“It’s not funny,” he told her.
She sat up and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands before she answered him.
“You think I’d need a schedule for…” she trailed off into another spate of laughter.
Troy’s lips curved a little as he realized what he’d said. “Sorry. But if you are going to make a schedule, can I have Saturday nights? Sundays are more Michael’s territory anyway.”
“Stop,” Summer gasped. “I’m going to wet my pants.”
“Okay,” he said, laughing a little himself. “Okay.”
Although she hadn’t answered any of his questions, Troy felt a little better now. If they could laugh about it, they could work it out.
“I guess what I really want to know is why. Under all that scary power I know you’re not a wild thing. You’re sweet, and I doubt you’ve had more than one or two lovers in your life. So what made you decide to take on both of us, lady?”
Some of the hilarity left her expression as she sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel it, here.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “Like it’s the way it has to be for me––and not because of the curse, either. When I’m with you and Michael I feel as if I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. That the three of us are connected by something more powerful than we are. And when it comes to the sex, I think…” She stopped and shook her head. “Um, no. You don’t want to hear this.”
“It’s okay,” Troy told her. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. After everything that’s happened, you’re not going to shock me.”
“This might.” Summer took a deep breath and then faced him again. “I think I know why I felt both of you when I had sex with you individually. I think we’re meant to be together in that, too. We’re supposed to have sex together. You, me and Michael.”
CHAPTER TWO
DESPITE HIS WORDS, Summer knew she had shocked Troy. Though he didn’t explode into a jealous rage, he barely spoke to her for the remainder of the trip to Silver Wood. She knew nothing she could say would make it easier for him to accept, so she alternated between keeping an eye on Michael, who was still unconscious, and watching the passing scenery as the sun set. The sky turned a star-studded, black velvet.
A few miles from the mountain road that would take them to the pavilion Troy said, “When we get there stay in the Jeep with him, and let me talk to my father. If he isn’t willing to give sanctuary to a Templar, we’ll have to leave immediately.”
Summer glanced back at Michael. “Can’t we simply say that he’s a friend who saved our lives? It wouldn’t be a lie.”
“They’ll sense that he’s an immortal, and they’ll know he’s not Wiccan. The coven has despised the Templars since the attack that killed my mother.” He slowed as he made the turn off for the mountain. “Under ordinary circumstances I wouldn’t even try to bring him here, but Michael nearly died protecting us from Alvis. That kind of sacrifice is deeply respected by all Wiccans, and it should give us some leverage.”
Summer felt her stomach knotting. “What if it doesn’t, and Abel tells us to leave? Where do we go?”
“I can’t take either of you to Boston. Magus Corps headquarters would know the minute we entered the city, and they’d demand we turn Michael over to them for questioning. We’d have to head west, maybe to one of the bigger covens, but eventually the Magus Corps will send someone after us.” He drove through the illusion of a snowy rockslide that Abel kept on the road to prevent humans from intruding on the coven’s home territory. “This could end very badly, Summer.”
“No,” she said flatly. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you or Michael. You belong to me now.”
“We’re supposed to be protecting you.” He smiled a little. “And the way you say we belong to you… is that you talking, or your power?”
“Does it matter?” Thinking about it made her head hurt, and the fact that he was still questioning the fact that they belonged together annoyed her. “English isn’t my first language anyway.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Hey, settle down. I can feel your power spiking, and the last thing we need is to set it off now.”
Summer focused on controlling her emotions as Troy drove up to the pavilion and parked. Lights from inside the main house made the windows glow golden, and the coven’s pack of dogs scampered out of the barn and bounded toward the Jeep. Before they reached them, however, the entire pack came to a skidding halt and sat down to form a wall like furry bodyguards.
Lachlan, Summer guessed, knowing the surly, blond warlock had the ability to control all animals. As Abel’s apprentice he helped with running the coven, but he disliked Troy and often instigated conflicts between the Atwaters. He’d also used the dogs more than once to threaten Troy.
