by Patti Larsen
“Get up.” Charlotte grasped his arm and jerked him to his feet. Gone was the self-assured and cherubic man I'd met, the confident and angelic leader of the misguided Chosen of the Light. Instead he trembled in fear, hunched forward, clutching the ribs Charlotte damaged.
“Tell them.” The weregirl grasped him by the chin, her wolf eyes locked on his face.
His voice wavered as he spoke, but he was clearly understandable. “I am Demitrius Strong, and Batsheva Moromond is my mistress.”
So close. So. Close. How was she holding on?
Batsheva went one further. The gathered magic hovering above swooped down, enveloping his form entirely. Demitrius screamed, fell to his knees, while the blood magic struck at him, cutting his red-tinted skin in long, thin lashes.
“Silence, creature,” she hissed.
I couldn’t let her stop him. He had to be allowed to speak. My family magic flowed out the moment I released it and slid around him, cutting him off from the aging blood magic with a snarl of anger, my magic now more powerful than what Batsheva was losing control over.
Demitrius straightened, his anger surfacing at last. “You dare betray me?” He shuddered as if from pain, but went on. “No more.” He spit blood to the floor, face sunken in fury. “It was Batsheva who resurrected the Chosen of the Light,” he said while she snarled and howled at him like a wild animal. “It was she who used them to attack covens to steal their power.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spreading more blood around. “It was my group who killed Clare and David Dumont, but under her orders. And it was she who claimed the children. She discarded the girl as useless to her and kept the boy as payment for her services to the Dumonts.”
Quaid was so white and tense I almost reached for him again, despite knowing he was lost in his own pain and would never accept my touch right now.
“Odette planned to kill Mia for being useless,” Demitrius went on, “but instead tossed her into the normal foster system in the hope her power might one day wake up.”
Mia flinched, but she wasn't crying anymore. In fact, she looked scary calm. She turned her head, met Quaid's eyes. The pair nodded together.
Oh no.
But they didn't attack as I feared they would. Instead, their power reached for each other, blending together, Clare's face appearing in the air, hovering over the gallery. Another face began to form, taking their mother's place, before the image shot across the room like an arrow and slammed into Batsheva.
Magic flared around her, turning slowly from blue to lavender until it was blood red.
“It's her,” Quaid and Mia said together. “Batsheva Moromond killed our parents. And she used blood magic to do it.”
***
Chapter Forty Two
That was it. When the power snapped, it drove Batsheva back into her seat with shriek of rage. It was hard to keep my seat as the blood magic recoiled and drove into her body, pinning her to her chair while the entire room suddenly came awake, their siphoned magic returning in a rush of energy.
Dominic turned to run for the now unsealed doors only to have his own Enforcers latch onto him and drag him back. Either they were no longer under the influence of Batsheva's power or they saw clearly where this was going and wanted to be on the good side for once.
Batsheva lurched from her seat and pounced on Andre. I was so shocked by her choice, and obviously not the only one, I just stared as she jerked his head back, a silver knife pressed to his throat. Odette cried out in fear, reaching for her son while her glamour collapsed completely, leaving her twisted and hideous true form completely exposed.
I'm not sure if Batsheva didn't think Andre had enough power in him to give her what she needed or her sense of revenge was just too strong to overcome, but within seconds of nicking Andre's neck with the blade she siphoned enough energy to leap like a fat spider, crossing the distance between her and Odette, the knife extended before her.
Batsheva landed with a thud on the old woman while the rest of us scrambled out of the way. No part of me felt even remotely sorry for her when Batsheva's knife slashed over and over, cutting the old woman to ribbons, though my demon raged at me to stop her.
Right. Blood magic. We'd had enough of that, hadn't we?
It was Mom who acted, the family magic lashing outward, her shell of holding broken, finally able to access it again. I threw my energy at her, felt Gram join with us with Mom as the lead, power flowing out of me as Mom slammed up a shield around Batsheva and Odette in an attempt to stem the flow of magic.
Too late, the blood magic was already answering Batsheva's call, curling around her like a live thing. In a flash of red fire, even from within our wards, Batsheva flared with crimson light and vanished.
The shield dropped away, no longer needed. I'm not sure why I bothered, but I found myself on my knees, cradling Odette Dumont's head in my lap, supporting her while she gasped for breath. Her icy eyes met mine, the only part of her she hadn't disguised. She opened her mouth, hand scrabbling for mine, as if she needed to tell me something. But her blood loss was so great, her life energy gone to feed Batsheva, and between one breath and another, she breathed her last, her death rattle a sound that would give me nightmares for years.
I looked up as someone gasped to see Gram release Naudia's spirit at the exact moment Odette's began to rise. The younger sister, haughty and furious, didn't wait for Odette's ghost to fully form, but dove on her, shrieking an otherworldly keening.
“You did this to me!” Naudia's ghost latched onto Odette's as the older witch's echo finally took shape. “I trusted you, dear sister, and see where it got me!”
Odette's shade fought back as the two rose above us, grappling together, spinning around and around as they howled and fought.
“How dare you blame me?” Odette's voice roared so loud I had to cover my ears. “I loved him and you made me give him up!”
