Pirate's Promise (Sentinels of Savannah #5) - Lisa Kessler Page 0,43

with her other hand. “Well, I think it needs the blood of the chosen one. We believe it’s referring to the descendants of King Svafrlami. Maybe that’s where its power is derived?”

“And we don’t know how it will go about finding the blood?” He rubbed his forehead.

They should not just be uncovering this information now. He should’ve known what he was sending Agent Henderson into before she got on that ship.

“No. I’m still researching the archives, but translating the ancient texts is a slow process.” She shifted her weight, her hip tipping to the side. “I’ll keep looking.”

He lifted his gaze to her face. “Do you think it’s possible the sword could enchant someone to kill the chosen one?”

“Hard to say.” She shrugged. “Given our experience with other charmed weapons, it’s probably a possibility.”

He got up and walked to the window, digesting the information. He stared out at the parking lot. He’d dealt with many cursed artifacts, most recently Pandora’s box.

The crate containing the relic had been stolen from the dock, and all the evils of the world were nearly unleashed in the Bonaventure Cemetery. He had the box stored in the vault now and had thought he’d never have to think about it again, but the Tyrfing had already been in the vault for nearly a century before David had joined Department 13. Until now, he’d believed their security was impenetrable.

To make matters worse, he knew very little about the curse on the hungry blade.

And that worried him.

“I need to warn Aura not to let anyone else touch that sword. As soon as it’s in her possession, it needs to go in the lead-lined box we gave to the crew.” He turned to face her. “Will that work?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, sir.” She lifted her chin a notch. “From all we know about the Tyrfing, the lead should contain the magic.”

Their containers were usually made of iron. It had a long history of repelling magic, especially in Celtic lore. Hanging horseshoes over doors for good luck sprouted from the same myths, and behind every myth and legend were truths that science often found inconvenient.

In the case of the Tyrfing, the occult division had advised him to use a lead case instead. Because the cursed blade could cut through any material, lead was suggested as an alternative. Lead was such a dense metal, it could even hold radiation. They were counting on the dense molecules to contain the Tyrfing as well.

But there were suddenly too many unknowns with this damned relic. He should’ve been the one retrieving it. He never would have tapped Henderson for this mission if he had known about this new twist.

“Can you check into any past histories with the blade and see how it finds the chosen one?”

“Yes, sir.”

She walked away before he could voice his frustration that the Department 13 archive hadn’t included any mention of a chosen one. Dr. Charlotte Sinclair was a gifted maritime historian, but he shouldn’t have learned this important fact about the Tyrfing from her.

Why hadn’t it been mentioned in their records?

It was an unacceptable oversight.

He opened the paper file, scanning names of the agents who’d first cataloged the blade. Wilson, Hearst, and Graneer, all legends of the department.

Could they have missed such an important detail?

He continued to skim the file for anyone else who’d come in contact with the cursed blade since it had been logged into the vault. One jumped out at him.

“Agent Mamon?”

He frowned and jotted down the name. Demonology wasn’t David’s strong suit, but Mammon was universally recognized as the demon representation of greed.

King Svafrlami’s greed had led him to trick the dwarves and force them to craft the Tyrfing. He stared at his notes. Eight years ago, this Agent Mamon had signed the register to inspect and clean the Tyrfing. Could a demon have infiltrated their ranks? He checked the dates of the annual vault inventory and frowned.

The cleaning had taken place right before the inventory. The usual protocol was to clean and inspect the relics during the inventory. Why do it a week early?

His gut churned with dread. Could the Tyrfing have been missing for eight years before they’d discovered it was gone?

He needed to find Agent Mamon. Now.

Chapter Fifteen

“Land ho!” Drake shouted.

Greyson straightened his polo, unsure if it was the clothes or the destination on the horizon that made him uneasy. Probably both.

He tied his hair back in a ponytail and added a baseball hat bearing the logo of a