The only person who came out of the pavilion, however, was Abel Atwater. The Coven Master of Silver Wood, he looked like an older, slightly heavier copy of Troy. From the harsh set of his expression Summer knew he wasn’t happy to see his eldest son returned.
“So despite my wishes, you’ve brought back that woman.” Abel folded his arms. “That I could overlook, but you lead the enemy to us as well?”
That made Summer frown. From where he stood Abel couldn’t see the backseat of the Jeep. He might have sensed him, but how could he have guessed Michael was a Templar?
“His name is Michael.” Troy nodded toward the Jeep. “He nearly died to save me and Summer from a Templar assassin. That makes him our ally, and my friend.” He paused. “He needs shelter, care, and time to heal. Because he saved us, he cannot ever return to the order. Out of respect for his sacrifice, I ask that the coven provide him with sanctuary.”
“Respect?” Abel spat on the ground. “There is my respect for your turncoat Templar, boy.”
“That’s enough of that.” The petite figure of Erica Buchanan appeared at the Coven Master’s side, although her scarred face looked drawn and tired. “Troy, is Summer all right?”
“Yes, High Priestess. Our friend Michael was actually wounded protecting her and me with his own body.” Troy took a step forward. “He will not hurt anyone, I promise.”
“No, he won’t.” Her voice grew chilly. “If your father gives his permission, you may keep the Templar here until he heals. But if he comes near me, or lays one finger on any female in this coven, I’ll kill him myself.” She turned on her heel and retreated inside.
Summer stared after the redheaded woman, completely confused now. Erica was one of the gentlest souls she’d met among the Wiccan, but just now she sounded as harsh and unforgiving as Abel. Erica’s threat bothered her, too. Why would she assume Michael would hurt one of the women of the coven?
Abel stared after Erica as well, jaw muscles working, before glowering at his son for another long, silent moment.
“Go on, then. Get him and bring him inside.”
Troy came back to the car, but when Summer got out to help him move Michael he shook his head and hauled the unconscious Templar out by himself, pulling him upright and then gently rolling him over onto his shoulder. He hoisted him out of the Jeep and halfway over his back in a fireman’s hold before he turned and carried him across the property.
Summer saw the dogs were still maintaining their perimeter, and glanced down one side of the line and then the other. With a collective low whine the animals dispersed, scurrying back to the barn with their tails between their legs.
Lachlan glared at Summer as she followed Troy inside, but she ignored him to smile at Aileen, who stood beside her husband, Wilson Atwater. Abel’s younger son had one arm around his wife’s slim shoulders and his free hand resting on her hugely rounded belly, and looked about as happy as his father had been to see them. Aileen offered Summer a welcoming smile, but her solemn gray eyes grew worried as she took in Michael’s big, limp form.
“Wilson,” Abel bellowed from another room, and Troy’s brother reluctantly turned and departed, at which point Aileen hurried to catch up with Summer and Troy.
“I
heard some of what was said,” the young witch confided to Summer. “Does your friend need healing?”
“We’ll check his wound, but I think all he needs is rest and some TLC.” Summer heard the sound of Abel’s and Wilson’s muffled shouting from the other side of the house and grimaced. “And maybe a bodyguard until he’s back on his feet.”
Troy carried Michael into the rooms he had shared with Summer, and carefully lowered him onto the bed.
“Aileen,” Troy said, “could you make some of your orange-apricot tea for him? And add some molasses.”
“Is this really the time for tea?” Summer asked.
“It’s actually a Wiccan herbal tea treatment,” Aileen told her. “Your friend needs fluids, and the apricot replaces the iron lost, which the orange helps the body absorb. The molasses will stave off shock and boost red blood cell production. I’ll have it ready in a few minutes, Troy.”
Once the pregnant witch hurried off, Summer closed the door and leaned back against it.
“I can understand why your father is upset, but what is going on with Erica? I’ve never seen her act like that.”
