Page 2 of Rites of Passage

Heat flushed through Bryony.Has Karin lost her mind?!

She pushed her chair back and rose to her feet, Penley dropping to the floor with an anxious meow.

“Did I hear you correctly?” Bryony said in a dangerously quiet voice. “You want Azazel’s daughter, the most powerful witch on this planet, to be a slave to the High Council? Toyou?!”

Her last words came out a roar.

Karin shrugged at her reaction. “Come now. Slave is a bit of an exaggeration. She will be in our employ.” She smiled condescendingly. “Why, we’ll even pay her a salary and call her queen.”

A gnashing noise reached Bryony. A muscle jumped in Abraham’s jawline where he stood by her chair. The sorcerer might have been antagonistic to Mae when she first came to the New York coven, but he’d had no choice but to acknowledge her, especially after witnessing her magic. Mae was one of their people now and he would gladly lay down his life for her even were she not the Witch Queen.

Bryony drew a slow, steady breath, the triumphant light in Karin’s eyes telling her she’d fallen for the witch’s bait.

Barbara was right. That woman’s a snake. I can’t let her rile me.

Charlotte spoke before Bryony could resume her argument.

“You seem to be forgetting something, Karin.” The Atlanta coven witch had laid her knitting down and was looking steadily at the camera, her normally kind voice holding just a hint of steel. “The enemy of the magic community is the Sorcerer King, not the Witch Queen. Do not make a foe of the only one who can save us.”

Karin’s expression grew pinched, the color on her cheekbones broadcasting her irritation at the older witch’s subtle admonition. Her lips curved, the motion more a smirk than a smile. “Theonlyone who can save us? You don’t seem to have much faith in the current generation of witches and sorcerers, Charlotte.” She cocked her head to the side, confidence blazing from every line of her body. “I suspect we are infinitely more powerful than the people who last fought the Sorcerer King.”

Abraham’s eyes widened. The aide’s expression told Bryony he was thinking the exact same thing as she was.

The San Francisco High Priestess was seriously deluded if she thought any of them had a chance against the Sorcerer King. From what they’d witnessed a few weeks ago, even his heir Oscar Beneventi could wipe out an entire coven with a dozen of his acolytes and demons if he so wished.

It had taken Mae’s awakening for them to finally understand the reason for the immense power behind all the Sorcerer Kings that had existed through the ages. When one had the backing of an Archduke of Hell, there was little mere humans could do to stand in their path, even if they did possess magic in their souls.

Bryony had yet to reveal this singular truth to the High Council.

Ephra blew out a sigh, her frustration at the turn the meeting had taken clear. “Look, let’s just meet the woman first. We can’t rush through decisions that may affect the future of the entire magic community. Bring Mae Jin to the annual covenstead, Bryony. That’s an order.”

Bryony opened her mouth to protest. The screen went black.

She scowled. “Dammit all to Hell! I can’t believe she cut me off!”

Penley twined around her legs, his magic warming her flesh. She picked up the familiar and petted him, the motion soothing her nerves. A clink reached her ears.

Abraham was pouring her a brandy from the drink cabinet. The sorcerer paused, served himself a glass, and crossed the room to hand her the drink.

“That went well,” he grunted.

Bryony’s dark mood lifted as she sipped her brandy. Abraham had grown a lot more relaxed in the time he’d been working with her. Though he always showed her the respect she was due in public, they’d long since treated each other as friends in private. She hid a dry smile behind her glass. Four years ago, the very notion of drinking in her presence would have made the young sorcerer faint in horror.

A hollowness filled her chest, the matter at hand weighing her down once more.

“It could have been worse.” She sighed. “I suspected they’d want to meet with her as soon as possible.”

“Still, the Annual Grand Meeting is hardly the place for that,” Abraham grumbled. “It’ll be difficult to patrol with so many people around.”

Bryony could see the cogs turning in the aide’s head. They’d already made all the necessary arrangements to attend the covenstead in three days. He was no doubt calculating where to put Mae in the equation and whom to recruit to guard her.

They were both painfully aware that the Witch Queen was more than capable of taking care of herself. But the ongoing threat to Mae and her family was something the New York coven could not tolerate. Bryony knew Abraham harbored the same regrets she still did about what had happened to Mae’s sister Ryu and Ye-Seul Hwang, their grandmother. They hadn’t anticipated the swiftness with which Oscar would try and take advantage of Mae’s only weakness.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of Vedran Borojevic, the sixth Sorcerer King, and Barquiel, the demon and fallen angel who was once the ninth leader of the Grigori.

I won’t let those bastards and their servants run amok in my city.

She looked at the clock. “Isn’t Mae late? She said she’d be here by lunchtime.”

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