Chapter 25
JOSIE
The Sun Witch coven home is a traditional century home with a vibrant fa?ade adorned with ornate wrought-iron balconies. The large, shuttered windows, the colonnade front porch, and the purple double doors welcome us to the next phase of the High Priestess trials.
“Will you boys need an invitation to get in?” I ask as we hustle to climb the stairs.
Finn waves my concern away. “Och, no. The Coven House is owned by a corporation, not a person. No entry restrictions apply.”
“Yay, you’re here!” Elara opens the double doors wide and waves us inside. “I was getting worried. You left the store hours ago.”
“Sorry. I needed to make a stop.”
For all the good it did me.
Inside, high ceilings, hardwood floors, and intricate crown moldings reflect the home’s historical elegance. It’s beautiful, and if I remember correctly, it’s been in the possession of New Orleans witches since the French arrived in the late 1600s and founded the city.
I briefly wonder if that’s when Sebastian arrived here. Was he part of Robert Cavelier’s expedition that claimed this land for France?
Elara leads us through the old home to a hidden courtyard garden at the back. We walk the brick pathways past a small fountain and into a tranquil oasis.
There is a raised dais on the left with the elders of the coven seated so they can watch the trial. The five ladies—Elder Edith, Zana, and Francine included—give me a brief nod of welcome and I bow my head.
Opposite them are five workstations draped in a ritual cloth, each table set up with a mortar and pestle, a small burner, an assortment of bowls, spoons, and a ritual athame.
“Oh, you came.” Beatris looks down her nose, a clear air of disdain directed at me.
“Yep. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Since three of the other four witches in the competition are already here, I take one of the empty workstations and start unpacking the supplies I brought with me.
Huh, I’m not the last to arrive.
Summer Saint-Claire isn’t here.
She’s likely preparing for a grand entrance or something equally dramatic. Maybe she thinks it makes her look more confident if she doesn’t need the prep time the rest of us do.
My familiar bond lights up and I know Phi is close by. Quit worrying about her and focus on your own process. What’s your potion?
I have a few in mind.
What? You haven’t even narrowed it down?
Calm down. Mother Gaia will guide me.
That’s your strategy!?
I follow my instincts and search the shadows of the courtyard to where I feel my raven. You’re here to support me, not heckle me. If you have nothing nice to say, close your beak.
I refocus on unpacking my supplies and rid my mind of the panic and negativity from my raven.
The air is thick with the heady scent of herbs and magical ingredients, and I breathe it deep into my lungs. For the first time in days, my nerves flip from dread to excitement.
Mother Gaia is with us tonight.
Setting up the vials and jars I brought with me, I let my mind wander over the three potions I’ve been practicing. Are they unique enough?
I’m not sure they are.
I glance around at my four competitors. They seem very confident. Well, let the best witch win. Grand-Mère said the winner will be the witch with the strongest connection to Gaia, and that she will guide us.
Knowing that helps. I have faith in the goddess and in her plan. If it is her will that I win, I will win. If one of my sister witches is a better choice, then I will accept her as my priestess.
Fintan, Rune, and Elara have gone up to the second-floor balcony and are watching from above with the other spectators.
Thankfully, the crowd is smaller this time.
I smile up at Rune and Finn. Even with the tension between them and the worry of what’s going on with Sebastian, my vampire mates are here to support me. It means a lot.
Somewhere in the coven house, a clock strikes off the midnight hour. With each bong ringing off, more adrenaline pumps through my veins.
Elder Francine stands and holds out her arms. “The witching hour is upon us, ladies. Each of you are tasked with preparing one unique potion. Your creation will be graded based on uniqueness, potency, and functional use. When Miss Saint-Clair arrives, she will be given whatever time remains on the clock. May Gaia guide you. Good luck.”
The first few minutes are a buzz of excited energy, and I can’t decide which of my planned potions to start. I flip through my note cards and read them over for the millionth time.
Elixir of Sharp Wit: This potion sharpens mental acuity and enhances cognitive functions. Ideal for students or professionals facing demanding tasks, the elixir boosts concentration, memory, and quick thinking. Its effects last for about four to six hours, providing a significant edge during exams, meetings, or any situation requiring mental clarity.
It strikes me that maybe I should’ve taken this potion before tonight’s trials. Then, maybe, I wouldn’t be in such a dither. Too late now.
