Authors: t
morning with extra coins in their pocket and a programmed memory that
some stranger had been generous.
When the door opened, both Chloe and her mother stepped out. Chloe eyed
his glasses and he hoped she would not make any comments on vampires.
Until he could figure out if “Jennifer” really was Genievre, he’d prefer to keep
talk of any kind of immortals out of the conversation.
“I am glad you could join us, Ms. Whitney.”
“Please call me Jennifer,” she said, “and thank you for inviting me.”
“My pleasure.” Gavin had still not seen any look of recognition from her, but
spending some time with her—much as he usually avoided anyone’s
relatives—was the only way to determine who—or what—she really was.
“Mom can guide us,” Chloe added, linking her arm to her mother’s. “Where
shall we start?”
“Let’s go to Buena Vista Park,” Jennifer said. “The view is spectacular from
there. Maybe I’ll get a sense of which area to search.”
Gavin raised an eyebrow. “Are you a psychic?”
“Not a dependable one,” Jennifer answered with a smile. “Sometimes, I get
impressions or images of things that don’t seem to have any connection to
the present day or to what I’m doing.”
“You see things from the past?”
“Do you mean ghosts?” Chloe asked.
“No. I meant do these visualizations seem to be set in the past?”
Jennifer knit her brows. “I’m not sure exactly. They’re not complete scenes
or anything. Just stuff that drifts through my mind at totally unexpected
times.” She glanced up at him. “I don’t talk about it much. I’m not even sure
why I mentioned it just now.”
“She’s not crazy either,” Chloe said defensively, “even though some people
get all freaked out even with just the Tarot.”
“I was not entertaining that idea,” Gavin said. “Scotland Yard has been
known to use psychics, although it is done overtly.”
“I tried helping the police once with a serial rapist that was loose,” Jennifer
said, “but I can’t control when the pictures come. I’m not sure if it’s a gift or
a curse.”
Or perhaps it really was the past she was seeing. Gavin had not been able to
detect any scent of evil from her. Tasting her blood would help, but he could
hardly attempt what he had on Morgan. However, if Balor were searching for
Genievre, they really should not extend this visit. Gavin had little doubt that
Sigurd would attempt to locate Chloe.
They walked down the hill and turned right on Haight. Unlike most women
Gavin knew, Chloe didn’t seem much interested in the exclusive boutiques
and trendy restaurants, but she practically danced as they got into grittier
area of vintage clothing stores and second-hand shops.
“That’s where Mom works,” she said, pointing down a side street toward a
small shop with a New Age motif and a flag of deep blue with silver crescent
moon and stars. “Maybe we can stop in on the way back.”
“Perhaps,” Gavin said noncommittally. He was getting a strange sense of
being followed, although when he turned around all he saw were shoppers
milling about, but a crowd was the perfect place for a spy to hide.
They continued the few blocks to the park, Gavin glancing over his shoulder
at intervals, and climbed the steep trail leading upward.
“Isn’t this cool?” Chloe asked when they reached the small grassy area at
the top of the hill. She spread her arms and twirled. “Look—you can see the
bridge and Golden Gate Park over there and the ocean. I don’t think I’ll ever
get tired of seeing the water.” She ran over to the eastern area. “And down
there is China Town and Union Square.”
“And the Mission District,” her mother said. “Mission Dolores was originally
named for Frances of Assisi, but the Californios dubbed it Dolores because of
the name of a nearby creek.” She turned to Gavin. “If you think this platter
may be in plain site, you could start there, although I don’t remember
seeing anything like that. Still, it’s the oldest intact building in Frisco, dating from the 1780’s.”
“The Indians back then ran around naked,” Chloe added.
Gavin started. “What?”
“Yeah. The men only wore small capes of skins and feathers on their
shoulders and the women had short little skirt-like things hanging from their
waists.” She grinned impishly. “And it gets cold here.”
“Did you get this from a history book, Miss Whitney?” Gavin asked as he
tried to banish the thought of Chloe bare-breasted with nipples beaded into
hard little knots from the cold wind—or from his warm mouth. Damn it. The
little minx had conjured up that image on purpose.
She blinked at him innocently. “I grew up here. Not everything is in a history
book.”
“There’s also the De Young Museum in Golden Gate Park,” Jennifer said
seemingly not aware that her daughter had not just put erotic thoughts into
his head that were multiplying rapidly. “Other than that, I’m not feeling
anything.”
Her mother might not be feeling anything, but Gavin certainly was. His groin
had tightened painfully at the image of Chloe he couldn’t shake. Worse, he
caught a whiff of her unique female scent as she swept by him and
proceeded down the hill.
****
“And just why are we taking this little detour?” Gavin asked the next day as
they left Walton Square and walked down Pacific Avenue. “We’re supposed
to be looking for the platter.”
“Well, Mission Dolores didn’t pan out yesterday, did it? We’re now in the
Barbary Coast area,” Chloe said. “This was where the first shiploads of gold-
rushers arrived. Maybe one of your Priory guys was on one of them.”
“And you thought he might just bury the platter as soon as he got on dry
ground?”
Gavin’s voice sounded neutral and Chloe wished she could see his eyes to
know if his expression was serious, but he had those blasted shades on
again. Geez. Fog hung over the area dense enough to make English pea
soup and he wore dark glasses? How super-sensitive could his eyes be
anyhow?
“I don’t know, but this street was one of the first trails cut through these
hills from the wharf to the original settlement near Portsmith Square. It is
possible that the platter could have been taken there, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Gavin said as a peroxide-overdosed woman in stilettos,
fishnets, and a skimpy, silver lame dress that made her look like a baked
potato teetered toward them, an inviting smile on her heavily made-up face.
