Destiny

Elation filled A

"Knowledge, Miss Creed," Lesauvage said in a dead, still voice, "is not always a good thing."

But it's the things that you don't know about that kill you quickest, A

"Why do you have an interest in the Wild Hunt?" A

"I want the coin you found," Lesauvage said. "I was told you found it around the dead warrior's neck. He wore it on a leather strap."

"Most people believe the Wild Hunt is an Irish myth," A

Sitting back in his chair, Lesauvage regarded her from under hooded lids. "You don't believe in it?"

"No," A

"Yes."

"I hadn't thought about it until this morning," A

Lesauvage remained silent.

"Did you know that several people in history claimed to have taken part in the Wild Hunt?" A

Shifting uncomfortably, Lesauvage crossed his arms and glared at her as if she were merely an a

"Primitive peoples among the Gauls and Germans used it to combat the encroachment of civilization," A

"You're wasting time," Lesauvage interrupted.

A

"I want the coin," Lesauvage repeated. "Or things could get dire."

"I hadn't thought about La Bête being part of the Wild Hunt," A

"You're playing with things that don't concern you, woman." Menace dripped in Lesauvage's words.

A

"Now I want that damned coin."

"I don't have it," A

"You're lying," Lesauvage snarled. His face grew dark with suffused blood.

"No," A

"What old man?"

"Didn't your men tell you about him?"

Lesauvage stared daggers at her.

"His name is Roux."

"What's the rest of his name?"

"That's all I know."

Lesauvage cursed, drawing the attention of nearby patrons. Even the English and German tourists who didn't speak French understood the potential for violence. They got up with their families and started to sidle away.

"We're done here." A

Lesauvage reached for her with a big hand.

Pressing the button on the side of the baton, A

With the baton still in her fist, her heart thumping rapidly, A

They were young and hard-looking. When they lowered their cowls, she saw that their heads were shaved smooth. Tattoos at their throats repeated the same design that had been struck on the back of the charm.

"Miss Creed," one of them said in flawless English, "you must come with us." He reached for her.

A

Metal shrieked against metal.

A

Things did not look good. A

She tightened her grip on her baton and looked at Lesauvage.

The man sat at the table cradling his hand. He gri

The black-robed warriors closed in on her.

Garin Braden waited in the black Mercedes while Avery Moreau dashed inside the bookstore to find out if the woman was still there.

After arriving in Lozère, Garin had experienced no trouble in picking up A

Camille Lambert had been glad to help A

She'd also given Avery Moreau's phone number to Garin and suggested hiring him to help track down the woman.

They'd already been to the museum and the library, two places the young man said the woman liked to haunt while she was in town. Now they were at Roland's Bookstore.

The cold air-conditioning cycled around Garin. A German industrial metal group played on the stereo, filling the big luxury car with sound.

He wondered what Roux was up to. If all the pieces of the sword were truly gathered, why had nothing changed?

The only conjecture Garin had come up with was that the woman was important to everything they were dealing with. After all, she was the one who had fallen into the bowels of the mountain and discovered the last piece of the sword.

Roux liked to look for hidden meanings and allegories and secrets. When serving as the old man's apprentice, Garin had discovered that not everything was filled with plots and portents. Sometimes things were as simple as they looked.

Like the fact that the woman was somehow mixed up with the sword.