“Great,” Bailey said. “Sell me on it. How will it help?”
Piper frowned at Bailey, radiating her irritation with Bailey’s tone.
“I didn’t mean it to be sarcastic,” Bailey sighed. “I’m just… dealing with a lot. Please, tell me what you think.”
Piper’s eyes dropped, but she adjusted her posture and spoke earnestly. “If we’re going to have more witches—and other people—showing up, then we’re going to have to a find a place for them all. If everyone knows how important this is, then maybe we can solve that problem by getting them into spare rooms for a while.”
“Fair enough,” Bailey said. “Go on.”
“Well… as to the hunters—everyone in Coven Grove knows everyone else,” Piper said, shrugging. “If we make them aware of what we need to do here, and that there are people out there who might cause problems, then the whole community might be on the look out for newcomers and strangers.”
“Leander’s wards are advanced,” Aiden said, “but she has a point. Nothing works better than vigilance.”
“Okay,” Bailey said. “And the Faerie problem?”
Piper licked her lips, and took on a guilty aura. “That part… is more complicated. The thing is, Bailey… the people here are in danger. Real, present, serious danger. I know it maybe better than anyone but you, after what happened to Riley. We… have a responsibility to tell them that, and let them make the choice to either stay or… leave.”
“Leaving would help if we failed to seal off Faerie,” Bailey said.
“That doesn’t matter,” Piper said firmly. “Keeping it from them means that we’re lying to them, even if they’re all just too afraid to ask. When I told Lydia that there was a real possibility that they weren’t safe, do you know what she said?”
“That it’s a seller’s market right now?” Bailey guessed.
Piper sighed, and shook her head. “She asked what she could do to help.” She looked around the room at the two wizards, six witches, and one freshly minted witch queen. “They may not be able to work spells, but they can keep their eyes open for us. If this gets out of hand and swings the wrong way, these people—our neighbors—could make things very difficult for us. But if we work with them, and answer their questions, and make them understand us and what we need to do, then they can make it a lot easier.”
Bailey had seen a vision of the future—one possible future—when she’d received Itaja’s blessing, if that’s what it had been. Just before she’d stabbed herself in the heart to keep that future from coming true, she’d seen the people of Coven Grove, and the rest of the world, kneeling before her, offering gifts; trying to appease her wrath or curry her favor, one or the other. Already, she’d seen Alkina’s coven on their knees. Was this the right choice to make? Which future did it lead to?
From this point, it was hard to decide. Piper had a point, and a good one. The last thing Bailey or any of them needed was for the population of Coven Grove to turn against them out of ignorance and fear, and hiding from them would only make it worse as their imaginations drummed up things far removed and far worse than reality.
Bailey nodded slowly, and folded her arms over her chest. “She’s right,” she said. “The Town Hall is a good idea. Or, I hope it is, anyway. Either way… it’s a problem we can deal with here and now, using what we already have at our disposal.”
“And if they revolt?” Alkina asked.
Bailey eyed her. “They can’t revolt,” she said quietly. “We’re not their lords and masters. We’re not better than any of them and we’re not in charge here.”
Alkina bowed her head. “My apologies. I meant what if they become aggressive.”
Bailey didn’t want to think about that—but it was one possibility. “If that happens,” she said, “then… we’ll deal with it. But screwing with people’s minds and memories is a last resort. If we have to choose between that and letting Faerie take our world, then it’s not really a choice. But we do it this way first.”
They spent the next hour or so trying to predict what people might want to know and how to answer their questions, but Bailey was mostly quiet for the conversation as it began to take off. Eventually, William woke up, and fed, and then enjoyed being passed around and fawned over. The mood lightened, and Bailey found opportunities to smile.
It was good to be distracted from the prospect that tomorrow held, even if she knew that she couldn’t ignore that forever. Tomorrow was always inevitable.
Chapter 7
Bailey did impose certain limits on the Coven’s newfound honesty with the Coven Grove community. At her request, Aiden wove a charm before the meeting began that would put any cameras or recording devices on the fritz. No reason to let this spread outside of Coven Grove—the rest of the world flocking to the town to see the spectacle of real witches going about their day to day lives couldn’t possibly have an upside.
Though it was true that only about five hundred people could fit inside the modest city capital building, usually reserved for city council meetings and mayoral events, that didn’t stop virtually the rest of Coven Grove from gathering outside and around the place. Those that were inside produced a white noise of muttering inside, which blended smoothly with the voices coming in from outside the open town hall doors.
“I could rain them out,” Frances muttered.
Bailey snorted, smiling slightly, and shook her head. “Let’s not get started on the wrong foot.”
“Offer stands,” Frances sighed. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
It was intimidating, all those people. However, the reasons Bailey felt it were probably different that the reasons Frances did.
Frances and the others no doubt were worried what would happen if this turned into a torch-and-pitchfork wielding mob. The history of the world told the story of witches and the public over and over again and it had always been a… heated debate, that the witches normally lost. Rarely were those ‘witches’ actually witches, of course—but a mob wasn’t likely to take a history lesson.
