Chapter Eleven
W e found a cute little café for breakfast where we ate the most delicious gluten-free pastries, eggs, and bacon. We piled all our scraps onto a plate and let Puffy finish them off. Then Ethyl and I sipped coffee and Des killed bad wizards in his game while we waited in a cozy booth in the far corner of the room for a friend of Ethyl’s who worked at the Tribunal.
The place was especially dark for a coffee shop, with heavy purple drapes on the windows and low lights around the old wooden tables, probably something to do with the vampires who frequented here. The dining room was crowded, which made me feel safer. Surely, if there were succubi present, they wouldn’t try anything with so many witches around. Horrible jazz music that sounded like a tin garbage can full of feral cats rolling down a stairwell filtered in from above. Ordinarily, I would’ve been annoyed, but the music was one more succubi deterrent.
I kept one eye on the group of vampires who slunk in among the shadows before retreating to a booth in the other corner. It was rather early for them, which meant they probably hadn’t returned to their crypts yet. I hated that their eyes were naturally crimson, making it hard to determine if they were succubi. Luckily, they ordered iced caramel and cinnamon lattes, slurping the sweet drinks down as if they were bags of O negative. I wasn’t sure how they got the reputation for only drinking blood. Sure, it was their main food staple, but so were caffeine and sugar.
“Hey.” Ethyl grabbed my wrist, giving me a pleading look. “Don’t say anything about Frederica’s horns.”
I arched back. “What?”
Ethyl dropped her voice while sinking in her seat. “She’s self-conscious.”
“About her horns?” What a weird thing to worry about.
Her cheeks reddened. “Yeah.”
“Why?” I leaned toward her, my eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong with them?” Ethyl had already told me Frederica was an unseen, a minotaur originally from Germany. Minotaurs, for those who never studied Greek mythology, were big bull-like creatures that walked on two hooves. They were larger than most striga, averaging about seven feet in height. I thought it odd that this minotaur and tiny little Ethyl had hooked up, but Ethyl said they spent most of last summer together.
“Hey, bellisima ,” a dark, oily voice with a heavy Italian accent whispered before a vampire with red lips and crimson eyes stepped out of the shadows and knelt beside Ethyl. “Where have you been?”
“Augustus!” Ethyl threw her arms around the vampire, kissing his cheek. “I went back to the states. You know that.”
Ahh, her famous vampire lover. He looked pastier than I’d envisioned, and he gave off the vibe of a gamer who lived in his parents’ basement with his skinny arms and dark, goth clothes.
Puffy sat up and let out a low growl, smoke pouring from his nostrils and the ridge on his spine standing on end as he glared at the vampire.
Augustus stroked Ethyl’s arms with blood-crusted (eww) fingernails while looking into her eyes. “How long you going to be here?”
I looked over at Des, relieved to see he was still engrossed in his game. I didn’t need him watching these two fawn over each other.
She shrugged, casting me a nervous look. “I’m not sure yet.”
“What are the chances we can spend some time together while you’re here?” he cooed before pulling her against his chest.
“I don’t know, Auggie.” She pulled out of his embrace, putting an arm’s length between them. “I’m pretty busy.”
“Aww, come on, Amore .” He turned over her hand and traced circles along her palm. Was this guy for real? Did he think fingering her palm in the middle of a coffee shop was going to turn her on?
I shook my head when Ethyl’s eyelids fluttered and she looked ready to melt into a pile of goo.
She pulled her hand free. “I’m spending time with Frederica. You know she doesn’t like to share her lovers.”
“ La testa pene ?” He let out a very un-vampire-like snort laugh. “Why her when you can have a real lover?”
“You don’t want to cross Frederica, Auggie.” She turned up her chin and waved him off like he was a stray dog. “Now, run along like a good vampire.”
He splayed a hand across his heart. “You wound me.”
Ethyl rolled her eyes. “You’ll find another lover by sunset.”
“Of course I will.” He flashed a fanged grin while tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “But none of them will have such a sweet mouth.”
“There’s Frederica.” She jutted a finger toward a mammoth beast that dipped under the doorway, hunching over just so her head wouldn’t scrape the ceiling while she tried to navigate around tables and people a third her size. She had a bullish face and two...wait...what? I squinted as the minotaur approached our table. No, those couldn’t be. But as Frederica stomped toward us, her bulbous-tipped horns wiggled like rubbery dildos. Great Goddess! She had dick horns.
Augustus let out a girly squeal and then poofed into a bat before flying away.
“Vampires are so dramatic.” Ethyl laughed then turned to me while smoothing back her pigtail. “How do I look?”
“Penis perfect,” I blurted, keeping one eye on the hooved dildo head as she made her way toward us.
She gave me a funny look. “What?”
“Picture perfect,” I corrected.
Des dropped his game, blinking up at the mammoth beast as she stood in front of our table.
Ethyl let out a squeal and fluttered to the tabletop and then into her lover’s arms.
“ Meine blume !” Frederica roared as she wrapped her massive, tattooed arms around Ethyl, her dildo horns swaying with the movement. “I’ve missed you!”
“And I’ve missed you,” Ethyl said as she took the bull’s face in her hands and planted a kiss on her wide mouth.
Puffy clearly approved of the minotaur, because he swarmed her head like a hummingbird on crack, letting out excited little grunts.
I decided to take that moment to add more sugar and creamer to my coffee while looking anywhere but at Frederica’s head.
“Her horns look like wieners,” Des whispered to me.
“I know, but we don’t say those things aloud.” I patted his shoulder. “Just play your game.”
He shrugged and went back to killing bad wizards.
By the time Ethyl came up for air, both she and Frederica were panting and swooning. Frederica held Ethyl against one round hip like a mother carrying a small child as Puffy perched on her shoulder and licked her face.
“Frederica,” Ethyl said while waving down to me, “this is Luci. Luci, Frederica.”
“Nice to meet you.” I waved up at the minotaur, mindful not to look above her unibrow.
“Luci is a distant cousin,” Ethyl continued while beaming, “but she’s more like a sister to me.”
“ Guten tag ,” Frederica said gruffly.
“This is my son, Des,” I said while patting Des’s shoulder. I was relieved when Des refused to look up from his screen. “He’s in his own world right now.”
“ Kein problem,” Frederica said before smiling at her lover. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” Ethyl answered, “we’ve already eaten.”
“Do you mind if I grab a sandwich and a coffee?” she asked us. “I missed breakfast.”
“No, darling,” Ethyl cooed before kissing her lover’s leathery cheek. “Not at all.”
