Betrayed

by Hazel Hunter

  I thought you were a fruitcake named Michael.

  Gideon eyed his companion’s gape-mouthed face. “Extraordinary. How do you do that without moving your lips?”

  I’m telepathic, you dumb ass. So, you find a girl and do her, and then suddenly she’s so grateful she tells you what you want to know? Not a very good plan, pal.

  Gideon frowned. “If you’re going to be rude, I’ll drive back to the water and reunite you with the rest of your parts.”

  Then you won’t have anyone to talk to but the Almighty, and I gotta tell you, pal, at the moment, He’s not real happy with you.

  “What, for ending a gruesome fellow like you? You’re a murderer for hire. You intended to kill me after I dug a grave for your last victim. You even shot me in the chest.” Gideon sniffed as he rubbed the still-sore hole. “It was entirely self-defense.”

  It’s not about me, Fruitcake. It’s Michael. That traitor pissed on everything you believe in, and still you ain’t done nothing about him, have you?

  “Well, I do have to find him first.” Gideon took the foam coffee container Nick had left in the cup holder and shoved it in his open mouth. “Now shut up.”

  I’m in your head, moron. And you know what, Fruitcake? There aren’t just bugs in here. There are leeches. Great, big, fat, slimy bastards, sucking away at you.

  “Ha. You’re lying. Unlike you I haven’t been in the water, so no leeches could get in my head.” Gideon peered at a sign that read “rest area” and felt a strong pull in his chest. He rubbed it and grinned. “I believe the Almighty is directing us to stop here. There must be many wenches waiting to provide me with the relief I need, and should prove an adequate resting place for you, Nick.”

  You can’t leave me in a fucking toilet, Gideon.

  Nick continued arguing with him from that moment until Gideon parked outside the rest rooms. Aside from two young men standing between a battered pickup and a motorcycle, the lot was empty. Gideon tucked Nick’s head inside his jacket and headed into the open entry marked “women.” He found all the stalls empty, which greatly disappointed him.

  “Well, it seems the Almighty is playing tricks on me. I shall have to look elsewhere for a wench,” he told Nick’s head as he carried him over to the men’s side of the facility. “But I will put you in here so that you might rest now. It is proper, even if you haven’t a cock or an ass anymore.”

  He decided to leave Nick in the very last stall, which was the cleanest, and took care to mount his head on the top of the flushing mechanism, which seemed the most dignified spot, and provided the best view.

  “There. Perfect.” Gideon perched on the commode seat and arranged Nick’s sticky hair around his cold, hard face. “I shall miss you, you know. You have been a good companion to me. I mean, aside from shooting me and those foolhardy threats you made before I chopped you to pieces.”

  Someone’s coming, dumb ass. Shut up.

  Gideon listened as the door opened and two sets of footsteps crossed the tile floor.

  “Why can’t you come back to Portland with me?” one of the pair asked in a deep, cajoling voice. “We’ll spend the weekend at my place.”

  “I have a million things to do for the winter gathering,” the second man said.

  Both men unzipped their trousers and began pissing in the urinals.

  “Why don’t you ever invite me to these parties? Is your true love going to be there with the wife he’s breeding?” The man made a contemptuous sound. “God, you’re pathetic, Lachlan.”

  “Fuck you, Jonah,” the other man snarled.

  Gideon was tempted to call out and tell them that he was fairly sure that the Almighty had already done so, by means that involved a whale, but he wanted to hear more about this winter gathering.

  “You have, Lachlan, like every weekend since he knocked up the bitch,” Jonah said. “When are you going to give it up, lover?”

  “Don’t call me that,” Lachlan muttered.

  Jonah heaved a sigh. “Look, man, you’ve got issues. I get it. First time my folks caught me with a guy, they threw me out. My old man still won’t speak to me. But you can’t hide what you are forever, and pretending you’re not gay has already fucked you up. Big time.”

  One of the urinals flushed. “Then maybe you should find someone else to spend your weekends with, Jonah.”