My second choice is an Everclean Draught: A practical potion for the home. This draught can be sprinkled on surfaces, instantly removing dirt, grime, and bacteria without the need for physical scrubbing. The effects will last until the next application, promoting a healthier, cleaner environment.
And then there’s my third idea.
Vigor Vial: A potion that enhances physical energy and endurance, perfect for those days filled with physical activities or when extra stamina is needed. Consuming this potion provides a burst of vitality that helps to combat fatigue and lethargy, enabling one to stay active and energetic throughout the day without the side effects of traditional stimulants.
All three are good, but are they great?
My palms are sweaty as Summer breezes into the courtyard and takes her place. She’s five minutes late, but you wouldn’t know it from her poised entrance. It’s as if the ticking clock doesn’t concern her in the slightest.
Boom!
I spin with my hands up, ready to defend. Only the thundering boom and subsequent crash behind me isn’t an attack. The creole woman beside Beatris has rushed her ingredients by turning her burner on too high and has blown things up quite spectacularly.
She looks mortified.
Elder Edith stands and steps to the edge of the dais. “Nadine? Everything all right?”
The moisture in her eyes catches in the moonlight. “I…uh, I burned up my moonlace petals. I needed them for the spell I’m making.”
Moonlace petals are harvested from a flower that only blooms under the light of a full moon and need to be picked at midnight to retain their ethereal essence. They are used in potions to enhance visions and facilitate communication with the spirit world.
I know because they were a big part of the mixture I used at the Dumont crypt tonight.
Reaching under my station, I grab my bag and pull out the jar of petals. “Here, I have some. You can start again. It’ll be fine.”
Nadine looks at me like I’ve got three heads. “Why would you help me?”
“Because you’re a sister witch in need. Why wouldn’t I help you?”
“Um…thanks.”
“Not a problem. Good luck.” I hand her the little jar and hurry back to my station. Elder Edith is staring at me, looking stern. “There are no rules against sharing ingredients and helping one another, are there?”
The woman shakes her head. “No, child.”
Good. Okay. I thought for a moment I might’ve disqualified myself.
Turning back to my note cards, I steady my racing heart. The smell of singed ingredients lingers unpleasantly in the air, but a quick flick of my hand brings a whoosh of blooms from the surrounding gardens.
“All right. Where were we?” Placing my cards to the side, I close my eyes. “Mother Gaia, if it be your will, guide my hands in the making of this potion.”
“The hour is up, ladies. Hands up and step back from your stations. It’s time to present your potions.” Elder Francine’s voice is firm, carrying across the courtyard.
The five crones stand and move as one to the first workstation. “Cecile, what have you made for us, dear?”
Cecile is a woman about my age. She looks nervous, her hands shaking as she steps forward. “My potion is intended for enhancing memory retention and should last for about three hours.”
She pours a sample for the judges. The liquid is clear, only a faint blue tint swirling occasionally. It’s simple—too simple maybe.
Elder Francine takes a sip, her face betraying no emotion. “Thank you, Cecile.”
Several of the other elders speak quietly to one another and a blonde woman among them scribbles something on her clipboard.
The lack of reaction from the judges sends a ripple of anxiety through me. If they are this hard to impress, what will they think of my potion?
I glance at my workstation. The ingredients I used are laid out meticulously, my recipe noted on the back of one of my other recipe cards.
Maybe I should’ve stuck with one of the three I practiced. Too late now. I asked for divine guidance, and I trust Gaia’s judgment.
I wipe my hands on my apron to calm the jitters. As Elder Francine moves the group toward Summer’s workstation, I take a deep breath.
I’ll be next. I need to be ready to present the culmination of my efforts.
The elders gather around Summer’s station and Francine smiles. “Summer, tell us what you’ve brewed today, what its intended effects are, and how long those effects last.”
“I call it Nightfang Brew. A person who drinks this will have the stamina and heightened senses of a werewolf and the strength and speed of a vampire. It will last for an hour—unless you double the hair of werewolf and vampire venom, then the effects will last two hours.”
There’s a buzz among the elders, and Edith’s grin widens. “Very impressive. Let’s see if it does what you say.”
