Putting on the Witch (26 page)

When I reached the room, I used Antonio's secret knocking code, but Olivia didn't answer the door. Frustrated, I called out, “It's me, Olivia. Open the door.”

“But how can I tell it's you, Molly? You said not to let anyone in.”

“For goodness' sake, Olivia. You know my voice. And I used the witchfinder's secret knock. Open the door.”

Instead of answering, Olivia stuck her head through the portal. “Oh, it
is
you, Molly. I just wanted to make sure.”

She opened the door, and I laughed at her. “Who else did you expect to find out there?”

“I don't know. Who else did you think would try to come in?”

“Good point.”

I didn't have time to tell her about the library being closed before Brian and Dorothy returned. Dorothy's eyes were red, as though she'd been crying. Brian's mouth was tight. I could tell they'd been arguing. A glance from Olivia said she knew too.

“Abdon agreed to a hearing about your spell book with what remains of the council,” Brian said.

“But he made Brian promise to take Makaleigh's seat to get the hearing,” Dorothy said in a voice that quavered. “They want to take him away from us.”

I moved closer to them. “We can't let you go against everything you believe in to get the spell book, Brian. We'll find another way.”

“There isn't time to find another way.” He glanced at Elsie. “She could die before we find another way. I don't have a spell book. Nothing like that was ever handed down to me. Let me do this for you—for the coven. You've been more like my family than my parents or Abdon have ever been. I want to do this, Molly.”

“Once you take the council seat, you'll never be able to give it up,” Olivia said. “Dorothy is right. You'll be lost to us.”

Brian stalked across the floor to Elsie. “I'm not going to be lost. Just because everyone else takes the oath to stay on the council forever doesn't mean I have to.”

“It goes with being sworn in,” I told him. “It's an unbreakable oath, not some casual promise. No one who's sworn that oath has ever left the council.”

“That's one reason it's way past time for a change,” he
said. “Makaleigh knew that, and she was probably killed for it. No one likes change. I get that. But I'm not letting Elsie die because I have to do something I don't want to do. I've lived that way my whole life. It wasn't until I met the four of you that I understood making sacrifices. You could've died taking me away from the sea witch. You didn't even blink. Let me do this and handle the fallout later.”

Olivia and I were silent on the matter. I was sure both of us felt this was more Dorothy's decision than ours. I knew that a relationship between her and a member of the council would be almost impossible. Those marriages were specifically designed to empower the witch on the council. Dorothy would never have that kind of standing in the witch community.

She was crying again, taking out a mottled tissue and trying to stop the tears. “I just found you, Brian. I can't lose you already.”

He went back to her and took her in his arms. “You won't lose me, Dorothy. I swear it right now on a more powerful witch's oath than even the Grand Council requires. I'll still be me, and I'll still love you. But Elsie will be alive, and we'll all leave here when the castle doors open. I need you to tell me it's okay. I need your strength behind me when I go up there and pervert everything I've ever thought was true.”

“Oh, Brian!” She hugged him tightly, crying into his shoulder.

Olivia and I were crying too—Olivia's tears were great drops of ectoplasm sliding down her face.

“All right,” Dorothy finally relented. “But you better be prepared. If you turn into one of those council zombies, I'll turn you into an orange tree or something equally as terrible.”

I mouthed,
Orange tree?
at Olivia, wondering why Dorothy had chosen that form of revenge.

“Oh, she hates oranges,” Olivia whispered.

At least that made sense.

The couple continued to embrace until a knock on the door made them part.

It struck me that we should have simply stayed in the main hall to save everyone the effort of knocking at our door so frequently. Was this what it felt like to be a member of the council with people demanding your time?

Oscar was there. “The council awaits you, sir.”

“Okay.” Brian took a deep breath. “Let's do this thing, ladies.”

Olivia was halfway out the door before I reminded her that she couldn't go to the council meeting. “You don't want to end up in that other place,” I said. “I hear it's bad.”

“Bad?” Olivia demanded. “Yes, it was bad. But I don't want to miss Brian taking his oath on the council.”

“Listen, I've heard that ghosts who are sent to that place can't always come back,” I told her. “You have to stay here with Elsie. We can't take any more chances that we might lose you.”

“Besides,” Dorothy said, taking out her phone. “We can take a video. That's what normal people use when they want to see something over and over again.”

“Like your wedding to Brian?” Olivia smiled.

“Just like that,” Dorothy promised. “But even if we have to get married in the cave under Smuggler's Arcane, you're going to be there.”

“Oh, honey.” Olivia started crying again. “You make me so proud to be your mother.”

“We have to go,” Brian said.

Oscar led the way down the old stone halls. I followed him while Dorothy was at Brian's side, holding his hand. It felt like we were saying good-bye to him forever. I kept telling myself that he was right. It didn't have to be the way it had always been. Brian could escape his oath and come back to us, come back to Dorothy.