  “All right, I will.” The other urinal flushed.

  “Wait, Jonah, I didn’t mean it.”

  Once the men had left Gideon frowned. “Sodomites. We used to impale them with red-hot pokers, you know. Did that to one of the kings of England, in fact. One of the Edwards, I think.”

  Good times, huh, Fruitcake?

  “That name, though. Lachlan. I swear I’ve heard it before now. Hmmm.” He eyed Nick. “Did you feel that when he came in? He’s like me.”

  You mean, he’s out of his mind, too?

  “No, he’s immortal. Since there are no Templars assigned here that also means he’s Wiccan. He must be part of the coven Nathaniel intends to attack.” Gideon patted Nick’s stony cheek. “It has to be why the Almighty had me stop here. So that I might follow him back to the nest, of course. Farewell, my friend––oh, and thank you again for the car.”

  Look, pal, if you leave me here, you will be damned for all eternity.

  Gideon chuckled. “Oh, my dear boy. I surely was, long ago.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WILSON CAME IN from doing his morning chores and tracked his wife to the garden, where she was sitting and bundling sprigs from a basket of fresh-picked herbs.

  “You should be back in bed.”

  “You should stop telling me where I should be.” Aileen smiled up at him. “Should I hold my breath?”

  “Not unless you want to turn very blue.” He came over and kissed the top of her head and sat down beside her. “After breakfast I thought I’d drive into town and pick up that wood Ewan ordered.” He stroked his wife’s narrow back. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “I think we should stay home today.” Her big gray eyes searched his face for a moment. “Someone attacked Summer last night. Troy thinks it was Lachlan. After the fight last night, he never came back.”

  “That doesn’t mean Lachlan attacked Summer. He always runs off to sulk after he loses a fight. He’s been doing that since we were boys.” He saw the way Aileen was glaring at him now. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shoved the herb bundles back in the basket. “I’ll go make some oatmeal for you.”

  “Wait.” He caught her arm as she started to rise. “Lachlan was only trying to defend me.”

  She sat back down carefully. “You think I don’t know how he feels about you? Will, every time he looks at you I can see it––and there’s a very good chance he went after Summer.”

  “No way.” Wilson tried to put his arm around her, but she shrugged it off. “Honey, Lachlan would never hurt anyone.”

  “Really.” She stared down at her hands, and then faced him calmly. “Do you realize how many near-accidents I’ve had since I got pregnant? How many times I’ve almost tripped over the dogs, or caught my foot on a loose rug, or slipped on a patch of oil on the kitchen floor that I didn’t see? I’m a lot of things, Husband, but I’ve never been clumsy or careless. In fact, if I wasn’t constantly on my guard I might have lost the baby by now.”

  She looked as if she wanted to say more, and then pushed herself to her feet and went inside. Wilson followed her into the kitchen.

  “You think Lachlan has been deliberately trying to hurt you? Why didn’t you tell me about this before now?”

  Aileen uttered a bitter laugh. “I did when it started. Remember? I told you about the dogs, twice. Both times you defended Lachlan, and said I was imagining things.”

  “I’m sorry,” Wilson said, and pulled her stiff body into his arms. “I’ll find Lachlan, and if he did this…he’ll never come near you again.” He kissed her until she stopped resisting him and hugged him tightly. “Where is Troy no
w?”

  “In the study with your father. Wilson, please,” she said as he headed in that direction, “Don’t start anything with your brother.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” he assured her. “Troy knows this mountain as well as I do. Between the two of us we will find Lachlan.”

  When Wilson reached the study he began to open the door, but froze as he heard his brother’s voice.

  “He’s a good man, devoted, fair-minded, strong––everything you always wanted me to be––and he loves this coven, and you,” Troy said, his tone cold and furious. “He’s the one who will carry on your name. The son you’ve completely ignored. The brother who despises me only because I’ve forsaken everything he’s dreamed of having. Wilson.”

