by Scott Tracey
Robert looked to his left, pitching his voice for his grandson. “Bring the girl in.”
I followed Quinn with my eyes until he went to the door, and then I turned to watch as he disappeared across the hall. A few moments later he returned with Ash following behind.
There was soot covering her face. I could see rips in her shirt underneath the too-large jacket she was wearing, and her hair was a mess, but she looked otherwise unhurt.
“You can stand with Quinn,” Illana said, not altogether unkindly to her. But Ash didn’t move.
Jenna’s fingernails clawed into my wrist all of a sudden. I jumped, trying to pull my arm away, but she held fast. Her attention never left Robert. Her point was obvious—stare at your girlfriend later.
“The evidence is clear,” Robert continued. “The Moonset children may not have initiated the influx of dark magic into our world these last few months, but their involvement cannot be denied. If Ashen Farrer hadn’t invoked the spellform that saved their lives, who knows what would have happened?”
I glanced at Ash, who was still standing near the door, her eyes uncertainly moving around the table. She realizes there’s more to this, too.
“How did she learn a spellform at such a young age?” one of the ladies across the table asked, leaning forward in her seat. “There have been no applications on file with her name on them.”
Ash opened her mouth, but as it turned out, no one really cared to hear what she had to say.
The sweating man shifted in his seat, his hands steepled in front of him. “I could not presume,” he said loftily. “My boys would never violate the law like that.”
“You handle the training of spellforms,” the woman accused the sweating man. “How else would she have learned if not from one of your trainers?”
“Ash didn’t invoke that spell,” I interjected. “At least not by herself. I was the one who finished it. Not her.” In that moment, our eyes met, and Ash took a step forward. A step towards Jenna and I.
“You weren’t brought here to speak,” Robert said, coming to his feet again. “And I will not tolerate it any longer.”
“Point of order,” Quinn interjected, stepping forward again. “But the law states that Coven leaders have the right to speak before the Congress.”
“Oh, you can’t mean,” Robert sputtered. “That’s preposterous.”
“It’s well documented that the children are bound into a coven,” Illana murmured. “Although they are still Moonset’s offspring.” Her lips twisted in distaste.
“They are infants,” Robert argued. “Neophytes.”
“The law is the law,” I said slowly. It was something that I’d believed in wholly before tonight, and the one thing our parents had never believed. To them, the world demanded revolution. “I am a coven leader, the same as many of you. And if we’re to be charged with aiding a warlock, then I lay the same charge.”
The room erupted into loud chatter, but I raised my voice and pointed. “At Robert Cooper.”
Thirty
“There was something disturbing about the
five of them. They would look at you with
these eyes … like they knew what we’d done.
And then there were the spells. Simple magics went haywire around them. Miranda Abbot suggested euthanasia, and was struck down by some sort of seizure. Those babies … those
children of Moonset … they’re a threat.”
Nicholas Stone (C: Eventide)
Official Report
This meeting, or trial, or whatever it was, was a farce. Cooper wanted us out of the way—and he’d break the law to do it. But thanks to all the reading I’d done for Quinn, I knew that a charge of invoking the black arts couldn’t be ignored. So long as it was made by a coven leader. Now all those papers make sense. He wanted me to be prepared.
All conversation died. Every pair of eyes in the room was locked onto me, and not a single one of them was anything less than dumbfounded. Especially not my target.
“This is preposterous,” he sputtered. “We don’t have to listen to this.”
“Yes, you do.” I realized what they must see when they looked at me—the spitting image of Sherrod Daggett, calling them to account. “You brought us here, hoping that a myth named Cullen Bridger would come after us. He came close to catching us once. I made the same mistake you did—I assumed Bridger was the warlock here, but it was just a kid that no one cared about.”
Robert’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you, to make such baseless accusations?”
I didn’t back down. I raised my chin, and met his glare with one of my own. “I am the son of Sherrod Daggett.” Gasps around the table.
Over a dozen faces were staring up at me, most of them in fear. The room had grown so quiet I could almost hear a bead of sweat dripping down the sweating man’s temple. I looked to Quinn, but his dark eyes were impassive. Even Illana’s face gave away nothing.
“But I am not my father. We are not our parents.”
The sentence hung in the air, and no one wanted to hear it. One by one they looked away from me, stopped meeting my eyes.
“You can’t keep punishing us for the things our parents did. And you can’t keep manipulating us in hopes that we’ll commit a crime more to your liking. In America, that’s called entrapment.”
“What does this have to do with your charge against Eventide?” one of the woman asked.
“I will not continue to be slandered like this,” Robert spat from the other side of the table. “We will not humor your outbursts any further.”
“I think we will, darling,” Illana said coolly from his side. She turned and addressed the sweating man. “Alexander?”
“I, for one, would like to hear what the boy has to say,” Alexander said. “And I want to know where they learned the spellform they used tonight.”
