She was woken the next morning when Peter started stirring. She was still sitting cross legged on the couch, the rag had fallen off Peters head and had soaked her pant leg. Her foot had gone numb. She reached down and dumped the rag into the bowel of water, all the ice had melted, but it was cold.
Oliver was asleep in a chair on the other side of the sofa behind her shoulder. A blanket had been draped over Peter while they slept. Reagan reached over and tossed the blanket over his legs so she could check on the bruise. It was nearly gone. Merely a shadow across his torso. Peter suddenly grabbed her wrist as she reached back up to check his temperature with the back of her hand.
He moved so quickly she didn't have time to react. He had turned on her, her wrist clasped in his hand grinding the bones painfully together while his other hand grabbed her by the throat. She couldn't breathe he was crushing her windpipe so tightly.
Peter glared at her so fiercely she was immediately terrified. He leaned towards her inches from her face as she fought to draw air. He held her like that, unable to move as his anger ebbed out of him in waves, paralyzing her. She was as defenseless as a bird caught in the jaws of a predator. She could feel his essence incase her.
He was powerful, and it only enhanced the feeling of suffocating. She was nothing more than a rabbit following the footsteps of dragons and had finally been caught. His blue eyes were cold as she starred into his face unable to look away. She was fading. She could feel the pressure build and knew she was about to die. Black dots appeared in her vision. She was sinking.
"Peter." Someone shouted. "Peter. NO!"
Her eyes closed but the hand around her neck released her as she sagged against the arm rest. She inhaled deeply, breathing in wonderful air. She only got in half a breath before she began to cough.
"Damn it, Peter. She was trying to help you." Someone's hand held her face up but she was struggling against the dizziness, fighting to breathe. She was week, barely able to keep herself awake. The room was spinning. She felt nauseous.
"Reagan. Breathe, honey. What the fuck was that Peter?" His tone was furious and fearful at the same time.
She opened her eyes barely enough but everything was blurry. There were still spots in her vision. Blinking a few times until Oliver's concerned face came into focus. "Oliver?" She croaked. Her throat was swollen and bruised. His hand stroked her cheek along her jaw as he continued to hold her head up not letting her fall asleep.
"I'm right here." Oliver turned to look at Peter. "You nearly killed her. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I don't know who she is." Peter snarled back at him. "I barely got here before I passed out. Then I wake up to some stranger looming over me after someone tried to kill me. You'd freak out too."
Oliver summoned a glass of water and helped Reagan drink what she could. If she hadn't almost been murdered herself seconds ago she probably would have remembered what Oliver had said and pulled away from him but she was too thirsty at the moment and her brain was fuzzy.
She choked a little at first but after the first few sips she was able to swallow most of it. She felt weak, and rested her head back down once Oliver was sure she wasn't going to pass out.
"What happened to you?" Peter asked he didn't seem worried about Reagan. Actually, he didn't seem concerned about her at all. Oliver threw him a glare and turned back to Reagan.
"I wasn't sure were you would go so I went to Reagan." He tilted her jaw up so he could see the hand shaped bruises forming on her neck. "I was barely conscious but had enough energy to blink. She nursed me back to health and then we came to find you. You're welcome by the way."
He was still pissed at Peter. He'd barely woken up in time to stop him. Another couple of seconds and she would have been gone. Even a Warlock can't bring people back from the dead.
Peter shrugged. Placing his hand on his stomach and healing himself the rest of the way. Peter was as tall as Oliver but more slender. Blond hair and blue eyes, he was self-assured in his own appearance. Arrogant and proud. Easy to joke and always energetic. Were Oliver was dark, Peter was bright. Both charismatic in their own way. Peter had a more boyish allure and Oliver sophisticated charm.
Reagan studied Peter, a little hesitant and on edge towards him. His actions didn't bother him at all, he'd already moved passed it as if it hadn't happened. Or as if almost killing her wasn't a big deal.
"I'm starving." Peter walked into the kitchen. "Any request." He didn't wait for a response and made himself a cup of coffee that hadn't been brewed seconds before then turned to the pile of steaming pancakes stacked on a plate in the middle of the dining room table. Apparently all Warlocks summoned food in an instant whenever they felt hungry.
Oliver's fury had faded into exasperation. Peter was Peter after all, always the same. Reagan
recalled his rejection and had returned to avoiding Oliver, she pulled her chin sharply out of his grip. He raised his hand to heal her neck but she shifted away from him. His eyebrows scrunched up momentarily in confusion at her reaction to him but brushed it aside, appointing it to Peter's attack on her. She needed to consider what had happened and compartmentalize.
He stood up and held his hand out to Reagan to help her stand but she didn't take it and settled further back into the couch to watch Peter pile butter onto his pancakes. Oliver's hand dropped, he starred at Reagan waiting for her to look back at him but when she didn't he turned his attention on Peter, a little confused.
"Have you heard from anyone else?" He asked walking over to the table. He held up a plate silently asking Reagan if she wanted any. She shook her head but stopped abruptly when it hurt. She wasn't hungry and even if she was she didn't think she could hold it down.
Oliver felt a little uneasy when she brushed him off again. He selected his own pancakes and waited for Peter to finish with the syrup once he had smothered his pancakes, Oliver took the bottle and drizzled some onto his own. He never understood how Peter could eat them once they were saturated in syrup. He liked enough syrup to give the pancakes flavor but Peter drowned his. Shaking his head he grabbed a fork and sat down.
