by Hazel Hunter
“Worry and fear, all disappear,” she said, her eyes glowing with the same verdant light. “Memory of this talk, now a rest from a pleasant walk. Obey me in this, from the moment we kiss. So may it be.”
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
As Summer kissed him, Michael felt something twist in his head, and then all the tension seemed to flow out of him. Her mouth tasted cool and sweet. He took his time kissing her back before he nipped her lower lip, and then grinned at her.
“Are you rested enough,” he asked, “or shall we spend the rest of the morning sunning ourselves here?”
Though she smiled at him, it was tinged with something that looked like sadness. He cocked his head at her, but the look vanished.
“I’ll freeze before I tan, Paladin.”
She pushed herself off the edge of the rock and took hold of his hand. Her touch felt like ice, and her fingers were trembling.
“Where are your gloves?” He searched her pockets before he found them, and put them on her. “Now leave them on. As pleasant as this walk is, I don’t want you catching a chill.”
“Let’s go this way, through the evergreen grove,” Summer said, tugging at his arm. “This way we can come up behind Wilson and Aileen’s cabin.”
He gave her a suspicious look. “And why are we visiting them when we are taking only a short walk?”
“We’re not,” she admitted. “But I can see the main house from there, and hopefully we’ll spot Troy talking with his dad, not slugging it out.”
Michael grunted and considered tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her back, but she wouldn’t like it. Besides, this walk had been so pleasant thus far. But no sooner had he thought it, than he caught a faint but sickening, acrid odor of old blood and rot. He quickly scanned the area around them for any sign of animal remains.
“Beauty, do you smell that?”
She pulled him behind a fir, dislodging some of the snow powdering the branches, and lifted her finger to her lips. As she did, Michael heard the trudge of heavy footsteps and the panting breaths of two men as the stench grew stronger.
“How did you find us?” Michael heard Wilson ask.
“Lachlan showed me the way,” a hearty voice replied. “Now, are you going to tell me where the witch is hiding? No? Well, perhaps after I introduce you to my chainsaw you will change your mind, and save an arm or a leg.”
Michael’s blood ran cold as he clamped his big hand over Summer’s mouth and pressed her against his chest. Gideon Edmunds and Troy’s brother emerged from the grove. The mad Templar looked as if he had been in a slaughterhouse, and held a gun pressed against Wilson’s nape as he marched him toward the stream.
Summer’s wide eyes met his, and when he saw that she was composed he lowered his hand. He waited until the men were out of earshot.
“Run back to the pavilion,” he whispered. “Tell them to bring every weapon they can carry.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not leaving you. What will Gideon do to Wilson?”
“Exactly as he said he would.”
Michael’s hands went to the daggers sheathed at either side of his belt. All his instincts were shrieking for him to send Summer to the pavilion to get Troy. Yet without her help Troy’s brother might be maimed or even killed. Given half a chance, though, Gideon would fall on her like a ravenous animal.
“Michael,” she said lowly, and touched his shoulder. To his surprise, her eyes were glowing bright green. “I will not allow Gideon to harm me.”
Power surged through her touch. As if her conviction were his own, he knew without a doubt that what she said was true. He clenched his jaw at the thought of not taking her to safety, but knew he couldn’t let Troy’s brother die. He nodded, took her hand, and followed the two men.
Summer proved as adept as any soldier at moving silently and taking advantage of the natural cover. He recalled she had spent several months hiding in Central Park as the police performed their nightly sweeps. But the smell of a campfire made Michael stop in his tracks, forcing Summer to do the same. Slowly, they crept forward, moving from tree to tree until they had a clear view of Gideon’s back. Wilson hung suspended by rope from an oak branch. His face was white and his eyes huge as he looked down at the bloodied chainsaw the Templar was attempting to start.
“Wretched machines,” Gideon muttered, and glanced at Troy’s brother. “I don’t suppose you’d give up the witch without being partially dismembered?”
