by Lucy True
She dipped her gaze and Burgundy followed the direction of it to see how Charlotte traced a crack in the sidewalk with her toe. So cute. And she loves me. She could have any woman in the world and she chooses to be with me.
“Hey.” Burgundy curled her fingers around Charlotte’s chin and forced her gaze up once more. “I am comfortable just being me and you’re a huge part of that.”
As she leaned in to press her lips to Charlotte’s, Burgundy knew Charlotte was one of many reasons for her to never give up. Rock Grove, her aunt, and the Witches Council were going to have to accept her as she was.
Chapter Eighteen
Burgundy blinked at the way the charm refracted the light into countless brilliant rainbows throughout her bedroom. Aleksandr had given her the crystal last night as a birthday present, begging her not to let her aunt take her to the Witches Council.
“Warlocks are far more powerful than witches and thus witches are frightened of them,” he’d told her. “They won’t listen to you, no matter what you say, especially if they see that your potential as a magick user is more significant than they realize. And if you see it, they’ll see it.”
“I have to go,” she’d answered. “Running away and hiding does nothing for me, or for any of us. Maybe if they see that I’m someone they can trust, the daughter of one of their own Finders—”
He’d cut her off with a guttural noise, followed by, “The Council doesn't trust warlocks, no matter who they are related to. They never will. Not even tiny ones as cute as you, Little Red. They will treat you with contempt, distrust, as the lowest of the low. If you won’t listen to me, I can tell Mr. Knight to order you not to go.”
Burgundy hadn’t been able to bite back her scoff. “He’s my boss, not my keeper. He can’t tell me what to do. Please, understand that if I want to stay in Rock Grove, I have to do this. Otherwise, they’ll come for me and force me to appear before them anyway. Better to go now and willingly, so I can keep everything I’ve got in this town, than to run and hide, and lose the people I love.”
Aleksandr had compressed his lips, as if holding back a response. Yet, even still, Burgundy knew what he wanted to say, what thought flitted through his mind. You will lose them, regardless.
She’d clutched the charm, furling her fingers around it, whispered, “I have to try,” and kissed him on the cheek. “I think I’ll miss you most of all, Scarecrow. Thank you for this. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
In the morning light, her promise to return didn’t ring true. Every dire warning Alek had voiced came back to her, haunting her memory and keeping her usual bravado from swelling within her. She could run. She could run and hide and never look back. The Firebrand Syndicate would welcome her with open arms, at least according to Aleksandr. She could go to them and learn more, enough that she needn’t fear anyone, let alone the Witches Council.
But in doing that, she would exile herself from Rock Grove. And this wonderful town, this place full of amazing and diverse people, was the one thing she couldn’t give up. They’d stood by her through thick and thin. She would do the same for them.
Aunt Iris called her name. Burgundy gave the charm another squeeze. It wasn’t a talisman of any sort. No magick was contained within it, no spell to protect her or even give her luck. All it offered was some comfort, knowledge that she had friends like her. And goodness knew she would need understanding warlock friends after today.
She went downstairs to find Iris already standing at the door, purse clutched in both hands. As usual she wore a Victorian mourning dress, black to signify how deeply she felt her husband’s demise so many years ago. Heck, Burgundy hadn’t even known her aunt’s husband, Neil Hart, but he must have been the love of her life for her to continue to honor him like this.
“Are you ready to go?” Iris looked her up and down, gaze scrutinizing every inch of Burgundy. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you really going to wear that to your declaration ceremony?”
“What’s wrong with it?” Burgundy looked at her outfit. She dressed the way she would at work, in a vintage dress she picked up at the local thrift store. It was navy blue and had a lovely frill around the hem and cap sleeves. It bared her tattoos, but she plucked her black cardigan off the coat stand by the front door to cover them. As far as she was concerned, the dress was tasteful and conservative. It also happened to be cute. Nobody could fault her for wanting to look good, could they?
