Chapter 15
By the time the last of the campus undead was either pinned, or burned, the quad looked like a disaster movie set with worse lighting.
Mina’s friends kept their cameras up, because apparently survival and content creation were equally important. Mina herself moved through the chaos with frantic purpose, shouting instructions that sounded half like a director and half like a lifeguard.
“Keep filming the fountain, not the blood,” she snapped at one of her crew. “If you get a close-up of someone dying, I will personally hex you.”
A few students had started copying her, yelling things like, “It’s performance art,” and “It’s a stunt,” as they backed away. It was working better than it had any right to.
The problem was the injured student at the fountain.
He still lay on the stone lip, pale, shaking, and I could not get my healing to catch.
I tried again and again, each attempt running into the same resistance.
It felt like pressing warm hands against glass.
Heat spread across the surface, but nothing went through.
Cal crouched beside me, stone heavy and protective, scanning for threats while I worked. His presence helped my nerves, but the bond with the egg pulled at my ribs with every push of power, like the baby was quietly reminding me that my reserves were already spoken for.
When Lucinda arrived and cut into me with those cruel words, I did what I always did around her. I swallowed the urge to scream, filed my humiliation away for later, and kept trying to help, anyway.
It did not matter.
The student’s breath stayed shallow. My hands remained useless.
A siren wailed nearby. A pair of security officers rushed in from the walkway, shouting for students to move back. Somewhere behind the library steps, someone vomited.
Eve threaded her way to us and gave me a warm smile.
Delia arrived with Spencer and vampire reinforcements not long after, moving with the same grim efficiency they had at the hospital. Delia’s eyes swept the quad, then landed on the cluster of phones still held up.
Her expression went flat.
“You,” she said, pointing at the nearest group of gawkers. “You saw an elaborate performance. Your phone battery died at the exact wrong moment.”
People blinked, dazed. A few lowered their devices as if they had forgotten why they were holding them in the first place.
Spencer moved closer to the injured student and flicked his gaze at me. “You can’t heal him.”
“I’m trying,” I said, voice tight.
Spencer’s attention heightened for a heartbeat, then he nodded once as if he had filed it under future problems. “Delia, clear the witnesses. I’ll move him.”
Cal stood, scanning the quad, and I felt that quiet animal protectiveness from him again. The kind that made me both grateful and dangerously aware of him at the same time. “The paramedics have arrived, leave the boy to them.”
He led me away as Eve’s phone buzzed.
She looked down. Her face tightened, then she lifted her eyes toward us. “Hunter.”
“What now?” Faith muttered, stepping close enough that her shoulder brushed mine. She sounded as if the universe had personally offended her, which, in fairness, it had.
Eve read the message again, then said, “Another council meeting. Now. Hunter wants us there. He says to meet him at the chambers.”
My stomach sank. “Now.”
Eve nodded. “Lucinda demanded you be present.”
Lucinda, still near Caton, heard her name and turned. “Of course I demanded it. She has been at the center of every failure.”
Faith’s head snapped toward her. “You are unbelievable.”
Lucinda’s smile was thin and satisfied. “Thank you.”
Cal’s gaze flicked toward the sky. “I’m not invited, I take it,” he said quietly, and it was not a question.
Eve’s expression hardened. “Council politics.”
Lucinda turned her attention to Cal as if she had just noticed him. “Gargoyles do not sit in our meetings.”
Cal’s eyes gleamed, and his stone posture tightened, but his voice stayed controlled. “You want her present, yet you remove her support.”
Lucinda’s mouth curled. “She would not need support if she were competent.”
Faith stepped between them without thinking. “You should shut up before I make you.”
Lucinda’s eyes narrowed. “Mind your place.”
Faith’s laugh was fierce. “My place is wherever you are not.”
I touched Cal’s arm lightly, a quick grounding gesture. The bond with the egg resonated inside me as though it were part of my soul.
