Rogan’s father and the other witch rise, and then the High Priestess snaps her fingers. The guards still positioned on each side of the door immediately turn and leave. I narrow my eyes at the three remaining witches and call on backup in the form of a fuck ton of power. They’ll probably slaughter me with three against one odds, but I’ll take a bitch out as I go.
“Are you questioning the decisions of the High Council of Witches?” the High Priestess asks me, amusement flickering in her cold eyes.
“Like I said, it’s none of my business, but since you asked, yes, and if you think other people haven’t come to the same conclusion that I have, then you’ve highly underestimated the people you say you lead.”
I see the exact moment that Rogan’s mother begins to wonder what it is that I might know. Her eye color perfectly reflects the gleam of greed I see in her stare, and I know without a shadow of doubt that she’s calculating my pawn-status, like this is some fucked up game and not people’s lives she’s messing with.
Her gaze dips down my body, like she’s looking for physical evidence that I know more than I’m letting on. I tamp down on the shiver that climbs up my spine when her covetous stare rises and fixes on the mirror behind me before meeting my eyes once more.
“You’re a beautiful witch, Lennox,” she declares smugly, as though she has anything to do with it.
I shoot her a look. “I’m aware, but remind me what that has to do with the missing witches?” I ask, my tone saccharine.
I work hard to pull back my irritation. I need to redirect this encounter back to what’s important and try to reduce the massive target I think I just put on my back. I don’t know how she put it together that there might be a deeper connection between me and her son, but I’d be an idiot to trivialize the conniving wheels I can almost see turning in this witch’s head.
Internally I start to berate myself, but I quickly shut it down. She might’ve come for me no matter what I did. Playing nice or telling her to piss off wouldn’t have changed her desire to use me if she could. I suspect that’s all this woman knows how to do.
“What’s your endgame, Osteomancer?” Sorrel purrs at me, the sound more feral than soothing. Rogan’s dad and the other suited council member move to stand behind her. The shape of their position means something, but I can’t for the life of me remember what.
That’ll teach me to zone out the next time someone is going on about sacred geometry.
“Solving this case and then living my best life sounds pretty good to me,” I chirp in response.
A flame flickers to life in the High Priestess’s hand. She caresses the small ball of fire lovingly, but I scoff, unimpressed.
I can wave my hand through the flame of a candle too, lady. Get better parlor tricks.
I feed my well of power, careful not to pull anything from Rogan in case somehow these elite witches can feel it, or in the event that Rogan is in a situation where he needs to defend himself against them. I’m still not clear exactly why they’re even here talking to me, and I just hope wherever he is right now, he’s okay.
Magic swells within me, and I’m shocked by just how much is building inside of me. I have that same full feeling I had when I syphoned from Rogan’s source, only this time, I know for a fact that I haven’t gone near our tether.
Rogan’s dad tilts his head to the side and studies me. He mumbles something to his wife, and the High Priestess raises an eyebrow in reaction to whatever it is he says. I want to know what the Animamancer is picking up, but I keep my mouth shut.
“We don’t have to be enemies,” she tells me resolutely, the ball of fire she’s conjured in her hand weaving itself in and out of her fingers playfully. I shake off the hypnotic way she wields her strongest element, and focus back on what she said.
“I didn’t know wewereenemies,” I retort, playing dumb. “I’m simply here to help. I’m not sure how that puts us on opposing sides of what’s happening,” I add, to really hammer home thesweet and innocentthing I’m trying for.
“You’re powerful, you could do great things in life,” she continues, ignoring the valid points I’m making.
“Thank you, my Grammy always said so, but she was biased,” I quip, dropping mysweeter than honeyefforts when they clearly miss their mark.
With a flick of her fingers, the High Priestess launches her small fireball at me. I’m ready to yank the bones out of her body to protect myself, but the trajectory of the flames is off, and it goes flying past me. The sound of shattering glass fills the room. I flinch and spin to see the large mirror that takes up half the wall behind me crumbling in chunks to the ground. It reveals some kind of control room, but the only person standing in it is Rogan.
He stares at his mother, his gaze blazing with contempt and rage. No one utters a word as they survey one another, their unspoken conversation only interrupted by the sound of glass tinkling to the ground. A cruel smile tilts the High Priestess’s lips, and her insidious gaze slowly, purposefully moves to me.
I beg Rogan in my mind not to move. Not to flinch. Not to so much as glare at his mother and confirm what it’s clear she suspects. I can feel the threat in her probing glance, sense that she’s probing, that she’s trying to gauge the possibilities. She wants to test what her son might feel for me, and I’m terrified of what that might do, what that could reveal not only to her but to me. I don’t know if she’ll outright attack me or maybe him to see whatI’lldo. Will anyone stop her? Will they just watch as, out of nowhere, the High Priestess attacks her renounced son and an innocent witch?
Adrenaline ravages my insides, and my magic reaches its distended peak. I feel like any minute I’m going to explode, and I don’t know what will be left in my wake. Rogan’s father’s head snaps in my direction, but before he can give any warning, a door behind Rogan flies open, and a squat woman with thick glasses comes running in. She’s waving a paper, her cheeks flushed from probably running over here.
“I found it!” she announces between gasps for air. “The curse was just a failsafe, but I figured out what the demon magic was supposed to do.”
Everyone’s attention moves to the woman, and she all at once seems to take in the shattered window and the standoff taking place on the other side. Her surprised eyes land on the High Priestess and grow even wider as she drops into a deep bow.
“Your eminence, I’m so sorry I interrupted,” she squeaks nervously, her eyes darting to Rogan, then to the broken glass, and back to the ruler of the witches.
“Ah, finally, someone who knows how to behave in the presence of their Priestess,” she points out, leveling me with a loaded look, demanding that I bow too.
“I don’t recall ever swearing fealty to you,” I tell her simply, stopping myself from flipping her off and telling her tobow to this, bitch.
