Rescued (Book One of the Silver Wood Coven Series): A Witch and Warlock Romance Novel (7 page)

“Something will, in due time.” Nathaniel checked his watch. “I have summoned all our brethren in the field to attend me this noon, and I will want you at my side.”
 

“All of them?” Michael frowned. “May I ask for what purpose, Master?”

“That can wait. You and I have a far more troubling problem to discuss.” Nathaniel removed a file from his desk and handed it to Michael. “This conniving witch presents a very grave threat to our mission.”

“Indeed.” Michael barely controlled his shock when he opened the file and saw a picture of a blood-soaked, terrified Summer staring back at him. “Who is she?”

“We do not know her name, although she was brought into the country from Canada. We managed to turn the human transporting her to our cause, but before we could secure the exchange she attacked. Before she escaped she murdered our sympathizer and five of our best mortal guards.” Nathaniel sighed heavily. “I have just received a report from Gideon that she was spotted last night in Central Park. It is now your sole priority to locate and capture this woman, and deliver her to me.”

Michael quickly skimmed through the report, which stated only that a woman matching Summer’s description had been spotted bespelling humans in the Conservatory gardens.

“Why was she brought into this country? Was she running from our brothers to the north?”

Nathaniel abruptly rose. “Walk with me, my son.”

The Temple Master led Michael through the data center and out into the sparring chamber where off-duty warriors often came to work off their various frustrations by practicing their fighting skills. Today the room was empty, except for the weapons waiting to be wielded. Nathaniel took down an ancient shield that long ago had nearly been cut in two.

“This was carried by Grand Master de Sonnac into his final battle.” Nathaniel’s diamond ring glittered as he traced the battered surface with his thick fingers. “I remember how fiercely he fought that day. Exhausted, half-blinded, and yet he refused to let another take his place at the head of the charge.”

Michael hung his head. “He was an inspiration to us all, Master.”

“I think he would still be with us, had his men not failed to protect him.” Nathaniel hung the shield gently back in its place. “Michael, this witch we seek is no ordinary Wiccan. She knows how to find The Emerald Tablet. Do you know what that is?”

Michael frowned. “From what I recall, it was an ancient grimoire destroyed by the pagans after the Crusades.”

“Not destroyed––hidden by the heretics. The Emerald Tablet isn’t simply an old spell book, my son. It is the oldest and most powerful grimoire ever written. Within its pages are the secrets to controlling all forms of magic, nature and the elements, and perhaps even time itself.” The Temple Master gazed up at him. “Whoever possesses the Tablet will wield unimaginable power. There would be no stopping them, you see.”

Michael felt sick. “You believe we should have such power? When it comes from a source so ungodly as this?”

“We are at war, my boy. A war that spans so many centuries, and that has taken far too many of our brothers from us. It has gone on too long now.” Nathaniel touched his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I know how repugnant it seems, when we have already devoted so much of our lives to eradicating the plague of the magic-users. But once we have the Tablet, we will finally have the means to end it. We will turn the tables on them, and use the pagans’ own devilish powers to scour all of them forever from the face of the earth.”

The door to the sparring chamber opened, and a short, bald human bowed respectfully toward Nathaniel. When the Temple Master nodded in return, the clergy aide hurried over to them.

“Master Harper, Steward Edmunds wishes to speak with you prior to the assembly.” Augustin Colbert didn’t spare Michael a glance. “He indicated that it is a matter of some urgency.”

“So it always is with Gideon.” Nathaniel gave Michael a rueful look. “I will see you at the noon assembly, my son.”

Michael bowed his head, but kept an eye on Augustin as the two men retreated. He knew the clergy aide despised him, and had been spying on him for some time now. While he was certain that the little man was interested only in what he could use to somehow disgrace Michael in Nathaniel’s eyes, he would not be above enlisting the help of Gideon Edmunds, Nathaniel’s steward, who had no love for anyone but himself.

Knowing Nathaniel would meet with Gideon in his private chambers, Michael left the sparring room through the maintenance access door, and descended down a dimly-lit stairwell into the equipment room that provided heating and air conditioning for the North Abbey sublevel. During his incarceration after the seventh Crusade, Michael had learned how to use his hands to pick up the vibrations of voices through solid walls and floors, something he was peculiarly sensitive to. He now employed the trick by placing the palms of his hands on the wall that stood between the equipment room and Nathaniel’s chamber.