“You idiot!” Naudia screamed. “He hated your ugly guts!”
Gram gestured at the two and they faded away, but I was certain as they went their echoes would cat fight their way into eternity.
Fitting.
Two Enforcers, likely from his own family, grabbed Andre when he tried to flee. He was dragged before the Council, stripped of his robe.
Blubbering like a little kid, he confessed to everything.
Dominic, sullen but terrified, kept looking around as if he expected Batsheva to appear and kill him too, also told all.
“She wanted control of the North American Council,” Dominic said. “Odette knew everything, was in on it.” The other leaders looked shocked and outraged. “This whole thing with Miriam was a setup so she could coerce all of you. It was less about the trial and more about taking your power.”
Angry mutters. And yet, I didn't feel sorry for them at all.
Neither did Gram.
“Had the lot of you even one lick of sense,” she snapped, “you'd have dug your damned heads out of your behinds and asked some questions. None of this would have happened if you all weren't so focused on your own personal positions.”
More outrage. But I was pretty sure it was fed from guilt so I was okay with that.
“Once Batsheva had control, she intended to take your power and attack the European Council.”
Why did they seem so shocked? My anger was bubbling again. Idiots.
It was Erica who called everything to order, had Odette's body removed, chairs righted, reassembled the conclave as Celeste, Demitrius, Dominic and Andre were led out under guard.
“I would like to offer my thanks from the entire Council,” she glanced down the table to the rapidly nodding witches, “to the Hayle coven for uncovering this terrible conspiracy and refusing to quit until it was revealed.” She bowed her head to Gram. “Ethpeal Hayle, our thanks.” She looked at me, face blank but for the small official smile. “Sydlynn Hayle, our thanks.” The only time she betrayed herself was when she met Mom's eyes. “Miriam Hayle,” she said with deep emotion making
her voice vibrate, “our thanks.”
Mom smiled with great grace. “Our coven is, as always, at the service of the High Council.”
Even if they weren't at ours. Grumble, mumble.
“Despite what has been revealed here,” Erica went on, “we must still debate the charges against you. I would like to call recess to do so properly, without the evil influence of Batsheva Moromond and Odette Dumont.”
The Council agreed while I sat and fumed. What the hell was Erica thinking? Just dismiss the damned charges already. But as the Council members filed out, Gram's voice reached through my fury.
She knows she needs to make it official, girl. Patience.
Yeah. And I was long on patience after this fiasco.
Right.
Mom was left where she sat at least, free. The Enforcers had backed off and from the confused and worried looks on their faces they knew they were about to be ejected from their special privileges.
I'd have been happy to do some personal booting myself.
Gram's mind latched onto me.
I'm very disappointed in you, she sent.
What did I do now? I was in no mood for a brow beating.
I wanted to kill Odette myself. She hummed a happy tune. You could have healed her so I had a chance to rip her heart out.
Gram!
She giggled. Did you see them? Fighting like that? Gram hugged herself across the room, eyes meeting mine. Delicious. So I forgive you. Besides, I'll find her grave later. Dig up her bones. Do a little jig. Just because I can.
Crazy old lady is crazy. I tried to keep it light while I felt my nausea rise. Ew.
Gram cackled. Girl, you have no idea.
It didn't take the Council long to return, only a matter of maybe ten minutes. It had to be a good sign.
Didn't it?
Erica was clearly leading them, so I felt a bit better. Until she fixed Mom with a grim expression and sighed deeply.
“Miriam Hayle, please rise.”
Mom did, as graceful as ever, poised and perfect.
“You have helped us uncover a terrible plot against all witches and for that you have our eternal gratitude. But you must also understand in doing so, you have forced us to obey the letter of the law.” Erica shook her head. “Now more than ever we must rely on our laws to guide us through this terrible time of transition.”
Mom nodded. “I'm prepared to face my fate,” she said.
I glanced at the window, saw the sun going down, knew at any moment the vampires would be awake again. And from the sinking feeling in my stomach, I figured I'd be needing their help after all.
Damn Erica. She couldn't just be on Mom's side, could she?
“I choose to trust the law,” Mom said, her eyes meeting mine. Syd, remember I love you. No matter what happens. This is important. Please, honor my choice.
Damn her. Damn her!
***
Chapter Forty Three
Erica didn't get to go on, at least not right away. We all felt the ripple of blood magic suddenly tearing through the building, though it wasn't aimed at us. Within a moment an Enforcer raced into the chamber, blood on his face from what looked like spray.
“They've been taken,” he said, desperation and fear in his voice. “Celeste and Demitrius Strong. And Dominic Moromond's life fed their escape.”
Quaid surged to his feet, face a mask of rage, but it was too late. He'd lost his chance at revenge against the male half of his enemy.
Willa, Violet Rhodes’s Council member, leaned in to whisper in Erica's ear and she nodded quickly.
“In light of these escapes as well as the loss of Batsheva, the main culprit in this affair, we are forced to act swiftly and without mercy. We will no longer be duped and will guard against such an attack at the fabric of our Council in the future. Evil is still at large and we will make it our task as a High Council to work together, to open regular dialogue to ensure the safety of all covens.”
