I comply as I take a shaky breath.
“This may hurt a little,”Mémé warns.
I close my eyes as cool fingers burrow inside of my brain like worms. I inhale and exhale, forcing myself to relax and let them in. I think of events I want them to know only, keeping everything else blank. It’s an invasion of the worst kind, having someone else inside of your head, rooting through your memories, turning them over and examining them like a specimen under a microscope.
My stomach rolls. I swallow down bile and dig my fingernails into the soft flesh of my palms to keep the scream forming inside. Closing my eyes, I grit my teeth. They recede, and I fall back onto my heels, breathing hard.
“We need time to speak among ourselves.” Mémé stands.
I nod and struggle to my feet. I stumble out of the room like a drunk. The others rise from the couch.
I shake my head. “They’re discussing it.” I sink onto the couch beside Cristobal, close enough for our bodies to brush. The living room is silent as we wait. The door swings open.
“You may return,” Meadow calls softly.
I walk in and swallow hard as they all stand, ready to issue their ruling.
“It seems to be as you say. Though we’ll speak with Felicites and Sacha as well. It appears we are both tasked with apprehending these perpetrators to keep the peace. The council will handle the cleanup of the incident at the club. We want you to continue your investigation with a greater sense of … urgency,” Vale says.
“Yes, sir.”
“They may be convinced your story is authentic, but I’m not. I’ll be watching you, Witch For Hire, and Cortez,” Zephirin says.
“I would expect no less, Mr. Dupeux,” I reply, careful to keep my eyes blank as I add just enough attitude into my words to make him bristle.
“You may go. Send Cristobal in please.” Heloise dismisses me with the regal bearing of a modern day Cleopatra.
I bow and back out, feeling like I escaped a firing squad. One down. One to go.
“They want to talk to you, Cristobal.”
He stands and smooths the lapels of his suit.
“How did it go?” Luz asks.
“Good. They want us to apprehend the new vamps and find the witch, but they take responsibility for the witches’ part in creating the problem and controlling the collateral damage.”
“We’ll avoid war,” Percival says.
‘This time’ lingers in the air unsaid but understood.
“If they wanted to cause division. Why make this move?”
“Greed? Overconfidence? Perhaps they think they can take us both on.” I shrug. “Maybe they want a new world order starting with the end of the council. They wouldn’t be the first to try to overthrow them.”
“We aren’t the only ones with power problems,” Luz mummers.
“There’s always someone who thinks they can rule better or feels cheated by the way their life turns out. Few are bold enough to act on it. It makes the witch hard to profile. We could be looking for someone with nothing to lose, or someone cocky and privileged and overbearing. It could be none of those. A martyr type who’s convinced they’re doing this for the greater good. People are complicated. We lie to ourselves until we believe the truths we create.”
“Not so different than the rest of us,” Marcellus says.
I offer him a small smile. “I guess not.”
An hour later, the council walks out with Cristobal.
“I’ll see them out,” I offer as I move over to Mémé.
“You seem comfortable here,” Meadow observes.