by Lisa Plumley
“Me, too!” said a chorus of cusping witches. “Totally.”
Dumbfounded, Dayna accepted their vows of cooperation.
“You know what?” she said. “With all of us together, I think we actually have a shot at succeeding. Just watch for my signal”—improvising, she demonstrated one—“and be ready. Okay?”
All the witches nodded. Stepping to the center of the group, Camille hugged her. “See? No matter what you think, you do belong here with us. I’m so proud of you, Dayna.”
Overcome with emotion, Dayna blinked back tears. “Thanks. I don’t know what magic you pulled to make everyone agree, but—”
“It wasn’t me,” her best friend argued. “It was you. But you can tell me I’m right about your inspirational mojo later. Right now, I think there’s someone here who wants to see you.”
With a gentle grasp on Dayna’s shoulders, Camille turned her around. Coming toward her through the crowd, Dayna glimpsed Sam and Margo Sterling, dressed in their nicest clothes. Their faces looked anxious—until they spotted Dayna. Then they smiled.
Drawing in a deep breath, Dayna went to meet her parents.
When T.J. saw the group of witches clustered in the corner of the ballroom, he expected to find Francesca or Lily or Sumner holding court among them. All the witches in the group gazed toward its center with shining faces, their expressions filled with admiration and agreement. He’d only ever glimpsed similar emotions on the faces of the cusping witches in class when they’d been congratulating Francesca or her vixens.
Well, that meant he was in luck. Motioning for Deuce to follow him, T.J. headed in that direction. Partway there, the crowd shifted. A few witches nodded, then stepped away. Their departures revealed the witch at the crowd’s center: Dayna.
Struck by her beauty and bravery and determination, T.J. stopped. While time seemed to slow around him, he stared.
He’d never seen his bonded witch appear more at ease than she did just then. He’d never seen her appear more her. As though lit from within, Dayna smiled and hugged Camille. She nodded at the witches surrounding her. Then, appearing incongruously tough for a witch dressed all in shimmery silver, Dayna glanced across the room. She went to meet someone.
In that moment, T.J. knew she’d come here to fight. This time, Dayna would not run away. He’d known and loved his bonded witch long enough to recognize the signs of impending rebellion in her. Even without his support, Dayna meant to join the battle against the Followers. Even without his help, Dayna had finally come into her own as a cusping witch.
Bowled over by her courage and certainty, T.J. watched as Dayna greeted an older couple. Her parents, he guessed with a peculiar pang; he hadn’t met them, but the family resemblance was obvious. Wounded to know that he might never meet them—might never be allowed in Dayna’s life again—he glanced down.
His birthright mark was still gone. But even without that proof of his bond with Dayna, T.J. knew he would give anything for her. For Dayna, he would fight to his last breath.
The realization had scarcely left him before T.J. suddenly felt called to defend it. A weird prickling sensation gripped him. For an instant, he felt paralyzed, unable to speak.
“Mmm. You look nice all cleaned up.” Making a sensuous sound of appreciation, Sumner Jacobs stopped beside him. She trailed her hand over the suit he’d magiked. “I approve.”
“Sumner.” Drawing in a deep breath, T.J. turned to face her. The seductive blond witch gazed hungrily at him, clad in a clingy red dress and little else. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Apparently you’ve been looking in all the wrong places.” Eyes narrowed, Sumner gazed in Dayna’s direction. A spark of pure dislike flashed across her face. As quickly as it arose, it disappeared. “Besides, if you can’t find me in this dress, you’re blind.” She gave Deuce a sexy smile. “Who’s your friend?”
“Someone who doesn’t dabble in witches,” Deuce said.
“Funny.” Dismissing his turned human partner, Sumner turned back to T.J. “I guess you’re here to close on our deal?”
T.J. gave a curt nod. “It’s time. Can I trust you?”
Sumner smiled again. “Given what you told me, I don’t see where you have much choice about that. You have to trust me. As juweel, I hold all the cards here. Wouldn’t you say so?”
Deuce shot her a venomous look. “Fuck this. Be a lone wolf one more time, T.J.,” he urged. “Maybe your magus was wrong.”