For Bailey, though, the intimidation came from within. If her back was against the wall, and she was left with no other options, what might she do? Her magic was too wild for something gentle or subtle. Almost anything she might bring to bear in the heat of the moment would be destructive. Her best bet was to do nothing and rely on everyone else to handle something like that; and that meant leaving them vulnerable. She didn’t like the idea of having to choose between her friends and her neighbors—many of whom she’d known since she was born.
“It’ll be fine,” Chloe whispered.
Bailey nodded. She just wanted it to start—and then end—as soon as possible.
The Mayor, Clive Saint-Cyril, cleared his throat into the microphone, and the throng of Coven Grove citizens gradually quieted to a low hum of scattered whispers. Speakers outside projected the affair to the people not directly in front of the panel of witches, and when they heard the Mayor speak they also quieted.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Clive said to the crowd. His voice was loud enough but didn’t entirely disguise the nervousness he felt. There was the slightest tremor in it. “As I’m sure you’re all aware… we are here today to discuss… or… have a conversation with, I should say, our resident… ah…”
“Witches,” Someone from the crowd provided. “They say they’re witches.”
“Yes,” the Mayor agreed, pointing. “Our resident witches. The Coven for which, ah, Coven Grove is perhaps aptly named. I would just like to ask that everyone who speaks today be civil, and direct, and that we all have… ah… an open mind, shall we?”
There was no response to his request, really. Before the meeting was commenced, everyone had been given question cards to fill out. They had needed an extra box to collect them, and now Mayor Clive went to the first of those two boxes and shook it for a moment before he reached inside. He pulled a card out and looked at it, and then motioned for one of the city staff.
“Good
grief,” Frances murmured, “who would have thought there would be so much bureaucracy in a modern day witch hunt?”
“It’s not a hunt when everyone knows who the witches are,” Aria pointed out. “And be quiet.”
Frances grumbled to herself, as the staff member found the person who’d written the question and held the microphone out for them. It wasn’t someone Bailey knew off the top of her head, but she’d seen the woman around, probably just on the street at some point, or at the store.
“Hello,” the woman said. “My name is Emily Thornbough. My question is… are these all of you? That is, are there any other witches in Coven Grove that weren’t mentioned in the letter from Ryan Robinson?”
There was a general agreement that quickly grew too loud to talk over, and Mayor Clive had to call the room to order with his gavel. “Now, let our guests answer,” he urged.
Bailey felt a stab of irritation. Guests? All the women in front of them now had grown up in Coven Grove. They weren’t ‘guests’.
Chloe answered, and did so honestly, just as they’d discussed. “As of right now, there are three additional witches in Coven Grove who aren’t a part of our own circle. They’ve come from Australia to help us in the days to come. Additionally, the Hope sisters, Rita and Anita, live nearby but rarely visit the town.”
“Why not?” Someone barked out. “What are they doing?”
“They are very old,” Chloe said, her patience challenged. “They don’t like to go out.”
There seemed to be some quiet debate about that but at least none of it was directed at the panel.
“In addition to these people,” Chloe went on, “there are three others in Coven Grove who also possess magic. Those are Aiden Rivers, Avery Lee and my… another visiting individual, Leander Swift. All of them we trust to be good citizens.”
That put the count at thirteen, in total, not considering Riley, who it was agreed wouldn’t be mentioned.
The Mayor and his staff picked another question, and another person was plucked from the crowd to ask it himself. “Patrick Weir,” the youngish looking man offered when he stood. “My question is… how would one of us know if… if we were under some kind of… spell?” It was obvious he felt ridiculous asking the question, but none of the people in the crowd apparently thought so.
They had supporters out there, Bailey knew—some of them had been waiting when the Coven arrived and they had been very helpful and courteous and compassionate. Even now, though, she saw some of those people wavering, doubt on their faces, and a few of them even spoke up in support of the question.
Well, it was a fine way to start the discussion. Bailey did her best to calm her nerves, but after several other questions in a similar vein she began to think that perhaps this had been a bad idea after all.
Chapter 8
Question after question hit the Coven like slaps across the face.
“How long have witches been in Coven Grove? Why didn’t they reveal themselves until now?”
“There was a mysterious epidemic in the seventies—why didn’t the witches help then, or did they start it?”
“If one of the witches hurt someone with magic, would the others turn them in, and how would they be prosecuted?”
“Did something the witches do bring the so-called Faeries down on their heads?”
Bailey’s mood grew darker by degrees, but she tried to keep her face from showing it. The last thing this crowd needed was an angry witch staring them down and making them start to believe all the things that were no doubt starting to circulate. It was an effort.
“How do we know that we can trust you all with these powers?” Someone asked. A woman.
Bailey blinked, and then looked up at the voice. She’d drifted off into her own thoughts.
Piper cleared her throat to answer the question, and Bailey could see shock in her eyes. Wasn’t that woman… yes, that was Lydia, the old lady who had helped Piper out and suggested this whole idea. Bailey had met her when they came in and set things up—she’d been all smiles and sweetness then. Had the course of the meeting changed her mind?