  After listening a few more minutes to Troy laying into their father about him, Wilson retreated from the main house, but glanced back at it. Troy was supposed to hate him, and envy him––not defend him. Why had he said those things about him to Abel? But as Wilson approached the scene of the fight, he forced himself to focus on his task.

  He went directly to Lachlan’s tracks from last night and began tracking him through the woods. Lachlan’s every move left traces of his passage on the ground, leaves, and trees, which appeared to Wilson’s eyes like dappled light. His ability also allowed him to differentiate between human, immortal and animal energy tracks. While he couldn’t identify any one person or species from the energy trails they left behind, he suspected Lachlan would be hiding out in his and Aileen’s cabin.

  He’d always known Lachlan loved him, but never dreamed he would try to hurt Aileen or the baby. Despite what he’d told his wife, he still wasn’t convinced his childhood friend was capable of doing such evil. Lachlan was prickly and sneaky and secretive, and often annoyed the hell out of Wilson, but he wasn’t a traitor. On some level Wilson had always known that Abel’s apprentice had been trying to hide something from the rest of the coven, but he was convinced it was Lachlan’s sexuality, not any betrayal.

  The trail came to an abrupt end a few hundred yards from the cabin. Wilson found fresh tire tracks from Lachlan’s truck on the ground. From the look of the ruts, and the direction they headed, the apprentice had driven out to the access road that went down the mountain.

  Wilson stood and rubbed his hands together to warm them as he looked around. The tracks were too fresh to be from last night. He could still smell the exhaust from Lachlan’s truck in the air.

  “Why the hell would you come back here this morning?” Wilson muttered.

  He decided to stop in the cabin to pick up some things for Aileen. Now that his brother and the Templar were staying with the witch in the old house, he felt better. Of course any time Troy put distance between him and their father Wilson felt happier. When Troy wasn’t around, Abel actually noticed what he was doing.

  I’ve hated my brother for years, and when he finally has the chance to take everything from me, he chooses a Templar and a strange witch over Aileen and the coven.

  Once Wilson returned to the main house, he would have a talk with Troy. While they’d probably never be close, it was past time to put this feud between them to rest.

  As he carried a bundle of clothes out of the cabin Wilson smiled up at the silvery-blue of the sky, and felt a contentment that seemed as odd as it was pleasant. He couldn’t remember the last time he thought of Troy with anything but anger or jealousy, and now he was actually looking forward to talking with him.

  That should be the shock of the century.

  Wilson smelled something like a rotting carcass, and frowned as he stopped and sniffed the air. Whatever was putting off the stink had to be very close, but he couldn’t see anything dead anywhere around him. The stench enveloped him just before a blade pressed across his throat.

  “Now don’t struggle, lad,” a merry voice said, as a strong hand gripped his shoulder. “I might accidentally cut off your head, and we need to have a chat first. Unless you’re telepathic as well as a filthy heathen.”

  Aileen’s clothes fell from his hands as Wilson dropped to his knees and then lunged away from the foul-smelling man, tumbling into a somersault and landing on his feet to take off at a flat run for the woods. He didn’t glance back, not even when he heard the man gaining on him, but before he could reach the trees an enormous weight barreled into him from behind and knocked him face-first into the hard ground.

  “Why did you do that?” the man demanded as he hauled Wilson to his feet and shook him until his teeth rattled. He then dropped Wilson to the ground and paced around him in a circle. “Are you not fond of your head? Don’t you wish it to remain attached to your little body?”

  “Yes,” Wilson told the dirt in his face carefully. “I do.”

  “Well, there you are.” The man kicked him over onto his back and pressed a hand to his own chest before he bowed. “Gideon Edmunds, at your service. Or not, actually.”

  “I’m Wilson,” he said, trying not to stare, but it was impossible.

  “I am a Templar, you know, and we do not make threats,” Gideon told him. “We make only promises. Now, can you guess what happened to the last man who tried to run away from me?”

  Wilson’s gaze moved from the Templar’s red-streaked, twitching face to the blood-drenched clothes he was wearing. His stomach surged as he recognized a few shreds of skin and tissue still clinging to the front of the Templar’s trousers.