Aggrieved, T.J. shook his head. His magus wasn’t wrong.
“You’re right,” he told Sumner. “Do you know what to do?”
In an undeniable rush, uncertainty passed from the vixen witch to him. Surprised by it, T.J. frowned. Then it vanished.
“Of course I do.” Sumner smiled again. She gave a celebratory shimmy, making her slinky red dress move in all the most attention-getting places. “Get your cultural archivists ready, boys. Tonight, this witch is going down in witchstory.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Weak with relief, Dayna beamed at her parents. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
“Then you’re not angry?” her mother asked. “I know we took you by surprise yesterday, but surely there’s still hope that we can talk things out and smooth everything over.”
“Of course, Mom. We’ll get through this.” Dayna hugged her. Since she’d crossed the ballroom to meet them, her mother and father had apologized at least a dozen times. “I didn’t exactly react well. There’s been a lot going on. But I’m sorry, too.”
Her father exhaled. “You know how proud of you we are, right? This is a big deal!” He gestured at the ballroom. “Have you had your magic licensing test yet? Or is it coming later?”
“I’m not sure. Some of my classmates heard a rumor that the IAB is going to issue a group test.” More than likely, Dayna thought darkly, that “test” would involve drinking Francesca’s cocktail and awakening the unsuspecting humans outside. Even now, she saw that almost every witch and warlock in the room was quaffing the specially garnished drink. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Well, you certainly look nice. Is that a new dress?”
“We hardly knew you had legs. You’re in jeans so often.”
With a wry twist of her lips, Dayna looked down at herself, then made a joke of her own. When she glanced up again, her gaze fell on a spot across the room. Francesca. The übervixen witch of Covenhaven was circulating among the crowd, appearing just as charming and captivating as ever. Maybe even more so.
At the sight of her, Dayna sobered. In a heartbeat, the odds against her success seemed to skyrocket. Who was she to take on the most powerful and influential witch in town? She was just a witch who ran away when the going got tough. All she had was hopefulness, resolve, and a dollop of shaky magic on her side. She hadn’t even been able to find T.J. and Deuce in time!
At the thought of her bonded partner, Dayna suddenly felt more miserable than ever. She wished T.J. were there. She wished he could see all she’d learned—not only to cast a spell or magik some new clothes, but also to lead other witches. To fight back against discouragement and fear. To believe in herself at last.
This time, the runaway witch was staying to fight. It was too bad, Dayna thought with a frown, she’d be fighting alone.
“Uh-oh.” Her mother pointed to the stage at the other end of the ballroom. “It looks as though they’re getting started.”
While an IAB official cleared her throat at the microphone, Dayna gave her parents another hug. She watched with trepidation as Sam and Margo took their places in the audience. Things could get dangerous today. She hoped they’d be all right.
There was only one way to ensure that: Dayna had to confront Francesca. Determinedly, she headed toward her fellow vixen witch. If she couldn’t convince Francesca to abandon her scheme, she would have to rely on her sabotage of the elixir ingredients. If that didn’t work…It would be time for plan B.
Waiting in the wings in the ballro
om’s backstage area, T.J. glanced down. He’d disguised himself as Professor Reynolds again, and although he’d sworn to allow Sumner to complete her mission as juweel, he hadn’t agreed to step aside completely. As Reynolds, T.J. knew, he could stay nearby as the graduation ceremony continued. He could watch the proceedings…and wait.
As the current speaker droned on, presenting the latest in a long series of cusping-witch graduating classes, T.J. paced. He peered through a gap in the stage curtains, looking for Deuce. His partner prowled the perimeter of the ballroom, alert for any signs of trouble. Near Deuce’s present position, the table full of graduation amulets stood, still piled with awards. There would be a long wait until the commencement was finished.
In recognition of that fact, a cadre of Janus staff members circulated discreetly among the attendees. They offered frothy refreshments from their trays, bowing in thanks as the audience members helpfully passed drinks from hand to hand down the rows. From outside the ballroom, the faint strains of human tourists and Covenhaven residents enjoying the Hallowe’en Festival could be heard, reminding T.J. of the critical nature of his mission.