“Please,” Wilson said. “I don’t know who you want. There are no green witches here.”
Michael felt unexpected admiration for the warlock, who was facing the most gruesome of tortures, and yet refused to betray Summer. His wrists had been crudely but tightly bound together. The rope looped upward, stretching him to his tiptoes. Michael withdrew the daggers and handed one to Summer as he whispered his plan in her ear. She nodded and moved silently away.
The chainsaw bucked and blatted as Gideon nearly got it started, only for it to clatter to a stop a moment later.
“It seems it’s your lucky day, heathen,” the Templar told Wilson as he threw down the tool in disgust and drew his gun. “I will have to blow off your kneecaps instead of cutting off your legs. You may not even bleed to death. Now where is she?”
Michael emerged from the brush and strode to the edge of the campsite.
“A gun, Steward Edmunds? Where have you left your sword?”
“Who is that?” The mad Templar spun around, his mouth spasming. “Michael Charbon, what a surprise.”
He aimed the gun at Michael–or at least he tried. His arm and hand shook as violently as his lips. Though Michael tensed and crouched, the barrel of the gun jumped all over the place. When it went off, the shot hit a tree several yards away. Gideon seemed not to be bothered.
“Come closer. I want to shoot you, not the forest.”
“Nathaniel sent me,” Michael said and ducked back into the shadows. He moved laterally, circling. “Nathaniel has found the Emerald Tablet, and wishes to give you the cure for your sickness.”
“How is it that you are a traitor and lie so poorly?” Gideon said, chuckling. He fired again, but with no better accuracy. “I’m mad, not stupid, witch hunter. If Nathaniel had the Tablet he would use it to take over the world, and kill all the heathens, and perhaps grow a bigger manhood.” He reeled around, squinting up at Wilson, the sun in his eyes. “Did you know that he’s hardly more than this?” he asked Wilson, and pinched the air.
“Gideon, I’ve seen the green witch,” Michael said, stepping forward.
Gideon spun back around to face him, as Summer came up behind Wilson and began cutting the rope. Michael reversed his dagger, clasping the blade between his fingers as he prepared to throw it.
“She’s waiting for you,” Michael said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s just through there.”
“What do you say now?” Gideon’s features contorted as his tic spread to the other side of his face. “If this is true, bring her to me.” He began rubbing his crotch. “I must have the truth out of her. I must have…” He paused and sniffed the air. “You lie. She’s here.”
The ground all around the Templar’s feet began to shake, and he was knocked off balance and fell to his hands and knees. Wilson dropped to the ground, his hands still bound, but Summer helped him up as they staggered back. A cloaked figure stepped out into the sunlight. It raised gloved hands that were engulfed with what appeared to be black flames.
“What trickery is this?” Gideon shouted.
He rose up on his knees as something long and thick came flying out of the woods behind him, hurtling past Summer and Wilson.
Michael barely had time to register that the object was a tree, when it rammed into Gideon and impaled him.
Though the Templar’s mouth gaped open, no sound came out. He choked on a liquid gurgle as the branches of the gnarled oak emerged from the front of his throat. His head jerked and his neck stretched as anot
her branch surged through his forehead. Each arm and leg was impaled, then his torso, the tree burrowing its branches further into the man, spreading his flesh open in sickening pops and splats. When his body looked more wood than flesh, it finally flew apart, torn by the thickening branches. A broad swath of blood and gore flooded the ground where he’d knelt, and the tree fell with a crunching thump on top of it.
Summer put her arm around Wilson as she backed away from the campsite and looked around wildly.
“Who’s there?” she asked. “Who did this?”
A shriek of savage laughter rang out through the woods, echoing over and over. By the time Michael reached Summer and Wilson, the cloaked figure had vanished, and the forest had fallen completely silent.
Wilson stared at the killing tree and grisly ground beneath it. “Summer, did you…”
“No,” she said, her voice tight. “I could never do that to anyone.”
“There was someone in a cloak, standing over there,” Michael said, and pointed in that direction. “One moment he was there, and then he was gone.”
