A/N: I realized in this chapter that I've been referring to one of the past Sons as "Pope," but I actually mean Putnam. Just wanted to clarify that so you know it changed.

XI. The Right-Hand of Magic

And he shall separate them
one from another,
as a shepherd divideth
his sheep from the goats.
And he shall set the sheep on his right,
but the goats on his left.
-Matthew 25: 32-33

The last thing she remembered was the cold engulfing her. Then Gabriel's voice speaking in that smooth French accent of his. Now she was something akin to warm, swaddled in thick blankets on a comfy surface. She wasn't in a hospital – for once – there was no odor of antiseptic and sterilizing alcohol. Actually, she smelled Hunter. She batted her eyes open.

"Hunter!" she called instantly. What happened to him? Toby said he was unconscious. "Hunter!"

"I'm right here," he said, hurrying into the bedroom.

She sat up, her head swam but it didn't stop her. When he was close enough she threw her arms around his neck and held on tight. "Toby said you were…" Ah, she was crying and her words caught in her throat.

"It's okay," he soothed, hugging her back. "Hit my head on a tree."

She leaned back to take a thorough, concerned look at him. She cupped his head in her hands. "Should you go to the hospital? You might have a concussion."

He half-smiled. "You know I have a thick skull. I've never broken a bone in my life." Thanks to his genes. Hunter sat down on the bed, felt her forehead. Gabriel had come ten seconds after Rowan had sunk into the lake; he himself had just been coming around.

That blast had come out of nowhere. That female had completely duped him. She was the messenger but another warlock was there to be the assassin.

"I'm sorry, Row, I should have been on my guard better."

"It's not your fault," she insisted. "It's my responsibility, too, and I didn't see it coming either."

"I'm supposed to protect you." He did feel like a failure. God, if something had happened to Rowan he'd never forgive himself.

She wasn't in the water for more than two minutes, and she was semi-conscious when Gabriel pulled her out. It was almost midnight now and…

"Where is she?" Reid's voice carried from the living room.

"Uh oh," Rowan said under her breath just as Reid appeared in the doorway. He saw the bandage on her forehead. The bruise on her cheek.

"What happened?"

"Why'd you call him?" Rowan asked Hunter.

"He called me," Hunter said.

"Shit, I tried calling you like ten times!" Reid exclaimed. "What the hell happened to your forehead?" She was also wearing clothes that were Hunter's. Reid wasn't worried about that though. He went around to the other side of the bed, sat down. "You left the party." He was a bit peeved. "Without telling anyone, left your cell in my room."

Rowan glanced at Hunter.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Reid voiced. "I'm over here."

Rowan glared at him sternly, a tacit warning that his tone was an inch from crossing the line. When his face softened a bit, Rowan spoke, "Aaron was trying to drive back to the dorms, but I wouldn't let him. So I took him myself."

"Aaron? Why?" Reid interrogated, his dander all the way up again.

"He was drunk. I couldn't let him drive himself," Rowan said.

"You should have gotten Brody or Kira then!"

"It was easier to take him myself."

"And how'd you get that wound on your head? What happened to your cheek?" Reid asked. He paused. "Did he hit you?" His pupils dilated with anger. "Drunken bastard, I'll-"

"He didn't hit me!" Rowan interjected before Reid could fly off on a tangent. She sighed, slumped back on the pillows.

"Rowan, for Christ's sake, I'm completely lost here," Reid said.

Gabriel was leaning against the doorway, observing the scene thoughtfully. "Pischouette," he said softly. He had already discussed this with Hunter late into the night. There were some things that needed to follow a certain pattern, even with a subtle nudge.

Reid glanced at all three of them, knowing they were hiding something. "What?" Silence. "Fuck's sake, tell me!"

Rowan sighed again. "Reid…"

The Keeper of the Covenant began to speak.

----

Reid brooded in the living room. Angry and contemplative. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it to infinity. Rowan was sleeping now. Drowning in the lake for God's sake, Christ! Almost drowning, anyway. Warlocks and evil witches trying to assassinate her for the past three years and never a word from her! Oh no, had to keep it a big secret! And Hunter, her destined Shepherd, he wanted to sock his brother in the face for not telling anyone either.