Frederica set Ethyl back on the table then dragged her hairy knuckles down the side of Ethyl’s face. “I’ll be right back, meine blume .” She walked away with Puffy still on her shoulder.
Ethyl beamed. “I’ll be waiting, my darling.” Then she plopped on the center of the table with a sigh while crossing her ankles, her wings draped behind her.
I arched a brow as I watched Frederica stomp away, her dildo horns wiggling. “ Meine blume ?”
Ethyl’s eyes lit up like fireworks as her cheeks flushed. “My flower.”
I cast a wary eye to the counter as Frederica hovered over the little witch taking her order. “I’m sorry,” I said on a rush of air as I leaned back in my seat. “I know you said not to say anything, but why does she have dicks growing out of her head?”
Ethyl frowned, crossing her arms. “Those are her horns. She has an autoimmune disease that produces too much keratin.”
“And she hasn’t seen a healer for it?” Surely modern medicine, or even ancient spellcraft could’ve taken the wiggle out of her wieners.
“She was thinking of getting them cut down.” Ethyl averted her gaze while twirling a napkin between her fingers. “But I told her I like her horns the way they are.”
“I bet you do,” I said sarcastically while eyeing Frederica.
Ethyl’s eyes flashed with annoyance before her cheeks reddened.
The cashier gave Frederica a small bag of treats, and she fed them to Puffy still perched on her shoulder. Puffy grunted in excitement when the cashier handed Frederica the biggest sandwich I’d ever seen, at least three feet long piled with sprouts and cheese. Frederica handed a crust of bread to the mini dragon before shoving the rest of the sandwich into her mouth, grinding it down until there was nothing left but crumbs littering her hairy chest. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and downed a tall coffee before returning to us.
“Are we ready, meine blume ?” she asked with a wink.
Ethyl stood, smoothing the folds of her taffeta skirt. “I think so.”
Frederica fanned the air, laughing when Puffy let out a fiery belch.
I tapped Des’s shoulder and stood, too. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll have to leave two of you here.” Frederica frowned at Ethyl and Des, her heavy unibrow nearly falling over her eyes. “I can’t sneak all of us in.”
“I go where Luci goes,” Ethyl said while jutting a thumb toward me.
I squeezed my son’s hand when he stood beside me. “And Des also goes where I go.” No way in nine hells was I leaving my son behind when we were being hunted by succubi.
Frederica let out a groan as steam poured from her nostrils. “I will have a hard enough time getting one witch past the wards, let alone three.”
“Ethyl can go in my pocket.” I turned up my chin, matching the minotaur’s hard stare with one of my own. “Des stays with me.”
“And don’t forget Puffy,” Ethyl said with a pout.
Frederica glanced from Des to me to back to Ethyl. “I don’t think it will work.”
“Try it,” I insisted. I would not back down on this. Separating from Des wasn’t an option.
“Fine.” Frederica heaved a dramatic sigh, her dildo horns jiggling with the movement. “The entrance isn’t far from here. Let’s go.”
WE FLEW BY brOOMSTICK toward the outer edge of the Murus de Magicus’s borders. Had I mentioned how chaotic the skies were during morning rush hour? Since Santa Fe had a lot less striga, the skies were clear there compared to here. At least half of the European witches had no business owning a broom and needed to go back to flying school, if they had such a thing here. Des clung to my waist, laughing as I dodged crazed pilots. We witnessed three mid-air collisions before we reached our destination. Luckily, Frederica led the way, flying on a broom the size of a battering ram, and most of the heavier traffic cleared the way for us. I would’ve insisted on a taxi from here on, but after our encounter with Antonio, the skies were safer.
We landed in front of an old church I recognized from my history books. Here, the architecture was the exact same as in the human realm, but we were still in a different dimension than humans, so we wouldn’t risk running into them. What a shock it would be for humans to see Frederica or even Ethyl with her colorful, translucent wings.
Frederica ushered us into an alcove and handed me a blue jumpsuit that zipped up the front that had big, bold letters reading TITS on the front and back. “Put this on.”
I turned over the suit in my hands. “TITS?”
“Tribunal Internal Tech and Sanitation,” she said. “It’s what all the mechanics and custodians wear.”
As smart as many striga were, we had no idea how to pick acronyms. Frederica wore a similar jumpsuit, though her ‘TITS’ were covered by a leather jacket. I wished I’d worn my jacket this morning, too. I quickly slipped the loose-fitting jumpsuit over my jeans and zipped it up. That’s when I noticed the smell, like old hot dogs. I wasn’t about to complain, though. Frederica risked her job or worse by sneaking us in. Besides, at least the jumpsuit had pockets, which almost made up for the smell.
Frederica ushered us toward what she said was a rarely used TITS service entrance. She hadn’t warned us the entrance was inside The Capuchin Crypt, also known as The Bone Chapel, located beneath the ancient Roman church. Yes, that’s right, the medieval catacombs with art displays composed of thousands of skeletons and mummified remains was the back entrance to the Tribunal headquarters. How fitting.
I took Des’s hand, turning to him and searching his dark eyes. “Sweetheart, we’re about to go inside a room with lots of bones.”
He shrugged. “I know, Mama.”
“How do you feel about it?” I brushed a strand of wayward hair out of his eyes.
He frowned. “Sad.”
“It’s okay to feel sad.” I squeezed his hand.
“Lots of kids here,” he whispered.
My veins turned to ice. How did he know about the children’s bones? Was he a clairvoyant? I doubted he’d researched the crypt beforehand. “Do you want to turn back?”
He shook his head. “We need Ric.”
I gave a start at the mention of Ric’s name. I made a mental note that Des has been absorbing a lot more than I’d realized.
Frederica cleared her throat while Puffy perched on her shoulder. “Sorry, but we need to go before we’re spotted.” She nodded toward the brooms buzzing in the sky like a kicked hornet’s nest.
Ethyl miniaturized and flew into my pocket.
“Eww, it smells in here!” she squeaked.
“Sorry, meine blume ,” Frederica whispered. “I got the uniform out of the dirty laundry chute and didn’t have time to wash it.”
Well, that explained a lot. I tried not to think about who or what had worn it before me.
We followed Frederica down the steps into the basement. Two things. First, I wasn’t a big fan of dead bodies and death in general. Could have been a result of being traumatized after watching a succubus kill my parents. Second, the smell of mold made me want to hurl, and this place was no exception. The cool, musty air below reminded me of old earth and death, and it took all my willpower not to vomit all over my hot-dog smelling jumpsuit.
