The Sparrow and the Hawk

By Lynda Miller

Jillie Harte (code name--the Sparrow) a documentary film maker is an agent for the NAS (Normal, Abnormal, Strange) Agency. Her assignment--find The Carmaletta Choker before it falls into the wrong hands and destroys the world.
Franklin Doherty and associates are suspected of having the choker, and they are definitely the wrong hands! To get close to Franklin, Jillie is producing a film on "Decoration, Fashion, and Accessories Throughout History," featuring his antique collection. Her assignment is complicated by Griff Ryland, her new, hot cameraman, who is also looking for the necklace. Griff is an enigma. Is he friend or foe? And why is she so distracted by his "pure sex on a stick" appeal?
Like the Sparrow, Griff, aka the Hawk, needs to retrieve the choker. It disappeared from his dimension years before, and his job is to bring it back. Since he can shapeshift into a hawk or a mountain lion at a moment's notice, Griff feels certain of success. But he doesn't bargain for a sassy, sexy redhead--and for his overwhelming urge to settle their differences in bed.
Now Griff and Jillie must not only overcome the deadly dark forces who want the choker, but they must also face their developing relationship. And they thought saving the world from evil and chaos was hard.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BelleBooks
• Release date: Sep 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781610260992

Book preview

Other books by Lynda Miller

Coming in 2014

The Sparrow and the Vixens Three

The Sparrow and the Hawk

The Tales of the Sparrow: Book One

by

Lynda Miller

ImaJinn Books

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

ImaJinn Books

PO BOX 300921

Memphis, TN 38130

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61026-099-2

Print ISBN: 978-1-61026-097-8

ImaJinn Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 by Lynn Miller

Printed and bound in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ImaJinn Books was founded by Linda Kichline.

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*10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

Cover design by Josephine Piraneo

Interior design: Hank Smith

Photo/Art credits:

Couple © Kim Killion

Red Rocks © SnehitDesign

Background © Freja

:Ehsd:01:

Dedication

To Jessica, with much love.

Prologue

HE STALKED THE empty corridor seeking his prey. He could feel her . . . feel her life force, her suppressed desire, her curiosity—the curiosity that would be the death of her. His goal was simple, locate and extract, but the situation was unusual, complicated by the woman. Not that complications were new to him. He was born and bred to overcome all obstacles, but there was something about this one that inflamed all of his senses. He paused, claws now extended, nostrils quivering as he caught the scent of decay wafting down the hall. And the scent of the other who was also prowling.

He froze, now attuned to the pulsing dark energy of the other seeker. He tensed to attack, but as rapidly as the dark energy had appeared, it disappeared. Wary now, he padded slowly forward toward the door beyond the turn in the corridor. The doorway emitted a faint glow that had originally beckoned him, but not as much as the woman inside. He approached the doorway, stopping to listen to the tortured sounds that still whispered in the darkness. As drawn as he was to woman inside, it was not yet time.

With great regret, he melted into the shadows from which he came, leaving only a faint gleam of gold behind and a hunger not yet satisfied. But soon. Soon . . .

Chapter One

Jillie was in a tough situation when she received the phone call from NAS. Not that there was anything new about that. Facing danger had become her way of life. She just didn’t expect to face it in her best friend’s driveway.

Blocking her way to the house, the two of them stared at her from under lowered brows—eyes gleaming, jaws jutting, fists clenched. They meant business.

Jillie widened her stance and crooked her finger, beckoning them forward. Come on, she whispered with a grin, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?

They glanced at each other and then rushed her. She feinted to the right, then the left, hitting them with a precise shoulder strike to the chest to tip the two brutes off balance as they rushed past. With a stylish whirl, Jillie swept a leg under each of them, bringing them crashing to the ground where they lay winded.

Come on, you’re supposed to be bad guys. You can do better than that.

They looked up from their prone positions. No fair, Aunt Jillie. You cheated!

Jillie balled her fists on her hips and looked down at her best friend’s seven-year-old twins, who were like family to her. How did I cheat?

You tripped us, Liam, the older twin complained.

His brother, Connor, echoed, Yeah, you tripped us.

Laughing, Jillie extended a hand to pull first one then the other boy to his feet. That wasn’t tripping. That was a precisely choreographed, authentic secret-agent move just like that new V-screen game I gave you.

We weren’t ready, they complained.

Jillie grinned. I play dirty, so you always need to be ready.

That’s so wrong, Liam said, shaking his dark hair from his eyes.

Not always. Jillie laughed, grabbing both of them into a bear hug. Just then her phone rang. With an apologetic look at the boys she answered the call, her formerly casual attitude replaced by her clipped and professional one when she saw the NAS logo on her screen. Yes.