Gabriel and Hunter sat across from Reid silently, letting the blond have some quiet.

"Don't be mad at her," Hunter said, breaking the silence.

Reid glared blue daggers at him. "Don't speak. I'm not liable for my actions right now."

Gabriel patted Hunter's thigh, said something in French.

"English," Reid bit out. He was sick of being left out of the loop.

The sorcerer smiled. "I was just telling him that it would take time for you to get used to this, n'est-ce pas?"

Reid snorted derisively. "Yeah, that's right. A bunch of assholes out to kill my girlfriend who apparently is fated to protect the Covenant from some unknown danger or whatever."

"In a nutshell," Hunter said.

"She should have told me," Reid muttered under his breath angrily.

"You heard what she said, Reid," Hunter told him. "She didn't want you all to overreact. She didn't even tell me, Gabriel did."

He sighed. "Does she have to do this?" Reid asked Gabriel.

"It's partly what she was born for," he answered.

"And this possible Whitelighter thing?" Reid obviously disapproved. He didn't want Rowan to be responsible for a bunch of errant neophyte witches. "Is this what her nightmares are about, too?"

"Some of them," the Cajun replied.

Reid cursed indistinctly. And Rowan had been dealing with this by herself? For over a year until Hunter found out. He couldn't fathom it. Hadn't she been through enough? His eyes roamed in the direction of Hunter's room where Rowan was sleeping heavily. She was a good witch, knew more than the four Sons put together. Smarter than all of them. She would never claim to be more powerful though.

"You think she'll tell the others now?" Reid asked. He wasn't expecting an answer; it was more of a thought spoken aloud.

Just then they heard Rowan stifle a cry from the room, Reid was up to his feet, and Hunter was about to go too but Gabriel held his wrist and said, "Let him, chéri."

----

Reid dreamed that Rowan had disappeared. They'd been together in the woods and somehow had gotten separated. One minute she was next to him, he turned his head, then she was gone. All he could hear was the leaves blowing, the animals moving. The twigs snapped like bones beneath his feet as he trekked his way through the foliage, searching blindly for her. He called her name until his throat was raw. Defeated, he slumped to the ground, sweaty and dirty. He was thirsty but had no water.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when he thought he heard Rowan call his name. Reid was instantly on his feet, head snapping this way and that in all directions trying to ascertain where her voice had come from. Every path looked the same though. So he picked one randomly and followed it, listening for her. He called her name, but all he got was an echo. Reid heard the trickle of a stream, blessedly, followed the sound. And there was Rowan, standing with her back to him, still.

He said her name, but she didn't answer. He was just glad to have found her. But when he reached out to touch her shoulder his hand went right through her like she was a ghost. He said she couldn't be because he could smell the faintness of vanilla on her hair, and ghosts didn't have smells. Then Rowan moved, walked away, he followed for what seemed like forever. Then she started to run, the sun was going down. There was a cliff and she was still running, and he was giving chase trying to stop her. Her long black hair whipped out behind her, he could smell the trace of vanilla. He screamed her name.

Reid's eyes snapped open, and he woke with a jerk. It was dark, he didn't know where he was, he thought of Rowan who…was cradled in his arms, pressed against his chest. His heart was still pounding, but it went back to normal along with his breath. He squeezed her close, making sure she was real. He must have fallen asleep when he'd gone to Hunter's room when Rowan had cried out. Remnants of the dream still flickered through his mind. Rowan running for the cliff. He didn't know if he had caught her before she jumped. What would have happened if he hadn't?

Reid sidled closer.

"Reid?" Rowan mumbled his name.

"Right here," he whispered against her ear.

He knew what he would have done – he would have jumped after her.

----

Reid woke up early, a rarity. It was snowing outside. The events of the previous night came back to him and his stomach clenched at the implications. Rowan was lying on her side, facing him, fast asleep. Her face was relaxed, undisturbed. Reid was glad for that. He watched her, observed her beautiful face, even with the bruise on her cheek and bandage on her head. He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, wishing he could change this Keeper thing for her. Reid hadn't gotten to hear her point of view last night; he would ask her today if she felt up to it. Maybe he should gather more information first. All those books at the Colony house might shed some light on the situation.

