Page 121 of Blue Moon Mistress

It’s a deterrent spell, meant to drive the unwanted away. As soon as we step out of the maze and into the round room carved out for rituals, it evaporates. This space is filled with spells, lined with plinths and covered in names and incantations scratched into stone. Even as the guys relax behind me, I know it won’t last.

They know we’re not alone. If they didn’t, Johnny would already have cracked a remark about leaving up the Halloween decorations. But the bones here are real.

They know that too.

The coven shows itself in a darkly theatric manner. But I prepped the guys for this too. They know what to be intimidated by. And this isn’t it.

Forming a half circle around us, the cloaked witches are dark shapes against dark stone, and as one they pull back their hoods, revealing themselves to us.

I manage not to roll my eyes.

This is the sort of nonsense that helped me make the decision to leave.

The stratification of the coven is obvious when they do this. The ones we need to pay attention to are in the center.

Renée Dubois, Martha Lourdes, and my mother.

The ones we need to worry about are on the ends.

Morgatta and Selene are among the most powerful in the coven. They were placed closest to us for a reason.

And in between, the witches move outward from center in relation to where they stand within the coven’s outdated ranking system.

A practice that may disappear when the eldest of the group finally move on to the afterlife.

The witches of my mother’s generation don’t outnumber those of mine, but there will always be the deference to age and experience.

It is why Renée is the one ostensibly in charge. She is not the oldest, but she is the most powerful of her generation.

She is the one who steps forward, our inquisitor, but not—ultimately—our judge. The entire coven must decide.

“You know why you are here?” she asks.

“We do.” I don’t offer anything else. I’ll only answer the questions I’m asked.

She watches me for a moment and then, loudly, tells all assembled.

“Scarlette Mathis, daughter and sister of our coven, has bound the spirits of four werewolves to her on a Samhain blue moon.”

From the faces of some of the younger witches, my so-called crime had not been fully disseminated.

Their confusion also told me they weren’t sure why this was a problem.

It was not, after all, a common spell. And most of the witches of my generation probably thought what I’d done was nothing more than an urban legend.

“Furthermore, she has bound their change to her.”

That pronouncement widens eyes that had not been surprised by the first.

I’m certain imaginations have begun to run riot.

Renée turns to me, her cloak spinning around her.

“Why did you do it?” She asks, her dark gaze shifting from me to the men behind me.

“We all know my connection to the coven is symbolic anymore. I will be here if you need me. But I am a solitary witch. I will admit that when I made the decision to perform the spell, it was purely meant for security.

“I may still fall under your protection, with this tie we have, but I live three hours from you. In the immediate, I am no safer because I belong to the coven.”

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