"Eye on the Sparrow," a soft voice said.

Jillie glanced at the time display. Right. Be there in ten max. Turning to the twins, she ruffled their hair saying, Sorry, guys, lesson’s over. Tell your mom I can’t stay for lunch. Duty calls.

Jillie had no idea that her life was about to change as she dashed to her new little Mini and got behind the wheel. Or that her personal past was going to rear its painful head, or that the future would include a man like Griff Ryland when she backed out of the driveway.

Eye on the Sparrow.

Code for mission activated. From this moment on, she was no longer Jillian Harte, Honorary Aunt Jillie, or any of her other familiar titles.

Now, I’m the Sparrow, and I’m ready to fly.

Ten minutes later Jillie drove onto the campus at ArdmoreCollege, her undergraduate alma mater, located in a secluded area outside Cincinnati, Ohio. Her destination was the School of Cultural Knowledge, better known as the CK building. With its old gray stone, softened by ivy and enlivened by red-tile roofs and mullioned windows, the building looked as historically timeless and picture-perfect as the rest of the campus. No one would ever believe that NAS, a high-tech community dedicated to protecting the world from magic, myths and mayhem, existed there. The agency was located behind CK’s serene façade on an invisible, upper-floor plane that restricted access by all except NAS operatives. As a personal bonus, the stuffy Dean of Cultural Knowledge was her great-uncle, Calvin Walters. Calvin was also one of the NAS directors.

Jillie traveled around the CK building to a small parking lot at the rear. Hopping out of her car, she headed for a nonexistent entrance further obscured by a dense fall of ivy. The door appeared after she keyed in a code on her multifunction WPAU, or Wrist Portable Access Unit, cleverly obscured as a watch.

As Jillie stepped inside the outer door, she thought, not for the first time, what a great agency-cover this private college offered. The location was as far as the academic connection went, at least publicly. The school didn’t fund NAS; no college could afford to do so. ArdmoreCollege was bankrolled by an elusive multi-multi-billionaire, who owned the private college outright. No one had ever seen the elusive Mr. Money, or so she was told.

The NAS mission objective wasn’t as elusive though. NAS investigated all occurrences, reports, and situations that could be termed Normal, Abnormal or Strange. It just so happened that most of the work was in the A or S part of the spectrum.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’d know normal if it bit me in the butt.

Once inside the outer door, Jillian faced a handprint-sensor access door. After being identified, she emerged into a small room that looked like an old-time steam heating room. Moving aside some rusty pressure gauges to reveal a concealed panel, Jillie punched in her personal code, which was confirmed by another elaborate system of checks and approvals. A few seconds later, another hidden door whispered open, and she stepped into the elevator.

Up, Jillie said, emerging a few moments later into a dimly lit hallway. She blinked to adjust her eyes and almost slammed into Audra MacRae, Calvin’s assistant.

Oops.

Well, smiled the plump, comfortable Audra, it took you long enough.

Jillie checked her unit. Ten minutes exactly. That’s what I told him.

You know Calvin. Audra smiled again and started walking, motioning that she follow. Finally stopping in front of a solid steel door, Audra punched in yet another code to open it, and then stepped aside to let Jillie precede her. He’s gnawing his fingernails in the conference room.

Chuckling, Jillie waved goodbye as she emerged into total geek city—a huge, open area with no windows. The room was complete with banks of computers, projection screens and the soft clicks and whirs of technology. Very few people were visible, and those who were didn’t pay any attention to her as she walked through.

Dr. Cal—Jillie never called him uncle—stood in a doorway on the other end of the room, his frowning face a study in impatience. About time, he grumbled. What did you use for transportation, an early 20th century streetcar?

Jillie ignored that. What’s so urgent? Is the world ending?

Not yet, he said, indicating she should take a seat facing a large screen projection area. But the possibility is always there.

Jillie glanced over at him. Was that a gleam of humor in his eyes? Although rare, it wouldn’t be the first time Calvin’s dry wit had surfaced. Still, it surprised her each time he let his guard down and approached the level of human. That was probably because Jillie didn’t know him very well, having seen very little of him as a child.

She took a moment to study him. Calvin Walters was a tall man, with a leonine head of white hair, a sharp beak of a nose and the slightly stooped, rounded body of an older man who no longer spent as much time working out at the gym as he had in his youth. That didn’t diminish the power of his intense gaze, still a brilliant blue, set under bushy brows. Those eyes reminded Jillie of her mother’s. Sadly, she hadn’t inherited them, taking after her father instead with green eyes and carrot-red hair.

Okay, what’s so important that I had to run out before chowing down? I’m starving.

Sit. Eyes front. Calvin dimmed the lights, and a picture appeared. This is your new assignment.