  “Yes, I can guess.”

  “I still have the chainsaw I used at my campsite, and I’m quite good with it.” The man shook his finger at Wilson like a teacher scolding a pupil. “So behave yourself.” He reached down with his free hand. “Up you go now. Let’s take a walk.”

  When Wilson was back on his feet he tried to head toward the woods, but the Templar yanked him back.

  “You’re not going to be foolish, are you?” the Templar asked as he walked alongside him, and removed a gun from his jacket pocket. “Because I will blow holes in your spinal cord until it snaps like an old elastic band. Do you understand me?”

  Wilson nodded as he thought frantically. “What do you want?”

  “The green witch.” The Templar gave him a serene smile. “You’re going to tell me where she’s hiding.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SUMMER REFUSED TO stay in bed or indoors once Troy had left to search for the dagger, and since Michael had no intention of letting her out of his sight he agreed to take her for a walk.

  “You will tell me if you feel chilled,” he warned her as he buttoned up the front of her jacket, and pulled a knit cap over the thick waves of her hair.

  Dark opal eyes glared up at him. “You’re treating me like a little girl.”

  “Only until you have healed completely. Then Troy and I will treat you like a big girl.” He watched the color flood her pale face and smiled slowly. “There, that is better.”

  “Don’t make me think about sex,” she grumbled as she pulled on her gloves. “Besides, I need to talk to you about something before we get distracted again.”

  Summer wouldn’t say any more. Instead, they left the house and crossed the clearing to follow the stream into the woods. Only when they came upon a pile of rusty-orange and gray stone poking up from the ground did she stop to sit on one flattened edge. Michael could almost feel her thoughts tangling and snarling as she silently debated with herself.

  “Whatever the burden is,” he said, crouching in front of her, “it will be lighter if Troy and I help you carry it.”

  She nodded, and fussed with her gloves for a moment before she squinted up at the sun.

  “Michael, my memories are coming back. They have been since that first night you and Troy and I were together. At first it was just bits and pieces but now it’s more. It’s so much more.”

  She sounded almost ashamed, he thought––or unsure.

  “You don’t know how much you should tell us yet,” he said.

  “Which is why I wanted to talk to you instead of Troy.” Summer pulled up her
sleeve to expose some of the dark marks tattooed on her flesh. “My power didn’t do this. My mother did. She tattooed me and bespelled the wounds so the marks would heal unseen and remain hidden until now. She also cursed me, several times, with different compulsion spells. The curses were layered and staggered in such a way so as to trigger at certain moments, and end at others.”

  Michael felt a hot flood of loathing stream through his veins.

  “How could she do such terrible things to her own daughter?”

  “They only seem terrible,” she interjected. “The curse that compelled humans to be generous to me began when I woke up homeless in the park, and needed food and shelter, and ended when Troy brought me to Silver Wood, where I was safe.” Her opal eyes looked deeply into his. “The desire curse triggered right after you left me, probably to draw you back, but maybe to attract another mate. The curses were never intended to harm me.”

  Michael considered for a moment, glancing at the tattoos. The tide of anger, though not gone, began to ebb.

  “They protected you,” he said.

  Summer nodded.

  “I can’t be sure yet, but I think my mother knew what was going to happen to me.” She paused and bit her lower lip. “Michael, someday I may need you to do something for me. I want you to know why. It’s because you are the strong one. You understand things that Troy never will. You have suffered and sacrificed and devoted your immortal life to protecting humanity.”

  The fierceness of her expression made him reach for her hands, and he frowned as he saw she had removed her gloves.

  “Beauty, you unnerve me now. What is it you would have me do?”

  “If I am taken by force, by Templar or Wiccan, you must come for me,” she said softly. “And if you cannot free me, you will kill me.” She pressed her bare hand over his heart, where it flared with green light. “So I command you, sentinel mate.”

  “What have you done?” Michael tried to back away, but something gripped his body and kept him from twitching a muscle. “Beauty, no.”