Page 164 of The Demon's Spell

Claudia gasped. “Miriam’s Chosen is not a cult! This is our culture, our way of life.”

“We already have a coven,” I shot back. “You’re trying to form a new one.”

“That’s exactly what we need,” Lilian spat. “All those who want to restore order will join the Chosen. By the time this is over, we will know who stands with Mother Miriam and who doesn’t.”

“So why don’t you just arrest me already?” I asked. “Better yet, why not kill me?”

“And make you a martyr?” Lilian scoffed. “Your hanging would not satisfy the coven. You won’t die until every last member of the coven has turned against you. Don’t you see what you’ve done, Nadine? You’re the enemy now, and it is our duty to protect the coven.”

Shadows fell over Lucas and me, and hands landed upon us. Men in dark cloaks had approached us from behind—more Executors, I was certain. I didn’t get a chance to defend myself before someone slapped noxite cuffs onto my wrists. I felt my energy drain, and no matter how much I struggled to regain control of my magic, I couldn’t break through the magic cuffs.

“Get off of them!” Grant cried. He reached for one of the Executors, but he got an elbow to the nose and landed on his back. Talia rushed to his side.

I screamed and tried to break free of the men, but they were too strong. Lucas struggled from beside me, but three guys just as big as he was held him still. The Executors dragged us on stage, and they forced Lucas and me to stand beside Everly.

“More apostates!” Cody spat. “These people are young and poisoned by the ways of the world!”

“You’re, like, two years older than me,” Lucas said flatly.

Cody swatted him upside the head. It looked like it had really hurt. Cody smirked as he circled the three of us. “Tell me, Priestess Nadine,” he said into the microphone. “Do you believe in Miriam’s Chosen? Will you follow the Goddess in this new revelation?”

I gritted my teeth. I could lie, get us all off this stage, play my part—survive.

But they would find someone to take my place, another innocent to hang or burn. What was survival if I was living a lie? Lucas and Everly thought it, too. I could tell in the firm expressions they gave, telling me to stand firm in my truth.

Cody shoved the microphone into my face, and I answered calmly, “I do not believe this is the way. The priestesses wish for you to give up your rights so they can use your magic to annihilate the fae. The fae could be our allies. There is no need for this war!”

Cody pointed a finger at me, and his words echoed across the square. “She defies the revelation! She defies Mother Miriam!”

“Nadine’s right!” Lucas shouted. “I used to be prejudiced against the fae, too, but then we met them. They’re not all bad.”

“Not bad!?” Cody barked. “If we do not unite as Miriam’s Chosen, the fae will kill us! Anyone who sides with the fae is a traitor to our people. Give yourself up to Mother Miriam. Surrender to her will.”

“We saved a fae’s life, and they saved ours in return,” Lucas said.

“You are allies with the fae!” Cody accused. “It was you who let the fae in to hang Lena!”

“No, we didn’t,” I insisted.

“Burn them!” someone shouted.

Grant and Talia pushed their way through the crowd. Grant jumped on stage and yanked the microphone out of Cody’s hands. “Witch hunts are not the answer! We must come together and—”

“Don’t listen to him!” someone in the crowd yelled. “He’s only half-witch, just like that fraud priestess!”

I couldn’t place who had said it, but the voice sounded young. It had to be someone from school.

“They’re a burden to the coven,” someone else added. “Half-witches are sick because they’re cursed. They don’t belong.”

They were talking about our chronic illnesses, which were common among witches with non-Miriamic parents. Our human genes didn’t play well with our magic, but that didn’t make us any less Miriamic. Our magic was just as strong as theirs. Stronger, even, and I had proved that time and again.

“We shouldn’t be paying for your medical care,” a woman piped up. “You drive up the prices for everybody. If you’re only half-witch, you should only get half the support.”

“They should get nothing!” Ryan added. “They weren’t born here! They aren’t one of us.”

“I was born here,” Grant spat into the microphone. “I do belong.”

“You’re not Miriamic,” Ryan accused. “You’re a mutt.”

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