“We’re all here to find King Arthur,” Larry said. “I hope you can help.”
“Jake said you’ve been in touch with many of our past presidents,” Sandy said. She had gray hair and bright blue eyes.
“Yes,” Rhonda said. “I’m especially interested in Thomas Jefferson.” She fluttered her lashes at Jake. “I understand that he admitted to you that he had had an affair with his slave.”
Kendall frowned at Jake. “You really shouldn’t be telling such things.”
“It isn’t true?” Alice said. Her small voice matched her mousy appearance.
“It’s just that… some things are told to me in confidence.”
They looked impressed, and Kendall knew she had gone up in their estimation. Sandy asked her who was the most interesting spirit she’d contacted, and then everyone jumped in, peppering her with questions. “Who was your favorite spirit?” “Who was the most shocking?” “Have you had a spirit attack you?” “Climb in bed with you?” The last question was from Rhonda.
“Each time is different,” Kendall said. “I never know what to expect.” That wasn’t a lie.
The time flew by, and Kendall began to enjoy herself more than she cared to admit. These people might be quacks by some standards, but they admired her, appreciated her. For once in her life since Adam, she fit in. Jake got her a plate from the buffet and watched her as she talked. He played the perfect husband, charming and gorgeous. She didn’t realize he’d left until she saw him slip back into the room.
“When do we get to see the Blue Chalice?” Sandy asked.
“What’s the Blue Chalice?” Jake asked, wearing a blank look as if he had never heard of it and hadn’t most likely been searching for it as the group dined.
Alice’s mousy appearance lit up. “It’s Glastonbury’s Holy Grail. They say it has power.”
“Lizzie has been a supporter of the well for a long time, and the trust has agreed to let us view the chalice,” Halle said. “It’s quite an honor.”
“Sounds interesting,” Jake said. “When do we get to see it?”
“In a day or two, when the caretaker returns.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
NATHAN PARKED HIS Land Rover in the Glastonbury Abbey parking lot. He locked the car and started walking toward the grounds. He’d gotten Kendall and Jake’s message. He would join them at Little Saint Michael’s, but first he wanted to check out the abbey grounds before it got too dark to see. Marco had said to find Arthur. King Arthur was supposed to have been buried here in Glastonbury Abbey. Maybe the fountain was near his grave. Maybe the fountain was inside his grave. He followed the signs, but someone else was there. A man stood with his back to Nathan. He was tall with dark hair pulled into a ponytail. He stretched out his hand and touched a marker that had been placed on the grave. Nathan could see sadness in the droop of his shoulders. In fact, he could feel it himself, a sense of anguish settling over him like fog. He didn’t often sense things the way Kendall did, but this was strong. The man at the grave tensed as if realizing he was being watched. He turned, and Nathan saw it was Raphael.
He thought about running, then about fighting, and reasoned that both would end badly, so he decided to face things head-on. No one else was nearby. His heartbeat sped up as he walked toward Raphael. He felt almost ill, but not from fear. It was the grave that was troubling him. “I wouldn’t have taken you if there had been any other way,” Nathan said. “I apologize, but it was necessary. I would do it again if given the choice.”
“You don’t have the choice now, do you?” Raphael moved closer. “Where is my cross?”
Nathan pulled the cross from under his shirt and took it off. He handed it to Raphael.
“Where did you get it?”
Nathan wasn’t going to name Kendall. “I took it off your body.” His dead body.
“You must love her to lie for her.”
Marco had probably told him Kendall found it. “She thought you were dead and wouldn’t need the cross. Why aren’t you dead?”
Raphael glanced at the grave, then glared at Nathan. “Who are you?”
Raphael was angry, but he also seemed puzzled. Nathan frowned. “You know who I am.”
“Who are you really?” Raphael grabbed Nathan by the shirt and yanked him closer. Nathan felt the heat rushing through his veins. He tried to stop the change, but his insides felt like they were cooking and his eyes were on fire.
Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “Damn Marco. That’s what I was afraid of.” Raphael slipped the cross over his head. “Now we can go.”
That was the last thing Nathan remembered before he woke up on a stone floor. Raphael leaned over him and pulled out a dagger. He cut his own wrist and then he grabbed Nathan’s. Nathan tried to pull away, but Raphael was too strong. The dagger sliced across his wrist and Nathan felt the sting. A line of blood welled up and Raphael touched their wrists together.
Nathan’s head felt thick, as it had in the maze. Immediately, memories pounded at his brain like a jackhammer. An airplane, flames, someone grabbing him, dragging him out of the flames. Then an explosion and blackness.
“This way. We must hurry.”
The voice beside him was weak. He didn’t know where they were, but he could smell the earth and trees. A branch slapped his face, and he threw up his hands to protect it. “I need to rest.” His head and legs ached, and fire flashed behind his eyes even though he couldn’t see.
“We’re almost there,” the voice said. “He’s meeting us at the rock.” His breathing was ragged, and it sounded like he needed to rest too. After he had stumbled for a few more minutes, the hand guiding his arm dropped. “You’ll have to go alone. I’m sorry, Adam,” the voice rasped.
“Go where?” He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know anything. Something cold was placed in his hands. He heard a harsh, rattling breath, then a thump. The forest was quiet except for his panting. “Where are you?” He stretched his hands in front of him, feeling blindly for the man. His foot hit something solid but soft, and he knelt, fear gripping him by the throat.
He put the cold object in his pocket—it was a cross—and patted awkwardly with his hands until he felt an arm. He followed it to a chest. It was still. No heartbeat. He felt a crushing sadness, even though he didn’t know the man. He was sure he should. He sat down beside the dead man, surrounded by darkness, as lost inside as he was out.
He tried to remember… anything, but the only image he saw was a girl with blond hair. Her face wasn’t clear, and the memory faded as quickly as it had come. His head burned, and he touched the rough bandage, trying to recall what had happened. He felt the stickiness of fresh blood; then his hands slid lower, touching nose, lips, jaw, searching for something familiar. Adam. That was the name the man had called him. He didn’t know what to do, so he clutched the cross in his pocket, pulled his jacket around him, and waited for someone to find him.
Nathan opened his eyes and saw Raphael standing over him, frowning. He knelt and tied a cloth around Nathan’s bloody wrist. “Leave this on for now.” He turned and started walking out.
Nathan rose to his feet, but his head was spinning.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
Raphael kept walking. “I have something to do.”
“Tell me where we are.”