Reid checked his watch. Eight-thirty. Something must be wrong with him, he never woke up this early, he thought as he stared out the window.

"Hi," Rowan said quietly.

His blue eyes landed back on her. He smiled. "Hey. How're you feeling?"

She rubbed her eyes, winced when she accidentally hit the bruise on her cheek. "Okay, I guess. Felt worse." That much was true. "How long have you been awake?" Her brow furrowed, she rose to check the alarm clock on Hunter's nightstand. She stifled a groan when she twisted. Her body was sore from landing on the ice.

"It's eight-thirty," Reid told her.

Rowan got out of bed slowly. "I have to get to the pharmacy," she said. Today she had to pick up her father's medication, which she did once a month. But every Sunday – when she wasn't incapacitated – she went to the Colony house to visit with him and play chess with Gorman.

"Don't you think you should rest?" Reid asked, getting out of bed, too.

"I'm fine," she told him.

He knew she was going out whether he liked it or not. He was planning on going to the Colony house, too, might as well go with her. "Mind if I tag along?" Reid was almost expecting her to protest politely, try to reassure him again that she was fine.

Rowan smiled softly. "Sounds good. I have to go home and change, feed the animals."

He nodded. He needed to change as well, still in the clothes he'd been wearing the previous night.

"Ugh, my jeep's still at Spensers," she realized.

"Tell you what, I'll drive you home, I'll go to the dorms and change, then I'll come pick you up in your car. By the time I get at your place I know you'll be ready." One of Rowan's virtues, she didn't take forever to get dressed like most girls.

Rowan peered at him. "You just want to drive my car."

Reid grinned.

----

A little over an hour later Rowan was driving into town – slowly – with Reid in the passenger seat trying not to say anything about her speed or lack thereof. She'd made him hand over her keys when he picked her up, but he was determined to commandeer them the next time they got back in this car.

She had changed into jeans, lavender fitted hoodie and her black pea coat. Her beanie matched her hoodie, so did her gloves. Her fingernails were dark blue. Her long hair hung over her shoulders. Rowan had ditched the forehead gauze; the wound was small, not even suture-worthy. Her beanie covered the head wound; there wasn't much she could do about the light bruise on her cheek though.

"Aaron said that if he hadn't checked he'd swear the car wasn't moving," she said.

Reid snorted. "You should have kicked him out of the car."

Rowan shook her head. "Would you have let him get behind the wheel in that condition?" she asked.

He grimaced derisively. Reid couldn't have cared less what Aaron Abbot did. He honestly had never given much thought to drunk drivers until Rowan had nearly been killed by two of them. One of whom she now exchanged letters with on a regular basis. As for Aaron…

"Why do you have to give me a conscience, Row?" Reid complained.

Rowan laughed. The town was just beginning to bustle with activity at this hour. It was almost ten and likely some residents were heading to the small church for Sunday services. Rowan pulled up in the parking lot of the pharmacy, she and Reid hopped out. The bell on the door tinkled when they entered the warm shop.

Mr. White, the pharmacist, always had a smile for her. "Hello, Rowan."

"Hey, Mr. White." Rowan stopped at the counter, he was already filling up the orange bottles.

"Reid Garwin," Mr. White said. "How are you this morning?"

"It's early," Reid replied. "I haven't had coffee or breakfast."

Mr. White chuckled. "How are Ernie, Bubbe, and Bruce Lee?"

"They're great," Rowan replied. "Thanks."

Five minutes later they were exiting the shop. "Do you want to get something to eat first?" Rowan asked.

"You read my mind," Reid said with a grin.

They went to the local diner, within walking distance, had breakfast and coffee. Reid ordered flapjacks, eggs, sausage, and coffee while Rowan had the same sans sausage. It was fine with them eating in quiet and enjoying their food. Reid didn't think the eggs, sausage and flapjacks were as good as Rowan's but they did hit the spot.

Somewhere in the middle of the meal Reid noticed that Rowan was fidgety and avoiding his eye, pretty much looking anywhere but at him for the past ten minutes while drumming her fingers on the table.

"Your food's going to get cold," he said.