Summer bit her lip. “Could Lachlan have done this?”
“No,” Wilson breathed. He stared at her, his dark eyes still wide with shock. “But…but Ewan might have. It’s his ability, you know. He can vanish from sight entirely.”
• • • • •
Once they returned to the pavilion Summer thought it would be simple to confront Ewan, but he had been with either Troy or Abel all morning. Once they had gathered the other members of the coven in the large front room and informed them about the attack on Wilson, and Gideon’s hideous end, everyone began talking at once. Troy had immediately taken up position next to her, while Michael stood close as well.
“Troy and I will deal with disposing of the remains,” Michael told Abel, raising his voice to be heard over the others. “But whoever attacked Gideon wielded great power, and used very dark magic.”
“I don’t care who killed him.” Aileen clutched her husband’s hand tightly as she struggled to her feet. “But all of you heard what Wilson said. The Templar told him that Lachlan was the one who led him here. He’s the traitor spying on us for the Templars.”
“Ash,” Troy said, “that Templar was insane with immortality sickness. If you’d asked him five minutes later he probably would have said you led him up the mountain.”
“Why are you protecting him?” Aileen screeched, and then gulped in a deep breath and spoke slowly and deliberately. “Lachlan tried to knife you last night, remember? He lies about where he goes whenever he leaves Silver Wood. Tell them, Ewan.”
Ewan grimaced. “My dear, please. Ten minutes ago everyone was convinced that I had killed the Templar. Let’s not hurl more accusations until we gather some facts.”
Summer saw how angry Aileen was growing, and slipped away from Michael and Troy to put her arm around the young witch.
“Maybe you and Wilson should go and rest for a bit. Let us deal with this.”
“Lachlan hasn’t been going to town every weekend,” Aileen said flatly. “He’s been driving hundreds of miles, hasn’t he, Ewan?”
The rotund warlock shifted uneasily. “I did notice he was putting more mileage on his truck the last time I changed the oil. That’s all.”
“We should go and find Lachlan,” Wilson said to Troy.
“I have a better idea.” Erica brought out a tray filled with steaming cups of tea. “Why don’t you men go out and make sure there aren’t any other Templars coming up the mountain? I mean, if you’re not too busy arguing about mileage and oil changes.”
Summer hid a smile as she went over to help Erica distribute the cups. “Nice one.”
“I want Lachlan made to answer for what he’s done,” Aileen said, and stalked up to Abel. “He’s been trying to hurt me and the baby for months. He nearly stabbed Troy last night. Wilson could have died today. Gods, he probably killed the Templar to keep him from exposing him–”
“I’m not your traitor.”
Summer winced and turned around to see Lachlan standing in the front entry, and then watched him duck quickly as a ceramic cup came flying at his head and shattered on the door jamb.
“Let go of me,” Aileen shrieked as her husband wrapped his arms around her. “I’m going to make him pay for what he’s done to this coven.”
“I’m not your traitor,” Lachlan repeated. “I didn’t bring that Templar to the mountain, and I didn’t kill him.” His mouth tightened as he looked at Wilson and then Aileen. “I would never hurt a pregnant woman, either. As to where I’ve been, I can prove that.”
He took out his mobile phone and dialed a number, and then put the call on speaker.
“What the fuck do you want, Lachlan?” a male voice said.
“Jonah, my family thinks I’ve been doing something rotten every weekend,” he said as he watched Aileen’s face. “Would you mind telling them where you live, and what we do when I come to see you?”
“I live in Portland, and we fuck like bunnies.” Jonah laughed. “So you’re finally coming out to them?”
“Yeah. Everyone get that? Thanks, Jo.” Lachlan switched off the phone. “I spent last night with him, too, and came back this morning. Maybe the Templar spotted me and followed me up. We had an argument and almost broke up last night, so I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“You’re a liar.” The pregnant witch was almost in tears. “You could have paid that man to say those things.”