Irresistibly compelled, he sent his gaze in the other direction…toward Dayna. When he saw her, his heart expanded. He wanted to go to her. But until this was over…
He shifted his gaze a little farther, and saw that Dayna was seated between Francesca and Lily. His heart froze. As long as Dayna was near the other vixen witches, she was still in danger. But for now, all T.J. could do was wait—and hope for a chance to send his bonded witch a message.
His opportunity came when Reynolds’s class was announced. Putting on his most professorial air, T.J. strode onstage.
Tense in her seat, Dayna watched as the graduation ceremony continued. So far, she’d been stuck beside Francesca, Lily, and Sumner the whole time. Her attempts to subtly convince the vixen witches to abandon their conversion scheme were failing. As Francesca shushed her for the third time, Dayna glanced away…
…only to see that even more witches and warlocks in the audience held one of Francesca’s cocktails in their hands.
With dismay, Dayna saw that most of the cusping witches grasped celebratory cocktails, too. Their graduation amulets were all but ignored as, smiling, they toasted one another’s success.
The sight horrified her. Were all of them Followers?
Onstage, Professor Reynolds moved to the microphone. That meant it was almost her class’s turn. Distractedly, Dayna transferred her gaze to the graduation ceremony…then stopped in surprise.
T.J. stood onstage. He was all right! He was…perfect.
With absolute witchy clarity, Dayna recognized her bonded tracer beneath his disguise. Then, feeling alarmed, she glanced at Francesca. The vixen witch didn’t seem to recognize T.J.
Relieved—and trapped beside her unwanted new friends—Dayna waited as each cusping witch in her class was called onstage in turn. The licensing tests appeared to have been forgotten.
Instead, each witch received a license to practice magic from the IAB official who presided over the proceedings. Then they received a congratulatory handshake from their instructor. Finally, Dayna saw, they crossed the stage to receive an amulet.
One by one, the witches accepted their amulets. Then they trod offstage, flushed and proud, to be greeted by the Janus employee stationed at the edge of the stairs with Francesca’s special cocktails. Appalled, Dayna watched as yet another witch giddily slurped her drink. It seemed that Francesca had hit upon a foolproof way to spread and amplify her magic among all the cusping witches in their collective…and eventually, with disastrous results, to take it to the unaware humans outside.
“Dayna Sterling.” As Reynolds, T.J. called her name.
Her parents whooped in celebration. With a nervous smile, Dayna approached the stage. As she neared T.J., his true nature became even clearer to her. She saw his familiar dark eyes, his cleft chin, his strong Patayan stance, his dazzling warlock charm. She saw his courage, his determination…his love?
Gasping in surprise, Dayna stumbled as she moved to accept her handshake from him. T.J. reached out to steady her. “I can’t give you much,” he said in her ear, his voice stealthy and low. “But I can give you my trust—and I can give you this. I don’t know what you have planned, but maybe this will help.”
Urgently, T.J. spoke the phrasings of an ancient Patayan incantation. Dayna had never heard it before, but she recognized at least one of the words. Rapidly, she translated: peace.
With her heart in her throat, she nodded at him.
Her return to her seat was an anxious blur. Shaking her head, Dayna refused the Janus employee’s offer of a cocktail. Deep in thought, she clutched her graduation amulet, the fact that she’d actually succeeded at magic leaving her numb.
How could she use the incantation T.J. had given her?
Distractedly, she watched as Francesca rose to accept her expected award as class juweel. With her usual poise, Francesca launched into an eloquent speech. She targeted the mood of the audience perfectly. All around Dayna, cocktail-carrying witches shouted their approval of her words. Some of them waved their graduation amulets, too. The fragile golden talismans shimmered under the ballroom’s multiple chandeliers, catching the light.
Wincing at their brightness, Dayna blinked. When her vision cleared, she glimpsed Deuce, moving through the ballroom with clear antagonism and watchful eyes. Startled, she looked again.