The Crypt of the Three Skeletons was the first room we walked into, and my heart broke at the sight. I couldn’t describe the multitude of bones that decorated the cavern walls, from femurs to leg bones to every bone in between designed in symmetrical patterns all along the walls, though the back wall was an altar of sorts with the skeletal remains of three children who couldn’t have each been more than six years old. At the base of their feet was an inscription in several languages that read: ‘ What you are now, we used to be. What we are now, you will be.’
“Cheery,” I whispered, even as a sickening chill swept down my spine.
“Come,” Frederica said, waving us forward.
I jerked back when I nearly tripped over a robed figure on the floor. “What happened?”
“That’s a portal guard,” Frederica said with a wink. “I brought him magic brownies this morning.”
“Will he be okay?” I nudged the furry arm of the sleeping creature. I wasn’t sure if he was a satyr or a shifter, though I spotted two short horns sticking out of the top of his head.
“Ya.” Frederica nodded. “The spell will wear off soon, and he won’t remember passing out.”
“Those are magic brownies,” I said appreciatively. “I’d love if you taught me that spell later.”
Frederica gave me a funny look. “I don’t like giving out my secret recipes, but I’ll make an exception for Ethyl’s cousin.”
That was no surprise. Most witches didn’t like sharing recipes, unless it was with family. Not sure if it originated with our need to protect our secrets from succubi or because witches preferred to hoard their magic to themselves, but we couldn’t exactly Google recipes when we needed them. Which meant that Homewrecker Barbie was especially pushy and annoying for asking for my apple pie recipe.
“Thank you,” I answered, motioning toward that guard sprawled out on the floor. “For everything.”
Frederica swallowed and looked away. “I do it all for her.”
And by her , I knew she meant Ethyl. Wow. My pixie cousin sure had the minotaur wrapped around her delicate, little pinkie.
We followed her beneath a skeleton that held a scale Frederica had said represented good and evil. I wondered if evil tipped the scale now that the succubi had acquired so much power.
Which reminded me, we needed ammunition, just in case there were succubi in the Tribunal. I zipped open my purse, then cursed when I noticed my butterscotch candies were missing. “Damn gnomes! I don’t have any candy.” I gave Frederica a pleading look. “Don’t suppose you have any?”
She shook her head. “I put enough sugar in my drink to last me the day.”
I chewed my lip, my gaze shooting from Des back to her. “Do you think it’s safe to go in there without candy?” Sugar was the one thing that repelled demon spells, after all.
Frederica nodded. “There is only one witch that I suspect is demon possessed. Stay away from her, and you should be fine.”
Before I could ask which witch, she took out her wand, aiming it at the scale. “Do what I do,” she said. “You should get past the wards because I’m inviting you in. You must recite the spell and the password.”
I aimed my wand at the scale while clutching my son’s hand even tighter.
“Where you are now, we wish to be,” Frederica said aloud. “Where we are now, you will see. Shimmery siren scales.”
In a flash, Frederica and Puffy were gone, evaporated like smoke in the wind, and I knew she’d been sucked into the Tribunal portal.
I repeated her words, though nothing happened. I gritted my teeth, shaking my wand as if it was on fire while repeating her phrase and password. Wasn’t it ‘shimmery siren scales?’ Or maybe it had been ‘slimy siren scales?’ I shook my wand and tried again, disappointed when we didn’t move. “It’s not letting us through.”
“Des and I might need to stay behind,” Ethyl’s muffled miniature voice echoed from inside my pocket.
I gritted my teeth. “I’m not going without Des and Ethyl.”
“Let me try, Mama.”
Des clutched my hand and didn’t even repeat the phrase or password. In the next moment, we were standing inside an underground cavern in what appeared to be a boiler room with ceilings that seemed to stretch on forever before disappearing into the darkness.
Ethyl fluttered against my hip. “Holy hex! He did it!”
Frederica was there, waving me forward while Puffy flew circles around her head. It took me a moment, though, as my head was still spinning from the teleportation.
“Hide yourself,” Frederica said to Puffy. The dragon instantly went invisible, though I heard his wings flapping above us. “We need to meet back here,” Frederica explained to us. “The rest of the place is warded against teleportation, except for the main entrance, and only for those approved to leave.” She grimaced. “We can’t separate. You’ll need my permission to get you past the wards when it’s time to go.”
I didn’t bother telling her that Des had already proven we didn’t need her permission to leave. I didn’t know her well enough to trust her with my son’s secret.
I nodded my understanding as we stepped over two more sleeping robed figures and walked past the boiler room into what looked like an electrical room. We passed an open door that was as tall as an airplane hangar. Inside was the largest toilet I’d ever seen, the seat so high, I’d need a ladder to climb onto it. The smell coming from the bathroom was the most unholy stench I’d ever had the misfortune of inhaling.
Ethyl let out a groan and started gagging.
“Don’t you dare throw up in my pocket,” I warned her.
Frederica plugged her nose. “Keep going. The head janitor is a troll. That’s his bathroom.”
Made sense, considering trolls could get up to three stories tall. Jeez. I’d hate to see the septic for that toilet.
We slipped into another room, and Frederica returned with another TITS jumpsuit for Des. “Here.” She shoved it into his hands. “Put this on.”
I sucked in a breath when Des stared down at the material that reeked of heavy-duty cleaning products. Des has never been a big fan of certain fabrics, or any fabrics other than his drawstring pants and soft, cotton shirts. Seasonal transitions were exhausting, meaning he fought trading his sandals for socks and shoes, and by the time he finally got used to the socks and shoes, he fought trading them for sandals again. And don’t get me started on hats, jackets, and gloves, or sunscreen. Now a complete stranger expected him to slip into a scratchy jumpsuit?
I took it from him and got to work ripping out the tags inside, then I panicked when I saw the uneven, frayed seams going down the inside backs of the pants. Des would never go for this.
Imagine my surprise when my son took the jumpsuit from me and slipped into it without complaint.
After I helped him zip up the front, he flashed a dazzling smile. “Ready, Mama.”
I cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead. “You never cease to amaze me.”
Frederica cleared her throat. “We’re about to enter the main hall. Are you ready?”
“No,” I blurted.
“Too bad.” She handed us mops and buckets and pushed us through the door.
What I saw next nearly took my breath away. We were in the heart of what looked like the Tribunal gathering hall, a massive underground cavern. Just like the boiler room, the ceiling was so high, I couldn’t see the top that recessed into the shadows. The dark walls glowed with something iridescent. Diamonds? Fairy dust? A chandelier as big as a bus hovered above the shiny marble floor. And I when I say hovered, I mean the chandelier appeared to be suspended by magic, for I saw no chains holding it up. The hall itself was packed with many kinds of striga, mostly witches so beautiful they looked like Fae, all with their bright auras on full display. These were the elites, the Diablo Medici, and yet none of their auras were as bright as mine or Des’s. Many wore suits and some wore robes of the finest silks as they crisscrossed the floor and disappeared into various tunnels cut into the cavern.
