by Nicole Marsh
Esmerelda interrupts my thoughts as she loudly wraps a set of knuckles against one of the doors to the building. A few seconds later, the double doors creak open, allowing us into the reception area. I file in behind the rest of my party, noting that nothing has changed since my last visit.
A man, dressed in what could pass as mountain climbing gear, stands on the far side of the room. As we approach, he motions for us to follow him and begins to wind down a long, windowless hallway.
We walk deep into the building, twisting and turning until our escort finally stops before a set of large doors. He gestures for Esmerelda to open them, while stepping to the side and crossing his arms over his expansive chest.
Esmerelda pushes down the handle, then sweeps the door open, allowing it to slam back into the wall inside the room. I enter the room as the tail of the entourage, my gaze fixed straight ahead until we reach the center of the room. As if we’d practiced the movement a hundred times, the four of us turn in sync to face the Elder Shifter Council seated at the front of the room, behind their large, wooden table.
My eyes flit across the five figures—four male and one female—noting that they look the same as a few months ago, with one exception. The Elders look exponentially more fatigued, with three of the four sporting dark half-circles under their eyes and lightly rumpled clothing, visible signs of their lack of rest.
I examine each of them again, my brow furrowing. I wonder at their lack of sleep briefly before the man with graying hair, the one my grandmother referred to as Sylvester, stands to speak to our group before the Council. “Ahh, Esmerelda. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” His tone is pleasant, but the way the word pleasure rolls off his tongue sounds like he rather stab himself in the eye with a pencil, than be in the same room as the head of the Northwestern Coven.
Esmerelda gestures towards me. “You summoned one of our witches, so here we are to respond.”
Sylvester’s eyes widen. “Your witch?” He splutters out, as if he’s taken by surprise.
The three robed figures with me exchange smirks before Esmerelda speaks again, “Yes, she joined the Northwestern Coven recently. As you know, Members of the Coven are not supposed to know that you exist, but those that do are not allowed to speak to you without the protection of the coven.” Her tone is snide, with a hint of superiority.
The Council members exchange looks with each other as Sylvester falls back into his chair. A silence descends upon the room, until the singular councilwoman stands and addresses the center of the room. “We need to know what progress Mirabella has made. For curing the curse placed on the shifters.”
Esmerelda scoffs. “We know of the children’s tale you tell your wolves, but the shifters aren’t cursed. Our answer remains the same as it has for years, Rose. The Northwestern Coven will not help the shifters cure the ailment of being unable to effectively govern their own kind. Stop using an alleged curse as an excuse for the actions your rabid wolves take.”
With those words, she twirls around, invoking her robe-billowing movement, and striding towards the door. I watch as Ruben and Paul follow suit, but linger in the center of the room taking in the defeated expressions of the council.
Esmerelda and company only make it a few steps away, before Sylvester stands again, this time his tone is pleading. “This is bigger than the fate of one small Shifter Community and one Coven, Esmerelda... You know that as well as I do.” I drag my eyes from Sylvester to the witch in question, watching as her footsteps falter briefly. The councilman must see the brief pause too, as he hurries to continue his plea. “You can choose to ignore this if you wish, but you know as well as I do, the fate of the Shifters and the Witches are forever bound. We cannot survive without one another. Do you think the witches will continue to exist if all shifters are stripped of their magic? Because we think that witches will lose their magic too.” Sylvester punctuates his statement with a sweeping motion of his hand, gesturing across the wooden table to encompass himself and the other shifters of the council.
I drift slowly towards the door, towards Esmerelda, wondering how she’ll respond to his plight. As I reach the small cluster of witches, she turns from the door and faces the council for the last time. Her expression is unreadable, but her tone is gentler than before. “The Northwestern Coven cannot help you, Sylvester.”