Only to see if Gideon or Augustin knows more about Summer,
he promised himself.

• • • • •

Gideon Edmunds stood before the plain mirror on the wall in the Temple Master’s chambers and inspected his reflection. He had not aged since attaining immortality, but he was changing in a strange fashion. He no longer bothered with sleeping, as that contributed to his unfortunate ailment, and a year spent entirely awake had added a permanent pinkish color to the whites around his black eyes. He also had a mild tic at the corner of his mouth that came and went; thus far he had managed to disguise it by chewing on the end of a cigar.

In the beginning he had not understood what was happening to him, and suspected he had been cursed. With great effort he had captured and secretly imprisoned an ancient pagan, and tortured him while demanding to know what he was suffering from, and why.

The old warlock had given him a ghastly grin, his teeth gleaming scarlet with his own blood. “Not all souls were meant to live forever. The path of eternity is littered with madmen caged by their own shattered minds.”

Gideon had enjoyed making the warlock suffer for weeks after that, until finally the old man’s higher brain functions had shut down and he became little better than a lump of twisted, burned, tattered flesh. He had finally tossed the living corpse into a furnace and let him burn to ash, but the pagan’s words clung to his thoughts like leeches, and had sucked at his vitality for the next five decades as he grew progressively worse.

Despite the pagan’s claims, immortality sickness was quite rare. It had struck only two Templars known to him over the centuries. Gideon could well remember one who had begged their temple master to decapitate him before the brain-eating spiders crawling inside his skull could escape and attack the rest of the order. The other brother who had fallen ill had simply walked into the sea one night. His bones washed ashore some months later. While he felt no such inclination to end his own life, Gideon concealed his symptoms and began his personal, sacred quest to find a cure.

A century had passed, but Gideon was no closer to a cure than he had been in the beginning. He had found various ways to manage his mental aberrations. Thirty years ago a spell provided by a rogue witch in exchange for safe passage through the city had effectively tempered his then-growing paranoia. It was what he had done to the witch before she managed to escape that had led to the most effective means of dragging himself back from the brink of insanity.
 

He had not intended to rape her. Females held no allure for him, and he had successfully kept to his vow of celibacy since becoming a Templar. Before torturing her, however,
 
he had stripped out of his clothes to prevent them from becoming soiled with her blood. She had misinterpreted his actions and begged him not to violate her with such fear in her eyes that he gladly did just that.
 

Although he took no pleasure in the rape itself––it disgusted him to merge his sacred flesh with her profane body––her agony and terror pleased him immensely. It had also oddly restored his own clarity of thought, so he repeated the violation over and over. That she had escaped in the end always vexed him, but it had also led him to another truth. After finding the pagan gone, in his anger he attacked a mortal female, dragging her in a dark alley and raping her behind a pile of crates. The relief he experienced proved to be just as pervasive, and made it clear he did not need to sully himself by fucking a pagan woman to preserve his mind.

Until last night. He had spotted the witch Nathaniel had been searching months for, and stalked her back to her lair. Gideon was not supposed to know anything about her, since Nathaniel preferred to keep him as ignorant of his plans as the rest of the Templars assigned to the North Abbey. But as the Temple Master’s steward, Gideon had unlimited access to Nathaniel’s rooms. He had installed listening devices so he could know if the old man suspected anything about his ailment. In the process of monitoring every conversation, Gideon had discovered that the young witch for whom Nathaniel searched knew the location of the Emerald Tablet, an ancient grimoire rumored to be so powerful it could make whoever possessed it unbeatable. What interested Gideon was the fact that the Tablet also contained the incredibly old healing spells that could cure any illness.

Gideon’s failure to capture her still needled him. Trying to rape and beat her into submission had been foolish, but Gideon could no longer be anywhere near a female without becoming savagely furious and aroused. If he hadn’t cloaked himself with a body shield he might have been disabled or even killed by the man who had come to the witch’s rescue.
   

