Chapter 76
SARAH
I didn’t think he’d come, but here he is.
Well-dressed as ever in a crisp navy suit and white shirt, with eye-catching designer glasses.
I recall all the times I glimpsed him on TV, suave and persuasive, and felt glad we witches had such a savvy representative.
One able to speak the language of the elite back at them, to protect our interests.
I remember the nights round the smoky fire at Darkening Pine Campground when Harper and I were lying low, when Queenie got hold of the wind-up transistor so I could listen to bulletins about the Congressional Witchcraft Hearings.
Back then, Charles Okoye seemed a perfect spokesman for the magical community.
So how did he come to be sitting down with Sandra Ortiz?
Stripping Luka’s magic without his consent?
He holds his chin high as he stands beneath the stained-glass dome of the Moot’s Council Chamber, several dozen members in attendance.
It took Naomi and the admin team all day yesterday to call as many of them as possible, and book flights and taxis.
I was glad of the bustle, and Harper too, because it stopped us thinking about Lachlan every minute of the day.
His crazy surrender. What he might be suffering in detention.
Redhaven has done its part. Lachlan is splashed across the papers and news sites, viral on social media.
The contents of the Redhaven Files are trickling out as the verification process gets underway, and America’s treatment of its witches is making global headlines.
Okoye is here because now it’s the Moot’s turn.
We need to keep that momentum going. Ensure the American people don’t only hear our cry of No More Salems!
but take it up. Join their millions of voices to ours.
Fretfully, I rub my palms over the armrests of the President’s Seat, carved into the shape of cats’ paws.
I miss the reassuring twine of Aira around my ankles – my familiar will be fending for herself in Sanctuary’s alleyways.
Harper isn’t here in the chamber. She doesn’t have a right to be, and besides, one of us needs to guard our Starcross.
Naomi is the only truly familiar face in this echoing chamber.
This is my job. To persuade Okoye to denounce Ortiz and go along with my plans.
I can’t do it from this stupid throne. Witches don’t do hierarchy.
That’s why the historic ban on all-magical covens is so cruel, because it locks us into a position of superiority, forced to draw energies from mundanes weaker than us.
I’d laughed when Lachlan told me, back in our youth, he believed that ruling was all part of instilling fear and uncertainty about witches.
It forces us to be takers – to predate our Giftless friends, Lachlan said, while I shook my head, disbelieving.
How na?ve I was. Sliding my butt off the padded leather of the President’s Seat, I join Okoye down on the floor.
We’re sat side by side at the Speaker’s table, a microphone in front of each of us so the council members can hear.
‘You didn’t stay with Sandra Ortiz at the Montreal clinic,’ I say. ‘Though you stripped Luka Ortiz’s magic from him. Can you tell us why you made that decision in each case?’
It’s a softball. We all know he left because he heard he’d been ousted. But I’m trying to give him an opening. Flatter a man with the best version of himself, and he might just decide to become that version.
‘I believed – and still do – that I was correct in each instance. Luka Ortiz killed a young woman with his magic. He attempted to kill another and hospitalised a third victim. The penalty for that is the stripping of magic. I found Sandra Ortiz’s argument persuasive that doing it pre-emptively, i.e.
before any trial, would dampen public hysteria and avoid a media circus. ’
‘Did you believe you had Luka Ortiz’s consent?’
‘There was documentation which confirmed his consent.’
‘Which you believed was freely given?’
Okoye lifts his chin. ‘It was documented, and he deserved it. The arguments in favour of nullification were clear. Listen, while Moot President I was never anything less than transparent about my position, which is to keep the magical population as safe as possible. Whether I do that by being amusing and unthreatening on talk shows, or by ripping the magic out of a boy so he goes on trial simply as a killer, not as a killer witch, I am consistent. Any moral scruples I may have, I subordinate to the interests of our community.’
Heads nod around the chamber. Not everyone here supported Naomi’s coup to oust him.
‘And Montreal? Did you know what the scientist, Delacourt, was working on up there?’
‘No.’ Disgust creases his features too deeply to be feigned.
‘Absolutely not. I backed Registration because that had powerful political support. It was clear ever since the congressional hearings that Government felt a need to appease those disappointed by the conclusion of those hearings. Above all, I felt Registration would be showy. A big visual stunt – and you know how the current president loves those – that would make little practical difference to the lives of witches but provide a lot of reassurance to the public.’
‘You didn’t know the data would be used by researchers like Delacourt? Really?’
