The Coven History

by Lily Luchesi

  Anger bristled inside of him, and he tried hard to tamp it down. If he lost his composure in front of Angelica, he could wind up dead. “That is not what happened.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “That’s what it says in your file.”

  “They refused to hear my side,” Salem said, well aware that he sounded like a petulant child.

  She leaned forward, pen poised, and said, “Why don’t you tell me, then?”

  “And if I prefer not to?” Salem challenged.

  “Then you skyrocket to the top of my suspect list for the murders,” she replied calmly, as though discussing the weather or his grades.

  Salem blanched, feeling a cold ball of lead in the middle of his stomach. He began to speak, explaining about his rivalry with Michael and Caelum, his former relationship with Daphne, and how Caelum had somehow switched out his rose petals with a deadly substance that Salem had yet to identify.

  He told her about Madam Iaso, and her quick dismissal of his accusations, blaming him for trying to poison whomever he had intended the potion for. Normally calm and quiet, Salem’s voice gained passion and speed as he spoke, desperate for someone in authority to hear him. To listen. To believe. To see past his Darkness and realise that he was just a boy, a victim.

  She wrote as he spoke, occasionally looking up to maintain eye contact. When he was done speaking, she capped her pen and said, “It seems as though you have been put through quite a lot since becoming a student of the Coven.”

  Salem nodded sadly. “Yes, I have been. And you are the first adult to ever listen to me and not automatically think I am merely trying to place blame on Lynx and Smith because of jealousy.”

  Before Angelica could reply, the door to the room opened and Donahue poked her head in.

  “Is everything all right in here?”

  Angelica stood up, smoothing down her black blouse. “Actually, no. I asked you for people who were capable of murdering two apprentices without guilt, and you instead brought me a broken, bullied boy not yet an adult. A boy whose torment has been systematically ignored by you and Edelstone. Please let him know that I will be conversing with him first thing tomorrow. As of tonight, I will make up a list of people for you to bring to me to interview. That will be all, Frieda.” Angelica waved her hand like a queen dismissing a servant.

  Donahue stood in the doorway, unmoving. Her mouth was slightly agape, and Salem felt Dark glee at the sight. The Elder, whom everyone suspected was next in line to lead the Coven after Edelstone died or retired, had never been spoken to like this, he was sure. And now this halfblood who wasn’t even magical was treating her just as poorly as she treated Salem.

  “Miss Cross, I—”

  “Save your breath,” Angelica said sharply. “And leave. You don’t want me to use force to get you out, do you?”

  Salem watched the vamplet with interest. She had a quiet, fierce command of the situation, a certain way about her that could frighten even the most hardened magician, or anyone of any other species, for that matter. He wished he could be like her, wished he could be seen as an authority figure not to be trifled with.

  Donahue exited the room like her robes were on fire, and Salem allowed himself a smile.

  “Salem,” Angelica said slowly, as if an idea had just hit her. “I realise you are merely a student still, but I was wondering if you would like to be of assistance to my team and I while we search for the murderer?”

  Salem nodded. “If you trust me, Miss Cross, I would be happy to help.”

  “Good. You have quite the poor reputation here in the Coven, but that same reputation could be an asset in helping bring down whichever member of Clan Munro performed these murders. I would like for you to keep an ear to the ground, to befriend more members of your own Clan. They will let their guards down around you, particularly after what you did to Michael Smith in the castle courtyard last year.

  “And if you hear anything, I would like for you to report to me directly. Not Donahue, not Edelstone. Me. Are we clear?”

  Salem nodded, still slightly in awe of her. “So … you want me to be a spy, is that it?”

  She nodded. “If you’d rather not, I understand. It is a lot to ask of one so young, to betray his own Clan.”

  “My Clan has never done anything for me, Miss Cross. Nor has Clan Fraser. I am, and always have been, alone. At least I can use my outcast status for some good.”

  Angelica looked at him with a small smile. “Well, then, Salem Sinclair, go out there and make yourself proud.”

  “Myself?” he asked, confused. “Not you or Daphne or the Light?”