Francine takes the clipboard from the blonde witch and gestures to the foaming chalice. Without pause, she takes the cup in both hands and lifts it to her mouth. It smells rank by her grimace, but she tips it back and gulps a long drink.
Muddy brown liquid sloshes over the rim of the chalice as the blonde chokes. It looks like she might throw up, but then she throws her head back with a scream that makes me flinch.
Her eyes flip fully black, and her fingers curl into wicked-looking claws big enough to be a werewolf’s paw.
“How do you feel?” Francine asks.
“Powerful.” She lifts the chalice in her clawed hand and squeezes. The metal crumples under her potion-powered strength.
The elders are obviously impressed.
“Well done, Summer,” Francine says.
Summer must interpret the praise as an invitation because she steps forward like she’s on a stage and raises a hand toward the crowd above. “Witches—both Sun and Moon—have been afraid for too long. If I’m the next one honored with the position of High Priestess of New Orleans, no one in the coven will feel powerless against the vampires or the werewolves again. We need to remember who we were—who we are. We aren’t Sun Witches and Moon Witches. We are a single sisterhood united under Mother Gaia.”
The enthusiasm of the elders seems to be divided now.
Francine waves Summer’s words away, looking annoyed. “Thank you, Summer, but we don’t need a campaign speech. This isn’t an election. The position of high priestess is for Mother Gaia to choose.”
“Of course. My apologies, Elder Francine. I’m simply passionate about restoring witches to our former glory.”
Elder Francine moves down to the next station. “Beatris, what about you?”
Beatris’ potion doesn’t sound that interesting and honestly, I zone out and stop listening. I’m next, and I need to gather my thoughts.
My potion isn’t as flashy as Summer’s. It’s not going to give anyone supernatural powers or heightened abilities. But as long as it doesn’t explode—or worse, make the elders explode—I think I have a good chance of moving on to the next trial.
“Josephine?”
My turn.
“What have you made for us today?”
I swallow, but the lump gets stuck in my throat.
As Elder Francine and the pale blonde woman approach my station, my hands are steady, though my heart beats with a nervous anticipation. I carefully pick up a small, elegantly curved bottle filled with a shimmering, rosy liquid.
The potion inside glows softly, reflecting the flickering candlelight of the room.
“Elders,” I begin, my voice clear despite the flutter in my chest. “I present to you the Truth’s Whisper. This elixir is crafted for moments when the mind and emotions are in conflict, making it difficult to discern the path one must take.”
I pour a small amount into each of the shot glasses I brought for the elders. The liquid’s luminescence casts a warm glow on their intrigued faces. “When consumed, the potion acts to quiet the noise of logic and fears, allowing the drinker to connect deeply with their core activator and, if needed, Mother Gaia’s will. It clears the mental fog and sharpens emotional insight, providing clarity without inner turmoil.”
The elders each take a little glass and sip it.
“This is quite unique, Josie,” Elder Francine remarks after a moment, her voice tinged with a rare warmth. “It’s gentle yet profound. I feel a soothing clarity, as if layers of uncertainty are being peeled away.”
An older black woman with silver braids meets my gaze and smiles. “It’s like hearing my soul more clearly. There’s a peace in that, a very special kind of magic.”
Relief washes over me, mingling with a blossoming pride. The judges move on to the next contestant, but their lingering smiles and the light in their eyes tell me that Truth’s Whisper has made its mark.
Blessed be, Mother Gaia.
RUNE
“To Josephine Dumont, Sun Witch extraordinaire and the future High Priestess of New Orleans.” Standing on our table at Club Sanguine, I hold my arm in the air and toast Josie to the room.
We’re on the mixed paranormal floor, so Phi, Elara, and Tavor can join the celebration. Finn is here too, and thankfully, our shared affection for Josie is keeping his mood swings at bay.
“To Josie,” Elara shouts in response.
Josie grabs my leg and tugs at me to sit down. “Get off the table, Viking. You’re embarrassing me. You’re going to get us kicked out.”
I jump down to reclaim my seat and laugh. “It’s our club, remember? We can do whatever we want, and no one can say boo.”
Josie looks like she wants to argue, but it won’t matter. I’m right. “Well, even so. You need to slow your roll on declaring me the high priestess. There is still one trial to go and Summer and Beatris are two very talented witches to beat.”
