My instinctive reaction was to dial 911. But before I even finished typing the three digits, I paused and reconsidered. There would be too much explanation to give between Vazul in the house without papers, Angelique possibly still under the glamour spell to mimic me, and the footage on the security camera.
The moment we were introduced to the craft, we were told in no uncertain terms that there would be hell to pay if we ever exposed the secret world we evolved in. I hung up without completing the call and dialed the emergency number of the Council of Witches instead. To my relief, the receptionist—a man with a truly amazing voice—responded before the first ring was even done.
“You have reached the Council. How may I help you?”
“Someone using glamour has broken into my house. I fear things might get ugly between that intruder and my familiar,” I replied.
“Is this number your personal line?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
“Very well, Coral. Are you currently at home?”
It always disturbed me how much information society now possessed about me and everyone else with something as simple as your phone number. But now was not the time to dwell on this.
“No. I’m in the parking lot of a grocery store nearby,” I replied before giving him a quick breakdown of the situation.
“Go home and calm your familiar,” he ordered. “Someone will be there shortly to handle the matter. Something like this was expected.”
I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant by that, but hehad already hung up. For a split second, I considered calling him back but thought better of it. I raced back to the house, cussing at the wretched traffic that seemed to have suddenly come out of nowhere. For half a beat, I contemplated just leaving the car by the sidewalk and running the rest of the way home. Obviously, that was a dumb idea, but being stuck behind a bunch of cars moving slowly made me feel helpless while my fertile imagination went into overdrive.
I knew too little about the rules regarding summoners and their minions. A familiar had the right to cause harm to protect their master. But to what degree? How far would Vazul go? What would be deemed excessive force? What wouldIbe okay with him doing based on the current circumstances?
The answer to that popped into my head with a certainty that left me reeling. As much as I wanted Angelique to get her proper comeuppance, I didn’t want her to face any physical harm, least of all of a lethal nature.
I finally pulled up in my street only to see two familiar women walking up to my doors. Had I not been sitting in my car, I would have fallen on my ass upon seeing Mrs. Hopkins in the lead followed by Myrtle—the Head Priestess of Angie’s coven.
How the hell did they get here so fast?
Above all, what the fuck was Mrs. Hopkins doing here? Seeing her open my front door with a flick of her hand broke my mind even more. How had I not known that she also was a witch? The ease with which she opened the door broadcast loudly that she had to be extremely powerful. That she would be the one sent to handle this situation also indicated that she ranked very high within the organization.
I parked in my driveway and ran into the house. My heart sank at the site of the red and orange flickering glow typical of the light emitted by a fire. Tears pricked my eyes at the burnt smell, even as my brain wondered at the absence of thick, dark smoke.
“Mrs. Hopkins!” I heard Angie call from within my workshop, her voice filled with a mix of fear and relief.
I ran down the hallway and all but shoved Myrtle out of the way to assess the extent of the damage done to what should have been the beginning of my dream career and foundation of my business. So many years of hard work and sacrifice all gone up in flames because of the entitled jealousy of a vicious, self-centered, spoiled brat.
My brain froze when I saw Vazul looking terrifying, standing a short distance from Angelique, a ring of fire raging around her keeping her caged. And all around them, my entire collection stood unscathed. The only sides of visible damage appeared to be on part of my roll of wrapping paper, and a charred, empty box.
I nearly wept with relief as I stood there, too stunned to speak or otherwise react. Seeing me, Vazul immediately doused the fire burning inside him. The balls of flames swirling over his open palms fizzled out, the glowing streaks under his skin faded. His face lost its evil demonic appearance and returned to the handsome male I was falling for, his horns merging back into a single pair as the vicious spikes on his body receded into his skin.
This monstrous appearance should have frightened me, but it didn’t. I was only relieved that he never got to unleash the wrath Angelique brought upon herself. To my even bigger relief, Vazul dissipated the ring of fire restraining my nemesis.
She immediately attempted to run towards the exit of the workshop, but with a single gesture of her hand, Mrs. Hopkins froze Angie in place. Frozen actually wasn’t quite the appropriate description. It was more as if she hit an invisible wall, stumbled back, then had her feet locked into place. She still seemed to have control of the rest of her body.
The gaping fish expression that settled on her face undoubtedly matched mine—Although my stupid mind kept picturingmore a shocked Pikachu. Myrtil stood there quietly, looking both angry and defeated.
What the fuck is going on?!
“I am the High Witch Examiner of the Council,” Mrs. Hopkins said with a voice cold enough to send us right back to the Ice Age. “Serious accusations have been levied against you, Angelique Delaney. And your presence here appears to confirm their accuracy.”
High Witch Examiner of the Council?!
Under different circumstances, I’d be falling on my ass again in shock. How had she fooled us this entire time? How did Angie and Sophia not know who we were actually dealing with? But Angie running her mouth again wiped all those wandering thoughts right out of my mind.
“He tried to kill me to silence me!” Angelique exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Vazul while displaying a traumatized and fearful expression worthy of an Oscar.
“What? To silence you about what? You broke into my house!” I exclaimed, outraged.