‘That’s why I stayed “in the room” with Ortiz.’ He makes air-quotes with long dexterous fingers that could shape magic beautifully. Then I imagine them spooling Luka’s magic out of him, and swallow down bile. ‘I realised I’d seriously underestimated the scope and advanced nature of her research.’
‘Redhaven knew about it.’
‘Redhaven.’ Okoye’s handsome mouth twists. ‘In my humble opinion, your Mr Frey has done more to damage the reputation of witchcraft than even Luka Ortiz. And I’m sure you’re aware of the rumours that his manipulation was the very reason Luka followed such a dark magical path.’
‘Would you say Frey’s action yesterday has undone some of the damage? In fact, wouldn’t you agree it’s bringing the public round very significantly to our side? No More Salems is trending on every platform, being discussed by every news outlet.’
‘Frey has made a … significant sacrifice. Not one I would have expected.’
I can’t help it. Tears overwhelm me. We knew what would be done to him and Lachlan was prepared for it.
But I can’t imagine the cold horror of it.
The clinical setting. The needle in the arm.
All carried out behind closed doors, by hostile enforcers.
No one to hold his hand. No witnesses to such an inhuman act.
I pull myself together. Lachlan has done his bit, and now I must do mine.
‘This past week,’ I tell Okoye, ‘as we’ve all seen how far those who hate us are prepared to go, I’ve realised you’re …
not right, exactly, but not as wrong as I thought.
Mundanes do need to feel safe and secure and in control.
But more fundamentally, they need to understand that witches are people just like them.
It’s the only true way to end persecution.
That’s why Lachlan made that speech and gave himself up. ’
‘Indeed. But I fear it won’t be enough.’
‘It won’t be. And so I think the torch now passes to us at the Moot. I’ve an idea about how we can keep this in the public eye. Neither of us will be able to continue as Moot President after what I have in mind, though, so I’d like to get a successor in place. I nominate Naomi Yamakawa.’
Naomi leaps to her feet, a betrayed look in her eyes.
‘You never said that,’ she hisses. ‘And after I helped get everyone here! How bad does that look?’
‘I told you I’d need to resign. And that the next appointment must be properly voted in. I now open the floor to futher nominations and discussion of the next Moot President. Charles and I recuse ourselves.’
I lead Okoye from the council chamber to the office which both of us have recently occupied, myself only briefly.
He moves to stand by the window, peering round the edge of the emerald curtain (yes, the colour was a joke on the part of a former Moot President), to where a few media cameras wait below.
They’ve been lurking since yesterday for a statement on Lachlan.
We haven’t issued one yet. I’ve got something even better lined up for them, although the thought of it sits queasily in my stomach. Curls up the edges of my soul.
‘I used to hate the fact Moot HQ was here in Salem,’ Okoye says. ‘It felt cheap. I believed we should be looking forward. Shaking off old superstitions and making a case for all the benefits magic still brings in an age of capital and pharma and Big Tech and AI.’
‘I remember hearing you on the radio sometimes.’ I hit a button on the coffee machine and think how its laborious grinding surely proves the superiority of our ways, because who wouldn’t prefer mint tea fresh from a garden?
‘Always wheeling out that argument about witches boosting the economy by tens of thousands of dollars over their lifetime. Or how our crime rate is a third that of non-magicals.’
‘Yeah. Well, I learned you can’t reason away hate, only remind people of its consequences and hope their hearts do the rest. Frey’s on to something with that slogan of his, No More Salems.’
‘Showing people consequences,’ I say. ‘That’s exactly what I plan to do, if you’ll help.
You said yourself that Lachlan’s sacrifice wasn’t enough.
I agree. That’s partly because it took place behind closed doors.
America’s seen his rage. It’s seen his protest and his apology. But it never got to see his suffering.’
Okoye’s eyeing me narrowly. He tugs the curtain across and comes to lean on the studded leather couch.
‘What can be done about that now? It’s over.’
‘Someone in Lachlan’s team managed to get hold of this.’
I tap the small cardboard box on the desktop, scooting it down the polished surface toward him. Okoye lifts the flap and looks inside, gaze instantly snapping back to mine.
My heart races, as if it’s already time for the press conference I’m imagining. As if I’m delivering my words before rows of cameras and upheld, recording phones. The media has hounded our family and written a torrent of lies. Now I’ll feed it the words I want heard.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ he asks.
‘It’s from Delacourt’s ruined lab.’
Okoye wipes his brow. Pushes the box away as if it contains a dead rat or severed hand.
‘Tell me exactly what you’re planning, Sarah Fenn.’