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the evil eye when they saw him, simply took him to be one of many wolves who roamed the countryside.
    If only they knew whose evil eye they should ward themselves against, he
    thought. Balor. Once a sun god, he became greedy for more power. Personal power. In her wisdom, the Goddess finally placed a curse on him that his own grandson would kill him. He promptly confined his only child, a daughter, to a tower. Angry, the Goddess arranged for the Dagda to rescue the maiden and banished Balor. Enraged, Balor swore to wreak havoc in the mortal world forever. And he had done that well. Never was the world so close to destroying itself. The time was close when he must be stopped. Well, that’s why I’m here. I’m the grandson he doesn’t know about. He fingered the ancient gold Templar cross he wore on a gold chain. It was his protection from Balor.
    He refocused his attention on his friend, sitting in the driver’s seat of the Audi.
    “How are you feeling?”
    Gavin shrugged. “The new meds make the light tolerable, but I still prefer the night.” He turned the ignition. “Where to?”
    “To the flat, first. Then Heathrow.” Lucas slid the slim laptop out from its special compartment and tapped in a request for airline flights leaving for the United States that afternoon and then punched in a reservation for each carrier. Whichever flight she would be on, so was he.
    Gavin put the car into gear. “You’re going after her?”
    And looking forward to it. He hadn’t met a woman that plucky in centuries, not since Gwenhwyfar had been tied to the stake and spat at her would-be murderers, but perhaps this woman wouldn’t need any more dramatic rescues. He hoped not. She had been scared, he could smell it, but she hadn’t showed it. Damn brave of her. And she was smart too, had kept her wits about her and not let loose of that case.
    “I have to. If there’s any chance the manuscript is genuine, I must see it. It would hold the answer to the Templar treasure. Or, at least, the part I need.”
    “I failed at getting the manuscript,” Gavin said in a dismal tone, “although I did get the shield.”

    SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 12
    Lucas glanced at him. The two of them had been lucky to have escaped the
    arrests that fatal Friday in 1307. He knew Gavin had tried his best.
    “Doona worry about it,” he said, slipping into the natural brogue he preferred using. “Ye did well enough.” Reaching into the back seat he brought the shield forward and unwrapped it. “ ‘Tis really priceless. The fools dinna know what they had.”
    Gavin gave it an appreciative look before he turned his eyes back to traffic. “It’s the one then? Jacques de Molay’s?”
    “Oh, aye.” Lucas still felt a moment of pain when he remembered standing in the crowd, helpless to do anything while the Grand Master burned. The wolf had nearly gotten the better of him that day. That evening he had loosed the beast, allowing it to tear out the throats of two of Jacque’s tormentors. He forced himself back to the present.
    “The shield is much older than that though. It has been passed down from the
    very first Templar.”
    “Godefroi de Boullion?” Gavin asked.
    Lucas shook his head. “Older still.” At Gavin’s puzzled look, he explained. “A king near Jerusalem named Evelake was a friend of Joseph of Arimathea’s. He converted to Christianity and took the name Mordrains and was given this shield by his uncle. He called it the Shield of Wisdom. Anyone who was not worthy to carry it would be severely maimed.”
    Gavin slid a quick glance at Lucas. “Who was the uncle?”
    “Peter the Fisherman.”
    Gavin whistled. “Saint Peter was the first Templar?”
    “Not quite. For centuries, the shield laid hidden in the tomb of Nascien,
    Mordrain’s brother. And then, a descendent of theirs, a knight pure in heart, found his way to the abbey on a quest for something else entirely.”
    “What?”
    “The Holy Grail.”
    Gavin almost