The other leaders were all nodding. So, some hope there after all.
“No more can we passively look the other way and leave events to fellow covens. All calls for aid will be answered and dealt with in a timely manner.”
Even better.
“That being said, we have several tasks ahead of us. One of which is replacing the leader of the Dumont coven.” Erica turned to the Dumont contingent, expectant. I found the worried and tense looks on the brother's faces most satisfying. But Ameline's was as calm as ever.
Not good.
She rose to her feet in a fluid motion as if she'd been waiting for this moment. “I have been groomed for the position my entire life and it is, then, only natural I take over this coven.” She smiled, an empty thing. “I happily take up the mantle of this family and will use my young, fresh outlook, under the guidance of the Council of course, to bring the Dumont coven forward.”
The Council was nodding. Seriously? Had they learned nothing?
I think Ameline was the most shocked when Mia rose to her feet.
“I am next in line,” she said, voice soft but firm. “My mother was heir and I claim her place as leader of this family.”
I honestly thought Ameline would pass out from shock. She really believed Mia would stand by and let her take over. And to be totally fair, so did I.
This new Mia had purpose, though. I felt her shedding her chameleon neediness as her shoulders went back, her mother's spirit shining through her as her voice took on volume. “I claim this coven as my own,” she said, “as rightful leader of the Dumonts.”
Ameline spluttered before turning to the Council.
“Two claimants,” Erica said. “Then, as is in accordance with our laws, we will let your family magic decide.”
As if her words summoned it, the swirling mass of lavender magic appeared between the two girls, winding its way into a tornado of power undulating and wavering in a column reaching the ceiling.
Ameline didn't hesitate. “Come!” She gestured like an empress to an errant child.
Mia reached out with a gentle hand. “Come home,” she whispered.
The Dumont magic didn't hesitate, sliding forward to wrap itself around Mia's hand, climbing her arm, sinking inside her until her body vibrated with the pressure of it, finally fading back to quiet.
Ameline glared at her adversary. I felt her pull in her power and knew what she planned, but so did Mia. As Ameline struck, the Dumont magic jerked free of the cold-faced girl and returned to Mia's possession.
“I eject you from the Dumont family,” she said, voice as icy as Ameline's, “and banish you from ever contacting or interacting with this coven again.”
Ameline stood frozen in shock, eyes huge, a soft wail beginning deep inside her. She shook like a dying leaf, her cry of absolute loss rising in the air like a living thing.
“Arrest her,” Mia commanded. “For conspiring against her leader.”
Before the Enforcers could take her into custody, a flash of red power burst into a bubble around the girl, driving the black-robed witches back. When the sphere of crimson magic burst, Ameline was gone.
Mia didn't hesitate. “I make it my mission,” she said, “to track down the evildoers who have placed this taint over my family and to root out all such traitors within the Dumont coven so that one day this family can take its place in the ranks of the trusted witches who serve this Council.”
The brothers looked really freaked now. I waved and winked at them both.
Oh yeah. Gotta love it.
“And now, I would like to appoint Brenda Simmons as the Dumont member of Council.” Mia gestured at the small, middle aged woman sitting off to one side. Brenda looked surprised, but accepted at once and I wondered what compelled Mia to choose her.
Time would tell.
And even while I hoped Mia was thinking straight, I realized she'd never looked so in control of herself for as long as I'd known her and hoped this would be good for her in the end.
There was a quick pause as Brenda w
as gowned, much like Erica's welcome, to take her place in Andre's old seat.
“This trial will resume.” Phyllis Gaines, the Bradford member, nodding to Irene, and I felt my bad feeling return. “Miriam Hayle, please stand.”
Mom did.
“You are hereby cleared of all charges but one.” I almost leaped up and cheered until I heard the caveat. After everything Mom and the rest of us did for them, seriously?
Seriously?
“You allowed blood magic to be used in your home, at your sacred coven site. You know the severity of your crime and the sentence it carries.”
“I do,” Mom said without hesitation.
The whole room wavered, every witch holding their breath. But this time, without the influence of blood magic, they were on Mom's side.
At last.
Too bad it was too late.
Willa held up one hand to silence the chatter and stillness fell again. “In your success and tireless work toward protecting your coven and the very Council who ignored you, you, Miriam Hayle, are exactly the kind of witch we need more of.”
No one breathed, including me.
What was this?
“To satisfy law, you must die for your crime.” Willa sighed. “No more may you be Miriam Hayle, leader of the Hayle coven. You must give up your magic to your successor.”
Mom nodded and turned to me.
No. No. Absolutely not.
“At that time,” Phyllis went on, “when you are no longer leader, you will be dead to all witches. Only then can you take up the mantel of leader of this Council, your sentence fulfilled.”
Um. What the hell just happened?
Mom didn't seem all that shocked, so while the rest of us gaped like idiots, she bowed her head to the Council.
“I am honored to take on the magic of the North American Council,” she said in her strong, clear voice, “and lead us into a better, healthier future where all witches are equal.”
The place erupted into excitement as I sobbed and hugged Tallah. Mom was going to be okay.