We were led into a large, stark stone room where each of the remaining council members was seated behind a long table. It was nothing as elaborate as their usual meeting place, but the rough stone and rustic furniture made me more fearful than grand elegance would have.

Members of this council had ruled witches around the world for hundreds of years—through the dark times of the Inquisition when admitting that you were a witch could be a painful death sentence. It made me understand why Makaleigh had insisted on protecting us from anything like it happening again. There was tradition here—and respect for magic—even if not always for those of us who practiced it.

We stood before them silently. Brian was glaring defiantly at his grandfather even though he planned to take him up on his offer. Dorothy kept her gaze on the stones at her feet. I studied each of the council members, wondering how they'd all come together. I wasn't as afraid of them as I had once been with the outsider magic I carried.

A large gavel came down on the table—and I realized it was a stone table. There appeared to be red stains on it, possibly from a less civilized time when sacrifices were made to accomplish magic. Realizing what I was looking at made me shiver. Intuition surged through me. There was more to this than simply Brian taking his place among them, and something bad was going to happen.

Defining bad is always difficult. Was it the kind of bad that we should run from now or that we could get through—like a dental appointment?

Oscar was wearing a black robe and standing alongside the council table with a runed staff that would have fascinated Olivia. There were many intricate carvings, paintings and stones set in it, up and down the wood.

“The Grand Council of Witches is in session!” He brought the staff down hard on the stone. It reverberated through the room.

“Why have you come before us this day?” Abdon asked.

Brian stepped forward. “To request the return of my coven's spell book, which is in the witches' library.”

“We do not send out books from the library,” council member Owen Graybeard reminded him.

Joshua Bartleson agreed. “This is not a lending library but a research tool for witches.”

“Request denied.” Zuleyma Castanada put it quickly behind them.

Dorothy looked up. “What? I thought we had an understanding. This might be the only way we can save our sister.”

Brian laid his hand on her arm and addressed the council again. “I am Brian Fuller, son of Schadt and Yuriza Fuller. Grandson of Abdon Fuller. I request a putting aside of the law.”

“And why do you ask this of us?” Abdon said.

Of course, I realized. There had to be some showmanship and bartering for the spell book. It was, after all, our governing body. Strange how much the ancient council was like modern-day politics.

“I request Makaleigh Veazy's vacant seat on the council, which gives me the right to change the rules in this instance.” Brian's voice was fierce. It echoed around the chamber with his strength as a man and as a witch.

“We acknowledge your request.” Abdon looked so relieved that he almost smiled. “The sitting members of the council will vote on your appeal.”

“No!” a surprised voice called out from the back of the room.

We turned to look, as did everyone else. Schadt and Yuriza—Brian's parents—were standing behind us. They were both dressed in gorgeous robes and carried their tools of witchcraft. Schadt had a wand, which meant he was an air witch, like Brian and Olivia. Yuriza carried the thinnest sword I'd ever seen. It was marked with inscriptions up and down the blade, making her a fire witch, like Elsie.

Abdon stared at his son. “You plan to challenge Makaleigh's successor, your own son?”

As was usual in the case of back-and-forth confrontation, even in a good tennis match, heads swiveled between Schadt and Abdon.

“Yes, Father,” Schadt said. “It should be
my
seat on the council. I have waited patiently for this moment. I won't see it given away to a young man who is fickle and doesn't care about our traditions.”

I wished that Elsie could have been there. I was sure she would have had some appropriate response to Schadt's sudden claim to Makaleigh's chair. Some of her past remarks came to mind and brought a smile to my lips—hardly appropriate in the tense moment, and yet they made me feel better.

“I'm not fickle, Dad,” Brian responded. “And I have as much respect for our traditions as I need to have to get the job done. When did you get so ambitious?”

“Silence, both of you!” Abdon's voice thundered toward us.

“This is highly irregular,” council member Erinna Coptus protested. “I thought it was all decided but for the vote.”

Bairne Caelius stood. He was a large, burly man who always wore the clothing from his time, which included dozens of animal skins. He had a full beard and a rough manner that no witchcraft or years on the council had changed.

“Is it to be a challenge, then? I believe Schadt has a right to physically challenge Brian for the seat.”

He said it in a way that made me think he'd known this was going to happen. A friend of Schadt's, no doubt.

“It has been a very long time since a new member of the council was seated,” Larissa Lonescue said. “We are in mourning for our past member. Perhaps this is not the appropriate time for either a challenge or a new member.”

“And yet, Sister,” Rhianna Black added, “not only is Makaleigh gone but also Hedyle, though she may not be
dead. The council needs a new member. It has been a long time, but surely new blood is appropriate.”

“Get on with it,” Sarif Patel ventured. “We all know that there are rules that govern this situation. Schadt and Brian must duel to decide the victor and a new member of our council.”

Bairne laughed heartily. “That's right. To the victor go the spoils. A battle to the death.”