Page 10 of Home Is Where the Witch Is
Declan nodded his agreement, as they both went back to listening to the candidate’s speech. Medea, it seemed, was warming to her topic.
“I would see these creatures returned to the forests and crypts where they belong,” she declared, bringing a fist down passionately to thump the podium she was standing behind. Her gaze traveled briefly over her fellow candidates, lingering on Aata and Alain. “They should be pushed back from having a hand in our politics, or indeed in our very existence.”
At this statement, a fair few witches in the crowd gave hearty cheers. To say Rosie was shocked was an understatement. Given the applause Dracula had just received, it was a disrespectful line of speech. She looked over at Chaoxiang and waited until she managed to catch his eye. The slow blink of acknowledgement he gave her made Rosie feel a little better. She had confidence her friend and colleague would ensure this prejudiced type of speech didn’t get too long in the tooth.
“If elected to the chair, I would beyourrepresentative for change. For truth. For the purity of our kind. And, most of all, for our futures together.”
Medea gave a small perfunctory bow that gave Rosie the distinct impression she was a woman not used to bowing for anyone. A few witches gathered in the space cheered her on, but there were a good deal who stayed silent too. That gave Rosie some hope, and she took a deep breath at Medea excused herself and Alain took her place at the podium. His smile was like lightning striking—fast and devastating.
“Most of you know me already,” he began. His delivery was so different to Medea’s that it set them apart like chalk and cheese. He placed a hand to his heart, a metal ring on his middle finger glinting in the light. “But for those of you who don’t, I want it to be perfectly clear that I believe in honesty. I am Alain D’Louncrais. I’m the culmination of a long line of witches and a strong werewolf bloodline, which gives me a rather unique perspective on Mademoiselle Florakis’ promises to you all just now.”
So he was both a witch…anda werewolf? Rosie’s eyes widened at the possibility. She’d known there were familiars and shifters, but she’d never met an honest-to-goodness werewolf. At least until today. It explained a few things about Alain, and intrigued her greatly.
“Are we not flesh and blood—like you?” Alain continued, speaking with a passion that punctuated his words. “Do we not care, cry, and love—like you? While yes, part of me is wolf and born to a pack—are we witches not also born to a pack? Do we not also look out for our own, govern our own? Is not that why we are all ‘ere today? To ensure that the Council continues to work toward the best possible future for witchkind?
Many of those who had cheered for Dracula also cheered for Alain and thank goodness, Rosie thought. She would have hated to have been part of a Council who was representing a bunch of narrow-minded bigots. But Medea was on the sideline with a face as dark as thunder, and Rosie couldn’t help but make her own personal choice for the European Line’s new representative right then and there.
Alain looked into the crowd confidently, ignoring any naysayers. “If elected to this chair, I would operate with honesty. Integrity. Loyalty. I would bring all of my wolf qualities together with my magic and strong morals to ensure that Europe’s interests were always represented and heard by the Council.AllEurope’s interests,” he added to another round of cheers. “Not simply those who are descended from deity consorts or witch-royalty.”
At this conclusion, Alain gave a deep and respectful bow to all those present, lowering his head in a gesture Rosie remembered seeing in movies. It was usually given when someone wanted to show a marked respect for another person, and by presenting such a bow to the crowd, Alain had definitely marked himself as a man of the people.
Rosie looked down the line of Council witches to see if she could gauge their reactions. Declan looked like he was still annoyed by Medea’s speech. Emperia had straightened in her chair to apparently give Alain her undivided attention. Hella was fanning herself with her hand.
As Alain left the stage, Chaoxiang went back to the podium. “Thank you to Ms. Florakis and Mr. D’Louncrais,” he said, his face impressively impassive. “We will now hear from the candidates for Australia—Tya Yarran and Aata Taylor.”
Tya was tall and lithe, with smooth dark skin. Her hair was long, black, and luscious, cascading over her right shoulder in an onyx waterfall that only added to her natural beauty. She moved the way Rosie imagined a water spirit might move, with a fluid grace that seemed to capture her whole body. She smiled shyly as she approached the podium, and when she spoke her voice was that of a woman who seemed used to weighing her words very carefully.
“I’m Tya,” she began, calmly regarding the crowd. “I didn’t come here to brag or make false promises. I came here to tell you that I’m conscious of the way our land is struggling. Of how hard it is for the trees to breathe. The way our animals are finding it difficult to survive. I want to be an advocate for them, because by sheltering our environment we will all flourish—together. Being part of the Council of Witches will let me give a voice to the voiceless. And I’m asking you to give me the chance to do that.”
She gave a small nod of recognition to the people who applauded her speech, and she left it there.Short and sweet,Rosie thought.Clever lady.The next dude might find that to be a hard act to follow.
Aata was an absolute bear of a man. Although he was shorter than both Declan and Alain, he was twice their width in every respect. His bulk seemed hard-earned, and he was more muscle than fat Rosie noticed, like he was used to being out working with his hands in the woods. Aata's brown hair was long and scooped back from his face before it was worked into long dreadlocks that he had tied together in a top-knot above his head. His tribal tattoos snaked up his arms in intricate details, curling up his neck into his full, bushy beard.
“Kia ora,” he grinned good-naturedly, giving the crowd a brief wave.
Rosie’s brows raised at the change in his personality since he had passed by them earlier.
“I’m Aata, and I’m here to represent New Zealand,” he added. “For many years now, we’ve been part of the Line of our Aussie cousins. But our land is very different to theirs and while we experience a lot of the same struggles—” he nodded in acknowledgement to Tya, “—we have unique issues as well. Which is why during this election, I’m asking for New Zealand to have its own Line and its own seat on the Council.”
A murmur ran through the crowd like wildfire at the proposal. It was such an unusual, bold request. Rosie really admired Aata for coming all this way to make his case in person, and effectively create a new type of representation for the witches of that region. Tya, although surprised, seemed very pleased. If Aata had his way, it meant that they would both find their way onto the Council.
For Rosie’s part, she thought having them both would be fabulous.
“The Council will need to confer as to whether or not we allow this,” Chaoxiang announced respectfully. “We will convene and return to you within half an hour. Please take this time to refresh yourselves. The nomination ceremony is momentarily adjourned.”
“Well?”Declan asked, glancing around at his fellow Council members. “What do we all think?”
They had removed themselves from the crowd and holed up inside a small room on the mezzanine floor of the sugar mill. Rosie supposed it might have once been a foreman’s office or similar. It still smelled faintly of tobacco and something else she could only describe as ‘arrogance’.
“I think it’sfabulous,” Hella said, shrugging a shoulder. “Why shouldn’t they have separate seats? They’re not the same continent.”
“What about all the Islands, then? We’d have to split those too,” Chaoxiang pointed out.
“That could be something the Council negotiated at a different date,” Declan said, trying to be logical. “I think we need to just discuss the possibility of splitting the seat, at this point.
“I’m against it.” Emperia drew herself up, as though her own integrity was at stake. “The Seven Lines have been the Seven Lines for a long time for a reason. Seven is an odd number. It means we never have an equal vote that deadlocks us.”
“We also don’t know that this idea is representative of what all the New Zealand witches want,” Declan added, “as much as I hate to point that out. We just have what one dude—who has balls, I’ll grant him that—has to say on the matter.”