“I’ll be fine,” I told him, even though that phrase was becoming a joke.
Cal’s gaze held mine. “You will not be alone.”
He was not promising to attend the meeting. He was promising something else. Presence. Protection.
Then he stepped back, jaw tight. “I’ll stay off the council grounds. Call if you need me.”
Eve waved us toward the exit. “We have to move. Before Lucinda decides to set something on fire.”
Faith grumbled the entire way off campus. She did not lower her voice, either, which meant several nervous students got to hear a full Faith’s opinion piece.
“I hate her,” Faith said as we strode toward the parking lot. “I hate her clothes. I hate her voice.”
Nishi, walking with the hunters, did not react. “You hate how she abuses her authority.”
Faith glared. “I hate that too.”
I rubbed my ribs. “Focus. If there’s a meeting, it means things have escalated.”
Eve’s eyes stayed on her phone. “Or Lucinda wants a stage.”
Faith made a rude noise that translated to yes.
We did not drive directly to the pack lands. We went to the Magnetic Boutique.
The storefront looked absurdly normal for a town that had spent the night trying to eat itself. Two large picture windows. Soft pink glow. Displays arranged with painful precision. The kind of place where a two hundred dollar T-shirt sat folded as if it deserved a museum label.
Inside, the boutique smelled of perfume and fabric, and the racks were lined in perfect rows, arranged by style and size as if someone had declared war on clutter and won.
We pushed past the shoe section and the glittering pumps and the glass jewelry counter without slowing. The back changing rooms waited, two ordinary stalls and the third that was anything but.
Faith yanked open the third door. The air shimmered.
The portal took us in.
One heartbeat I was standing on soft carpet and the next I was stepping into white marble veined with gray, massive columns rising like the bones of an old empire. Torches flickered along the walls, their light warm but insufficient to chase the heaviness out of the space.
The council chambers sat in the middle of a clearing on pack lands, Roman style and completely out of place, as if someone had dropped a museum into the forest and decided to call it governance.
A dais anchored the far end. The double doors were carved with exquisite detail, and the long live-edge table dominated the room, dark polished wood framed by the pale marble around it.
One entire wall held the magical board, a screen of shifting lights marking trouble spots across the town.
Shelving units held vials and jars that looked harmless until you remembered nothing in this room was harmless.
And the room was full.
Not just the regular council members. More bodies. More tension. More eyes.
Hunter stood near the table, jaw tight, posture rigid with the strain of being pulled away from containment.
Carnell lounged with too much ease for the situation, but his gaze was shrewd.
Greyson stood near the magical board, phone in hand.
Caton sat with his attention split between the table and the doorway as if he still expected Mina to run in bleeding. Elijah was present, watchful and quiet.
Lucinda was waiting.
Livid did not cover it. She looked like a storm dressed as a woman.
The moment we stepped in, her voice hit the marble and echoed.
“There you are,” she snapped, eyes locking on me. “Finally.”
I kept my shoulders square even though my insides wanted to curl. “We left right after you did.”
Lucinda’s laugh was cold. “Hardly. You caused an incident at the university.”
Faith moved closer to my side, a silent anchor. “The zombies caused the incident.”
Lucinda ignored her and stepped toward me, anger rolling off her in waves. “You are a problem, Salima. Everywhere you go, the situation worsens. You fail to contain. You fail to heal. You fail to follow directions.”
My hands curled at my sides. “I did not summon the undead.”
Lucinda’s eyes glittered. “If you do not get your magic under control, you will regret it.”
The words landed hard.
The room went still for half a second, like everyone felt the heat of that threat.
Faith moved fast.
She stepped right into Lucinda’s space, close enough that Lucinda had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.
“Was that a threat,” Faith asked, voice low and dangerous. “Are you threatening to kill her?”
Lucinda’s expression did not change, but her eyes narrowed. “Do not be melodramatic.”
Faith did not blink. “Answer.”