  “No. Yourself. Because you are more important than anything you mentioned.”

  The next morning, Salem actively sought out Robert and the few others in Clan Munro who hung around together. They were a motley bunch, certainly. No two seemed similar. Clan Munro wasn’t full of Disney villain types. In fact, he was the only Goth in the group, though Robert did like to wear a lot of black at times.

  “Well, look what the black cat dragged in,” one girl drawled.

  “What troll hole did you crawl out of?” a guy asked.

  Robert shushed them both. “Good to see you with us, mate. But seriously, what does bring you here?”

  “After the PID paid that visit yesterday, I thought it was best to stick together,” he said. “Being the lone wolf is not very appealing when people are looking at us as though we are hardened criminals.”

  Robert nodded. “Don’t blame you a bit. So, what did Donahue want yesterday?”

  Salem had to do a bit of fast thinking in order to figure out how much to tell. But he was still a child, and he was angry with his Elder for her thought process.

  “She brought me to Angelica Cross. Cross wanted a list of possible murder suspects and apparently I was at the top of her list. The gall of it all!” Salem hissed. “Cross dismissed me right away, even called Donahue out on her actions.”

  The girl who had said the cat dragged him in scoffed. “Bloody Frasers and their supporters. Think anybody who doesn’t fit their little mould is evil to the core.”

  Robert chuckled. “Says the witch who tried to use blood magic on her sister’s pet rabbit.”

  Without thinking, Salem said, “Rabbits are horrible for blood magic. They’re far too pure. Try using cats or reptiles.” Immediately, he wanted to cover his mouth. Knowing that much Dark magic and talking about it casually was never a good sign to others.

  The girl gave him an appreciative smile. “Looks like snogging a Fraser for so long didn’t dampen your edge, Sinclair. Good to know.”

  Robert clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m quite glad you’re on our side. Because you are one bloke I’d hate to have as an enemy!”

  No one ridiculed him, or looked upon him as though he was evil. Instead they all seemed to appreciate his knowledge, macabre though it may have been. It was the first time since Daphne had broken up with him that he felt like his quirks, such as they were, were appreciated rather than abhorred.

  He walked with the other members of Clan Munro to get to class, and every class he could, he sat with some of them. Robert was in nearly all of them, and it felt nice to sort of rekindle their friendship. For a little while, he nearly forgot that he was supposed to be searching for anything suspicious.

  A week passed, and each day he found himself liking the other Clan Munro teens more and more. No longer did he sit alone at teatime, and when the weekend hit, he went with them to the town and did a little shopping. Finally, it felt like he truly had friends.

  It was while they were all sitting at Cristal’s Cafe that someone turned the conversation to remind him of why he had begun associating with them to begin with.

  “So, that vamplet is still around, investigating,” a girl said. “She had a couple of magicians who work for her interview my parents. Even she seems to have her eye out for our Clan.”

  “Like the Frasers never killed anyone,” Robert scoffed.

  “But we hav
e nothing to worry about, right?” Salem said. “I mean, none of us committed the murders, after all.”

  “I’m betting it was someone from Clan Fraser, trying to frame us,” another boy commented.

  “Wouldn’t put it past them,” Robert agreed. “Still, I wish they would catch whoever did it and leave. I feel as though I’m under a microscope lately. Well, that we all are.”

  Salem nodded. That he could easily agree with.

  As everyone was going to leave and go their separate ways, Salem spotted Caelum, Draven, Michael, and Daphne. Everyone from Clan Munro steadfastly ignored the little group, except for Salem. Not that he didn’t try, of course, but he found quickly that he couldn’t.

  Daphne’s magic still seemed to call out to him, sparking against his skin as he walked past her. Despite the breakup, despite the pain, her magic still felt like home to him. He wondered what his felt like to her, or if she even felt his anymore.

  Her hand went over her heart and she seemed to jump a little, eyes wide as she tried to avoid looking at Salem. It seemed to him that she did feel his magic after all.