Aunt Iris tilted her chin up another fraction, nose in the air. “The Witches Council prides itself on tradition. You do not want to appear as if you’re making a mockery of all that they hold dear.”
No, of course not. Because Burgundy’s very existence was something she’d already been told would make a mockery of everything the Witches Council held dear. Apparently, the clothes would be the icing on the big middle finger cake.
Burgundy shrugged and gestured toward the door. “I left my witch robes at the dry cleaner. We don’t want to be late.” Iris might expect her to adhere to some mysterious dress code, but Burgundy wasn’t about to give in to her pearl-clutching. Clothes were clothes. If she’d intended to saunter into that Council ceremony naked, then maybe she could have seen her aunt’s point. But this was absolutely ridiculous.
Even more ridiculous was the fact that rather than simply teleport there, which was something she knew her aunt could do, they got in the car and drove out of town. Burgundy was sure that the council didn’t hold its meetings anywhere in Nebraska. Her aunt must have seen her quizzical glance, because she shrugged and said, “There are designated places, portals to pass through to reach the Council.”
Unlike the way Burgundy could shift at will from the library to wherever she chose? Witchcraft was some weak-sauce magick compared to what she’d learned to do. But she nodded and said, “I guess that’s one way to keep people out.”
“No, my dear, it’s not that they want to keep people out. It’s that they want to ensure that only the right people come in.”
“Yeah,” Burgundy drawled with a roll of her eyes, “totally not the same thing. You’re right. How silly of me.”
Iris pursed her lips. In profile, she looked like she’d just tasted a sour candy or sucked on a lemon. Burgundy stifled a laugh and watched the passing scenery. She adored the cornfields, the rivers, the green and amber spaces between the buildings. Even though they were heading north toward Omaha, those spaces were still numerous. She’d always loved her home. It was where her heart was, no question about it.
Could she have moved to a big city, a place with a larger population where maybe she could simply fade into the crowd, never to be noticed? Maybe. After all, she was an adult and she didn’t have to live with her aunt if she didn’t want to.
But running away from home, even the simple act of moving out on her own, would now be construed as an admission of guilt on her part when she had done nothing wrong. In fact, the only thing holding her back from doing it was the cold spread of fear that crawled under her skin. Fear that if she disappeared, the Finders would decide she’d done it for a nefarious reason and come looking for her.
And then, of course, there was Charlotte. She could never ask Charlotte to put up with a girlfriend who would only pop in and out when it was safe to do so. Or to run away with her, far from the town where they’d established their lives. It wasn’t fair to her.
Better to face the Council now, tell them what they wanted to hear, and get it done and over with. So, she let Aunt Iris drive her to her fate, whatever it may be.
****
WITHOUT ANY PRECONCEIVED notions of what the Witches Council looked like, Burgundy was neither impressed nor disappointed to find it resembled the house used in Downton Abbey. There was nothing pretty about the stark, Jacobethan architecture with its terra-cotta brickwork and imposing turrets.
Iris strode through the front door without a glance back. Burgundy trailed after her and tried not to gape in her wake. She supposed she shouldn’t be that surprised that the Witches Council
conducted their business in such a traditional-looking place, since they preferred to keep their attitudes in the dark ages.
“Mrs. Hart, welcome. So, today is the big day,” remarked a chipper female voice.
“Yes it is, Margaret. I have Burgundy with me.” Iris wagged her fingers behind her, as if gesturing for a small child to catch up.
Burgundy hurried into place next to her and grinned at the woman behind the large desk dominating the foyer. “Here I am, your sacrificial lamb.”
The woman peered at her over a pair of half-moon spectacles, then flicked her gaze back to Iris, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. “She’s an interesting one, isn’t she? You know how Mr. Bloom feels about that.”
“Mr. Bloom? Any relation to you and Lily?” She already knew the truth, but she couldn’t help but give her aunt a hard time about it. With the stifling tension in the air, Burgundy thought she’d scream. Not to mention the nepotism still didn’t set well with her, any more than this entire charade did.
