man’s chest
was sliding over her legs. And his movement was tugging up her gown.

Holy Goddess.

She’d never been this close to someone before. No one dared touch the High Priestess.

Yet he’d crawled right into the duct with her and was inching his way past her hips. Both her hearts jolted as if she’d taken
a direct electric charge. His heat seeped into her, and the feel of his powerful, rippling male muscles had her biting back
a gasp of shock.

It was impossible not to feel the heat pulsing between them. Studying the signs of arousal in a medical book was one thing.
Experiencing them was quite another.