“Will you be able to uphold that truth?” Cristobal asks.
I lick my lips. “I have to.”
“How will you explain not reporting it?”
“Rogues witches. I had no clue how high up the corruption went. And there’s no way of knowing how they controlled a vampire or which one to make baby vamps. Such a sad, impossible situation to navigate. The only people I trusted were my co-workers, Sacha and Fel, who were just brought on the case the evening before where we discovered … there was more than one witch at work.”
“You work your council, and we will do the same for our people,” Cristobal promises.
“You’re going to throw us witches under the bus during the equinox, aren’t you?” I ask wryly.
“Yes, we are.”
Chapter Fifteen
Zephirin Dupeux, Meadow and Vale Blanchard, Roch Morel, and Rosemond Esçhete are elegant statues. Like Egyptian gods and goddesses, they stand in judgment over me. Dressed in their finery, they hold court in the cathedral-style chair with ornate wood backs and wide armrests.
I’m standing in front of a panel of adults I’ve grown up respecting and obeying, and it makes my stomach ache. My palms are sweaty, and my brain fills, ready to burst. They’ve extended a courtesy to Cristobal today by coming to his home. It gives me hope that they’re open to listening. They could’ve forced him to play on their turf.
“You are here to defend Cristobal Cortez today. Is that correct?” Zephirin asks. His dark brows meet in the middle, and I can feel the contempt coming from him. He doesn’t like vampires or me. I’m already at a disadvantage where he’s concerned.
“I am. I’ve been on this case since Marcellus was accused of attacking and killing a young woman in Velvet. I proved at the time he was being framed and showed evidence of a witch tampering. Let the record show, Everard, Just, and Zephirin, and Luz, and Cristobal were witnesses to this. At that time, I assured them I would get to the bottom of this problem.”
“Why did you not bring it to the attention of the council then?” Vale asks. He’s a Sphinx, impossible to read.
“I didn’t have enough information, and I knew a witch able to compel a vampire had to be using some strong magic. I needed to know what I was dealing with and how high up the chain the witch was.”
“Fair enough,” Vale replies.
Zephirin sniffs. “Seems convenient.”
“I don’t call going to Witching Swamp or the Black Well convenient or pleasant for that matter.”
“And what did you find in these places?” Roch inquires.
“That the witch in question was a female who’d made a deal with a powerful entity. The entity told me the witch was hiding in plain sight. That I knew her, which made me that much warier.”
The council members exchange glances.
“Tell us about this so-called cave,” Mémé demands.
“The witch issued a threat to me. She pulled me into the in-between to taunt me. I brought something that belonged to her out and tracked her to her spell place. It reeked of dark magic, blood spells. It also showed signs of multiple magic users.”
The murmurs begin between them.
“And you didn’t think we should know that?” Zephirin asks.
“With all due respect, this occurred less than seven hours ago. I’m running on two hours of sleep, and I’m depleted from the spell work. I brought my team in on the case last night. We did a reversal spell, hoping to draw her out. She was more imbalanced than any of us imagined.” My voice shakes. Guilt eats at my stomach like a corrosive acid. “That was my fault, and I’ll have to live with what happened.”
“How do we know this cavern exists?” Mémé asks.
“We returned this morning with the intention of documentation, but found the place magically cleansed.” I kneel. “I can submit my memories if it pleases the council.”
“Come forward,” Mémé says.
I stand and walk toward them with my head high.
“Kneel,” Roch instructs.