“So here we are.” He stopped across the street from the building where Charbon resided, and peered around until he saw the way to the back. “I am going to need your help with Michael now, Augustin. You will be the bait, and your face will surely show it, if you’re happy and you know it.”
“Yes, Master Edmunds.”
The clergy aide sounded annoyingly nasal, and when Gideon glanced down at him he saw the human’s nose was now crooked and streaming blood, and the boy had a decidedly sullen expression.
“Did I do that? I beg your pardon.” He took out his handkerchief to offer it to the mortal. “Here. Mop yourself up now, lad. There’s work to be done.” Which reminded him of another song. “Just whistle while you work.” He tried to whistle the notes that followed, but his mouth tic made it impossible. “Well, then, I guess I’ll never work again. Suits me.”
Gideon parked in the alley behind Charbon’s building and opened the side door to yank Augustin out of the back.
“Please, Master Edmunds.” Swaying on his feet, he extended his manacled wrists. “I will help you capture Brother Charbon, but you must first release me.”
“Bollocks.” He straightened Augustin’s collar. “You’ll run off the moment I free you, and then I’ll have to chase you down and cut your throat and hide your body. I simply don’t have the time for that now, dear boy. Oh, Danny boy. Do you know that song?”
Augustin shook his head helplessly.
“You’re entirely fucking useless.” He slapped the cringing human on the arm and thrust a bouquet of roses between his shackled hands. “Chin up. I forgive you for it. And you needn’t cower until Charbon comes out of his lair. Then you should weep and carry on about how I’ve abused you and you’re terrified of me and all the other nonsense banging about in your idiot human head.”
“I want to help you, Master,” Augustin moaned.
“So you shall.” He jerked him close enough to lick the blood from his nostrils. It tasted sweet, or perhaps it was the smell of the roses. His senses had gone topsy-turvy on him of late. “And if you do this very well, I’ll leave you here, Colbert. You can crawl back to Nathaniel and weep all over him about how poorly I treated you. He might even reward you for your loyal resistance. If you whistle while you work.”
Gideon reloaded the Beretta and hung two machine guns over his shoulders before tucking a shotgun under his arm and adding a few more handguns to his jacket and trouser pockets. He was tempted to buckle on his sword, but he had no inclination to be sporting with Michael Charbon. He would shoot out his kneecaps first to disable him, and as soon as his brother knight gave him the location of the witch he would shoot him in the neck and head until he was effectively decapitated.
“There.” Gideon plucked a daisy from another bouquet and tucked it into his breast pocket. “That’s better.”
Augustin hobbled into the building, dragging the leg with the ankle he’d foolishly shattered trying to escape from Gideon, his face turning white beneath the new and old blood, and his mouth crimping to a hard line.
“If you’re happy and you know it, Augustin, you really should clap your hands,” Gideon advised him as they took the elevator to the penthouse level. It came to an abrupt halt a few floors below as a red light flickered on and an alarm sounded. “What is this?”
“There must be a fire, Master.” Augustin peered at the panel with the buttons and pointed to one. “If you press that, the doors will open and we can crawl out.”
Gideon rammed his fist into the panel, and frowned as it crumpled and sparks flew out. “Now your face will surely show it.” He grabbed Augustin’s skull and bounced it off the panel, beaming as the elevator’s doors opened a scant inch. He wedged his fingers in the gap and shoved them aside before hoisting Augustin through the narrow space and climbing out after him.
The door to the emergency stairwell was locked, which greatly annoyed Gideon, who kicked it open and dragged Augustin with him up to the penthouse landing. He stopped there, craftily peering through the window before he huddled down with his mortal helper and gave him one last pep talk.
“Go to his door, bang on it, and plead for him to give you sanctuary,” Gideon explained. “When he opens it, collapse and stay down until I finish him. You must stay down or I will shoot your head off, too. And your face will surely show it, Augustin. In little tiny pieces all over the corridor. Are you ready, my boy?”