So this was where witches met to decide the fates of striga all over the world? I was just a hot-dog-smelling American baker, and I was supposed to march in and demand they let my lover go free? I was certifiably crazy.
A troll as tall as a pine walked past us, nearly stepping on my toes. This must’ve been the head janitor whose toilet smelled like it was possessed by a diarrhea poltergeist. He frowned down at me, his furrowed brow nearly sagging over his crossed eyes. I whispered a confusion spell in case he realized Des and I weren’t real janitors.
He scratched the back of his head with meaty fingers, each as big as my thigh, then grumbled, “Get back to work.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, bowing my head and squeezing my mop handle.
I instructed Des to keep his head down as Frederica escorted us through the crowd, the wheels on our mop buckets squealing the whole way. Once we reached the tunnel on the opposite side, I heard a squeak coming from my pocket.
“I have to pee!” Ethyl cried.
Of course she did. She’d only downed three coffees while we’d waited for Frederica.
The minotaur took us into a bathroom with low light and no mirrors.
Ethyl poofed into her bigger self and kissed Frederica’s cheek. “Thanks. I always pee more when I’m nervous.” Then she slipped into a stall.
I spun a slow circle, noticing the spartan sinks and stalls. I gave Frederica a questioning look. “No mirrors in the bathroom?”
“Mirrors can be used as portals,” she said gruffly, “and no unauthorized portals are allowed in the Tribunal.”
Mirrors also revealed succubi, I thought to myself. Coincidence or convenience that they were absent in the Tribunal headquarters?
Des tugged on my sleeve. “I have to pee, too, Mama.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling kind of helpless. The longer we wasted time, the more risk of getting caught. “Do you need help?”
Des shook his head and disappeared into a stall.
Frederica let out a groan when Des slammed the stall door. “Wait here, and pretend you’re cleaning,” the minotaur said gruffly before slipping out the door.
Wait. She was leaving us? A knot twisted in my gut when two witches came into the bathroom as Frederica was exiting. I turned my back on them, pretending to be mopping the floor.
I mopped that same corner, listening to the witches gossiping as Ethyl and Des, thankfully, remained in their stalls.
“Stay away from Maga Sagredo,” a much older witch with a crackly British voice said. “She’s in a foul mood.”
I tensed. Maga Sagredo was the sorceress in charge of Ric’s fate.
The other witch laughed, a keening squeal that made me want to shield my ears. “When is she not?”
Her accent sounded different. Possibly Spanish? There were striga from all seven continents here, so there was no telling.
“Two of the Insurgi were killed in an accident,” the British witch said in a hushed whisper.
The Insurgi? I’d heard about them. A rebel group of outlaw striga who caused chaos for the Tribunal. They were no more than bandits and drug dealers from what I’d read in the Striga Times.
The Spanish witch gasped. “That was no accident. Have they identified the bodies yet?”
“No. If one of them is Serena, our sorceress will never recover.”
Serena? Why did that name sound familiar? I recalled that shell of a car we’d seen on the freeway and got a sickening feeling that had been no accident. I wondered who this Serena was. Someone important to Maga Sagredo.
“I know, though it hardly matters to us when she’s just her advisor’s puppet.”
“ Signora Oscura might as well be the Maga .”
The door opened and the witches left without using the toilet. They’d simply come in here to gossip, and I guess they figured me being a lowly custodian, I wouldn’t report what I’d heard. Interesting. Maga Sagredo was the matriarch of a very powerful magical family and head of the Roman Tribunal, kind of like an empress for Italian striga. To imply that the empress was being led by Signora Oscura, her advisor, could land the gossips in some seriously hot oil. Not that I’d tell. I had enough problems right now, and there was definitely the possibility that they were right, especially after the corruption I’d already witnessed in the striga government. I just hoped this advisor wasn’t a succubus.
My heart sank to my gut when Frederica returned, a panicked look in her eyes. “I just found out some news,” she said as Des and Ethyl came out of their stalls.
My knees threatened to buckle when she turned a hard stare on me. “What?”
“The sphinx’s trial is today.”
Ric? “When?”
“Now.”
Aww, fudge.
THE COURTROOM, WHICH was no bigger than a movie theater auditorium, was already packed with all kinds of striga, waiting with eagerness as the last remaining sphinx was about to face trial. In the magical world, trials were a big deal, more like a theater production where the accused was put on display for all to see and ridicule. Humans had this odd belief that prisoners were innocent until proven guilty. In the magical world, prisoners were usually considered guilty until proven less guilty.
Though I’d never attended a trial myself, I’d read enough about it in my government books. Of course, only the elite striga (those with lots of money and magic) could attend trials, and it seemed every elite in Europe was here today, crowding the auditorium bench seats while anxiously waiting for the show to start.
Luckily, minotaurs weren’t just known for their bullish looks. They were also known for their brutish manners, and Frederica had ‘accidentally’ stepped on a number of feet, causing them to jump, howl, and spill their coffees.
That’s where Des and I came in. Keeping our heads down, we slowly cleaned up the mess, ignoring those elites who told us to hurry. I kept checking on my son, making sure the crowd wasn’t upsetting him. I didn’t know how long he’d last before he’d need to go somewhere to decompress.
The seats were set up very much like the Roman theaters of old. We were at the top of a bowl of sorts, working our way down the spiral while cleaning up after Frederica. I kept my eye on the bottom of this bowl, watching for any sign of Ric.
And then my heart skipped a beat when a loud commotion echoed from one of the doors below. A door slid open and several huge minotaurs that were either males, or else smuggling bowling balls in their jumpsuits, came through the door dragging a very pissed-off, hooded prisoner.
They sat him on a lone chair facing opposite me, tying his hands behind his chair and securing him with chains bolted to the floor. My heart caught in my throat when they removed his hood and gag.
Ric.
Rage boiled my veins when I noticed the cuts on the back of his neck and arms. I wished I could see his face, though I feared I’d see even more cuts and bruises. The minotaurs exited the floor, and I squeezed Des’s hand when the entire theater went dark. None of the striga used their wand lights, and they’d dampened their auras. Was this standard protocol? Several spotlights turned on, shining down on Ric as he struggled against his bindings.
Another light flickered to life across from us, revealing an older witch with a worn face, downturned mouth, and glowing wand sitting behind what looked like a pulpit. She wore big, black-framed glasses, which was a trend among the older elite witches. Not sure why when a simple spell could restore their vision. Perhaps it was because they thought they looked smarter. I thought pretending to have human ailments made them look stupid.