Rowan's eyes bypassed his to her plate. She took a studious bite of her flapjacks. Chewed, swallowed, put her fork down. Cleared her throat.

"I have to ask you something…" she started out hesitantly, "…but I'm not sure if it's appropriate to have this conversation while we're eating because I've never had it before. And it might seem trivial compared to everything else that's going on but…" Now she was babbling, but at least Reid wasn't smirking, he just took a sip of his third cup of coffee.

Reid tipped his head to the side, leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, confused. Rowan glanced behind her to make sure no one was listening even though they were in a corner booth away from the five other patrons in the diner.

"I'm not fishing for compliments or anything; I just need a yes or no, okay? But, see, I think I might have pressured you into it, maybe…" Her brow furrowed and she stared out the window in deep concentration.

"Pressured me? I'm really lost, Rowan," he said.

She worried her bottom lip until it stung. "Last night," she said. She made a 'you know' gesture with her head and shoulders. "I know it might not have been a big deal for you because you've done it before, but…"

It took him a minute, but it clicked, and he felt really stupid for not getting it instantly. A smile broke out on his lips and Rowan's face turned a deeper crimson of embarrassment. He loved this, not at her expense, but her uncertainty was too endearing, cute.

"You think you pressured me into it?" he repeated, still grinning.

"I really need you not to laugh right now," she said.

"I'm not laughing," he said. But he was cheesing like Swiss and he couldn't help it. "You definitely didn't pressure me, Rowan. I promise." He leaned forward on the table. "And it definitely wasn't bad." In fact, something had happened that was foreign to him; he'd known it was physiologically possible; it had just eluded him until last night – twice, one after the other.

Rowan didn't make any expression of relief; she was looking at him like she didn't fully believe him.

"And…since we're on the subject I guess…" It was Reid's turn to be tentative, and he tried to be casual about it even though he would be green with jealousy if her answer turned out to be 'yes'. "Have you done that before?"

Her eyes widened then contracted. Her mouth opened a little, shut, her jaw clenched, relaxed. She tugged on her ear, an unconsciously nervous habit when she was put on the spot. Rowan shook her head.

All was right with his world. (Sort of.) He grinned, very self-satisfied.

"Would you have been mad if I did?" she asked.

He hesitated. "No."

She smirked. "Liar."

"Fine. Not mad…just jealous."

"Really? Even of Hunter?"

"You guys were together for almost three years."

"We were still young. I would have had sex between eleven and thirteen."

"But you haven't. Had sex."

Pause. "Are you asking me if I had sex with Abel?"

There's that name again, he thought. Would he always be jealous of his ghost? That was a loose end whether he liked it or not.

"I won't lie," she said. "We didn't. But we were extremely close to it."

"How close?" He was glaring off to the side; his attempt at being nonchalant was pitiful.

"If it weren't for lack of a condom we would have made love that night," she said.

Made love. That was a term Reid had never used before. He nodded, secretly glad that there hadn't been a condom. He paid for their breakfasts and they left the diner. Halfway to the car, he remembered something. He stopped.

"It was a big deal for me, Rowan," he told her. "It was the first time it meant something." All the other girls he'd been with, he hadn't really liked them, never came close to loving them.

She understood instantly. That gave her relief. And she kissed him right there in the parking lot, uncaring of the passersby.

"How about I drive now?" Reid suggested casually as they approached her car.

Rowan pursed her lips. "I'm beginning to think you have an issue with my driving, Reid."

"Nooo…" he denied. "Not an issue." He couldn't exactly bag on her driving because it wasn't just some irrational neurosis from a neurotic chick; she had a damned good reason for being anxious behind the wheel.

It was cold and Rowan didn't want to quibble. It didn't make her angry that Reid disliked her driving, especially since he made a conscious effort not to be a side-seat driver. So, Rowan handed him the keys. He didn't speed with her in the car, but he did driver a hell of a lot closer to the speed limit than she did.

It was a scenic route to the Colony house no matter which road you took because there was only one. On either side of the long road were acres and acres of forestry. It looked especially pretty during spring after all the snow had melted. The jeep bumped as they went over the stone bridge, then went back to smooth riding. Rowan's ancestor's old house was in the heart of Ipswich along with the old Putnam barn. They were relics; the barn wouldn't last another century, but the house could be preserved with some redecorating and structural changes.