“A long time ago she was captured and tortured by someone,” Troy said as he used his dagger to cut off the remains of Michael’s ruined shirt. “She refuses to talk about it, but I’m pretty sure it was a Templar.”
“Is that how she got that scar on her face?” Summer asked, and when he nodded she felt sick. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m not supposed to know. I found out about the incident from another Magus Corps officer.” Troy gently felt around the fresh scar on Michael’s side. “This looks better than I expected. You do good work, Dr. Summer.”
“It would be nice to know how I do it.” She came over and laid her hand over the scar, and felt the pulse of Michael’s blood coursing through the repaired tissues and vessels. “He’s very strong.”
“Confused, too,” Michael murmured, and opened his eyes to slits. “Where am I?”
“We brought you to Silver Wood. My father agreed to give you sanctuary. No, don’t,” Troy said as Michael tried to sit up. “You’ll just pass out again, and I’ve already lugged your giant ass around too many times today.”
“Wiccan weakling.” Michael subsided against the pillows, his cool green eyes shifting from Troy’s face to Summer’s. “Alvis?”
“He’s dead,” she said gently. “And you almost died saving us.” A knock on the door made her glance over her shoulder to see Erica’s brother cautiously peering in at them. “Come in, Ewan.”
The heavyset man smiled as he stepped inside, a work apron over his big belly and his red curls standing on end.
“I heard all the yelling and assumed you were back, Troy. Summer, blessed be, I’m so happy you’ve returned to us unharmed.” He raised his eyebrows at Michael. “And you must be the Templar everyone is squabbling about. Welcome to Silver Wood, sir.”
Summer performed quick introductions, and Michael nodded, his eyes tired but watchful. As Ewan drew Troy aside and spoke quietly to him in Welsh, Aileen returned with a tray containing a pot of tea, a mug and a small vial filled with a sparkling potion.
“A few drops of the potion will help ease his pain and allow him to sleep if he grows restless,” she murmured to Summer as she handed over the tray. “I would stay, but Wilson has decided to move us back to the cabin tonight, so I have to pack my things.”
Troy’s younger brother was very jealous of his wife, especially around Troy, who had once been Aileen’s lover. With a Templar in the main house as well, Wilson was obviously taking no chances.
“I’m sorry about this,” Summer told her.
Aileen’s gray eyes shifted briefly to Michael before she lowered her voice.
“Be careful, Summer. Ever since you were taken I’ve had the feeling that something dreadful is coming for you.”
“Coming for me here at the coven?” Summer asked, thinking of the attack the Templars had planned.
The younger woman’s mouth tightened.
“I wasn’t sure, and I thought when you came back the feeling would go, but when I saw you tonight it only grew worse. Now I think it’s already here. I think it’s been waiting for you.”
• • • • •
Once Michael had fallen asleep again, Troy left Summer with him and went with Ewan to talk to Abel and Erica.
“If you will allow me to help, I think I can bring them around, Troy,” the older man said. “Neither your father or my sister are unreasonable.” He grimaced as Troy gave him a pointed look. “Very well, they are at times, but I think they can persuaded to be less resistant.”
They found the pair with Lachlan in the library, but as soon as Troy and Ewan stepped inside Abel’s apprentice gave him a filthy look, stalked out and slammed the door behind him.
Erica also didn’t seem happy to see him. “This is not the best time, Troy. Brother, perhaps you should retire for the night.”
“The only thing I am tired of, Sister,” Ewan told her, “is this endless bickering. Troy has brought important news that needs to be heard, and I want you to listen to him. And you, Abel. You may not be inclined to behave as a father to welcome your son home, but as Coven Master it is your duty to attend to the welfare of this coven.”
Abel peered at the shorter warlock. “Have you been at my whiskey, old man?”
Ewan lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I will go and talk to the rest of the coven about Troy’s friend. You three need to work this out.” After giving Troy an encouraging look he left.