The mortal closed his eyes and nodded.
Gideon gave his brow a tender kiss. “Excellent.”
• • • • •
Michael caught Summer’s arm as she fell, and Troy grabbed the other.
“Take her outside,” Troy said, lifting her into Michael’s arms before he turned his back on them and stretched out his arms, pulling the water out of the carpets and furnishings and funneling it back into the ceiling sprinkler heads.
Michael kept one eye on the pagan as he carried Summer onto the balcony and held her against his chest. “Beauty,” he murmured, kissing her forehead and cheeks. At first her skin felt fever-hot against his lips, but it rapidly cooled to a more normal warmth as the color returned to her cheeks.
She stirred, frowning as her eyelids fluttered and opened. “Michael, what…?”
“You fainted.” He sat down on the concrete and held her in his lap. “You also melted Troy’s ice daggers into water, held both of us powerless, and very possibly stopped time.”
“Really? Okay.” She glanced back into the apartment, where Troy was standing in the now-dry room and watching them. “Did I do something about his temper, too?”
“I cannot say yet.” Michael nodded to Troy, who walked out onto the balcony with them. “She is confused.”
“So am I.” The pagan rubbed the place on his arm where she had touched him during the incident. “Summer, what the hell was that?”
“I wanted you to stop fighting, so I guess…I stopped you.” She winced and pressed her fingers against on temple. “Ow. Why does remembering always hurt?”
“I think you were made to forget.” Michael stood and held Summer until she was steady on her feet. “Come inside, both of you. Come and sit with me. It’s time I told you everything.”
He brought out a bottle of wine for him and Troy, and a glass of water for Summer as they sat down together at his table. He began with what little he knew about Summer, and Nathaniel’s plan to capture and torture her until she revealed the location of the Emerald Tablet.
The moment Michael mentioned the relic Troy’s expression darkened. “The tablet is the most powerful, well-hidden grimoire on the planet,” he said darkly. “Not even the Magus Corps knows where it’s concealed.”
“Neither do I,” Summer said immediately, and then sat back. “You think that’s why I have amnesia? Because I did know where it was, and someone made me forget to protect it?”
“I cannot say,” Michael admitted. “Whether or not Nathaniel locates the tablet, he still intends to attack a gathering of covens. I think Silver Wood may be one of them.”
Troy scowled. “How could he possibly know about us?”
“Someone among the Wiccans has been passing information about the covens to the Temple Master,” he told him. “The identity of the informant is known only to Nathaniel, who calls this traitor ‘Baldwin.’” He turned to Summer. “All of this is why I came for you, Beauty.”
Troy’s fist tightened around the stem of his wine glass. “Were you going to bother to tell me about the attack on the gathering, Paladin? Or were you only interested in saving your new girlfriend?”
“Hey,” Summer said sharply before Michael could reply. “I’m not his girlfriend. I’m his lover. I’m also your lover. Somehow we’re all going to have to deal with this.” She rested her forehead against her hand and peered sideways at Michael. “Right now I want to know about me. Nathaniel arranged to have me delivered to him, right? So where did I come from, and who betrayed me?”
“You were brought here from Canada,” Michael said.
“Nathaniel bribed the mortal who transported you here to bring you to his men. Something went wrong at the exchange, and they were all shot to death.”
“So I’m probably French-Canadian.” Summer swallowed hard. “Did I kill those men?”
He thought of what Nathaniel had told him, and what he personally knew about his Beauty. “No. I don’t believe it was you.”
“Neither do I,” Troy said, covering her hand with his. “It’s not in you to kill, sweetheart.”
“There’s something in me,” she countered, nodding toward the center of the room. “It’s big, and it’s bad, and it stopped both of you. I’d say given the right circumstances it could be pretty lethal.”
“Then why didn’t you use it to kill the rapist?” Michael asked. “Or me when I took you from Silver Wood?”
Troy nodded. “He’s got a point, Summer. You’re not a killer.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced, but some of the tension left her shoulders. “Okay.”