I see Esmerelda push back her shoulders and straighten her spine before she resumes her exit, followed closely by Ruben and Paul. I take one last, lingering look behind me, watching as Sylvester sinks into his chair. His form slumps forward, his head connecting to his palms resting on the table in front of him. The man to his left rubs a hand down his back in a soothing, circular manner and I can see his lips moving, but can’t make out the words.
Suddenly, a hand reaches through the open door and grabs my arm in a tight grip, yanking me forward. I stumble to recover from the rough pull, forced to take several quick steps to catch my balance and sync my stride with Esmerelda’s as she retraces our path through the Council building at a quick clip.
The three of us emerge from the building into the world outside, and I blink firmly at the shock of bright summer sun after the slightly dulled fluorescent lights used in the hallways of the Council building. Esmerelda continues to drag me beside her, until we’ve descended the steps into the parking lot of the building.
She abruptly stops and lets me go, causing me to stumble again. She stares at my face with a stern expression. “You will tell no one of what you know about the shifters.” I give a brief nod, fearful of the anger that appears in her eyes with the use of the word “shifter”. Esmerelda continues, “Above all else, you will never repeat what was said here today. If you do, the Coven cannot, will not, protect you.”
22
The Reveal
Mirabella
The second I’m back in my car parked at the coven building, I pluck my phone from the glovebox and power it back on. The screen lights up, then immediately begins to ping with missed messages. I click through each one, reading the concern from my friends and family.
The first name I click is my mom’s: Is all okay? You’ve been gone a while.
My fingers fly across the screen of the phone as I type up a quick reply: I’m okay. Was just a congratulatory lunch for passing my exams. I’m heading to Vlad’s now. I feel a little guilt about lying to her, but I can’t tell her the truth. At least not yet and not over text.
Immediately after, I click on Vlad’s reply from four hours prior. Call me when you’re free. His first message is followed by two others: I’m getting worried, little Mir. Then: Are you okay?
I type up a quick reply: All is okay. Can I come over and we can talk?
Vlad’s reply is simple and almost immediate: Yes.
Next, I click on a message labeled Marc. I make a mental note to change his name in my phone to Alex, as I click open the text. Vlad said you were summoned by the Coven? What is going on??
With nimble fingers, I reply: Meet me at Vlad’s in 20. Bring your brother.
I throw my phone down onto the passenger seat, then turn my key to start up my car. With one last glance at the towering structure before me, I back out of the parking lot and head to Vlad’s house.
When I pull up to the Mort’s house, just over twenty minutes later, Marc’s, or maybe Alex’s, truck is already parked behind Vlad’s sports car at the curb. The three guys are standing on the porch waiting for me. I park at the end of the cars and snatch up my phone before jogging over to join them. Vlad silently opens his front door and the three of us traipse inside to the living room.
I wait until everyone is seated before diving in. “Are your parents’ home?” I ask Vlad, eyeing the seemingly empty house.
He declines with a shake of his head. “Nah, they’re actually out of town for a few days for their anniversary. They went on a trip up to Seattle.”
“Okay,” I reply, then sigh. Digging into my back pocket, I bring forth the thick piece of parchment paper that I received from
the coven and unfold it onto my lap.
“Is that the summons?” Vlad asks. I nod in response and he reaches his hand out. “May I?”
I extend the piece of parchment to Vlad and watch as the three guys pass the summons around, holding it this way and that, as they examine the simple notice. “The words on there aren’t as important as what happened after I went to the coven.” I pause, my eyes flitting across the room taking in emerald eyes, then amber, then another set of emerald. “When I got there, I met the head of the coven, Esmerelda Fink. She took me to the Shifter Council, because apparently they summoned me first and their summons was intercepted by the coven.”
Both Vlad and the real Marc let out low, deep growls at my words. “I’m okay,” I jump in to reassure them not wanting a bunch of massive wolfs to burst into the room while I’m trying to convey my information. “The Coven basically said the Council is not allowed to speak to me without their permission and they will never have that permission. Something else was said though… before Esmerelda dragged me out.”
Vlad wraps a comforting arm around me. “You can tell us,” he says, urging me to continue.