Jillie stared at a shot of a jewelry store. "I get to shop? For real?"

Calvin exhaled like a disgusted camel. "No. You get to find a piece of jewelry that first disappeared over a thousand years ago and was last worn in public around 1900."

A picture of a necklace now filled the screen. It was an elaborately designed piece that looked as intricate and yet as delicate as a spider web. A mesh of gold, designed to fit closely around the neck and then plunge toward the breasts. The twisted gold strands were interspersed with scattered stones in a seemingly random pattern.

What’s it worth?

The stones are not considered financially valuable today, Calvin said. There are no diamonds, rubies or emeralds, but the stones have ancient meaning.

Jillie peered more closely at the screen. Amethyst, citrine, peridot, sapphires . . . those are mystical jewels, aren’t they?

That’s right, Calvin replied, they’re often used as such, especially in this configuration.

Surrounding the opal, you mean?

Yes, the opal, Calvin agreed. The center of the power.

Jillie considered the immense center stone, a flawless opal with all the colors of the rainbow revealed by a light source that seemed to come from within. Lack of dollar value of the jewels aside, when viewed as a piece of decorative art, Jillie received the powerful impression of a necklace with a price beyond compare.

Calvin’s voice was reverent as he stared at the necklace. The Carmaletta Choker.

Jillie jerked her thumb toward the screen. That’s what this is called?

Historically, yes.

Ooohh, catchy name.

Calvin clucked at Jillie’s humor. The photo is one of the few that show it in such detail.

Uh, huh. So what’s up? Some snooty society babe lose it?

"I hardly think the original owner could be described as a snooty society babe."

Whatever. Jillie grinned as Calvin sucked in a breath, attempting to gain control over his exasperation. She frequently had that effect on him, and she’d be a liar if she said she didn’t enjoy yanking his chain now and then.

Not upper strata at all. In fact, the original owner would have been considered lower class, except for one thing— Calvin paused for a long, long minute.

Is there an end to that sentence? Jillie twisted a curl of hair around her finger as she dragged her attention from the screen to Dr.Cal. What thing?

She captured the attention of the heir of Volgar.

Hair of Volgar? Sounds like a death metal band from the last century.

Calvin pinched the skin between his eyebrows. "I do wish you would be less irreverent, Agent Harte. This is background knowledge you will need to complete this assignment."

Deciding she’d had enough fun for a few minutes, Jillie folded her hands, giving him her complete attention. Sorry, I’m all ears, sir.

All mouth is more accurate. After a moment, Calvin continued, Where was I? Oh yes, early background info. The necklace was owned by the Duchy of Volgar in the early twelfth century.

Where’s the Duchy of Volgar? I’ve never heard of it.

Not surprising. The kingdom has been conquered and reconquered, named and renamed over the years. The final name change came when it was part of the old Soviet empire.

That’s ancient history. Why are we bothering with another country’s problem? Surely the Russian Federation could—

The Federation is no longer in the picture. Zamiran, as it’s now known, quietly broke free when the Soviet society imploded ages ago. Zamiran is now an independent country sitting on the upper edge of the continually volatile Middle East. Calvin sighed, a pensive look appearing on his tired face. I rather thought we could eliminate these territorial tensions by now. After all we’re supposed to be in an enlightened century.

Uh, wait. A bit confused, Jillie stared at the necklace. What does this have to do with the Carmaletta Choker?

Calvin cleared his throat. Didn’t I say? The current ruling family of Zamiran wants the necklace back.

"I thought you said it belonged to Volgar someone."

They were the original ruling family. No longer the case.

Then the necklace doesn’t really belong to the new government. It’s private property, right? So why—

Wrong. Historically, it belongs to the rulers of the ‘Land of a Thousand Charms.’ That’s Zamiran and the current rulers.

Jillie turned so she could watch Calvin pace the room. So—the new leader wants the necklace so he can give it to a hot new honey or something?

Calvin sent her a wintry smile. No. He wants it before the curse activates and the pent-up evil contained in the necklace is unleashed into the world—creating total chaos.

"Evil and chaos? That’s rather over the top. What type of chaos?" Jillie asked, staring at the necklace on the screen. Before Calvin could answer she was given a taste of the necklace’s power as images flooded her mind: blood-drenched battles, men hacking men, women annihilating women, monster tsunamis swamping the continent, hordes of demons roaming the land, famine, drought, and two cockatiels wearing boxing gloves. Jillie had no clue what that last image meant.

Total chaos, Calvin answered, drawing her attention away from the screen.

Jillie jumped, as his voice released her from the choker’s spell. Well, well, well. That ups the value, doesn’t it?