At her glance, Deuce brightened. He nodded at the table of amulets. Its supply was almost depleted. He nodded at Francesca. Clearly, Deuce was trying to send her a message. But what?
Confused, Dayna frowned. She didn’t know what he meant.
Even as Dayna struggled to figure out Deuce’s silent communication, Francesca continued her speech. Increasingly, the witchfolk in the audience applauded. Phrasings from the Book of The Old Ways caught Dayna’s ear, worrying her even further.
In only a matter of minutes, Francesca would complete her forced conversion plan—and it looked as though everyone in the ballroom would cheer her for it. At the realization, Dayna felt alone in the witching world all over again, still separated from whatever forces united other magical beings.
She’d hoped never to experience that kind of alienation again. But seeing the witchfolk crowd applaud and cheer reminded Dayna of every moment she’d felt left out—every moment she or her magic hadn’t measured up. Stubbornly, she tried to distract herself by parsing T.J.’s incantation. That didn’t work. She tried to reason out Deuce’s pantomimed message. Nothing.
Despairing, Dayna glanced up. Lily and Sumner were onstage now, standing beside Francesca. The vixens smiled at the crowd’s approval, accepting it as their due. And it was. It always had been. Francesca’s lips moved. Dayna couldn’t hear her.
“Go on, Dayna!” One row back, Camille nudged her. “That’s you! Francesca just called your name.”
Dimly, Dayna realized that Francesca was urging her to join the vixens onstage. This was it—the moment when they formed their quad vixen pact and set out to rule the world.
With a jerky motion, Dayna stood. T.J.’s face swam in her vision; Deuce still desperately gestured toward her, pointing at the amulets. But all Dayna could focus on was Francesca.
Francesca wanted her. Francesca was holding out her hand to her, waiting for Dayna to take her rightful place among the vixen witches. It was the most public declaration of belonging Dayna could ever have hoped for. Beyond any doubt, Francesca’s actions proved that Dayna belonged in the magical world.
I should just accept this, Dayna thought, and took her first step toward becoming a trueborn witch.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
But the moment Dayna reached the stage, the spotlight blinded her. Dazzled, she stopped and blinked to clear her head. An instant later, T.J. was there. As Professor Reynolds, he took her elbow as though helping her join her fellow vixen witches.
Beyond him, Francesca smiled, encouraging Dayna to come clo
ser. Even Sumner and Lily reached their hands out in welcome. But at T.J.’s touch, something in Dayna’s righted itself.
“It’s you,” he said. “You’re the juweel.”
“No. I can’t be the juweel!” Shaking her head, she glanced at him. Her panic increased. “I’m not good enough. I can’t—”
“You can. Do what you have to do.” Confidently, T.J. squeezed her hand. He released her. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“No! Help me! I need your help. I can’t do this alone.”
At her plea, T.J. seemed pained. “Yes, you can. Do it.”
A murmur rose from the crowd. Francesca leaned toward her microphone. With a flourish, she introduced Dayna again.
“But I don’t know what to do!” Dayna cried in a hoarse whisper. Fear threatened to engulf her. The audience was waiting, Francesca was waiting, her parents were watching…
Deuce was watching. Deuce. All at once, Dayna realized the message he’d been trying to send her. As a turned human, Deuce had done something none of the witchfolk—who’d always taken magic for granted—had thought to do. He’d detected magic someplace unexpected: in the graduation amulets.
Astonished, Dayna stared at the table. It was empty.
It was empty because Francesca had almost completed her conversion plan. She hadn’t distributed her magic using her special cocktails, Dayna realized. Francesca had put pieces of her powerful vixen magic in the graduation amulets—the same amulets currently clutched in the hands of a thousand cusping witches, each of them overflowing with newly realized ability.
Suddenly, it all made sense. Francesca had appointed herself as the conduit for the dark magic she wanted to practice. She’d made sure she would be the heroine of the day—the indisputable queen of Covenhaven. But by doing so, Francesca had exposed herself in a way she never would have otherwise. She’d left herself open, thinking she really was invincible.
Instead, Dayna understood as she looked at her fellow vixen witch, Francesca’s bitchy arrogance would be her downfall.