The house loomed in the distance; it always appeared gloomier than it actually was. Reid stopped the car and they got out, bypassed the old wooden gates and walked to the front door. Rowan saw Gorman peer out of window on the second floor. The door squeaked open and shut with a clang. The first floor was drafty, and dark, the curtains kept out the light. Reid went with Rowan upstairs, stairs creaking beneath their weight like an old widow's bones.

The uppermost room where William Danvers III stayed was the warmest. The fire crackled in the large hearth, and a few dim lamps were lit. Reid couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Caleb and Rowan's dad. He didn't have any reason to come here unless he absolutely had to. The blond could see a gnarled hand upon the armrest of the large chair. If it weren't for the whoosh and hiss of the oxygen tank, he'd have thought the person in the chair was dead.

"Hi, Gorman," Rowan said. She set the white bag with her dad's medication on a table.

Gorman's grumpy face crinkled in a warm smile. "Hello, Rowan." The old man was surprised to see Reid. But it was his understanding that the two were "dating" as the young people called it these days. "Reid. How are you?"

"Good. How are you, old man?" he asked.

The old man's face was disapproving, but familiarly tolerant of Reid's banter. "My heart's still beating," he deadpanned.

"So, no complaints then?" Reid rejoined, grinning.

Rowan had gone to her dad. "Hi, Dad," she said softly, bending down to give him a light kiss on the forehead.

Reid saw those decrepit fingers do a death rattle. He instantly felt bad for thinking of Rowan's dad this way. He didn't know how she could stand to come here every week and see him like that, barely alive, kept breathing by modern technology. Not even Caleb came here as often as she did. Rowan had once said that it was probably harder for him because he knew he would Ascend one day and have to fight the addiction to the Power, and seeing their dad was a vicious reminder of what could be…a reflection of your deepest fear left unspoken.

Rowan took the empty chair next to her father. She was talking to him quietly now, a tender expression on her face.

"I'll be downstairs," Reid told Gorman who gave him a funny look, his bushy eyebrows twitching like caterpillars.

In the basement held the Covenant's secrets. Ancient texts lined the bookshelves, including the Book of Damnation. As Reid descended the curved stone steps he lit the thick white candles, then the circular hearth centered among five vacant seats. It was the only light provided to him.

"Should invest in some electricity down here," he mumbled. Reid shivered. "Heating, too." He had on a sweater and jacket plus his beanie, and fingerless gloves, but all the stone surfaces didn't do a hell of a lot to keep in warmth. Whatever.

He decided to go for the Book of Damnation first. He took the heavy tome from its place on the shelf and sat down in front of the fire where he began to warm up. His eyes flashed and the large book settled on thin air in front of him, the pages turning as he willed it. Reid scanned the family lines. There were so few women born to the Covenant lines. Rowan was outliving the few females that had been born. These names inked on the parchment were his ancestors, the same Sons who had warred against the Keepers – some who had tried to help them, some that tried to condemn them for what the Sons' forebears did.

Rowan had told him about how the five Sons killed their Keeper, Lucius. How stupid and gullible did they have to be to believe one power-addicted person?

Augustus Putnam, Reuben Danvers, Malachai Garwin, Phelix Parry, Benedict Simms.

Five men who had double-damned them. Because they believed Augustus Putnam when he said that Lucius was going to bind all of their Powers. At least Reid now knew why they aged. It hadn't always been so. Upon his death Lucius had cursed them for their blindness to their addiction. It had only affected their minds, but now it would affect their bodies.

Centuries went by and a female Keeper cropped up. She had procreated with a Danvers begetting a female child. The mother died, and the baby was kidnapped, probably by another Keeper or someone related. Danvers took another woman and had a son with her.

And the girl Reid loved was caught in the middle of it. Assassins, Darklighters, whatever, were out to get Rowan from becoming the Keeper, a Whitelighter. Rowan was part of a prophecy. Because of the chaos a light would be born to mend the severed bond between Keepers and the Sons. Someone with a pure heart who did not covet power.