“ Maga Sagredo,” a deep voice whispered in my ear. “Keep your aura hidden and don’t turn on your wand light until they call on witnesses.”
I looked up to see a familiar hulk of a shadow with droopy dildo horns hovering behind me. I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if she could see my movement in the dark. Every witch knew of Maga Sagredo, which meant Sorceress Sagredo in Italian. A sorceress was what striga sometimes called the most powerful of the alpha witches. By all accounts, I was a sorceress, even though I hid the extent of my magic. The Sagredo line of witches, probably the most elite and powerful magical family in the world, had carried the crown for centuries.
I turned back to face Ric. Despite how low the Tribunal had brought him, he tilted his head high like a proud lion. The fact that he didn’t shift into a magnificent sphinx and bite off the sorceress’s head meant that he still wore Sirenum coral.
I couldn’t stop staring at the sorceress, at something familiar in her hard stare that called to a forgotten memory. Where had I seen her before? She had a hollow look in her eyes, as if she was more of a shell of a witch with a tired soul and a shriveled heart. Several other hooded witches sat beside her, and another sat behind her with her hand on the sorceress’s shoulder. A chill swept up my spine as I tried to look at the witch behind the sorceress, but her dark hood cast shadows across her face. I surmised by her small wrists and hands that she was at least a female. Was she a bodyguard, or was this Signora Oscura, the controlling advisor the gossiping witches in the bathroom had been talking about?
“Conde Ricardo Romero,” the sorceress boomed in a thick Italian accent, “you have been accused of murdering two husks, Lenny Ledbetter of Santa Fe, New Mexico and Jaques Boudreau of Cassis, France.”
“Conde!” Ethyl squeaked from my pocket. “He’s a count! That’s one below a duke.”
I gently patted my pocket. “Quiet,” I whispered, “before they hear you.” But, wow, a count! That explained his wealth.
“How do you plead?” the sorceress continued while glaring at Ric.
His back and shoulders stiffened. “Not guilty.”
The sorceress chewed on the end of her wand like it was a pencil stick while the robed figure behind her whispered in her ear. Finally, the sorceress cleared her throat. “There were witnesses at both murder scenes that say you did it.”
“Both spellcast,” Ric continued. “I was framed.”
The sorceress gave a slight nod. “The witnesses were tested for enchantments and were found to have none.”
Ric’s hands shook as he rattled his restraints. “That’s because corruption runs all the way up the chain, and you know it.”
The sorceress shook her head before looking down at a pile of stacked papers. “The first account is from a French barmaid,” she said as she shuffled the papers and held up what looked like an old parchment. “Vivienne LeBreau.”
“A witch who was spellcast by a succubus,” Ric added.
The sorceress leered down at Ric from behind her stack of papers. “Do you have proof?”
He shook his head. “You and I both know she’ll never be found. She seduced me, then framed me and disappeared.”
I couldn’t imagine anyone sleeping with Ric and then framing him. Maybe he didn’t know how to do that thing with his tongue yet.
The sorceress leaned toward another witch beside her. “When did this murder take place?”
The witch, a much younger woman with pale skin and smooth hair the color of frosted starlight, turned on her wand light and shuffled her own set of papers. “1945.”
The sorceress nodded. “See if you can find Miss LeBreau.”
“Yes, madame.” The pale witch stood and quickly exited the room.
The sorceress glared down at Ric once more. “And the witness from last week’s murder was a husk by the name of Gertrude Ledbetter. The field agent got testimony from her saying a winged lion broke into her home, ate her grandson, and smashed all her cuckoo clocks.”
Ric shrugged. “It wasn’t me.”
The sorceress pushed the rim of her glasses up her long, Roman nose. “Then who was it when you are the only living sphinx?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know.”
“A succubus!” someone in the crowd called out. It took me a moment to realize that someone was me.
The striga nearby took big steps away from me while Des squeezed my hand harder.
“Luci?” Ric bucked against his bindings while struggling to turn around.
Oh, wow. He recognized my voice. I was suddenly flattered, overjoyed, and terrified all at once.
The sorceress banged her wand like a gavel. “How dare you interrupt this proceeding!”
I turned on my wand light while summoning a courage I didn’t feel, even as my stomach roiled with fear. “What else do you expect me to do when I’m a witness, and you refuse to take my testimony?”
The sorceress stood, leaning one hand on her pulpit while shining her wand at me. “Who are you, witch?”
I struck the blinding light with my wand, whispering a reduction spell. The crowd gasped as the light spilling out of the sorceress’s wand dimmed. The sorceress looked at her wand as if I’d given it the plague. Well, if they didn’t know I was an alpha witch before, they knew now. It was no small act of magic being able to dim another witch’s wand, especially one as powerful as Maga Sagredo.
I turned up my chin, forcing myself to be brave while also praying I didn’t crap my pants. “Luciella Lovelle, and I was with Ricardo Romero the night Lenny Ledbetter was killed.”
The sorceress arched a brow. “Who refused to take your testimony?”
“The troll Gus. I was with Ricardo the morning he arrested him. I’d been with him all night. Gus refused to listen to me.” I paused, swallowing back bile as my stomach twisted and turned. Be brave, Luci. Be brave. “And he even threatened me.”
The sorceress let out a deep sigh and clapped her hands. In the next instant, the lights above turned back on, and I felt about as small as the pixie in my pocket while the entire congregation glared at me.
Ethyl made a terrified squeak and fell to the bottom of my pocket while my son muttered to himself and nervously shuffled back and forth.
The sorceress waved dismissively at me. “Come down here, witch.”
I clung to Des as striga in front of us parted. We walked down the bench seats until we were standing at the bottom, just a few feet away from Ric and only about twenty feet away from the sorceress, who was now directly across from me.
She banged her wand against the pulpit again. “Get her sworn in!”
An old, lanky wizard with a long, scraggly gray beard flew at me on his broom. He landed just a few feet away, holding out the most sacred book in a witch’s arsenal, The Eternal Light , a book cataloging centuries of spells and striga history.
“Place your hand upon The Light ,” the wizard said to me.
Ric banged the legs of his chair while struggling to turn around. “Don’t answer their questions, Luci!” he called to me.
“Too late,” I called back. “I’m knee-deep in this shit-show now.” I wanted to add that I’d been wading through shit ever since that succubus killed my parents. I kept that part to myself, especially after Ric let out a litany of curse words that would make a disease-infested sailor blush.
