Lead Demon

The choosen

“So you’re one of the order’s eight provincial masters and report directly to Michael,” I said thoughtfully. “I’m surprised you’re not the ninth knight.”

The ninth knight was a mysterious figure in the order, his identity kept secret from all except those at the very highest levels.

Raleigh swore so vehemently that Daniel gasped. “You keep the fact that you’re a spy and a member of the Congregation from your wife, yet you tell her the most private business of the brotherhood?”

“She asked,” Seven said simply. “But I think that’s enough talk of the Order of Lazarus for tonight.”

“Your wife won’t be satisfied leaving it there. She will worry at this like a hound with a bone.” Raleigh crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

“Very well. If you must know, Henry is the ninth knight. His unwillingness to embrace the Protestant faith makes him vulnerable to allegations of treason here in England, and in Europe he is an easy target for every malcontent who would like to see Her Majesty lose her throne. Michael offered him the position to shield him from those who would a***e his trusting nature.”

“Henry? A rebel?” I looked at the gentle giant, stunned.

“I’m no rebel,” Henry said tightly. “But Michael de Clermont’s protection has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“The Earl of Northumberland is a powerful man, Stephanie,” Seven said quietly, “which makes him a valuable pawn in the hands of an unscrupulous player.”

Anthony coughed. “Can we leave off talk of the brotherhood and return to more urgent matters? The Congregation will call on Seven to calm the situation in Berwick. The queen will want him to stir it up further, because so long as the Scots are preoccupied with witches, they won’t be able to plan any mischief in England. Seven’s new wife is facing witchcraft accusations at home. And his father has recalled him to France.”

“Christ,” Seven said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What a tangled mess.”

“How do you propose we untangle it?” John demanded. “You say Michael cannot come here, Anthony, but I fear that Seven ought not go there either.”

“No one ever said that having three masters—and a wife—was going to be easy,” Derek declared sourly.

“So which devil will it be, Seven?” asked Anthony.

“If Michael doesn’t receive the coin embedded in the letter’s seal from my own hand, and soon, he’ll come looking for me,” Seven said hollowly. “It’s a test of loyalty. My father loves tests.”

“Your father does not doubt you. This misunderstanding will be set to rights when you see each other,” Henry maintained. When Seven didn’t respond, Henry moved to fill the silence. “You are always telling me that I must have a plan, or else be pulled into the designs of other men. Tell us what must be done, and we will see to it.”

Without speaking, Seven picked through options, discarding one after the other. It would have taken any other man days to sift through the possible moves and countermoves. For Seven it took only minutes. There was little sign of the struggle on his face, but the bunching of his shoulder muscles and the distracted pass of his hand through his hair told another story.

“I’ll go,” he said at last. “Stephanie will stay here, with Anthony and Derek. John will have to put off the queen with some excuse. And I’ll handle the Congregation.”

“Stephanie can’t remain in Woodstock,” Anthony told him firmly. “Not now that Sebastian’s been at work in the village, spreading his lies and asking questions about her. Without your presence neither the queen nor the Congregation will have any incentive to keep your wife from the magistrate.”

“We can go to London, Seven,” I urged. “Together. It’s a big city. There will be too many witches for anyone to notice me—witches who aren’t afraid of power like mine—and messengers to take word to France that you’re safe. You don’t have to go.”

You don’t have to see your father again.

“London!” Derek scoffed. “You wouldn’t last three days there, madam. Anthony and I will take you into Wales. We’ll go to Abergavenny.”

“No.” My eyes were drawn by the crimson stain at Seven’s neck. “If Seven is going to France, I’m going with him.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not dragging you through a war.”

“The war has quieted with the coming of winter,” said John. “Taking Stephanie to Sept-Tours may be for the best. Few are brave enough to tangle with you, Seven. None at all will cross your father.”

“You have a choice,” I told him fiercely. Seven’s friends and family weren’t going to use me to force him to France.

“Yes. And I choose you.” He traced my lip with this thumb. My heart sank. He was going to go to Sept-Tours.

“Don’t do this,” I implored him. I didn’t trust myself to say more for fear of betraying the fact that in our own time Michael was dead, and that it would be t*****e for Seven to see him alive again.

“Michael told me that mating was destiny. Once I found you, there would be nothing to do but accept fate’s decision. But that’s not how it works at all. In every moment, for the rest of my life, I will be choosing you—over my father, over my own self-interest, even over the de Clermont family.” Seven’s lips pressed against mine, silencing my protests. There was no mistaking the conviction in his kiss.

“It’s decided, then,” Anthony said softly.

Seven’s eyes held mine. He nodded. “Yes. Stephanie and I will go home. Together.”

“There’s work to do, arrangements to be made,” John said. “Leave it to us. Your wife looks exhausted, and the journey will be taxing. You both should rest.”

Neither of us made any move toward bed once the men had gone off to the parlor.

“Our time in 1590 isn’t turning out quite as I hoped,” Seven admitted. “It was supposed to be straightforward.”

“How could it possibly be straightforward, with the Congregation, the trials in Berwick, the Elizabethan intelligence service, and the Knights of Lazarus all vying for your attention?”

“Being a member of the Congregation and serving as a spy should be helps—not hindrances.” Seven stared out the window. “I thought we’d come to the Old Lodge, use the services of Widow Beaton, find the manuscript in Oxford, and be gone within a few weeks.”