Lucinda’s smile returned, thin and controlled. “It is within my power to cut her from the coven.”
Faith’s jaw clenched. “That is still a threat. You know exactly what happens when someone is cut off. There are no guarantees Eve can pull her into her coven.”
Lucinda’s gaze slid past Faith to me, as if Faith were a nuisance she would deal with later. “If she cannot perform, she does not deserve protection.”
Carnell’s voice cut in, smooth but lethal. “Careful, Lucinda.”
Lucinda turned her glare on him. “This is coven business. You have no say over witches.”
Carnell did not rise to the bait. He simply leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “There is more at play here than your personal dislike. If you cut Salima off now, you have no concept of the repercussions.”
Lucinda’s nostrils flared. “Do not lecture me about repercussions. I lead this coven.”
Carnell’s smile did not reach his eyes. “You lead it, yes. But you do not own the laws of magic.”
Greyson’s gaze flicked to me, then to Lucinda, and his mouth tightened as if he agreed with Carnell.
Lucinda’s voice rose. “Salima’s presence is destabilizing. Her power is death. This town is drowning in it.”
I swallowed, forcing my voice into steadiness. “My power is not the cause. The calling is interfering with healing. That is why I couldn’t help the student.”
Lucinda’s eyes flashed. “Excuses again.”
Faith’s hands curled into fists. “He was bleeding in front of you and you chose to insult her. You are disgusting.”
Lucinda’s gaze narrowed. “Mind your tone, Faith.”
Faith’s mouth curled. “Make me.”
The room vibrated with tension. I could feel the old grudges, the politics, the constant struggle for control, all stacked on top of the real crisis outside these marble walls.
Hunter finally moved.
He stepped forward and slammed a palm down on the table hard enough to make the torches flicker. The sound snapped attention toward him.
“Enough,” Hunter said, voice like a command. “We can tear each other apart later. Right now, we are losing the town.”
Lucinda opened her mouth.
Hunter cut her off. “Lucinda, you can threaten votes and exile after we stop the outbreaks. Faith, step back.”
Faith held Lucinda’s stare another heartbeat, then stepped away, still vibrating with fury.
Hunter looked around the room, eyes hard. “We have confirmed spirit-driven reanimation. We have confirmed shielding that blocks tracking within a three-mile radius near the hospital. We have confirmed interference affecting Salima’s healing.”
Lucinda stiffened at the mention of my healing. “That is not council jurisdiction.”
Hunter’s mouth tightened. “It is if the calling threatens the entire supernatural population, including the pack lands and the covenstead. Jurisdiction stops mattering when everything burns.”
Carnell gave a quiet hum of approval.
Hunter continued, voice controlled. “Our priorities are these. Find the relic. Break the shield. Stop the calling. Contain the undead. Keep mundanes from spreading footage.”
Greyson lifted his phone. “The internet problem is getting worse. Scrubbing is not keeping up. Mina is doing what she can, but it’s a band-aid.”
Caton shifted, eyes tight. “My daughter is good at what she does.”
“Good,” Hunter said, not indulging the distraction. “Now we get to work.”
Lucinda’s gaze slid to me again. “And Salima will not leave our sight.”
My stomach turned.
Not because I was afraid of being watched. Because I knew what she meant.
Control. Leverage. Punishment.
Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “Salima goes where she is needed. We do not waste assets because you want someone to blame.”
Lucinda’s smile was cold. “Then keep her useful.”
Faith moved closer again, not touching me, but near enough that I could feel her presence as a shield.
Hunter looked at the room, voice firm. “We are done with personal attacks. We have bigger enemies than each other. This meeting continues with plans, not threats. Anyone who can’t manage that can leave.”
No one left.
Not even Lucinda.
But her eyes promised the argument was not over. Only postponed.
And as Hunter started assigning tasks, I realized something with a sinking clarity.
Lucinda did not only want me to fail.
She wanted me isolated when I did.