“Please, show some respect,” Iris said through gritted teeth. “Lily is your mother and you should refer to her appropriately.”
“Oh yeah. I’ll remember that next time she drops in to kiss the boo-boo on my knee.” She knew her remarks were beyond rude, but what could Burgundy possibly say to that? The woman had abandoned her twenty-six years ago and getting a stark reminder of that on her birthday, of all days, wasn’t exactly going to endear her to anyone. Nor had this hot streak of rebellion surfaced until it hit her that she was about to do this. For real.
“Right, then.” The woman at the desk shuffled some paperwork and then offered a clipboard to Burgundy. “Please fill this out and we’ll be with you shortly.”
Burgundy bit back another sarcastic response. She could get through this – fill out the paperwork, stand in front of the Council, declare the domestic path, and leave. In a way, it wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. She had some spark of witchcraft in her, first of all. Just because she couldn’t channel or use the power without struggling, that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.
This wasn’t a surrender or concession, she reminded herself. It was what she had to do to stay in Rock Grove, to keep the Finders off her ass, and Charlotte in her life. One little lie and no more trouble. That ought to come as a relief, right?
She found a waiting-room style chair across the foyer and sank into it, clipboard in hand. The paper on top was a print-out listing her name, date and place of birth, residence, education, and employment. There were other notes of personal interest, too, like her medical history and grades.
“Really?” she asked, checking off the boxes that confirmed the information was true and correct. “They know I got a D in my twelfth grade World History class? Does that also count against me or is the dress a more egregious offense?”
“I hate seeing you like this.” Iris sat next to her, face still looking puckered and lined. And, when Burgundy peered closer, terribly tired. She tried to muster some sense of compassion for the woman, but as her gaze dipped back to the paper, knew it was futile.
“Yeah? Well get used to it. The sooner these people are out of my life, the better.” Burgundy added another slash to yet another blank box.
“They’ll never be out of your life, which is why this is so important.”
Burgundy clutched the pen, wondering if she could break it in two if she really tried. “You know, Iris, I’m sick of hearing that. Let me get through this. I’ll tell them what they want to hear and wash my hands of the whole ordeal. Oh, and after today, I’m moving out.”
“Why?”
She closed her eyes and reminded herself of all the things Aleksandr had said over the past week. They took away her power with words alone. And only she could get it back.
The witches. The warlocks. Which way should she go? Where did she belong? And what could she possibly say that wouldn’t get her in a world of trouble?
“I’m an adult. I’m too old for this crap.” She turned to look at Iris and her stomach lurched a little. This woman had raised and cared for her, protected her, and now Burgundy was rewarding her with resentment. She couldn’t help it, though. Iris might have her best interests at heart, but she’d also taken everything away from her. Everything about her personal identity.
Iris nodded, skin pale. “If that’s how you feel, I have to accept that. But I’m glad you accepted this, first.”
“Acceptance?” Burgundy barked out a laugh. “I’d hardly call it that. I’m doing what I have to do to keep the Council out of my life. When I find my own place, maybe you can visit someday. But Lily will never be welcome there, ever.”
For the first time in her life, Burgundy’s heart clenched at the way her aunt looked at her. All the times Iris appeared disappointed or even upset with her didn’t compare to the hurt skating across her aunt’s features. She brought it upon herself and whatever happens today, I can’t be a part of this charade once it’s all said and done.
“Burgundy, please understand, I did my best to protect you,” Iris whispered. “You don’t know what they do to warlocks. I couldn’t let that happen to you. Can’t you accept that?”
“I can accept anything, except being forced to be something I’m not.” Burgundy squeezed her eyes shut and then made the last checkmark required of her before signing her name. “You want me to walk in there and tell them I’m something I’m not, relegate myself to the lowest rung on the witchy ladder, all to satisfy egos and laws, and other things that are ridiculous. I’ll do it and then you won’t have to put up with me anymore. After all, I owe you the same courtesy. You protected me, so I’ll protect you by getting out of your life.”