“Well,” Piper said carefully, “how do you know that you can trust your other neighbors with guns? Or knives, or anything else dangerous?”
“Is that to say that magic is dangerous?” Lydia asked. “As dangerous as a gun?”
Piper opened her mouth, and then closed it. She tried again. “It… I mean it depends on the magic, I suppose—”
“What all can magic do, then?”
“That’s far to broad a question,” Frances spoke up. “We don’t have time to lecture you all on the ins and outs of how magic works.”
“So it can do a lot, then,” Lydia said. She pursed her lips, and looked around at the people in the crowd who were all looking to her. “And if it could do something like, say, make people kill each other—then how would we know if someone decided to kill a person or was compelled to do so with magic?”
“We would never do something like that,” Piper said. Her voice was thick—she was starting to realize what Bailey already had. Lydia had set them up.
“And we would love to believe you, dear,” Lydia said, “but the truth is that we wouldn’t be able to tell, would we? Can’t magic change our memories? Influence our thoughts? Even make us see things that aren’t there?”
Chloe raised her hand as people started to get louder, demanding an answer to Lydia’s questions.
When she did, some of the people in the front row actually flinched.
“Now, listen, everyone,” Chloe said, “please; calm down. We’ve been here, all of us, since we were born! You’ve known us some of you all of our lives and some of us all of yours. Surely you must believe we would never harm any of you.”
“But isn’t it true you’ve already used magic on many of us?” Lydia pressed. She turned to address the crowd. “How many of you were at the Caves? How many of you remember witnessing what happened there, only to wake up in your own beds? How do you imagine that happened?”
Damn it, Bailey thought at Chloe, who looked at her briefly and then returned her attention to the crowd, wary. She’s trying to stir up fear but she’s not wrong—Anita put those people to sleep.
It was for their own good, Chloe countered, but without any real conviction. She knew it wouldn’t matter.
“And if they would lie about that,” Lydia said, turned now to face the crowd, “then what else might they lie about? How do we know they’ve told us about every witch in this town? How do we know that Coven Grove isn’t crawling with magic?”
That put the crowd into an uproar. Angry faces shouted questions, but none of them made sense—all the noise blended together until it was just one raucous wall of sharp sound that grated over Bailey’s teeth.
Her arm twitched, and magic coursed down it. Before it went anywhere, though, she arrested it. At the same moment, Chloe grabbed her wrist behind the long table.
Don’t, Chloe thought. You’ll make it worse.
I know, Bailey responded, it was an accident. My control is slipping; we have to get out of here.
If we leave now…
Bailey swallowed down her anger and fear. They couldn’t just bolt. If they ran; if they tried to escape this, it would make them look guilty—like they had something to run from.
“Everyone,” Lydia called, “everyone calm down; quiet! Quiet, please.”
The crowd did gradually obey.
“Obviously,” Lydia said, “we should be thoughtful with how we now live in this new world. I propose that the City invite known experts in to advise us about how best to move forward.”
Questions wove through the town hall until the Mayor stood and waved them all down.
Bailey had a terrible feeling.
“Experts?” He asked.
Lydia nodded. Her smile was professional, but there was something vicious behind it; predatory. “I have it on good authority,” she said, “that there are experts not far from here who have a hist
ory of experience dealing with witches. How to identify them, how to identify their work, and most importantly—how to protect oneself from them.”
After having been whipped into a frenzy, it took no more than that to hurl the crowd over the edge. They began practically howling at the Mayor, and cheering Lydia, and calling for a vote by the city council immediately. They wanted these so-called experts, which they couldn’t even be certain existed.
Except that they did.
And when Bailey realized that she couldn’t quite penetrate Lydia’s mind for the answer she wanted, she got the answer anyway. Lydia looked her in the eyes from her little platform, and brushed a small leather pouch at her neck.
Bailey went cold—with fear, and with the frustration of not being able to do anything about it there and then.
The Hunters weren’t coming to Coven Grove—they were already there.
Chapter 9
Piper wanted to wait for the Town Hall to disperse so that she could have a word with Lydia face to face, but Bailey refused to allow it.
“We need to get back to the Bakery,” she told Piper, her voice harsh. “Right now.”
The Town Hall quickly became completely purposeless, and Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that it was her fault for having called for it in the first place. Once the Mayor officially called the thing done, the Coven was invited out through the back while further discussion sprang up spontaneously inside.
“Don’t you want to know what they’re talking about while we’re gone?” Piper asked as Bailey urged her down from the panel platform and toward the back door of the Town Hall.
“It doesn’t matter,” Bailey said. “We’ll talk about it when we’re safe.”
“Safe?” Piper gasped. “Are we not? What do I not know, Bailey?”
“Not here,” Bailey said. She opened the door, and and swept Piper through it. The rest of the Coven followed.
Aiden and Avery were already waiting with two cars, which they loaded the witches into. The Bakery wasn’t far from Town Hall, but just in the event that things got out of hand, they didn’t want to end up running for their lives or something. It turned out to be good thinking, even if the mob hadn’t actually taken up pitchforks and torches.
Witching for a Miracle (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 7) Page 4