  Just when he thought he could escape without confrontation, Caelum grabbed him by the sleeve.

  “Let me go, Lynx, or I will turn your hand into dust,” Salem said, voice low.

  “Next time you tell anyone at the PID that you think I wanted to murder you, I will remind you that, if I did want you dead, you’d be six feet under,” Caelum said.

  “Is that a threat?” Salem asked.

  “It’s a promise, Sinclair.” His golden eyes shone with anger.

  With a bit of concentration, Salem sent his magic out to lightly shock Caelum’s hand. The shifter jumped, letting him go with narrowed eyes.

  “And I promise to take you down like the animal you are if you even try.”

  “If I kill him, can I claim temporary insanity because this lesson is rubbish?”

  It was Monday, time for the PID-approved Creatures and Monsters class. Their teacher had always been on the dull side, but the past year, it seemed like he had two modes: dull and duller.

  Salem wondered if Robert could claim insanity because of the lesson and smirked.

  “Sinclair, does something amuse you?” Mr. Yorick said.

  “No, sir,” Salem replied. “Please continue with your riveting lesson.”

  Yorick was such a stick in the mud, he didn’t even recognise sarcasm when it was thrown right in his face.

  Robert hid a laugh behind his hand. Unfortunately, it wasn’t hidden well enough, and Yorick turned around, anger in his normally calm face.

  “Sinclair, I have had it. Detention in my class, an hour after school ends.”

  Salem opened his mouth to say it wasn’t him who laughed, but he didn’t want to turn on Robert, either. So he kept quiet and merely nodded. He glanced at Robert, who mouthed “sorry” to him.

  Robert whispered as class was over, “I’ll try to talk to him, tell him it was me who was laughing. Wait for me for tea, okay?”

  Salem nodded, but when Robert got back to him he shrugged. “Won’t relent. Sorry, mate. I tried to tell him the truth.”

  After classes ended, Salem made his way back to the Creatures classroom, where Yorick was waiting.

  “I am sorry to keep you here, Sinclair,” he said, suddenly kinder than he had been earlier that day. “I myself have sided with Clan Munro, but I cannot be seen to be soft on any of you, of course.”

  That surprised Salem. He had assumed that every Elder had sided with Clan Fraser. Even Edelstone, who was part of Clan Munro.

  “I understand, Mr. Yorick,” he said, taking his usual seat.

  Right before detention was about to end, Yorick was called away to speak to another Elder about a lesson plan, and Salem noticed something sticking out of his drawer.

  Not quite sure of what got into him, he stood up and snuck over to the desk, curious. He wanted to know what was on that paper. He had no idea why, but something in his subconscious was telling him to take a peek.

  It was a list, hastily scribbled in Yorick’s handwriting. The list was full of names, including Salem’s mother’s name, Evelyn. The top two names on the list were crossed out: Riley Stanton and Fedelia Tremont.

  Chapter 17

  Salem gaped at the paper, unable to believe what he was seeing. This wasn’t any sort of typical list, it was a hit list. With two people already killed, and about a dozen more to go.

  His stomach flip flopped at the thought of having sat in class twice a week with a murderer. A murderer who openly sided with Clan Munro and who wanted to kill Salem’s mother. He swallowed hard, trying to control his temper and his fear. He had never come face to face with a killer before, and he was not ashamed to admit that he was afraid.

  Bravery is not the absence of fear, it is the power to overcome it, he thought. It was a quote his mother had told him when he was young and afraid of his father’s temper.

  Uncertainty settled over him. How was he to bring this evidence to Angelica? If he stole it, he could be accused of faking the list. If he left it, Yorick could remove it from the desk, resulting in Salem being unable to find the proof of the murders ever again. Could he confront Yorick?

  His spine tingled with dread even as he thought of it, but his mother was on that list. How could he possibly let Yorick get away? He had to do something and hope that Angelica stood up for him. Not that he had any faith in authority figures anymore, but she seemed different. He had to hope that she was.

  “What are you doing in my things?” Yorick bellowed, making Salem jump.

