36. UNDER ATTACK
UNDER ATTACK
“WE’RE UNDER INVESTIGATION? ALL OF US?”
Merle stood with his arms crossed, trucker hat removed, face curdled into a sour-milk expression that aged him quite a lot.
Beyond that, he was actually dressed respectfully in a button-down and trousers that suggested perhaps he’d been dragged from a lunch date—hopefully with a certain drama teacher—when an emergency meeting of the Woodcross coven was called.
Now the man stood in the middle of the pentagram, shouting up at the trees as the concerned faces of the entire coven looked on.
“That’s preposterous! The vampires attacked us!” Merle shouted, flinging his gangly arms wide at the collective group. “We’ve all been spotted around town since then, clearly not hunting down the bloodsuckers for sport.”
There came a few gasps and a lot of grimaces at the vampire slur. It was definitely not a phrase to toss around if one wanted to be perceived as tolerant of all magical kind. Even behind the soundproofed wards at the Woodcross Residence.
“It’s not supposed to be for sport, Merle,” Lazarus calmly explained. “It’s supposed to be revenge on their revenge.”
None of them were allowed to leave the island until the conclusion of either investigation. They were stuck, under a microscope, for an indeterminate amount of time.
And no one was happy about it.
“Fine. It’s ridiculous, no matter how you cut it,” Merle grumbled.
Behind him, Van put a hand on his shoulder and whispered kind words into his ear. Her wife, Allegra, rounded Merle’s other side and put a calming hand to his elbow.
“It is ridiculous, but it’s what we’re facing,” Rye responded, levelheaded despite the fact that he’d basically been awake for forty-eight hours.
He was wedged between Lazarus and Embry, his mess of hair standing on end with all the time he’d spent running his hands through it in dismay.
His stubble was nearing the territory of official scruff now, too.
He crossed his arms over his chest, pressed shirt immediately giving in to wrinkles.
Lazarus nodded and, using his lawyer voice, said, “The Table is watching us carefully. We need to go about our business as normally as possible. Do not leave the island, do not congregate in unusual ways, and”—here Daddy made purposeful eye contact with Merle—“do not march into the Ravenwood PD station and attempt to batter Faye or Inspector Brown into submission with your opinions on the Table’s interest in the Woodcross coven. ”
After a mulling pause, a hand shot up as if they were in class.
“Why we are being targeted in such a way?” This question came from Circe Crofton, who, like Rye, had graduated from Raven’s Head the year before.
She was in school at Sarah Lawrence but had been magically commuting since being named Ames’s mentor and now was stuck on the island because of this mess.
She put her hand down, a little sheepish, before casting it toward the pentagram surrounding them.
“The vampires attacked us. And by all accounts Embry, Amethyst, Fairfax, and the other Raven’s Head members of our coven were friendly with both the vampire and this sorcerer who appears to be behind everything.
Why on earth would the Woodcross coven be under scrutiny? ”
“Because we’re powerful,” Lazarus answered immediately. “That’s my best guess.”
“This is a literal witch hunt,” Ames grumbled. “They’re just waiting for us to trip up instead of hunting down the actual person Embry saw with her own eyeballs literally framing her, and by extension, us.”
Embry and Rye nodded while Fairfax rubbed Ames’s shoulder.
“Unfortunately, as much as we’ve tried to turn the tables onto Balthazar Hale, we haven’t found much in the way of motive to help strengthen our claims.” Daddy shook his head.
“We can’t find much information on him at all, actually.
All the Table records I can access show that he’s moved around a lot, but there’s no indication as to why.
Or as to why he enrolled in Raven’s Head in the first place. ”
There was also exactly zero sign of Balthazar on the island.
While Daddy and Rye had rustled up the lawyers and the CCTV footage to spring Embry, the coven had cast a net of spells, searching for the sorcerer, and come up empty.
Balthazar had eluded spells and eyeballs alike, perfectly playing into the Table’s narrative that he could be a victim rather than a perpetrator.
Embry had a feeling that this was because sorcerers were just as powerful as the rumors suggested.
“There doesn’t happen to be a gruesome trail of dead vampires that’s followed him from town to town over the past year or two, is there?” Fairfax asked, hopeful.
“Not that I can tell as of yet,” Lazarus replied. “Vampires are exempt from required registration with the Table because of their past hardships. Thus, they only pop into view when they want to, and they are careful not to reveal the location of their family lair when they do.”
“Just like Oakley,” Embry pointed out quietly.
Daddy nodded. “Just like Oakley.”
A silence settled over the witches now. It was full dark, the fire pit lit, illuminating every somber expression and hung head.
Clouds had rolled in off the coast hours ago, shading the stars and near-full moon, and only adding to the gloom.
Embry must have sighed or made some other depressed noise, because suddenly there was a reassuring pressure on the small of her back.
Say what you would about Rye Knighton—and Goddess knew Embry had said plenty over the years—but the boy always had her back. This time, literally.
Again, Circe broke the silence, glancing up from her open calendar app. “How long will those investigations take? What are we looking at here?”
“As long as they take,” Daddy answered. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a definitive answer.”
“So we’re supposed to sit here in time-out like we did something wrong?
” Ames muttered, though she knew the answer.
Fairfax slung a comforting arm over her shoulders.
For once she didn’t shake him off as she so often did when annoyed.
Even Fairfax seemed astonished, cautiously wrapping his fingers around her upper arm for extra support.
“Honestly, yes, that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do,” Lazarus said, with a nod at her. Then, with a clap of his hands, he changed gears. “So, go home, reset your wards, get some sleep. Then let’s just make sure everything looks like business as usual for the Woodcross coven.”
As they broke apart, Embry sighed. Waiting for the Table to do the right thing in this instance seemed like an exercise in futility.
But what else could they do?