Ash sank down in her seat a bit. I had a feeling that no matter what happened tonight, they weren’t just going to forget that she knew spells that she hadn’t been legally authorized to know.
“I … ” And then I faltered. This wasn’t like trying to convince a principal not to expel us. This was worse. “We can’t be held accountable for something we didn’t do, unless you hold him accountable for the things he did.”
“And what is that?” Alexander asked.
“He kept the children in their last home and waited until a wraith attacked before he pulled them out. He’s shown a consistent disregard for their lives and health, and each one of you already know it. My grandfather spearheaded the campaign to bring the children here, all under the excuse of seeing what the warlock would do,” Quinn said, both his hands behind his back. “That’s a violation of the law.”
“Bringing us here set into motion whatever Luca was planning,” I added. “The Harbinger that died did so because of the Maleficia. Isn’t he responsible if he makes choices that cost others their lives?”
Quinn didn’t volunteer anything else, and everyone stared at me, waiting.
“Is that everything?” Alexander asked, his fingers steepled in front of him.
I swallowed. “I know that you’ve been lying. All of you. Moonset stopped one of the Abyssals here once, and you covered it up. It’s name was Kore, and everything that Luca did was because the other Abyssals wanted revenge. Which they might have gotten since you brought my family and me here.”
The earlier silence exploded outward, as a dozen of the most powerful witches left in the world were united in a growing din of questions, condemnations, and dismissals. What was most telling, however, was that not one of them was silent.
“ENOUGH!” Robert’s thundering voice boomed across the table, and cut through the commentary like a knife. “Enough,” he repeated, his voice growing quiet but still just as firm. His eyes beaded up from across the table, his earlier contempt replaced with a newly stoked rag
e. “You know nothing,” he spat.
Illana stood up, her back like a steel spike. “The Prince led Moonset down the path to darkness,” she said stiffly.
“Then why does everyone say Robert Cooper and Eventide were the ones to kill her?” Ash demanded.
“Who told you all this?” Robert trumpeted in a moment of quiet. He looked strangely smug all of a sudden.
“Luca,” I replied automatically, my guard up. “Before he died.”
“Convenient,” he replied, dragging out the word. “Although the boy hasn’t died,” he said, clapping his hands together. There was an implicit “yet” at the end of his words.
“What? But you said—”
“We said that your family and the girl were unharmed,” Illana provided. “But Luca Denton’s condition is a bit more … contentious.”
“Another tragedy for that poor family,” one of the women near Illana said under her breath, pressing a handkerchief against her lips.
“I think we’ve heard enough,” Illana said. “It’s clear what must be done, for the safety of our families.”
“Finally, you come to your senses,” Robert muttered. I don’t think he meant for anyone else to hear him, but we all did. “Once we move past the boy’s baseless accusation, we can decide how to proceed with their sentencing.”
“Are you mad?” Illana was taller than her husband, I realized. It was also clear that their marriage wasn’t full of sunshine and crossword puzzles. “You cannot bulldoze this through as you might once have, Robert.”
I started to smile. “The law is the law.”
He didn’t like that very much. “We are the law,” he replied coldly. “You are an inconvenience.”
“But the law protects me. A coven leader has the right, or rather the obligation, to lay a charge of Maleficia if he knows it has merit.” Thank god I read all those books while I was under suspension. “And the charge can’t be dropped just because you don’t like me.”
“Laws can be changed,” he said, his eyes growing more narrow by the moment.
“That’s enough, Robert,” Illana said, sounding exhausted. “The boy is right.” And then I was on the receiving end of that patented Illana Bryer death stare. “Completely inappropriate though he may be, he is also right. You cannot charge him without proving your own guilt. Any crimes he committed only occurred because he was brought to this town, and into contact with these people.”
“What say you?” Alexander asked, looking around the table. “Eventide arranged for the children to be brought here, hoping to draw the warlock out. Which they did, and with minimal casualties. Like it or not, they helped stop the warlock.” And then he waited, but no one else spoke up, no one offering a protest. “I think that’s your answer, Robert.”
Robert Cooper didn’t say anything.
“Then if we’re done here,” Quinn announced, “I’m taking my charges back home. If you plan to interrogate them, you can send someone to the house.” After a moment’s consideration, he added, “Tomorrow. After noon.”
“I’m not done yet.”
Quinn gave me a death glare of his own. “Justin.”
“No. They need to hear this.” I turned from him to address the rest of the Coven leaders. “We’re not them. And you need to stop treating us like we are. Things need to change. We’re not Moonset the next generation.”
Illana cleared her throat. “We’ll take that under advisement. Now then, if that will be all,” she said as she indicated the door.
Quinn led us out of the office, but before I could follow after the others, a hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned, facing Illana.
“You don’t tease the hornet’s nest as much as you destroy it, do you?”
My forehead knotted up, and I glanced back into the conference room to see him staring at the two of us. “I can see why Quinn thinks your husband’s a dick.”