She tried brushing against Gavin except he moved with lightning speed to
avoid the contact. Bright red lips turned into a pout before she moved on.
“Well, that hasn’t changed,” Chloe said as they continued to walk. “This
whole area was known for dance halls, saloons, and licentious debauchery
back then. I guess with over thirty thousand men descending on the place,
working girls made a pretty good living. ”
Gavin shrugged. “There are camp followers everywhere.”
What an odd term for him to use. Almost medieval. “Yeah, well. The
tradition hasn’t completely died out. This—” Chloe pointed to the street sign
as they turned left on Montgomery, “was where the first topless bars opened
here in the Sixties, according to Mom.”
“Interesting.”
Again, Chloe couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Gavin was
probably used to having women fall all over him. Morgan had certainly
latched on and Chloe noticed both the covert and more openly aggressive
looks of other women since they’d first arrived at the airport. Not that she
could blame them. With his long, dark hair, trademark black turtleneck and
jeans that outlined a fantastically sculpted body a woman couldn’t help but
notice. Chloe was not immune either, damn it. Surprisingly, though, Gavin
seemed oblivious to the inviting looks.
Lord, the British were a stoic lot.
They reached Portsmith Square a short time later. Although pretty, it offered
no more of a clue than anything else had. “There’s a Buddist church over
there,” Chloe said. “I think it’s the biggest one in the States. Maybe we
should take a look?”
“Why not?”
Chloe stepped off the curb to cross the street when a MoPed cut the corner
short, nearly side-swiping her. Before she could react, Gavin’s strong hands
lifted her out of harm’s way, setting her on the sidewalk.
“Are you all right?’ he asked as the cyclist sped away without even looking
back.
Her body thrilled from the brief touch he’d made. It took her mind a few
seconds to register what had happened and how quickly he’d reacted. Gavin
so rarely got close, let alone touching her, that she wished she could have
extended that moment.
“You’re not going to swoon, are you?”
“I’m fine.” Chloe said to hide the fact that her body still tingled.
If only she were the swooning type.
****
handed it to Chloe as they walked outside. “I am beginning to think my
theory of the platter being hidden in the open might be flawed.”
“Well, Mom said she didn’t recall seeing anything at either the mission or
here that resembled what you think the platter looks like,” Chloe replied.
Gavin refrained from saying he knew exactly what the platter looked like.
He’d seen it once. Merlin had brought it to court, along with some
candlesticks, just before Galahad set out on his quest for the Grail. The
sorcerer said both had been used in some sort of visionary procession that
would help find the Grail. Even though no one had been allowed to touch it
except Galahad, Gavin had felt its power resonating.
He hoped he’d be able to detect that feeling again if he got close to it.
“Did you know Golden Gate Park is larger than Central Park in New York?”
Chloe asked. “Or that it has buffalo?”
He had a hunch Chloe was trying to make him feel better. When was it that
he’d noticed she was almost always cheerful? He glanced at her orange hair
with it strange pink strands, more spiked than ever with the strong winds
blowing off the water and at her large eyes the color of the bay and forced a
smile. “I do not think I have ever seen a buffalo.” And, he realized, he
hadn’t. Not in the nearly fifteen hundred years of existence. His time had all
been spent in Europe.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re kidding! Tell you what—let’s rent some
horses and ride by their paddock!”
He was about to refuse since his senses still told him danger lurked
somewhere close and the sooner they left the area the better, but the idea
of getting on a horse again was nearly irresistible. All the knights had been
superior horsemen. “I suppose an hour or so will not interfere with the travel
plans.”
Ten minutes later they were mounted and headed down a bridle trail toward
the buffalo area. God’s blood, it felt good to be back in the saddle, even if
his horse was not a spirited stallion ready to run like the wind. This wasn’t a
battlefield; people weren’t supposed to get hurt.
Chloe had taken the lead on the fairly narrow path and Gavin had to remind
himself which century he was in. His basic instinct was to lead, not follow,
but then he realized he had the privilege of watching her delectable bottom
bounce in the saddle as her mare began trotting. A vision of Chloe naked,
astride him, her bottom slapping against his belly, breasts bouncing as she
rode him hard made him grip the saddle with his thighs. His horse tossed its
head, picking up the signal to run.
“Easy,” he soothed and circled the animal around. The horse had more spirit
than he realized and it wanted to run. It probably didn’t get much of a
chance. Gavin held him back, waiting for Chloe to put some distance
between them, so he could let the horse gallop to catch up. The gelding
pranced in place, anticipating. “Soon,” Gavin said, rubbing his neck. “Soon.”
His acute hearing picked up the sound only seconds before two motorcycles
careened around the bend, heading straight for Chloe. Her startled mare
reared and she slipped backwards, hitting the ground with a thud.
The cycles skidded to a stop, one of the fully-helmeted men jumping off to
pull a disoriented Chloe up toward him.
Gavin’s fangs elongated and he was on the man like a flash of lightning.
Grabbing the leather collar of his jacket, he flung him aside and turned to
the other rider, barring his teeth. The man throttled up and sped off. His
partner crawled to his bike and followed him. Every instinct told Gavin to
follow them, but Chloe was hurt.
He sank down beside her as she groaned. “Sit still. Let me make sure
nothing is broken.” Sliding his hands over her shoulders and slender arms,
he felt her tremble. He was all too aware of the heavy fullness of her breasts
as his fingers felt her ribs. Forcing himself to concentrate, he ran his hands
down the sides of her thighs, resisting the urge to explore anything closer to
where he would like to be. He began to sweat, even though the day was
cool. Where was the Templar discipline when he needed it?
Chloe trembled again and Gavin drew her close. Her arms went around his
neck, clinging as her soft, round breasts pressed against him. He drank in