I look at my hands. “I’m not really sure that I understand it exactly, but the head of the Council pleaded with Esmerelda. He said the fate of the wolves and witches are bound—that one cannot survive without the other. He asked for the Coven’s help and Esmerelda basically laughed him off, saying the curse was fake. Once we were out of the building, she told me not to tell anyone about what happened today.”
Raising my eyes from my lap, I take a second to assess each guy in the room. I start with Vlad, gazing at his furrowed expression as he mulls over the seriousness of the conversation. Next, I examine Alex and he appears to be thinking over all the options of what the words could mean. I know the real Marc the least, but when my eyes hit his face he appears to be very upset over the more obvious implications of the coven’s words.
Alex is the first to break the silence. “It could just be that the Coven wasn’t previously aware of the shifters and doesn’t know of the curse...”
I appreciate his willingness to see the best in people, the best in the actions of the coven, but I disagree. “They knew Sylvester’s name,” I point out. “And they made it sound like the wolves curse is something made up as an excuse for wolves that misbehave. It’s obvious they know of the curse and the wolves,” I finish.
The four of us fall into another silence, thinking over what this new information regarding the coven could mean for the curse and for the shifters.
“What do we do now?” Vlad finally asks.
“I think we need to get to gather some witches, including my parents and maybe Sylvia’s family, so we can tell them about the existence of the shifters. We’re going to need all the help we can get if the coven plans to ignore the curse… and I need to go to the Canadian coven to try to find answers.”
Marc joins the conversation. “I think Mira’s right,” he says, surprising me with his immediate support. “Even if the coven wont step in, the support of other witches may be enough. If we all go to the Canadian coven together, we might be able to convince them to assist us, even if the Northwestern coven refuses to.”
Before we can talk over the ideas further, a knock sounds from the Mort’s front door. I look to Vlad and he shrugs, then rises from the couch to answer the knock.
Once the door is opened, the words are slightly muffled, but I can still hear a deep voice rumbling into the house. “Vladimir Mort, you are being summoned by the council.” The person at the door must look past Vlad to see into the living room. “Alexander Sieves and Marcus Sieves, you are also being summoned to the council.”
“Okay,” Vlad replies calmly. “When do we need to be there?”
“Right now, I’m here to take you in,” the man states.
Vlad looks back at me, with wide eyes. I mouth ‘What should I do?’ hoping he’s able to read the words on my lips. He confirms he was able to with his next words, “Well Alex and Marc, it looks like we’re going to be tied up for a while. Mira, why don’t you get started on our first set of plans? The three of us will join you as soon as we can.”
Within an hour, I’m able to gather my grandma, the Amica’s minus Sylvia’s younger brothers, and my parents. The six of them wait patiently, scattered around the living room. I pace in front of them, trying to organize my thoughts enough to start speaking.
“Is everything okay?” My mom asks, sounding concerned after my twentieth time walking the length of the room.
I stop pacing and turn to face the group spread across my parent’s couches. “No.” My dad jumps up to rush towards me, but I put my hands up and motion for him to sit down. “I mean, with me yes. But I have something I need to tell you and I need to ask for your help.” I pause and look each person in the eye briefly, before continuing, “I’m going to reveal a secret today. The information you hear in this room cannot be repeated outside of these four walls. I need you to promise that you’ll keep an open mind, until I finish explaining.”
I can see the adults exchanging glances and I give them a couple of minutes to make up their mind. Eventually everyone’s gaze returns to the front and to my surprise, Sylvia’s dad is the one to speak for the group. “We can at least listen to what you have to say, then determine if we can help later.”
