Hallowed Circle (20 page)

“Have you read the Coven’s business minutes? Have you even shown up to a sabbat?”

“No.”

She screeched questions at me in a rapid-fire manner, but there she paused. “What makes you think,” she taunted ruthlessly, “the members of this coven would accept you as their high priestess?”

My face turned to the floor. I felt so damn small in that giant room, like a mouse that had left its hole in the wall and scurried into the middle of the room only to have a big cat leap in front of me. “I don’t.” I felt cold, as if a draft blew over me; I should have left my sweatshirt on.

The Elders began whispering and murmuring to themselves as if they were a mental group in a nursing home. But there was a cadence to it, a rhythm, and I knew it was more than mad ravings.

“The local nominee,” the Eldrenne whispered and her voice silenced the others, “is not indifferent to her coven. She is a solitary, who knows nothing of the coven model.”

My head lifted. She had her palm out to me. No wonder I felt a draft; she was searching my aura. “That is true,” I said. I hoped like hell she couldn’t see things I didn’t want her to see. I centered my thoughts on what experience I did have.

“The acting priestess has nominated a woman who cannot hope to run the coven!” Elspeth cried in outrage.

The Eldrenne’s blind eyes seemed locked on me; her lids narrowed.

I went utterly still.

The Eldrenne gestured dismissively and the cool draft dissipated. “Lydia’s a wise witch. She would never waste her nomination,” the Eldrenne countered. “Tell us,
Persephone Alcmedi, what qualities does Lydia see in you that make you worthy for this honor, despite your weaknesses?”

“I have many strengths,” I said with conviction. “I am well known in my community for my skills with divination and counseling, especially with Tarot. I write a syndicated newspaper column, so I am well aware of local and national views on not only witches, but wæres as well. And I am always learning more about vampires and fairies. I have become something of a champion for the other-than-ordinary community, though admittedly I think that public battle will continue for some time. My long lineage affords me access to several Books of Shadows. I can organize people, set goals, form and implement a plan. I am responsible, fair, and hard-working.” As I spoke, I realized I was getting angry and defensive. I couldn’t help adding, “And I’m wondering why you aren’t asking me about my spirituality and moral compass, which pantheon I prefer, and what elemental quarter-calls I use.”

The Eldrenne laughed; it was a
heh-heh-heh
chuckle. “I think we know what Lydia saw in you,” she said. Her hand returned to her lap and her face dropped down again. It seemed a kind of signal.

Elspeth resumed her questioning. “What is it you hope to accomplish, should you become high priestess?”

I hadn’t thought about answering questions like this. I should have. Now was not the time to be formulating such ideas.

“You are hesitant to share your hopes?”

“No. No. It isn’t that. I just …” I paused again, knowing I was not getting off to a good start. “Vivian
pandered to the kind of witches who are mostly show and talk. I didn’t like that and it kept me rooted in being a solitary. It seemed she snubbed those who wanted to practice the witches’ ways of magic and spirituality.”

Elspeth gestured to indicate the geo-dome. “Her ‘pandering’ paid off well for Venefica Coven.”

“Yes, this facility is an admirable Covenstead.” My hands slipped meekly into my pockets.

“You would snub those curious souls who gave deeply from their personal finances?”

“No, never.” I paused. “I don’t have a grand speech to pitch myself to you. What I know is that most of those who paid for this wanted a place to brag about, a place to be toadied to as they are at their country clubs and spas. Their donations were generous, but they were also strategic tax deductions.” I pulled my hands from my pockets. “Vivian was good at schmoozing the wealthy. But, for the rest … take Mandy, for instance. That girl is a seeker, and she’s thirsty for knowledge. She idolized Vivian, and Vivian took advantage of her. What does Mandy have to show for her loyal service? I’m not sure Vivian taught her anything. Mandy, and those like her, are the future. They are you”—I gestured at the dais—“decades from now. What groundwork is being laid for them? What ethics and standards are they being taught? Any?”

“So ethics and standards are important to you?”

“Yes. Personal responsibility, accountability, and a true sense of kindness. What is a high priestess if not a teacher? What will anyone learn from someone who cares nothing for them?” I hushed myself there. This was not a soapbox. I wasn’t here to preach at the Elders.

“What else is important to you?”

“Justice.” I said it without thinking.

Elspeth raised a white brow at me.

Had I just opened a trap for myself ? Given them a clue I didn’t want them to have?

“Justice,” Elspeth repeated slowly, her expression pensive.

“Curious,” another Elder murmured.

The Eldrenne lifted her blind eyes again.

Suddenly I said, “Someone died here tonight. Aren’t we all feeling the importance of justice?”

“Yes,” the Eldrenne said. “Yes, we are.” Something about the curve of her lips said she was on track with my thoughts. She wasn’t going to be diverted from that course by any attempt of mine to link it to tonight’s crime.

When my interview concluded, I was escorted back to the holding room. Drained and eager for a measure of sleep, I dozed off quickly. My napping filled the better part of an hour. It was enough to find unconsciousness, but not enough to stockpile energy or feel rested. I awoke to Lydia’s voice.

“Contestants!” Lydia called from the doorway. “Witches! Join me in the Great Hall.”

Climbing out of the cot was difficult. It made me feel a little better to see that I was not the only sluggish one. The rest of the group were moving slowly as well.

Holly stood with Lydia. Her scorpion’s number had been the highest drawn, so hers had been the final interview.

“You are drained from a day full of testing and weary with worry over the needless death among us, but rise as the witches you are! Rise with strength, knowing that for what comes next, you will need it.”

Her words inspired us and made us wary. We took our places, forming a line like good kindergartners. And, in childish fashion, Hunter stepped in behind me and whis
pered, “How confident are you about your business plan, Persephone?”