“A mere formality,” I say, sinking into my chair. “Everyone knows you’re going to win. You’re Josie-freaking-Dumont. Your people have always been in the favor of your goddess.”
Josie giggles and finishes her drink. “My people, huh? Well, my people have made mistakes along the way, too. Mother Gaia will choose based on the witches at hand, not based on who my mother and grandmother were.”
“As she should,” Finn says, finishing his beer before standing up. “Ye’ll win solely based on yer own merits. We know it, and in two days’ time, the entire community will know it.”
“I hope you win, Josie.” The creole witch from the group of five steps up to our table. “What you did for me—giving me your moonlace petals—was very kind.”
“And classy,” Elara adds. “I’m sorry you got knocked out, Nadine. I thought your potion sounded very interesting.”
Josie nods. “Would you like to join us?”
Nadine casts a glance around the table. “Would that be weird?”
“Not at all. Please.” Josie gestures to the empty chair at the table, then looks at my brother. “Finn? Could you get us another round?”
“Aye, my pleasure. What’s yer drink, Nadine?”
“I’ll have a Black Widow’s Bite, thank you.”
Finn shuffles off and the girls get back to their conversation.
“I meant what I said,” Nadine says. “If I can’t be there, I’m glad you will be.”
“That’s very kind of you. Thanks.”
“Not at all. When my first attempt exploded, I think it was a sign from Mother Gaia that I wasn’t on the right path. The explosion left me scattered, and I forgot one of my key incantations. Doesn’t matter. I only tried for it to ensure someone kind and honest would lead us going forward. It doesn’t have to be me.”
Josie frowns. “You don’t think Summer and Beatris would be good coven leaders?”
Nadine shrugs, looking like she might have said more than she meant to. “I won’t speak unkindly of my fellow witches. I just hope we can get back to a true feeling of sisterhood and not make everything about who is strongest or best or has the right last name.”
“Huzzah!” Elara shouts before throwing her glass to shatter it against the floor.
Josie blinks and throws out her hand, stopping the projectile glass in mid-air. With a flick of her wrist, it retraces its path, and she sets it back on the table. “Do we need to cut you off?”
Elara laughs. “Maybe. I’m not a big drinker.”
“Clearly.”
“Another round for the ladies,” Finn says, setting the tray down at the center of the table.
Everyone reaches in except Elara. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
I wave the caution away. “Go for it. Josie and I will make sure you don’t start any riots and get you home safe and sound.”
Elara grins and checks with Josie.
Josie backs me up. “Absolutely. If you want to unwind, we’ve got you, sista.”
“Best offer I’ve had in ages.” She reaches over to the tray and grabs her drink.
The girls have dissolved into a happy chorus of budding friendship when an unexpected visitor makes his way through the crowd.
Dressed like a pip, the warlock has split-dyed hair with one side of his hair yellow and the other orange. As bizarre as it is, it sort of suits him. And he can get away with it because despite being close to two-hundred years old, the guy doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.
“I hear congratulations are in order, Miss Dumont. I’m glad to hear you’re settling into your life here in NOLA. Having a Dumont witch around will certainly stir things up.”
“Mr. Crane. It’s good to see you again. Thanks for coming over to say hello.”
Callius dips his chin. “May I have a private word? I promise it will only take a moment.”
Finn and I stiffen. Look at that. My brother and I are back to sharing common ground—like snapping the neck of a smarmy warlock who dares to speak to our girl.
Josie must feel our reaction over our bond because her head turns, and her eyes widen. “You may speak freely, Mr. Crane. We’re all friends here. What can I do for you?”
He scans the group of us at the table and must realize he’s not getting a better offer, so he shrugs. “I wanted to remind you, the paperwork and the trust information for the Dumont home and estate have been switched into your name. I just need you to come into the office and sign.”
“Oh, lovely. Thank you for letting me know.”
When the wizard leaves, Nadine fans her face with her hands and pretends to swoon. “You know Callius Crane?”
Josie laughs. “He was my grandmother’s lawyer. I guess I inherited him.”
Elara throws her hand into the air dramatically. “For the creatures of shadow, and those who roam the night, one warlock will stand as your solicitor. Callius Crane: warlock of the ten parishes.”
Josie and Nadine both burst into a fit of giggles.
I make a mental note to take these ladies out drinking more often.
Drunk Elara is a hoot.