When the wizard gave me an impatient look, I placed my hand on the leather, feeling the buzz of magic beneath. The old wizard’s breath smelled like rotten crotch, and the facial hair around his mouth shone like a glazed donut. I didn’t want to know what old witch’s pie he’d been munching. I just hoped he douched his face before approaching anyone else.
“Do you solemnly swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth or risk a hex on your soul?” he asked.
I turned my head to suck in a breath of fresh, crotchless air. “I do.”
Thank my lucky starlight, the old wizard flew back to the sorceress’s dais.
“His breath is gross,” Des whispered. “I want to go.”
“I know, darling. Just give Mama a few more minutes.”
He answered with a frustrated sigh.
My anxiety ratcheted up times ten while I worried Des would soon have a meltdown, but then I heard the flutter of wings, and Des smiled as little claw marks appeared on his shoulder. I’d have to thank Puffy later. Even though Ethyl’s pet was a royal pain, he knew how to calm my son, which more than made up for the occasional dragon splat on the bottom of my oven.
“Luciella Lovelle,” the sorceress asked, “where is your family from?”
“My parents were from Europe,” I answered, my throat tightening at the mention of them, “but they relocated to the states before I was born.”
She waved her wand and produced a big book on the dais in front of her. I recognized the bulbous nose sticking out of the book, probably one of Alfred’s cousins. She thumbed through the book, stopping, no doubt, on my name in the registry. Her jaw dropped as she looked back up at me. “You are listed as an alpha witch. Graduated magna cum laude from the Salem School of Witchcraft. Your profession is listed as a baker.” She closed the book, folding her hands in front of her while staring across the room at me as if I was an errant toddler. “Why would such a gifted witch waste her talent making cakes?”
“I love to bake,” I answered, which was true, but not the entire reason I had decided to become a small-town baker. The main reason was safety. Succubi weren’t looking to possess us, and not just because we worked with sugar. No, they wanted witches in powerful positions.
The sorceress arched a brow, and I could tell she didn’t buy my excuse. “How much does your bakery make?”
I shrugged. “We get by.”
“You could’ve worked for any of the top magical agencies as a spellcaster,” she said accusingly.
I refused to break away from her intimidating stare. “I really love to bake.”
My blood turned to ice when the sorceress nodded toward Des. “Why are you holding this young man’s hand?”
“He’s my son,” I answered. “He’s frightened. He has autism.”
She looked him over as if she was assessing the worth of a sow. “Is he verbal?”
My heart took off at a race. Why did she care? Would she interrogate him? “Rarely,” I answered, hoping that would be enough for her to leave him alone.
She made a disgusted snort. “You dragged an autistic boy to the Tribunal?”
I worked hard to unclench my jaw as ire threatened to split open my skull. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Why not?”
I heaved out an aggravated breath. We were already knee-deep in shit. Might as well pull up our pants and wade all the way in. “We’re being hunted by a succubus,” I answered. “The same one who framed Ric and probably the same one who—” I paused, swallowing back my emotion while ignoring the sorceress’s aggravating glare. “Who killed my parents.”
The crowd broke into a wave of murmurs and gasps.
My gooseflesh rose when the person in the hooded robe who sat behind the sorceress whispered in her ear. Were those gossipy witches right? Did this advisor rule the sorceress? If so, how? Was the sorceress being spellcast, and why wasn’t anyone doing anything about it?
The sorceress scrunched up her face and flipped through the registry. “It says here your parents died in a hex accident.”
“Wrong,” I blurted. “They were killed by a succubus.” But, yeah, that’s what it said in the registry. Nana Clara had always said it was safest that way after she’d forced me to pretend I hadn’t seen that succubus slaughter my parents. I’d been too young to understand then, but I was starting to realize now that Nana Clara was trying to protect me from some very bad and powerful demons, some of which were probably working for the Tribunal. How else had Ric been framed for Lenny’s murder?
The sorceress gave me a pitying look, as if I was a confused child. “Is that really what you think?”
I clenched my wand in a bruising grip, wishing I could thrust it through the sorceress’s eye. “It’s what I know .”
She dropped her wand on the dais, folding her hands in front of her. “How old are you?”
“Forty-two.”
She picked up a pen and scribbled on a note pad. “Have you ever had a mental evaluation?”
Ohh, the bitch! “Why, when I don’t need one?”
“Get out of here, Luci!” Ric called out while fighting his restraints once more. “Or you’ll end up like your parents!”
His warning solidified the blood in my veins. “Not without you,” I answered, knowing I’d most likely end up like my parents anyway. I couldn’t explain why, but my gut told me my best shot at keeping Des and me safe was freeing Ric from prison.
The sorceress’s eyes flashed with rage as she banged her wand against the dais. “One more word, Conde Romero, and I’ll have you gagged.”
Again, I was hit with a sense of déjà vu as I stared at her. Where had I seen her?
She turned her scowl on me again. “What makes you think a succubus framed Conde Romero?”
“Other than the fact that I was with him all night?” I answered. “I visited the crime scene after he was arrested.”
More gasps and murmurs rose up from the crowd.
I fought the urge to run when the sorceress hopped on a compact broom and flew toward me. The hooded figure behind her reached for her with spindly fingers before slinking into the shadows. The sorceress landed on the bench opposite me, eyeing me over the rim of her glasses. In that moment, I knew why she appeared so familiar. She could’ve been an older version of my mother, with the same olive skin and big, brown eyes. She had long fingers and wickedly sharp silver-tipped fingernails along with the biggest, gaudiest gemstone rings I’d ever seen of all colors and shapes, stacked in threes and fours on every finger. Even more shocking, she was shorter than she appeared. Though she wore tall boots to give her more height, she was five feet tall at the most, indicating she probably had pixie in her bloodline.
“How did you get past the wards?” she asked me.
I did my best to ignore Ethyl’s fluttering wings as she trembled in my pocket. “A simple concealment spell,” I answered, refusing to break eye contact, even as the sorceress stared at me as if she was looking through me.
“Concealment spells aren’t simple,” she said with a huff, “but go on.”
“Lenny wasn’t eaten,” I continued. “He was turned into a pile of goo. The salty spices had all been emptied. The sugar was untouched. Every cuckoo clock had been destroyed. This isn’t the work of a sphinx.” I paused, giving my words time to sink in. “This is the work of a succubus.”
The old crotch-breath wizard landed behind the sorceress while clutching the registry with whitened knuckles.
The sorceress tossed a look over her shoulder at the old mage. “We saw nothing of this in the report.”
The mage nodded his agreement.
“Because Gus is working with the succubus,” I answered. “He might even be the succubus.”