Considerably. If the necklace falls into the wrong hands, the potential for evil is greatly increased. He hesitated, and then said in a slow, even tone, This isn’t the first time we’ve tried to find this necklace. Your mother was also looking for it right before . . .

She died? Jillie asked, in a tone even softer than his.

Calvin hunched his shoulders, like a man anticipating a blow. Yes. She was the NAS agent assigned to the case. She’s the one who found that photo. She picked up the trail of the necklace and . . . He was silent for a moment, avoiding her eyes. Then he cleared his throat, reassuming a businesslike tone. After her death, the case was unexpectedly dropped. But two days ago we got an urgent message to reopen it. We believe the necklace has been dormant for years, but now strange reports are beginning to indicate that the necklace is once again in circulation.

Jillie stood and stepped closer to the screen. Did my mother see the necklace in that jewelry store you showed me?

From her project file we think the store was involved. He handed Jillie a file folder. But we now have suspicions that the necklace is in the possession of Franklin Doherty.

Did this same jewelry store sell it to this Doherty?

Possibly. The store is a bit hard to locate. Lips thinned, jaw tense, Calvin focused on the photo, then on her. However, I’m sure you’ll find some way to confirm involvement.

Jillie nodded, reading Calvin’s unspoken instruction to get the information any way she could. Understood.

If Franklin Doherty has the choker, you need to retrieve it ASAP.

Sounds like fun. Who is this Franklin guy?

Officially, he’s a publisher and collector. Unofficially, he’s into very dark and possibly purely evil activities. We’ve been aware of him for some time.

Okay, so what’s my cover to get close to him? Do I have to write a book? Maybe the great American novel? Jillie clapped her hands. No, wait. How about poetry? I used to write haiku in the fourth—

Calvin sighed. Spare me.

She chuckled. You don’t want to see my adolescent scribbles?

No, thank you. Calvin’s nose lifted so high in the air Jillie was surprised he didn’t get a nosebleed. I see enough incomprehensible material from my current students. So I—

Don’t need to add mine.

Correct. Now, can we focus? Your cover will be the same as usual. We’ll use your real profession as a blind. You’re a documentary journalist and film maker, working for the ‘Arts, Culture and Learning’ network.

Good thing I went to film school, isn’t it?

One of the key reasons we recruited you, in fact.

You’re breaking my heart, sir. I thought I was hired because I was cute.

The glint in his eyes could have been a twinkle, but that was probably wishful thinking. A pleasant countenance is always a plus.

Jillie fanned her brow. What a compliment. I’m overwhelmed.

However, the biggest thing in your favor, Jillian, besides your remarkable youthful resilience, self-deprecating humor and resourceful attitude, is your profession. It allows you to snoop and be relatively obnoxious without anyone being suspicious.

Jillie shook her head. "I am never obnoxious. Just opinionated."

Calvin didn’t bother answering that comment, but his expression made it very plain what he thought of it. He cleared his throat. Let’s get back on topic, Agent Harte. Starting today, you’re researching and producing a documentary about ‘Decoration, Fashion and Accessories Throughout History.’

Jillie frowned. How does Franklin Doherty fit this topic? Besides maybe having the necklace?

His entire collection will play a key role in your documentary.

I see.

Calvin handed her another file folder. You’ll be leaving this evening. Audra has your travel arrangements, supplies and some other preliminary research she’s assembled for you.

Right.

Watch yourself, Jillian, Calwarned, his voice grave. This necklace possesses powers the likes of which we haven’t seen before. We aren’t the only ones who want it.

Yes, sir. Jillie hugged her file folders closer and started to leave, then stopped. Oh, one thing. I need to get in touch with my cameraman, Kenny Podansky.

Audra already has a call into him. She’ll have him meet you in San Francisco the day after tomorrow.

Jillie glanced back at the screen to where the necklace had suddenly popped back into view. There’s really a curse on that sucker?

So the legend says.

I’m not sure I believe in curses, Jillie said, still focused on the image.

Calvin smiled, but his eyes remained grave. Your mother always said that, too, and . . . his voice trailed off.

The rest of his thought echoed in Jillie’s mind as the necklace glowed, its intensity increasing until it hurt to look at it. And look what happened to her.

Jillie shoved the thought aside. I’ll call you from San Francisco.

Chapter Two

JILLIE’S PLANE LANDED in San Francisco around ten thirty PM. Beyond taking steps to elude a man so beige-looking that he might as well have been transparent who seemed to be following her in Cincinnati, there were no more incidents to speak of. Except for having missed dinner and the flight attendant on the plane running out of peanuts after she’d handed her one minuscule bag, that was.

A short time later, Jillie slung her luggage bag into the trunk of her rental car and got behind the wheel heading for town. San Francisco was as beautiful as ever. Despite the big city sophisticated veneer,