Lachlan cautiously approached Aileen.
“You know, I don’t like you any more than you like me. I never have. But I would never harm a woman or an unborn child. Especially not the woman Wilson loves more than life itself.” When she wouldn’t look at him, he nodded and glanced around the room. “The covens will be arriving soon for the winter gathering. So if you’re not going to kick me out, I have work to do.”
Summer frowned at Troy. “The covens are coming here?”
He nodded tightly. “My father elected to move the gathering to Silver Wood. He believes the mountain is the safest place for it.”
“Unless Nathaniel has been tracking Gideon,” Michael murmured.
At that moment Abel moved to the center of the room and held up his hands in a calming gesture.
“The magic used to kill the Templar is very specific. I will go through the dark grimoires until I find the spell, and then Erica will scry it back to the Wiccan who cast it.”
“You needn’t bother, my dear,” the High Priestess said. She sat down in the armchair by the fire, and regarded them all. “I am the one who killed Gideon Edmunds.”
CHAPTER SIX
EWAN WAS THE first to break the stunned silence that gripped everyone.
“Surely this is no time for jests, Sister.”
“I’m not joking, Brother. I took his life.” Erica’s calm eyes shifted to Abel. “If you need proof, you will find the spell in the Night of Mind grimoire, and the preparation circle in my bed chamber.”
Summer went to the High Priestess and crouched down by her chair.
“You knew he was here, and you didn’t tell anyone?”
“I have scried his location every night since I escaped him.” The older woman stared into the fireplace. “I always told myself it was so that I would never again fall under his power, but then I saw him coming here and knew what I had to do.”
“They’re going to want to know why,” Summer said gently.
“It’s time I told them.” Erica’s mouth tightened as she glanced over at the pregnant witch. “I should have, long ago.”
Summer stood as Abel approached them.
“Before you say anything,” she said, “you need to hear the entire story.”
The Coven Master ignored her. “Was it him?” he asked Erica. “Was this the Templar who tortured you, and made you pregnant?”
Now it was Erica’s turn to be dumbfounded. “You couldn’t have known. Oh, please, Abel, no.”
“Since we began sleeping toge
ther, love.” He drew her out of the chair. “You have nightmares about him, and plead with him to stop hurting you. There have been some nights when you’ve screamed in your sleep.”
Erica stared up at him in horror. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
He touched her scarred cheek. “I was waiting for you to do that.”
Summer saw Ewan’s bewildered expression as the coven leaders embraced, and tactfully retreated across the room to stand with her men.
“I think there’s one more revelation coming,” she told Michael, and then glanced at Troy. “By the way, I don’t hate your father anymore.”
“Yeah,” he said, and sighed. “Neither do I.”
“You are the gentlest person I know,” Aileen said when Erica turned to her. “Why would you do such a thing, even to a Templar? If you meant to save Wilson, you could have struck him down with a paralyzing spell, or even a curse to blind him. Is it because that Templar scarred you, is that it?”
“Gideon Edmunds did more than beat me, and take a blade to my face.” Erica touched the old scar that divided her features before she took hold of Abel’s hand. “He raped me over and over in order to restore his clarity of mind. There came a night when I could feel something inside me––a new courage and determination to survive. I didn’t realize at the time that it came from the new life inside me.”
Aileen paled. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
“Until that moment I was prepared to die, but that night everything changed. On some level I must have known I couldn’t let him harm my child.” Erica hesitated before she added, “I couldn’t let him kill you, Aileen.”
“You’re my birth mother?” The pregnant witch sounded dazed now. “And that monster you killed…he was my–”
“He only made me pregnant, dearest. He was never your father.” Erica took a tentative step toward her. “After I escaped Gideon Edmunds I was very ill in body and spirit. The way I was, I could not have looked after you, or given you the loving home you deserved. Nor could I tell my family what had happened to me.” She gave Ewan an apologetic look. “So I arranged to have you in secret, and put you up for adoption.”