Pirate's Promise (Sentinels of Savannah #5) - Lisa Kessler Page 0,64
stairs again, and she straightened in her chair, quickly wiping away tears she hadn’t realized she had shed. “That was fast.”
But it wasn’t Greyson who came through the door.
Char’s brow popped up over her glasses as she came closer. “Are you all right?”
Aura relaxed as she huffed out a relieved breath. “I will be.”
Char sat down and closed her books. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“No.” Aura stared down at her hands in her lap. Her fingers were still red and raw from the car. She pressed her lips together and rested back into her chair again. “I’m going to take a drink from the Grail. Maybe then I can lift the curse from the Tyrfing and send that demon back to the realm he came from without dying in the process.”
“Good.” Char put her books into her lap.
Aura glanced at the empty doorframe and back to Char. “Why did you decide to drink from it?”
Char shifted in her seat. “I wasn’t conscious when Keegan poured it into my mouth, but we’d talked about it before.” She patted her stack of books. “I’m a historian. If there was a chance for me to witness the rise and falls of civilizations, I was going to take it. Now I have time to learn new languages and study other time periods.” She added with a crooked smile, “Plus, it gives me lifetimes to love my rock star pirate.”
The pit in Aura’s stomach wasn’t getting any smaller. “It’s nice you can study history from anywhere.”
Her brow arched. “Don’t you save the world from anywhere, too?”
Aura chuckled. “My home base is in D.C., and I’d never ask Greyson to leave his crew. I’m drinking from the cup, but we’re not going to get lifetimes together like you and Keegan.”
“I guess that’s on you.” She shrugged. “You won’t if you’re not willing to try.” She stood up with her books clutched to her chest. “Love doesn’t make things easy. It makes them worthwhile. Big difference.”
Char walked out just as Greyson came back with the Grail in hand. He set it on the table in front of her and went around to the other side where Char had been sitting.
“No sign of the demon yet,” he said.
“Good.” She examined the mythical cup, stunned to be so close to it.
The Grail was nothing like the bejeweled relics in the movies. This was a wooden chalice, hand-carved and sanded smooth. In fact, if he hadn’t told her this was the fabled Lord’s cup, she never would have guessed it.
She lifted her gaze to his face. “It’s not like I imagined at all.”
“Aye.” He nodded. “I’ll never forget the day we took over that ship. Captain Flynn heard a Spanish ship carried the world’s greatest treasure. Then we boarded and there weren’t any gold pieces, no chests of gemstones, just a priest and this cup.”
“Whose idea was it to drink from it?” She’d never read the Department 13 files on the Holy Grail, and besides, hearing him speak soothed some of the pain in her chest.
“Flynn was the first to notice the water inside. He brought it to his lips and drank it empty, then it was full again.”
“The spring of living water. That’s how the prophets described God.”
“Aye.” He stared at the cup. “So, we all drank. On our way back to Savannah, we were caught in squalls and struck the bottom at the mouth of the Savannah River. We lost the Sea Dog that night and discovered we were immortal.” He pointed to the cup. “Take your drink and I’ll stow it again before the demon shows up again.”
She nodded and wrapped her fingers around the stem.
Nothing.
Somehow, she’d expected a jolt or some magical sign that she was touching a divine object. But the wood was smooth and cool to the touch. She lifted the chalice from the table, weighing it. Not light, but not heavy.
Clear water filled the cup. She stared into it, her reflection wavering.
Eternity.
Would she regret it?
Her hand trembled as she brought the cup to her lips. She closed her eyes and tipped it back. The cool water invaded her mouth, refreshing and clean. She swallowed, trying to memorize the feeling of immortality as it became part of her.
She set the cup back down and blinked. Nothing seemed different.
Greyson pointed at her hands. “Look at yer fingers.”
Her gaze flicked to her hands. Her fingertips were no longer red or raw. She held them up, inspecting her skin. Healed.