I should have cut off her nose,
Gideon thought, absently rubbing the hand she’d bitten during their struggles.
The hole in her face would make it easier to find the bitch.

“Gideon.” Nathaniel Harper waddled into the chamber and smiled broadly. “Augustin tells me you have an urgent matter.” Augustin trailed in his wake.

“Unhappily I do, my lord.” As he bowed before the Temple Master, Gideon imagined drawing his sword and using it to slice through Nathaniel’s pudgy neck and part his fat head from his shoulders. “Baldwin has sent word that the pagans are preparing for a mass gathering for their winter celebration. He claims twelve covens will be traveling into the area, and another five groups who wish to organize their own heathen circles.”

Nathaniel stroked his weak chin. “He did not indicate before that it would be so many. With so many in one place at the same time, we cannot fail to carry out our sacred duty.”

The only duty Nathaniel had, Gideon suspected, was to his own advancement and self-glorification.
 

“You will be quite busy arranging the strike, my lord. Perhaps I should take over handling Baldwin now, to relieve you of that worry.”

The Temple Master gave him a chiding look.
 

“You never could abide not being in the know, could you, Steward?” Gideon began to protest. “It matters not,” he said, cutting him off. “I cannot afford any mistakes with this informant, so I will continue to personally attend to Baldwin. Thank you, brother.
 

Gideon bowed again, primarily to hide his anger. “As you command, my lord.”

“Why is your arm bleeding?” The Temple Master nodded at Gideon’s sleeve.

He glanced at it and saw it was wet with blood.
 

“A human attacked me from behind in the park last night when I was searching for the escaped witch. I will have it attended to by the healer, my lord.”

Augustin smirked. “You, wounded by a mere human? I cannot imagine such a thing, Steward Edmunds.”

“He stabbed me from behind.” Gideon imagined pressing his thumbs into Augustin’s face until his scum-colored eyes popped out of their sockets. “Like so many cowardly mortals do when faced with a superior adversary.”

“See the healer before you attend the assembly,” Nathaniel ordered. “Augustin, take a team and sweep the park again. Show the sketch we had made of the witch’s face to the humans who work there. Someone must know more about her. Gideon, stay a moment, if you would.”

Augustin bowed low before the Temple Master before he retreated. Once he had gone, Nathaniel’s expression turned grim.

“No mortal could have come within ten yards of you without your knowledge. It was either a pagan, or one of our own. Why did you lie?”

Gideon swallowed against the urge to hurl the foulest obscenities he knew in the Temple Master’s face.

“I cannot say who it was. I could not see how badly I was hurt, so the wound forced me to flee to safer ground. Do you wish me to be entirely candid about such matters in the presence of your human clergy aide?”

“No, of course not.” Nathaniel hesitated before he asked, “Do you think it could have been Michael Charbon who attacked you?”

“Michael?” Gideon made a contemptuous sound. “That muling mortal-lover only draws a blade with a pencil on paper.”

“He was tracking a rapist last night in the park.” The Temple Master gave him an unpleasant smile. “Perhaps he mistook you as one. It would not be the first time he interfered with you toying with a helpless mortal.”

Gideon hated Nathaniel’s seneschal almost as much as the Temple Master.

“Charbon confessed to attacking me?”

“No, he believes the rapist was a warlock.” Nathaniel’s thin silver brows arched. “You have not gone over to the side of the enemy, have you, Steward?”

“My lord, if you believe that to be true…” Gideon went down on his knees in front of the Temple Master, and tilted his head back. “Then end me now, for I could not live knowing you suspected me of being a traitor.”

“Have a care, Gideon. Someday you will make a foolish offer like that to a more suspicious man, and it will be accepted. Now get up.” Nathaniel folded his hands into the wide ends of his robe’s sleeves and glanced past him, his thin lips stretched to a satisfied smile. “Alvis. It has been too long.”

“My lord,” a high-pitched male voice said.

Gideon turned to see the largest Templar who still walked the earth bend himself into a low, fervent bow. When he straightened the light leapt from his white-blond hair into his eerie blue eyes, which were so faded by centuries in the sun they sometimes looked solidly white with only tiny dots for pupils.