There was choked laughter coming from behind me, but Illana’s face remained smooth. “Robert may not be the most … impartial viewpoint where you all are concerned,” she said, choosing each word carefully, “but he acts as he does out of precaution.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, exhaustion starting to settle in. I don’t know why I thought I could convince Illana, but part of me did.
Her lips thinned. “Don’t overestimate yourselves. You won two victories tonight. But along the way you broke so many rules, violated trusts, and acted completely inappropriately. In my day, children would never speak to their elders like that.”
“Maybe we’ll teach him some manners,” Quinn interjected. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
Illana stared at me, one of those hard stares that made it impossible to look away. “Just remember something,” she said softly. “Your parents did great deeds once, too.”
Thirty-One
“You piteous wastes did not
take my life. I gave it.”
Sherrod Daggett
Final Words
“It’s going to take me at least an hour to wash out my hair,” Jenna said, hand on her hip. The five of us had reunited at the front of the school, staring out the glass doors. Mal’s hair was limp and hanging down over his eyes, and both Cole and Bailey looked wiped out. Bailey had been crying, and even Cole’s eyes were a little red.
But they were together. All four of my siblings. Something inside me loosened, finally seeing for myself that everyone was okay. I looked to my left, and saw that Quinn and Ash had wandered farther down the hall, giving us a moment of privacy.
“I think things are going to be different now,” I said.
Cole looked up from under his bangs. “No more secrets?”
Mal straightened. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe Cole’s got a point. Remember, we’ve got to be in this together.”
Jenna shrugged, sighing. “Do we really have to get all sentimental and in touch with our emotions?”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Bailey laughed.
There was just a moment, where we were all smiling and looking at each other. Then just like that, it was over, and everyone followed in Quinn’s wake. “We’ll see,” I said.
Bailey hung back, grabbing my arm. She was worried, but serious. “It’s not over,” she said.
“What’s not over? We stopped him, Bay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
She bit her lower lip. “I know it’s my fault.” I tried to argue, but for once she didn’t back down. “It snuck inside me, and most of the time it was like I was sleeping, but every once and awhile I’d wake up. I could see, but I couldn’t do anything. But I saw Luca cut himself. I saw him offer the blood. One of them escaped. He’s here now.”
“Who is?”
Her eyes got wide. “The Prince.”
One of the Abyssals had escaped? My heart thudded once—hard—and dropped like there was a sudden influx of gravity. “Are you sure?”
But Bailey didn’t have time to answer. Ash suddenly appeared, and linked her arm through mine. “Come on, hero, I’ll give you a ride home.”
We caught up with the others, who were waiting at the side entrance of the school. Quinn eyed the pair of us, focusing on our entwined arms. “Follow right behind me.”
Ash rolled her eyes. “Right, like I’d kidnap him looking like this. Have you met me? I could do so much better.” Ash dragged me away, heading towards the side entrance while Quinn and Jenna headed for the rear. She dropped her arm the moment we stepped back outside.
“Get rid of it,” she said, turning on me before the door had even finished closing. “Throw it on the roof, in the garbage, I don’t care.”
“Get rid of what?”
She stared up at me. “You know what. I don’t know when you found time to get it out of my car, but if they find it on you, you won’t get to bluff your way out of what the
y do to you.”
The spellbook. Of course. “I left it in your car,” I said, starting to panic. “I didn’t get a chance to sneak it away. They had someone watching us the minute we woke up.” She bit her lower lip, shaking her head. “That’s not funny, Justin. The book isn’t in there. I checked.”
“Then you made a mistake,” I said, moving for the parking lot. Before we even crossed into the actual lot, Quinn’s black SUV approached.
He waited just ahead of us while we got into the car, and though I tried to circumspectly look for the spellbook even with him sitting right in front of us, I didn’t see any sign of it. And I couldn’t start digging under the seat until he pulled away.
“Just drive,” I said, squirming down in my seat and feeling in all the gaps between the seat and the console.
But the book wasn’t there. Neither was the bag I’d brought along with us. All of my stuff was gone. Even Quinn’s athame. “So what happened to it?” Ash said, her voice low as if Quinn would be able to hear her from fifty feet in front of us.
My fingers brushed against something, in the spot where the spellbook had been. Thin, like paper, but harder. I trapped it between two of my fingers and pulled it up. The postcard that had been left in the book.
Something about it didn’t look right. It was still the Golden Gate Bridge, with a glimpse of San Francisco in the background. But it’s not the half of the postcard I had before. I flipped it back over. Two words were written on this half.
Well played.
Another wave of cold swept up my spine. The spellbook was gone. Bailey believed one of the Abyssal Princes had escaped. Sooner or later Robert Cooper was going to pop back up wanting revenge. And Cullen Bridger, the last living link to Moonset, was sending me congratulations.
I glanced across the car at Ash, whose face was screwed up in concentration and exhaustion. It had been a long night, and tomorrow might be longer still.
“I think you owe me a makeup date,” I said.
THE END
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