Hugh (Her Warlock Protector) by Hazel Hunter

Author:Hazel Hunter [Hunter, Hazel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Pastor Bolivar left the pamphlets on the table near the front door, and ran to answer the phone.

“Cedars-Sinai Chapel, Pastor Bolivar speaking. How may I help you?”

“Sergeant Brother Bolivar,” said a man’s voice. “This is Marshall Walch.” When Ramon didn’t immediately answer, he continued. “Of the Knights of the Order of the Templars. I understand you called.”

Though it’d been years since he’d been active in the order, Ramon still knew the hierarchy. There were only two Marshalls in the entire organization, east coast and west coast. There had to be a dozen layers of rank and bureaucracy between Ramon and a Marshall.

“Yes, Marshall,” Ramon said, finally finding his voice. He sat up straight. “I did, sir.”

“And it was well done of you. Well done, indeed. I have only one instruction.”

Ramon scooted forward in his chair.

“Yes, sir?”

“Do nothing.”

Ramon cocked his head and nearly stared at the phone.

“I…I’m sorry, sir,” he said, sure he hadn’t heard right. “Did you say nothing?”

“Yes,” Marshall Walch said. “Nothing. Not a single thing. You are not to approach or engage the Magus Corps officer in the least. The Order will handle everything from here out.”

Ramon frowned. That was not what he’d intended, or expected. He wanted to take care of the smarmy doctor himself––in front of Phoenix.

“But sir, I–”

“A seneschal is en route.”

“A seneschal?”

“He’ll arrive tomorrow,” the Marshall said cooly. “You may see him, but he won’t require your help.”

A seneschal was a field-hardened warrior with centuries of killing Wiccans behind him. Gods, what had he done. The last thing he wanted was someone like that around Phoenix.

“Sir, I think I may have overstated the–”

“Not at all,” the Marshall said reassuringly. “Not at all. In fact, it was a foregone conclusion. The Professor himself insisted on it.”

Ramon’s blood ran cold. He tried to swallow in a dry throat.

“The Professor?” he said, barely able to get the words out. “The Professor is coming?”

“Exactly. I see you take my meaning.”

Ramon had not thought the Professor was even real. He was rumored to be among the longest lived of the Templars. And also the cruelest. He was a Grand Inquisitor who had learned his trade in Spain.

The phone receiver was slick in Ramon’s fingers. He used both hands.

“Do not interfere, Sergeant Brother Bolivar. Your work is done.”

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