When Burgundy turned to look fully at her aunt, pain spiked in her chest again. But it didn’t matter. They’d come too far to turn back now and she’d hit her breaking point.
A door creaked open behind the desk and a man in a long, black robe stepped into the foyer. “Burgundy Jane Hart,” he intoned.
She rose to her feet, clipboard clutched in both hands. She would walk into that ceremony and give them exactly what they wanted to hear.
But she’d be damned if she’d live that lie.
Chapter Nineteen
The Council’s main chamber was exactly how she’d imagined it would be after her first sight of the building – stark and unwelcoming, even under the warmly glittering lights. A converted ballroom held a raised, roundtable desk with an opening for people to step into the center. Very United Nations. The perfect place to negotiate, interrogate, or intimidate.
Burgundy handed her clipboard off to the man in the robe and scanned the witches seated behind the desk. Finders in plain black suits bracketed either end of the circular desk, one familiar to her.
Rather than acknowledge her mother, she kept her gaze focused straight ahead, on the man at the center of it all. Without nameplates in front of the Council members, she had no idea who was who. But since he wore a black robe and white wig in the style of old-time judges, while no one else did, Burgundy decided ye olde tyme wytch must be the one leading the proceedings.
Her grandfather, perhaps. She squinted and tried to find a family resemblance between him, Lily, and Iris. Hard to tell from here, though when he tilted his head at the right angle, she saw that he had green eyes, like her mother.
The man glared down at her, perhaps looking for the same qualities, and then at the clipboard handed to him. “State your name for the record.”
Burgundy blinked. “It’s on the paper in front of you.”
A low gasp rose from the Council members and the man’s eyes narrowed. “State your name for the record,” he repeated. Apparently, he liked giving orders. Or Burgundy was throwing off the entire proceeding.
Thank you, Aunt Iris, for coaching me to get through this. Not.
She drew in a breath and announced, “My name is Burgundy Jane Hart.”
“Please state your age.”
“Twenty-seven as of today, so Happy Beltane Birthday to me.
” Burgundy considered doing a little tap dance, but thought better of it. No way would anyone in here find her jazz hands amusing.
“What is your occupation?”
Seriously? Was he going to demand that she repeat every question she’d already confirmed on the paper? “I’m a library supervisor for the town of Rock Grove, Nebraska.”
“Do you understand that a witch declares her path at the age of twenty-one, unless granted an exemption?”
“Yeees...” Burgundy couldn’t help but draw out the word. This was borderline ridiculous. She’d come here to spit out a quick little lie and move on with her life. “Hey, does everyone who comes in here get the third degree or am I today’s lucky winner?”
Once again, the man’s brows knit until it looked like a massive, white caterpillar had taken up residence on his face. “I’d have expected Iris Hart to instruct you on proper behavior in the presence of the Witches Council. Apparently, I was mistaken.”
Burgundy balled her fists at her sides and tried not to smile. One point for me.
“The point of this is to ensure you understand our laws and that we understand why this took you so long,” the man continued. “Specifically, why did you defer declaring your path until your last possible opportunity?”
“I’m sure my aunt communicated that to you years ago when I graduated from high school. I was in college and that came first.” The grim satisfaction that’d initially filled her now gave way to icy fingers sliding up and down her spine.
“She did, however you must still answer to us.”
“I don’t see why, but if you expect me to justify myself, then you’ll be disappointed.” Burgundy glanced at the people staring down at her, each with similar frowns of disapproval. “Look, I graduated from high school, went to college, and then pursued my master’s degree in library science. That doesn’t make me a monster or a threat to your precious traditions. It makes me a modern woman who’s decided her entire identity isn’t completely wrapped up in witchcraft.”