Troy noticed that the warded vault where the dangerous books were kept was standing open, and an ancient volume lay open on the reading desk by Abel. He recognized the grimoire as one of the shadow books the Magus Corps kept on a cautionary list of destructive magic resources.
“Has the coven decided to take up practicing black magic now, Father, or are you just that happy to see me?”
The older Atwater scowled. “What is this news that cannot wait, boy?”
Troy debated on asking Erica to leave them, but decided instead to watch her as he related what details he knew of the attack the Templars had planned on the winter solstice gathering.
“You need to alert the other covens and cancel the gathering. Don’t use your normal methods of communication, either. I’d also suggest we determine who among the coven members has been betraying us, and why. It has to be someone at Silver Wood who can access the spells you’ve cast, Father. The Templars had an exact copy of your invitation to the covens.”
“You’re sure about this?” Erica asked, sounding and looking genuinely shocked. When Troy nodded, she said, “Of course we’ll cancel it–”
“No,” Abel said, glaring at them. “We’ll move the gathering to a safer location. No one will know the place except me and the coven leaders. Unless you believe I’m the traitor, and I’m passing information to the scum responsible for murdering your mother?”
Troy dragged a hand through his hair. “No, of course I don’t. But is it worth risking hundreds of lives simply to have a Yule party?”
“If you had ever bothered to be part of this coven, you ignorant stripling, you’d know how important this gathering is,” Abel said, his fists bunching at his sides. “We are a small coven. We have alliances to build, and resources to pool. There are a dozen groups who want to form new covens, which will add to our strength and numbers.”
Troy could feel his own temper rising. “So do it another time.”
“There are things that can’t wait,” Abel insisted. “Combat training for our younger members. Sanctuaries for the persecuted. We have to protect our people.”
“Sounds very ambitious.” Troy knew how determined his father was to expand his power base and bring outside covens under his sway. “But you won’t do any of that if you’re all dead.”
“Now you even sound like a fucking Templar.” Abel strode up to him, shoving his face close. “Is that what you are now, son? Has that scum you b
rought under my roof turned you against your own kind?”
Of course he would think that. Abel saw things only in black and white.
“A long time ago Michael saved my life.”
His father’s expression darkened. “So he could use you–”
“Michael saved my life during the Seventh Crusade.” Troy nodded as his father’s eyes widened. “Those years I was gone, when you thought I was off wandering the world? I was, but not by choice. The Templars captured me outside Paris when they raided that coven you had foster me. I didn’t run away. They put me in chains and dragged me along on their glorious quest.”
Abel’s jaw hardened. “Why would they take a Wiccan with them on crusade?”
“They saw me use my ability when we tried to fight them off. Soldiers need water, especially in the desert. So the Grand Master told me I was going to serve as his army’s water bearer. When I refused, he put me in a cage and starved and tortured me until I cooperated.” Even after all these centuries it still made Troy sick to remember those endless months of being dragged along with the crusaders. “They took me into battle with them, so I could steal the water from their enemies. When the Templars were finally overwhelmed and I tried to escape, I was captured and imprisoned by the Sultan Turanshah’s men. They threw me in his dungeon along with Michael, the only Templar to survive.”
Erica made a low, mournful sound. “Oh, Troy.”
“Turanshah’s dungeon made Hell look like a garden party. Like the others they’d captured we were beaten daily, and given no food or water. The mortal prisoners all died, one by one. But I didn’t, and neither did Michael. All we did was fight.” He walked over to brace his arm on the mantle and stare down at the flames crackling in the fireplace. “When they discovered we weren’t human, they began feeding us and treating our wounds. They brought us both back to health. Then they gave us knives and stood back to watch us fight. At first we did, gladly, but the blades were too short and dull to inflict lethal wounds. Once we were weak from blood loss and beating on each other they chained us together and threw us back in our cell.”
United (Book Three of the Silver Wood Coven Series): A Witch and Warlock Romance Novel Page 2