She obviously felt she’d aced the interview test and successfully impressed the buckles off the Elders’ hats. Good for her. But rubbing my nose in it: bad for her. I was tired enough to be easily incensed.

Facing her, I scanned her up and down and said, “Business degree, check. Silver spoon, check. Massive ego, check. All great qualities for a high priestess, don’t you agree? I mean, if they want the trophy-wife version of a leader, you’re in. If they want someone who will do exactly what they are told because of misplaced loyalty to a politically motivated Elder whose ass you must have kissed, you’re in. But what if they want someone who can guide the spiritual and magical development of seekers? That
is
the primary function of a high priestess, unless I’m mistaken. If
that’s
what they’re looking for, then your GPA, your family connections, and your look-at-me-I’m-upper-class makeover are irrelevant. And your get-out-of-my-way-I’m-coming-through attitude? It becomes a hindrance.”

I turned away, relieved to find the line had surged ahead. I got to stride forward with purpose to catch up. In the hallway, Moore and Detrick stopped and watched us as we passed. I heard Lydia call out a reminder that the officers were not permitted in the Great Hall as we conducted the ceremony and testing. I still suspected the police officers’ willingness to let us proceed had more to do with spellcraft than typical procedures.

When we arrived at the stairway to the Great Hall, I realized that Hunter had fallen to the back of the line.

The Elders were already seated on their thrones as we
re-formed our east-west line before the dais. They must have ranked the interviews already. My stomach knotted hard enough to rival the heartache I had successfully been ignoring until that moment. Scolding myself harshly, I concentrated hard on what was about to happen. Best-case scenario: I had to prepare myself for being cut from this without having accomplished my goal of knocking Hunter from the running. Worst-case scenario: the Elders or Eldrenne read or detected my stain and my Lustrata-ness and meant for me to be Bindspoken.

The Eldrenne gestured to her left. “Desdemona.”

The Elder with silver ankhs embroidered on her lapels and cuffs said, “We have chosen, indeed, those who will proceed.” Her voice was shrill and a bit squeaky. She handed a scroll to Lydia, who broke the seal and turned to read.

“In alphabetical order, the five finalists are: Persephone Alcmedi …”

I blinked in surprise, but held on to the sigh that would release my tension. I didn’t want Hunter to know I’d been worried.

Lydia went on. “Lehana Bosico. Hunter Hopewell. Amber Lantz. Maria Morrison. The runner-up is: Holly Price.”

Beside me, a woman whose name was not called shut her eyes and sighed disappointedly. For the first time, I realized my participation was knocking out contestants who truly wanted the job. Someone removed from the running in this round might have dominated in the next one. Then again, if I had beat them out—how qualified were they to start with?

Lydia returned to the end of the dais.

“If your name was not called, please return now to the holding room. Mandy will take you to the secondary holding room where you can rest.”

Five women stepped away from our line and retreated from the Great Hall. We who remained looked at each other and closed ranks a little. I smiled at Lehana, who stood to my left. She grinned back and grabbed my pale hand in her dark one, then reached to take Hunter’s hand on her left. To my right was Maria with the broomstick skirt, and I slid my hand into hers and nodded. In turn, Maria took Amber’s hand and she took Holly’s.

I considered Holly; she’d made it through the second round. Surely her mother would be proud. Surely she was proud of herself. But as runner-up again …

The six of us faced the Elders and, I felt, tried to convey that we were ready for the next test.

Desdemona smiled broadly, showing she was missing her bicuspids. She scooted forward on her throne and her hands shook as she excitedly rubbed gnarled fingers together. She spoke in verse with her strange, high voice and sounded completely insane.

“We have seen you take a written test.
You have plans for the coven, but what comes next
Is my test and in it, we will discover
If you can think on your feet … and if you can govern.”

She stopped there, cocked her head at us, and bit her lip. An odd mannerism. It made me wary.

Her arms shot out, extended to either side, palms
open. I felt the static chill of power being called before me, felt it dancing from the dais as she said,

“Although we be a mourning choir
For the one who has expired
Know that all of thee are liars
But only one in guilt is mired.
And thus the contest we so desire
Shall continue as required
And next my test will transpire
I bid thee now enter, vampires!”

Power spiraled across the Great Hall. As she fisted her hands and jerked them close to her chest, the eastern and western double doors burst open. In the dark of each open entry stood a figure.

From the smell of decay riding the wind that gusted into the hall, Desdemona hadn’t been lying. Vampires.

The Covenstead was protected, like most buildings, with the metaphysical barrier that kept out those with the curse of undeath. The soulless undead couldn’t pass through unless invited in.

Desdemona had made the invitation.

My attention bounced back and forth, completely intent on the as-yet-unrecognizable figures in the doorway. Although obscured, their stature and wide shoulders showed both to be male.

Please don’t be Menessos and Goliath.

The figures stepped from the shadows to the dim interior … and I was relieved to see both were unfamiliar. Of course, this could be even worse: they might sense the
stain upon me and not have any qualms about revealing such information to one and all.

The vampires strode toward the dais. They were handsome men wearing fashionable clothing that combined I’m-hot-and-I-know-it with I’m-going-clubbing-to-find-a-piece-of-ass-worthy-of-me. Not that design and style could say all that alone; it was inherent in the very fabric of their beings. From their squared shoulders to the self-assurance of their gait—everything about them radiated confidence.

They looked us over with what elsewhere would be taken as lascivious intent. One exuded conceit with the lift of his chin and the firm set of his unimpressed mouth. The other made me think of a delighted frat boy who’d just strolled unnoticed into the ladies’ locker room.