Keepers were supposed to be the light to the Covenant's darkness, the yin to their yang, the Right-Hand to their Left.

Funny, Rowan didn't need to become anything to be those things to Reid. She already was his other half.

Reid sighed. At least she'd had Hunter at her side all this time. He didn't want to think about what would happen if one of those bastards got her.

He continued to look through the books, there wasn't a lot of information on Keepers, just smatterings of mentions that had pretty much become nonexistent about three-hundred years ago. Talk about hiding history, Reid thought. He wondered if Keepers had their own set of texts like the Covenant. The Book of Damnation had a sister, the Book of Deliverance. That was all he knew.

Reid rubbed his eyes, sore from having stared at tiny words for too long in dim lighting. He looked at his watch; an hour and a half had gone by. He re-shelved the book he had, put out the fires and went upstairs.

----

When Rowan opened her locker Monday morning there was an envelope waiting for her with her name scribbled in Reid's scratchy writing. She smiled, opened it, and laughed. The front of the card was a picture of a pair of red lips on a heart-shaped lock with a caption that read: Love being lip-locked with you. Happy Un-Valentine's Day. Reid had obviously used his powers to change the original color of the card (pink and red predominately) to different shades of blue, except for the lips, and the "un" before Valentine's Day.

Her brothers and friends knew her issues with this holiday. When she learned the history of V-Day back in fifth grade she became less than enthused about the holiday. She had always thought it better to show the love you had for people everyday as opposed to putting emphasis on it one day per year.

It was twenty minutes before the first bell rang so she knew Reid still had to be in his dorm room, very likely asleep. When she got there she was proven correct. Tyler was gone, punctual as always. Reid was on his stomach, one arm crooked next to him, the other haphazardly bent and thrown over the back of his head. He was sleeping in only sweat pants.

Rowan sat on the bed and ran her fingers through his hair. He stirred after a minute, so she bent down, kissed his cheek and the side of his neck.

"Wake up so I can give you a real kiss," she said.

That registered through his haze of sleep. "Keep doin' that Row," he mumbled. "Yeah, that feels good."

Rowan was close to laughing. Obviously he thought this was a dream. "What else do you want me to do?" she whispered in his ear.

Reid smirked, eyes still closed. "I wanna do something to you."

Uh-oh, she thought. "Reid, wake up," she said. She shook him.

He murmured, confused. "Eh? What?" His eyelids flickered.

"Wake up," she repeated.

Reid finally did, sort of. Blue eyes appeared and it took a moment for him to focus on her.

"Hey, sleepy head."

"Row? What…" Reid rose up on his forearms, rubbed his eyes. "How long you been here?"

"Not long," she said, suppressing her grin.

He glared at her. "You heard me?"

She shrugged.

Reid grinned, shrugged. "It was a damned good dream. Reality's better though."

"That's sweet. Thank you for the card. I loved it."

"That wasn't it. I have something else. You just have to wait."

"Ah, damn," Rowan said.

"Did I hear something about a kiss earlier?"

Rowan kissed him. Possible morning breath be damned. Then there was five minutes until the first bell rang.

"You have to get ready," she told him.

He groaned. "No."

"Yup. We have a quiz today."

He sighed, and got so slowly out of bed it would make an arthritic geriatric impatient. His sweats rode low on his hips, and his upper body was toned. Reid was just a couple inches short of six feet, but he was lean, and had the body of the swimmer that he was.

"You checkin' me out?" he asked as he got to the bathroom.

"Yes."

Reid chuckled.

He got ready in five minutes and they were only a few minutes late to class.

And that night he took her out to dinner – school night be damned – and presented her with an antique Hanging Garden necklace. Reid had remembered Rowan telling him about the gardens in New Orleans that dripped with Spanish Moss. The necklace itself was inspired by that. It was fashioned from hand-carved silver leaves and hand-wrought vines entwining a glowing abalone cabochon and mauve freshwater pearl.

Rowan loved it.

I noticed that quite a few people have either favorited or alerted this story, but I have no idea if it's actually being read despite that. So hurl a review at me if you've got a moment, I'd like to know what you guys think of it.

I put a picture of Rowan's necklace on my profile, fyi. :)