“Once I had moved Beauty to a safe location I also had every intention of warning you about the attack, Troy.” Michael felt the old bitterness rising like bile in his throat. “I am still a good traitor.”
“Saving the lives of hundreds of innocent men, women and children is not a betrayal of your faith, Paladin,” Troy said. “It’s exactly what it should be.”
“I wish the rest of the order agreed with you.” Michael heard someone hammering on his door, and frowned. “Now what?”
Troy got up and went to look through the peephole. “Are you expecting a bleeding bald man who looks like someone repeatedly kicked the crap out of him?” he asked as he drew his dagger.
“No.” Michael joined him to have a look, but barely recognized Augustin. “He is the Temple Master’s clergy aide. He was abducted by an insane Templar yesterday.”
“An insane Templar?” Troy echoed.
“It is too much to explain now,” Michael said. “Troy, take her into the bedroom. Whatever you hear, do not come out.”
“No.” Summer put her hand on his chest where it still burned. “If you open that door you’ll die, Paladin. I can feel it.”
Troy put his nose to the side of the door and drew in a deep breath before he looked at Michael and nodded. “I can smell sweat from two men. One isn’t human.”
“Gideon. Of course.” Michael’s mouth twisted. “Troy, can you block off the hall on either side of the door with ice?”
The pagan nodded, and stretched a hand toward Michael’s kitchen. Water flew out of the sink tap and formed a curtain in the air, and with a wave of his hand Troy sent it through the tiny gaps around the edges of the door and into the hall. A moment later frost grew on the surface of the door like icy fur.
Troy jerked the frozen door open, and caught the shivering, bloody human standing outside, his hands clutching a bouquet of frozen roses. “Easy, pal.”
As gunfire blasted the wall of ice outside, Augustin Colbert stared up at Michael. “Gideon wants the witch. Give her to him.”
“I think not.” Michael tapped his temple, knocking him out.
Troy muttered something under his breath and splayed his hand over the clergy aide’s slack face. He then hauled the wounded human over to Michael’s sofa and dumped him there.
“I’ve wiped his memory, so he won’t remember seeing Summer, but we have to get out of here, now.”
The gunfire abruptly stopped, and Michael heard the door to the emergency stairs down the hall slamming shut. “Gideon.”
He and Troy went out into the hall, where Troy melted the ice barrier, but by the time they got to the stairwell they found it empty. Michael looked down through a shattered window at the alley, where he saw Gideon climb down off the slightly caved-in top of a florist’s van and hoist himself inside before driving off.
“How did he get down there so fast?” Troy muttered.
Michael saw fresh blood edging the broken window glass. “He jumped.”
“Okay, so he’s definitely batshit crazy.” He gave Michael a sideways glance. “Did you hear what she said right before she fainted?”
Michael nodded. “It sounded a little like French, but it was beyond me.”
“Same here.” Troy rubbed the back of his neck. “So how does a still-mortal girl with no memory speak a language too old for you and me to understand?”
Michael shrugged. “I’m still trying to fathom how she stopped time.” He hesitated before he added, “What happened between us has nothing to do with her feelings for you.”
Troy’s expression turned wry. “Same here.”
They returned to the apartment, where Summer was sponging the blood from Augustin’s face. “His nose is broken, and so is his ankle, but I think he’ll be okay.” She stood. “What are we going to do now?”
“I can’t leave until I find out more about this attack Nathaniel has planned, and anything about Summer he may still be keeping from me.” Michael looked over at Augustin. “I can take him back to the Abbey. Nathaniel will have him taken from there to a private clinic he uses for our humans, and since he is his assistant he will go with him. That will give me the chance to search the Temple Master’s chambers.”
“You mean us.” When both men looked at her, Summer smiled brightly and shifted back into the form of the young man. “We’re going with you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
AT THE SIDE entrance to the old church Troy eased Augustin Colbert from his shoulder to the makeshift litter they had fashioned out of two sparring staffs and a blanket, and stepped up to take the end Michael was holding. He looked at Summer in her boy’s guise on the other end. “Not another word out of you. Let Michael do all the talking.”