Reagan hadn't said a word. Oliver's unease grew stronger. Something was wrong but it was going to have to wait, he didn't want to attract any more attention towards her presence than was necessary.
"No, I haven't heard from anyone accept you." Peter said through a mouthful. He used the side of his fork to cut away another triangle. "I know Andrew went down. He didn't see it coming. It was right when the casting started. I didn't see it happen but Samuel and Nathaniel didn't make it out either."
Oliver pushed his plate away. His appetite gone. "Marcus was hit but he managed to pull Phillip out of the gate. I don't know how bad Phillip was but they at least had a chance. Marcus could have healed Phillip so we'll assume they're both ok by now."
Peter had continued eating; he was finished with his first plate and about to start on his second. "Did you see what happened to Sealey?"
"No. He was still fighting when I pushed you through the gate. He was close when I went through so I'm hoping he made it out. When I made it to the entrance you had already blinked and I wasn't going to stay conscious much longer."
Peter didn't respond. Oliver attempted to eat the rest of his meal but only managed a few more bites before he gave up. The pancakes tasted like concrete in his mouth. He glanced over at Reagan who was listening to their conversation. He didn't like keeping anything from Peter but he had promised he wouldn't tell anyone, and he understood why he needed to. Not just to prevent the traitor from finding out their plan but to keep Reagan as safe as possible.
He lowered his voice Peter didn't need to know he had told Reagan anything so to keep up appearances he had to pretend it was secret from her. Whispering would support Peter's assumption and lead suspension away from Reagan. "We need to regroup. We need to find the Amethyst before things get out of control but first we need to regain order within the Circle."
Peter nodded in agreement and leaned back in his chair when the food disappeared. "I don't know if that's an option at this point. If we locate the Amethyst first then we can establish order but I don't know if we can reform the Circle now. Marcus will join our side and Phillip will follow him. If we can find Sealey we might be able to coerce him but there are others who will follow us."
Oliver's stomach dropped. It was exactly as Reagan had predicted. They were creating factions. "I don't think this needs to get any worse. We need the full Circle to come together as one. If we appear to be trying to gain control and authority it will only create hostility."
Peter studied Oliver for a second. "There's already hostility brother. It was there before but now that it's been unleashed it can't be undone."
Oliver recognized the tone in Peter's voice. There was no convincing him otherwise. "We need to get to the others, then we can discuss what to do next." Oliver looked back at Reagan. She had pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs and laid her head down, her face turned away from them pretending not to listen. Looking closely he could see the tension in her shoulders. She had heard every word and it was exactly as she feared. War was coming and Oliver didn't know how to stop it.
"Where should we look for Marcus first?" Peter asked.
Oliver continued watching Reagan but she didn't lift her head. She played the part they had discussed. He was glad, it would protect her but he would have liked to hear whatever witty remark she would have had.
He didn't want her to know how dangerous getting involved actually was. The others would feel betrayed if they had known what he had told her, they would demand her memory be wiped completely and if that couldn't be done she would be put on trial and sentenced. It was better to let them believe she was ignorant, someone Oliver wanted to protect. Someone who wasn't involved or aware of what was happening and as Oliver predicted, Peter hadn't had a second thought towards her. She was nothing more than luggage to Peter and not his own. Oliver needed to keep her that way.
If the others found out what she knew he wouldn't be able to oppose them and he was willing to bet they would wipe her memories of him and everything involving the Circle from her mind completely. She would wake up in her own bed the next day and what they had would be gone.
The possibility of her being forced to forget him was something he wasn't willing to risk and they would demand he never saw or spoke to her again. Memory spells could be broken if the source of the memory came back. It was a tricky balancing act. He could jar the memories loose if he came back into her life.
The Circle would put him on trial as well and sentence him to a life without her at best. At worse, well he didn't' want to think about it. The sharp pain he felt at the idea surprised him. He'd grown to care about her more than he thought. The others could never know of her involvement, even if they managed, by some miracle, to prevent disaster, the Circle could never know. He couldn't lose her, not like that.
He didn't want to bring Peters attention to her so he turned away from her. "He'll be at the ponds."
"The ponds?" Peter sounded skeptical. "The ponds next to that shake you were born in?"
Oliver understood Peter's reluctance but that was exactly why he knew to go there. "If Marcus wants me to find him, he'll be at the ponds."
"Alright." Peter had learned long ago to trust Oliver's instincts. He stood up and as he stepped away from the chair he was suddenly walking in black converse, a pair of well fitted jeans and a Rolling Stones t-shirt accenting his toned arms. His blond hair shone in curls over his head.
Oliver hadn't noticed a thing being accustomed to this way of life. He walked over to Reagan. When she saw the toes of his polished black oxfords step into her view of the stained concrete floor she looked up at him. It was time to go. She had heard their conversation and knew what she needed to do.
He reached out his hand to help her up. She took it and unfolded her legs as she stood up. She stepped up to him pulling her arms up, tucking her fists under her chin, using her arms to create a barrier between them. She needed to distance herself from him, allow the others to believe her cover story but she needed to be able to walk away with her emotions intact when all of this was over.
He wrapped his arms around her so he could blink her along with him but it was uncomfortable. He couldn't put his finger on it but that flicker of intuition from before came back. He wished she would hug him like she had the day before. Nearly two thousand years and he still didn't understand woman. He made eye contact with Peter and they both summoned the void.