a call? Like a tug of magic?”
Gawain took an experimental sip of his coffee and relaxed. “Yes.”
“The next time I feel it, I will surrender.”
“Because?”
Charles fastened both hands around his mug. “Because Kay touched me just as I stopped Mordred from getting the sword, at the same time as I felt the pull to return. But more importantly, Merlin used some spell to slow everyone to give him chance to get to me before I was killed in retaliation. They thought I was the assassin.”
“And you think the double use of magic upset something? That you were switched,” Gawain said intuitively. “You think Kay is wherever you should be.”
Charles nodded, fighting down the sick fear in his gut.
“What do you want us to do?” Ali and Roxy walked in. “He’s my brother,” Roxy said again as if explanations were necessary. Charles heard the clash of steel again from the end room and knew practice had started. And based on the admiration in Tom’s eyes earlier, he had considered having some lessons. Lucan would have a heart attack.
Gawain nodded. “Go to that computer over there and see if you can find anything about the druid warrior class.”
Roxy frowned. “But I thought the druids were all nature-loving hand-holding sorts of people. At least according to the Rebel campaign,” she qualified.
“What rebel?” Gawain asked.
“It was an aftershave commercial. Line of priests, monks, whatever all walking along, and then one pulls the robe off and appears in full ancient Roman battle gear, brandishes a sword, and charges at some unseen enemy. The tag line was ‘Be the rebel you always wanted to be.’” Roxy shrugged. “I told them they had the sword all wrong for the time period, but I was there just to look pretty and be rescued.”
Gawain registered that. “You know swordsmanship?” Charles also glanced over. Reenactment fantasies rarely covered every time period.
Roxy’s eyes gleamed. “I majored in ancient history and did a paper on Bronze Age weaponry. If I hadn’t been discovered by All the Gold modeling in my last year at college, I would have begun my thesis on medieval weaponry for my eventual master’s.”
Even Charles was impressed.
“Another example of Tresors being perfect fits.” Everyone looked up as Mel walked in. “I’m assuming this has to do with finding Kay.”
But how could Charles be a perfect fit for Kay when he might just have got him captured?
Gawain explained Charles’s theory and intention. And that there was nothing they could do until the magic pulled at Charles, so they were trying to find out as much as they could in preparation. Mel nodded and pulled one of the notebooks to him.
“You speak Latin?” Charles asked in surprise. He was sure Mel had said he couldn’t before.
“I speak magic,” Mel said softly and took the book out of the plastic and put it on the table. The pages flicked over in rapid succession as Mel held his hand over it, then stopped. Mel picked the book up at the open page and passed it to Charles. “I’m going to make sandwiches if we’re going to be in here for a while.”
Charles glanced down at the book in shock as Mel left the room. He shouldn’t be surprised, after the car, but damn. He put it open on the table, and Gawain rolled his chair up to look as well. “This chapter is called In doctrina de trinidate.”
“The theory of the trinity?” Gawain immediately translated. “It sounds similar to Christian beliefs.”
“God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit,” Charles agreed. “The Holy Trinity as believed by the Catholic Church.”
“Not this one,” Gawain explained. “This is more the recipe for the perfect storm.”
Charles looked at him in confusion. “A recipe?”
Gawain sighed. “Bad metaphor. I mean it’s three things that have to be brought together to make something happen, but it doesn’t explain anything. It’s a list of phrases, nothing more. Sanguis filium means blood of the son, and ignis spiritus morte means bringer of death, which is the opposite of Christian religious beliefs.”
“Don’t they drink wine as a symbol of Christ’s blood?” Charles asked.
“Yes, but this could mean that the blood means death to either the son, or that the son brings the blood.”
“Or the son’s blood causes death,” Gawain said quietly, and they both looked at each other. Charles knew they worried Galahad was a trap as Elaine had been.
“Patreum filius occiderit,” Charles read out, and Gawain inhaled a sharp breath.
“What does that mean?” Roxy asked.
“That the son kills the