She nodded.
The Templar unlocked the door and led them through a labyrinth of unfinished renovations to the elevator concealed behind the altar, which they took down to the sublevel of the North Abbey. Troy kept his own expression bland as they followed Michael out and waited as he was questioned by an armed guard. Augustin’s battered appearance supported Michael’s highly edited tale of Gideon’s attack at his apartment, and after a quick call the guard let them pass.
Troy inspected the design of the Abbey as they carried Augustin down the corridor. Built like a bunker, the structure sported thick concrete walls reinforced with sheet metal and steel support beams every dozen feet. He glanced up at the quarried stone that formed the ceiling, which reminded him of how the Egyptians built their ancient tombs. A bomb could go off in the church overhead and Troy doubted it would disturb a mote of dust at this level.
Nathaniel met them halfway down the hall. “Is he alive?”
As Michael repeated the story, Troy continued leading the way into the Templar command center. Until this moment no Wiccan knew the location of the North Abbey, and now that he did Troy felt conflicted. It was his duty to report everything he discovered about the Templar stronghold to the Magus Corps, but as soon as he did it would be targeted by their forces for infiltration and possibly destruction––which made them no better than the Temple Master planning to wipe out the covens at the winter solstice gathering.
Everything about this situation with Summer was wrong on so many levels. The Templars had made her a pawn in their quest to wipe out the Wiccans. If Troy reported the truth about her potential power to the Magus Corps she would be taken and isolated and studied until they could decide how to best use her against the Templars.
This war has to end. Enough have died.
Nathaniel had them carry Augustin to the Abbey’s infirmary, where one of his human servants checked him over before confirming that his nose and ankle were broken. “He will need the leg to be x-rayed and immobilized, Temple Master.”
“Get him cleaned up,” Nathaniel told him. “I’ll take him myself.” To Michael he said, “How could you permit Gideon to escape?”
“I didn’t,” Michael said. “He jumped through a window and fell ten stories onto a truck he had parked in the alley. Before he collap
sed Augustin told me that Gideon is hunting the witch. Perhaps you can use that to lure him out into the open. I will go back on patrol and see if I can locate the van he is using.”
For the first time Nathaniel noticed Summer and Troy. “Who are these men?”
“Humans I employ when discretion is required.” Michael sounded unconcerned. “Alvis will vouch for them.”
This was the moment when they would be exposed, Troy thought, or ignored. The Temple Master may have looked like a retired school teacher, but his mild eyes took in every detail of their guises.
Nathaniel approached him, and gave him a long measuring look. “The order is grateful to you for your service, mortal.”
Centuries ago Troy had unwillingly served among the Templars who had carried out the Seventh Crusade, and while he had despised every moment of that enslavement, he had learned every nuance of their protocols. He went down on one knee, bowing his head and pressing his fisted arm across his chest.
“It is my honor, my lord.”
“This one is promising, Michael.” Nathaniel patted Troy on the head like an obedient dog before he returned to the exam table and said to the infirmary attendant, “Have my car brought around to the back for him.”
Michael snapped his fingers, and Troy rose and followed him and Summer out into the corridor. From there the Templar took them through a series of passages into a mechanical room where he looked around before he went to stand beneath a large stone.
When Summer went to join him, Troy tugged her back. “You’ll want to stick by me now.”
“Why?” She frowned up at him. “What is he going to do?”
Troy put his arm around her. “Watch.”
Michael reached up to press his hands against the stone, and closed his eyes. A shower of powdery dust rained down on his head as the block of stone shifted and then began to slowly slip out of place until Michael’s arms bulged under the weight.
“Oh, my.” Summer’s jaw sagged.
Stolen (Book Two of the Silver Wood Coven Series): A Witch and Warlock Romance Novel Page 5