I scowled at the crowd of striga that pressed closer to us, the excited gleams in their eyes as they absorbed the juicy details. They elbowed each other to get ahead, and as big as she was, poor Frederica had been pushed further behind until she was several rows above us. Had these striga no decency? I wondered if they’d be so excited for gossip if someone they cared about was on trial.
The sorceress gave me a curious look. “What makes you think that?”
“He has been after my secret family recipe for years,” I said, unable to keep the anger from my voice, “using his position as a health inspector to demand it.”
The sorceress’s jaw dropped before she turned on the wizard with a snarl. “Where is this Gus?”
“Here, Your Honor.”
Clutching my wand like a lifeline, I spun around, snarling at the troll as the crowd parted for him.
Ric let out a groan, hanging his head while straining against his chains.
“Come forward.” The sorceress waved Gus toward us. “You will call me Maga Sagredo, not Your Honor. Do I make myself clear?”
He frowned as he hopped toward us, his little legs barely clearing each step, before standing on a bench above us, the top of his head reaching my shoulder. “Yes, Your H—Meega Regina.”
“Close enough.” The sorceress rolled her eyes. “Get him sworn in.”
The crotch-breath wizard hovered over Gus, his long beard falling across the top of Gus’s bald head. “State your name and species.”
The troll swatted the wizard’s hair out of his face. “Gus Apoupaios, pygmy troll.”
The old wizard waved his wand, and The Eternal Light appeared in his hand. “Do you solemnly swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth or risk a hex on your soul?”
Gus visibly swallowed, placing his hand upon the book as if it was a hot potato. “I swear.”
The old wizard waved his wand, and the book again disappeared. Then he backed up until he faded into the crush of striga.
The sorceress scowled down at Gus. “You had a witness and didn’t tell us?”
“She’s not credible.” He waved me off as if I was a vagrant begging for scraps. “She sells pastries tainted with magic.”
The little prick. “It’s a secret family recipe.”
Gus turned up his double chin. “Her pastries aren’t safe for consumption. It’s a matter of public safety.”
I shook my head, unable to contain my bitter laughter. So much for Gus swearing to tell the truth. Guess the hex on his soul was nothing more than an empty threat.
“He comes into my shop almost every day and demands free food, and if I don’t give it to him, he threatens to close down my bakery. And then he did close it down,” I added, my words brimming with rage. “And threatened me with jail if I tried to help Ric.”
A wave of murmurs rose up from the crowd.
The sorceress gave the little troll a pointed look. “Is this true?”
Gus scratched the back of his head, averting his gaze. “Well, I...”
“What happened to the food that you took?” she interrupted.
He puffed out his barrel chest. “I inspected it for safety reasons.”
She arched a thick brow. “Every day?”
He turned his gaze to his scuffed shoes. “Not every day.”
“How many times a week?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Around four or five.”
More murmurs rose up from the crowd. For the first time, I realized things were starting to look up for Ric and me. Perhaps public opinion would sway in our favor.
The sorceress folded her arms, impatiently tapping her foot. “How much of it have you been eating?”
“After I finished testing it, I usually ate it.” His beady gaze shot to me before he looked back down at his feet. “It would’ve been a shame to waste perfect pastries.”
“So now they’re perfect?” The sorceress let out a boisterous laugh. “I thought they weren’t safe for consumption.”
Ire squeezed my chest like a vise. “He’s full of troll dung.”
The sorceress cut me a dark look. “Miss Lovelle, you will not speak unless spoken to. Understood?”
I swallowed back my aggravation and nodded.
“Has he been taking sweet or savory pastries?” she asked me.
“Both.”
“Then he’s not a succubus.” She tilted her head in my direction while continuing to glare at Gus. “I’m still trying to understand why you tried to suppress this witness.”
“H-h-how can we trust the sphinx’s lover?” he stammered, a glaringly obvious look of guilt reflecting in his eyes.
She wagged a disapproving finger. “That’s not for you to decide. You are the lead investigator in the murder of the husk, Lenny Ledbetter?”
“I am,” he said in a mousy voice, not sounding very much like the lead of anything.
She eyed him while tapping her chin with one of those long fingernails that reminded me of sharpened blades. “I didn’t realize homicide detectives were also health inspectors.”
“The Division of Unapproved Magic in New Mexico is a small unit of the American Supernatural Society, so I oversee everything.”
“Yesss,” she drawled while rolling her eyes, “the DUM-ASSes. We’ve heard of them.”
I flinched, pulling Des closer to me when the crowd broke into boisterous laughter. Ordinarily, I would’ve laughed, too, but not when Ric’s life was hanging in the balance.
The sorceress silenced the crowd with a stern look. “The New Mexico DUM-ASSes must be a very small division,” she said to Gus. “Is it true what she says about the crime scene?”
“Well...” He paused, his eyes shifting again. Was he looking for someone in the crowd? “A sphinx could’ve done those things.”
She waved her wand, and a spiral notebook appeared in her hand. She hastily flipped through the notebook, swearing with each turn of the page. “In the report, it says the husk was eaten, not turned into goo, and there’s nothing about the spices.”
“I didn’t do an inventory of the spices,” he rattled off, the words tripping on his tongue like a mad dash of sprites escaping a jar. “The whole house was trashed, and I’m not sure what that goo was.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Didn’t you test it?”
He scanned the crowd again, and I knew he was looking for someone. “Our facility isn’t equipped to test human remains.”
“But it is equipped to test pastries?” she pressed.
His cheeks flushed. “Well, yes.”
“Why didn’t you send off the specimen to the DUM headquarters?”
His head bobbled like a doll with a broken neck. “I did.”
“And what were the results?”
He tugged at the collar on his cheap suit like it was suffocating him. No doubt it was, considering his neck was as wide as his head. “They’re pending.”
She gave him a long look, her eyes narrowing. “Shouldn’t you have mentioned that in your report?”
He scratched the back of his bald head, his eyes darting to something behind the sorceress. “I didn’t want to mention it until we had the results.”
She slapped her hand with her wand like a dominatrix about to punish her submissive. “You don’t get to decide what to leave out of the report, just like you don’t get to pick and choose your witnesses!” she hollered. “And you said the husk witness, Gertrude Ledbetter, was tested for spellcasting?”
He tugged at his collar again. “Yes, Your Hon—Mega Resita.”
Mega what?