I nod, then dive into my story before I lose my courage. “A few months ago, I found out shifters exist and an entire pack lives in Florence.” A gasp interrupts my words, but I push forward, knowing I need to get the whole story out first and address questions later. “A wolf shifted into a boy right before my eyes. After that I was summoned by the Elder Shifter Council for questioning. They told me of a curse affecting the shifters, one that causes them to lose their humanity. The council tried to force me to find a cure for them, but I was saved by my grandma. That’s how we first met.” I nod my head in her direction to punctuate my words and she smiles back, encouragingly. “Recently, I found out the coven doesn’t want witches to know shifters exist.” I look to my parents, taking in their inscrutable expressions. “The summons I received earlier today, from the coven… it was on behalf of the Shifter Council. Esmerelda and two attorneys brought me to the council to respond to the summons and told the wolves that their curse was a myth. After we left, she demanded that the existence of the shifters, and my summons from the council remain a secret.
“Then why are you telling us?” Sylvia’s mom asks.
Her question is valid, and I take a moment to find the best way to verbalize my reasoning. “I… we… the shifters and I, need your help. I’ve been seeking a cure for the curse, but I’ve hit a dead end. I think I need to travel to the Canadian coven; they might have the answers I’m searching for, or be able to point me in the right direction. But while I’m gone, someone in Florence has to continue looking for.” My eyes sweep the room again, trying to determine if my parents or the Amica’s seem willingly to join my search. Their faces are unreadable, so I continue, “I’m not positive, but I think the curse on the shifters is related to witches’ magic. I think if we can cure the shifters, we might be able to access the rest of our magic. Like magic beyond potion brewing.”
For the first time in my entire life, well that I can remember, my parents don’t immediately jump in to offer their support. My mom and dad exchange a glance with each other before turning back to the front.
“Mira,” my mom begins, her tone a juxtaposition of hesitant but firm. “We love you and we want to help you grow in any way we can… but I think we need to speak with the coven first to get their opinion about something of this magnitude. If the shifters exist and there is a curse affecting everyone, the coven should know about both. I’m sure if they already know, they’re working on a cure.”
I’m shocked at their unwillingness to help. “IF shifters exist? IF a curse exists?” The disbelief in my tone is palpable. Out of every reaction I had prepared for, a lack of support wasn’t one that had crossed m
y mind. I continue trying to convince my parents, “Mom, half our town is made of shifters. Vlad is a shifter. Most of our magic is gone. These are irrefutable facts. The coven told me today they’re not going to help with anything involving the shifters.”
“Mira,” my mom sighs my name out as if she’s exasperated by this conversation.
“No, mom. I’m not finished.” I cut my mom off, which isn’t the norm for me. I’m not usually an angsty teenager that fights against her parents. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a serious argument with them, but this is something I’m willing to fight for. The stakes are too high to meekly fall into line at the smallest hint of resistance. “Whether you choose to see it or not, our fate is bound to the fate of the shifters. I believe that wholeheartedly and I don’t know why you don’t trust me. If you take this to the coven… I’m not sure how they’ll punish me since they told me not to tell anyone.”
My dad addresses my grandmother, ignoring my passionate statement. “Molly, did you put her up to this?”
“No, Arthur,” she responds firmly. “No one ‘put her up to this’. Mira is telling you the truth and you need to choose whether or not you listen. I hope you do, but I can’t make that choice for any of you.” Her gaze sweeps across the room pointedly.
The parents exchange glances again then rise as a single unit from the couch. Sylvia’s dad is the only one that meets my eyes as he speaks for the group again, “We won’t bring this to the coven, but we can’t offer you support for something we have no proof exists.”
With those final words, the four of them file out of the room, leaving only Sylvia, my grandma, and myself behind. Sylvia hasn’t said anything, but once the adults are gone, she finally chimes in. “Is this why you were acting so strange as the beginning of the summer? And why you were always busy during the weekends for a while?”
“Yes,” I state simply. I’m nervous that Sylvia’s going to be upset that I’ve been keeping the existence of shifters a secret from her for the past few months. I start to create a list of reasons why I didn’t tell her before now—after I was so upset when she kept the huge secret of being witches from me—I’m readying my defense against the accusations I expect to come.