  Bloody Hell, I need to act fast, he thought. He held out the list and said, “You killed Miss Stanton and Fedelia Tremont!”

  Yorick’s face went blank for a split second before he sneered. “What of it? They are apprentices, they do not deserve to learn our ways!”

  “My mother is an apprentice!” Salem cried.

  “And she belongs on that list just as much as the others do,” Yorick insisted. “You of all people should understand that, being descended from Robert Mor Munro himself.”

  Salem shook his head. “You are positively mad.” Slowly he began to back away from Yorick. He needed to be a safe distance in case of an attack, which the Elder looked entirely capable of initiating.

  “Give that list to me, now,” he demanded.

  Salem held it up. “This list? Come and take it, then.” He had no idea where this was coming from. This bravado. He never acted in such a manner, but it seemed that, somewhere inside of him, slumbered a warrior.

  He tucked the list into his cloak pocket and held his hands out. Yorick wasn’t a Munro, he couldn’t manipulate energy. Salem could, therefore having the advantage. He shot an energy blast out, making Yorick become unbalanced as he dodged it. That was when Salem cast, “Ligabis.”

  Yorick’s legs locked together, and he fell to the floor with a thud. He cursed, glaring at Salem, who made sure to hold the spell on him. From under his shirt, a bright green gem on a golden chain fell out. It looked like a magical artefact, but Salem wasn’t sure what, exactly, it was.

  “What on Earth is going on in here?”

  Salem turned to the door, where Donahue was staring in, clutching at her high necked collar in horror. Behind her stood Angelica Cross, gun held at her hip. Salem had never seen a gun in person before.

  “Mr. Sinclair, explain,” she said, edging past Donahue, trailing her gun on Yorick.

  Salem took out the list and presented it to the vampire. “It was him, Miss Cross. He killed the two apprentices and he was going to kill many more had I not found this note.”

  Angelica took it and looked it over, a grim sort of smile on her face. “Excellent job, Sinclair. You did good.” She turned to Donahue. “You, Frieda, go and call my agents. They need to take Yorick here to the PID in London for his immediate execution.”

  Yorick’s eyes widened in fear, and Angelica’s smile widened.

  “I would do it here, but there are far too many c
hildren about. Come on, go.” She made a shooing gesture with her hand, and Salem smirked at Donahue’s retreating form.

  Angelica bent down and grabbed handcuffs in exchange for her gun. “You can let the spell off of him, Sinclair. You did wonderfully. Thank you for your assistance.”

  “Thank you for trusting me,” Salem said. He watched as Angelica hauled the wizard up with one hand, as if he weighed no more than a child. “It is over now, right? The killings?”

  She turned to look at him, her dark eyes disconcerting in their intensity. “We can only hope. In my world, I learnt long ago that bloodshed and devastation lurk around just about every corner.”

  “You guys won’t believe this!” Caelum cried, as everyone was exiting their rooms for breakfast. “Wait till you hear what Mrs. Fraser just heard! They caught the bloke who killed Stanton and Tremont!”

  Draven arched an eyebrow, still trying to wake up. His Undead condition made him despise early mornings. “It’s too early for guessing games, Cae. Who is it?”

  “Ten pounds says it was Sinclair,” Michael commented with a smirk.

  “Salem is many things, but he is not a killer,” Daphne countered, placing her napkin in her lap. “Mother, please tell us.”

  Mrs. Fraser smiled at Caelum. “He seems rather eager. I believe I will give him the pleasure. But it does have to do with Sinclair.”

  Caelum nodded. “You know how Sinclair got detention yesterday in Yorick’s class?”

  “Even though it was Robert who laughed? Yeah,” Draven replied.

  “Well, apparently Yorick stepped out of the classroom and Sinclair went snooping. He found a — get this — hit list. Like in human films! It had Stanton and Tremont crossed off and a bloody dozen others left to kill. Even Sinclair’s mum! A few of them on the list were students!”

  Daphne gasped, covering her mouth.

  “And what happened? What did Sinclair do?” Draven asked.