The sorceress mumbled something about stupid trolls just loud enough for me to hear. “Considering the way you’ve already bungled this case,” she said on a sigh, “forgive me if I don’t believe you used proper testing. I could have you jailed for evidence tampering. If it wasn’t for the fact that pygmy trolls are notoriously stupid, I would call for your immediate arrest.” She paused, sighing again when he loudly sniffled and wiped his eyes. “I don’t understand how you could examine a crime scene and not check the spices, just like I don’t understand how you could be the lead investigator for a DUM unit. Every other competent witch in the area must have passed on the promotion...” She scowled at me. “Or opened a bakery.” She jutted her wand toward Gus. “While I’m not going to have you arrested, I’m going to recommend your immediate demotion.”
His cheeks turned as red as a dragon’s pecker. “Yes, Your Hon—Megaeray.”
Damn. He wasn’t even trying to get her name right anymore.
I gave a start when that robed figure who’d been sitting behind the sorceress earlier grasped the sorceress’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. She had to have been Signora Oscura, the advisor.
The sorceress turned up her nose, waving her wand like a conductor. “As far as I’m concerned, based on Miss Lovelle’s testimony and the fact that the lead investigator is obviously biased or stupid, or both, I’m going to recommend dismissal of charges in the Lenny Ledbetter case pending a full investigation into this case from the Southwest DUM division.”
I practically jumped out of my skin with excitement as a wave of relief washed through me. Maybe everything I’d heard about the Tribunal being corrupt had been heresy.
“But the charges for Jaques Boudreau’s murder still stand,” the sorceress said haughtily.
Maybe not.
“How,” I spat, “when it’s obvious someone is trying to frame him?”
I froze, then pushed Des behind me when she pointed her wand at my chest. “Speak out of turn one more time, and I’ll have you arrested for contempt of court. Do I make myself clear, Miss Lovelle?”
I swallowed back my rage, knowing I had to play nice if I wanted to help Ric. “Yes, Maga Sagredo.”
“Investigators are searching for Vivienne LeBreau,” she continued haughtily. “If we can’t find her, we’ll see if any of her family members can bear witness. In the meantime, I highly suggest you leave the investigating to the detectives, Miss Lovelle.”
I shook my head. “I can’t when I know an innocent sphinx, the last of his kind, could be hung for a murder he didn’t commit.”
That hooded figure whispered in the sorceress’s ear, digging her spindly claws into her shoulder. The sorceress nodded, then looked at me. “What do you plan to do, Miss Lovelle?”
I squared my shoulders, refusing to be intimidated by her scowl. “I plan on finding the succubus who framed him.”
“And then what?” She clucked her tongue. “Risk meeting the same fate of your parents?”
So she believed a succubus had killed my parents? “And then I will avenge my parents.”
“No!” Ric hollered from below, his deep bellow surprisingly strong for someone who couldn’t shift.
“How old were you when your parents died, Miss Lovelle?”
My gaze snapped to the sorceress. “Fifteen.”
She tapped her chin with a long fingernail. “Why do you believe a succubus killed them?”
I could’ve told the sorceress that I’d seen their murder, that I’d survived due to my ability to completely conceal myself at just fifteen years old. But the bitch knew too much already, and I didn’t trust her or her creepy advisor.
Every muscle in my body tensed as I worked hard to unclench my teeth. “I just do.”
She rubbed her chin while eyeing me as if she could somehow see into my soul. “Interesting.”
“Why would their murder be interesting?” I snapped, irritated by her casual tone.
“It’s been well over five centuries,” she answered.
This sorceress made no sense. “Since what?”
“Since the last phoenix resurfaced.”
The crowd sucked in a hiss, then went eerily silent, and I swear the temperature in the room dropped by ten degrees. I caught their shocked gazes, their slackened jaws. Why would they react this way? Sure, I’d read about the phoenix in my school textbooks, a rare striga with incredible powers, but the consensus had been that the phoenix was nothing more than a medieval fairytale. And even if it wasn’t, the phoenix was supposed to have come from one of the ancient magical families like the Sagredos. Was she implying I was the phoenix?
I scratched the back of my head while averting my gaze. “I thought the phoenix was a myth.”
“How easily witches forget lessons from the past.” The sorceress clucked her tongue. “My grandparents knew the last phoenix. She was more powerful than a dozen combined witches.”
Des let out a gasp, and I squeezed his hand.
The sorceress nodded toward the floor where Ric had stopped fighting his restraints, his head hanging in defeat. “Do you know why he’s the last sphinx?”
Nervous energy buzzed through me, like thousands of insects were swarming in my veins as the hooded figure whispered in the sorceress’s ear again, reminding me of a parasite attaching itself to a host.
“No.”
The sorceress looked from her parasite back to me. “Because his kind have been hunted by succubi for thousands of years. Throughout history, sphinxes have protected the phoenixes from threats. Without a sphinx protector, the phoenix is more vulnerable to succubi possessions.”
“And yet the council would imprison the last sphinx and try him for murder?” I asked, refusing to hide the bitterness in my tone.
“Rules are rules.” The sorceress shrugged. “But the more I think on it, the more I realize it’s not a coincidence that you two found each other.” She fixed me with a penetrating stare that made my skin crawl. “I would like to run some tests on you, Miss Lovelle.”
Ric fought his restraints again, rattling the chains louder than before. “Don’t trust them, Luci!”
“Silence him,” the sorceress hissed at the crotch-breath wizard.
The very foundation beneath me felt like it was falling as the wizard flew down toward Ric and two minotaurs joined him, gagging him while he tried to bite them. They thought I was the phoenix, yet they wanted to restrain the one striga who was supposed to protect me? Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
“No!” I screamed while backing up, pushing Des with me.
I noted how the sorceress’s advisor shielded her ears, crying out when I screamed. Succubi were bothered by loud noises. Shielding the ears was a tell-tale sign of demonic possession.
The sorceress advanced toward me while raising her wand. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not going to be your guinea pig,” I spat.
The hooded figure followed the sorceress’s advance, a shaft of light striking her and revealing a familiar hook nose and beady eyes. Antonio’s wife! The very same woman who’d appeared with three murderous mages seconds before we’d escaped. Now I knew she had to be a succubus.
My heart stopped, then took off at a run. We had to get out of here, but how would we reach the portal in time?
The sorceress slapped her open palm with her wand. “You don’t have a choice, Miss Lovelle. If you are the phoenix, we can’t risk you falling into demon hands.”
I aimed my wand at her. “Don’t come near us, or you’ll regret it.”
Ethyl fluttered in my pocket, Des squeezed my shoulder with a trembling hand, and every striga in the room eyed me like I was a prize to be won.
“Leave her alone!” a voice called from the crowd. I looked up in time to see Frederica fighting off striga while trying to reach me.
The sorceress aimed her wand at me, and I fired off a defensive spell. Then an explosion of light, and we were falling through the darkness into oblivion. Goddess, save us!