“Is Mother Nature pissed off or what?” Renee asks, joining us.
“Every witch in town is asking that question right now. I need to shower and prepare for the meeting that will be arranged.”
“Here,” Marcellus declares smoothly.
“That’s an option. I don’t get to make the final call, though.”
“You have it here, or we can accompany,” Marcellus demands.
“Why?”
“Cristobal is away on business, that means he’s not here to make you do the things you ought to,” Marcellus replies.
“What he’s saying is we’re responsible for your well-being, and we take that very seriously,” Larkin recants.
“No. This is witch business.”
“And yet, you’re not less ours to protect,” Marcellus counters.
“I can’t appear to be afraid of my own people. You don’t get to intrude on tradition or do anything to hurt my leadership. It’s a matter of respect. This isn’t a vampire attack. It’s a break down in the balance of nature.”
“And if you go off and find yourself harmed, who do you think will suffer?” Percival asks.
“Danger comes with ruling. We all know it’s a part of the job description. We knew dual roles would be tricky to navigate. Let’s learn how to handle it together.” I stand my ground and stare each of them down. “If I am to be the lady of this court, that means you obey me, not the other way around. We are bound. I promise to call for you if I ever have a need. You can even stay nearby, but you can’t be a visible presence. Separation is crucial. When I act as the Esçhete matriarch, its hands off unless indicated otherwise. There are too many witches who continue to distrust vampires. If we hope to change that we have to take baby steps. Foisting you into their fold at a vulnerable moment like this will only lead to resentment.”
The look at each other. I’ve won. I relax. “I’ll offer up the mansion as a suggested place for the meeting, but I won’t push.” Kneeling, I pick up the telephone I dropped off the floor. “I’ll let you know before I leave.”
Marcellus scowls. “Stubborn witch.”
“Pushy vampire,” I toss back.
***
Rows of white wooden lawn chairs decorate the Blanchard’s large backyard. The white gazebo surrounded by colorful blooms is straight out of a fairytale, along with the archway covered with pink azaleas, a black wrought iron bench, and a well-tended flower and herb garden on the opposite side of the yard. I wish we were gathered for a happy occasion. Seated between Mémé and my mother, I study the witches and wizards dressed in formal wear. Their faces are set in various stages of concern.
Quiet conversations rise around us. I lean forward and glance at Sacha who’s seated with the Morel family. Sensing my gaze, she turns to look at me. I arch an eyebrow and glance at the family surrounding her. She shrugs and smiles. I grin. Its official, she’s back in her father’s good graces. Snubbing them publicly would undo the progress they had managed. Seeing them operating as a functional unit feels good.
The council members begin to move toward the front. Mémé rises and takes her place beside the others.
“We’ve all heard about the eclipse and meteorite shower. It’s the reason we’re all here,” Meadow says. Her floor-length, floral patterned dress has a V-neck that shows off her slender collarbone and glowing skin. Her voice speaks peace with it’s soft, melodic quality. Tall and poised, Meadow is the epitome of grace as she walks from one end of the audience to the other, making constant eye contact. When this woman speaks, we all listen. Despite her light and airy tone, the power she possesses is prevalent. “We’ve come together to discuss theories, share any knowledge we may possess, and decide how we shall proceed.”
“Perhaps the ancestors are displeased with the unnatural events going on. Witches are consorting with vampires. There are heads of families with split alliances. It’s not the way it was ever done. We stick with our own kind.” Zephirin Dupeux’s voice booms out over the crowd.
“There was a time when this sort of thinking nearly cost us all our lives and legacies. We survived the Reaping by striking up working relationships with all the species. Because to overcome enemies we need to act together. Now, when a new powerful threat shows up, you wish to work backward?” I challenge his bigotry with fact. Tilting my head, I peer down my nose at him. “Sounds to me like the sort of thing we should be avoiding, unless we want history to repeat itself. We lost too much during the Reaping. We can’t afford to go down that road again. It’s no mystery many families are in short supply of members.”
“Your opinions are prejudiced at best,” Zephirin says haughtily.
If that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black.
“No, when they’re rooted in historical facts, it’s called accurate.”
“Your thoughts have been noted, Zephirin,” Meadow interjects. “Does anyone else wish to speak?”
“Due to the Esçhete’s open-minded approach, we believe we have a lead on what’s creating the upheaval in nature. I have invited someone who has more information to join us,” Mémé says. She gestures with a sweep of her hand, and we turn to face the entrance. Vale Meadow is escorting the Queen of Winter court herself down the aisle. The champagne-colored tulle dress has a silver sequined bodice that trails down into thin lines spaced evenly apart. A cape falls down into a train that trails behind her. It moves and flows like a living thing with each step she takes. Its winter couture at its finest. Dark ringlets of hair are twined with fairy lights.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Morel barks.
Sebile narrows her gaze and lowers her lashes.