Chapter 13 #3
Did he know? Could he tell from her face or her aura? But no—if he had known she’d used that magic, he wouldn’t be regarding her like she was a damp leaf someone had brought in on the bottom of their shoe. There was no horror, just haughty irritation.
“I’m here to—”
The man gave her a look that cut her off. “They know.” He tucked a lock of shoulder-length red hair behind his ear and tapped out something on his keyboard.
Pippa swallowed. “They know I’m here, or they know why I’m here?”
The receptionist flicked another look at her and continued to type.
She didn’t have to wait long. Right as she dropped into a leather chair (also with claw-foot legs, because, consistency), there came the sensation that she’d been snared by a fishhook, and the line was drawn taut. Not a painful feeling, but certainly uncomfortable enough to notice.
Pippa stood and followed the pull, and the prickling lessened. When the Coven elders were ready to see her, there were never any announcements, or name-calling, or “They’re ready for you, Pippa.” They simply beckoned with magic.
She nodded at the receptionist as she passed, who, in response, fully ignored her.
The pull directed her to the staircase. On her way up, she surreptitiously tried to wipe her dust-covered flats against the plush burgundy runner pinned against the stairs. By the time she reached the top, they looked better, however the runner did not.
Maxim would love this place. He’d pause to remark on the ornate frames along the walls: the landscapes and impressionist paintings with little brass plates at the bottom boasting names from art history textbooks.
He’d point out the mahogany stair treads and wonder what magic had banished the creaks and the scuffing from floors that were surely older than New Hawkshead itself.
“What the fu-u-ck?” he would stage-whisper to her at the sight of the mummified hand in a glass cabinet at the top of the staircase.
He’d point at it and give her a look of such intrigue and horror that she would have to stifle a laugh.
She would explain that it was rumored to be the hand of the first witch in New Hawkshead, who had founded the Ash Coven and set them on their current path.
“That’s disgusting,” he would say. Then, “Do you think it’s ever been used to flip someone off?” And she’d laugh again.
With every additional thought of him, a pained ache joined the Coven’s pull in her chest. She thought of his joy, and the warmth of his body, and how his smile had felt against her skin.
She thought about how he’d always thought the best of her and desperately wanted to help in any way he could, and the ache grew sharp, curving barbs and tightened around her heart.
Not now.
She couldn’t think about any of that now, so she shoved the feelings deep and focused on the magical pull that was calling her to the door at the end of a long hallway. It swung open as she reached it.
Although she had gone through this exact door last week, Pippa stepped into a room that looked completely different.
Before, it had stone walls and castle-like decor.
Tapestries had hung at odd intervals against chipped sandstone.
A suit of armor in the corner had witnessed all of Pippa’s humiliation, and it had probably judged her sneakers just like Elder David had.
Now, the walls were papered in a soft, floral print and lined with bookshelves. More framed paintings hung on any bit of wall unoccupied by books, and a sepia-tinged globe on a thick iron stand sat beside a heavy desk.
The Coven liked to change the rooms every few months. In Pippa’s opinion, the entire purpose was to show off how much power they had and how much free time to use it. This room looked like someone had image searched for “old library aesthetic.”
Elder David, the man, the legend, the asshole in the flesh, sat behind the desk, staring intently into a clear ball the size of a baseball.
Pippa opened her mouth to speak a greeting, and Elder David, without looking away from the ball, held up a finger as if to say, “Shut up, what I’m doing is more important than you are.”
Pippa forced her anger out alongside a slow, controlled exhale through her nose, and perched on the edge of the only other chair in the room.
The pull in her chest had entirely disappeared so she instead focused on the swirling patterns in the rug at her feet.
Roses, vines, little white flowers along the borders that must have been stitched by hand.
There came a low click behind Elder David’s desk, and as Pippa glanced up, one of the tall bookcases swung into the room and Elder Ranna strode through the new doorway.
God, of course they would have a secret bookcase door. It was excessive and atmospheric and if Pippa had control over creating a room, she would fill it with secret passage entrances exactly like that.
Elder Ranna twisted a hand and spoke a few lilting words, and a chair matching Elder David’s appeared in front of her.
She dragged it across the floor, not seeming to care about the scratches she left in the parquet, and sat beside Elder David with an air of irritation that she had to be here in the first place.
Elder David straightened, then covered the glass ball with a slip of silk. “If you’re wanting to talk about your application again,” he said without preamble, “then I’m afraid we don’t have anything more to tell you.”
Pippa swallowed. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Elder Ranna gave Pippa what she must have thought was a kind smile. “It’s a beautiful day out. Surely there’s somewhere you’d rather be than in this stuffy room.”
It was meant as a light joke, a self-deprecating comment about a room they’d intentionally designed themselves, and that managed to make it all that much worse.
“I came here because I need help.”
Pippa watched the two elders’ faces as she told the story of the warehouse, the Tro’grath, and the ensuing hit-demons, leaving out any mention of Maxim or Jules.
She expected surprise, if not empathy, so when she finished and the two expressions of the witches behind the desk looked exactly the same as when she’d entered, the first little spark of concern flared within her.
She’d already thought this meeting wasn’t going to go the way she hoped. Now, there came the creeping feeling that it was about to go worse than she’d anticipated.
Elder David’s eyebrows furrowed into a position that tried to imply concern. “And the corpses? Were they taken care of?”
Any thought that they’d be worried about—heaven forbid—the health of one of their potential coven members vanished.
Pippa shifted in her chair. The leather creaked under her thighs. “Yes. All three were destroyed without any incidents.”
The two elders sighed in relief, their stony faces relaxing. Ranna sent David a pinched smile and a nod.
In turn, Elder David leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and asked Pippa, “Then why are you here?”
Why was she here? Were they fucking serious? Pippa clenched her fists in her lap.
“I’m here because in the past week, I’ve been attacked three times, two of which were in a public building that was filled with non-mages. I’ve been sought as a revenge killing, I’ve been hunted, and multiple times, I’ve barely been able to—”
“But you were able,” Elder David interrupted. He unfolded one arm to gesture where Pippa sat in her chair, silently vibrating with rage. “Obviously.”
She didn’t want to say this. She hated to say this, but she steeled herself and said it anyway.
“I came here for help.”
Ranna gave her another one of those kind-adjacent smiles. “You’ve been doing just fine on your own, Philippa. As Elder David said, you’ve been able to handle everything you’ve encountered.”
Vibrating with rage was no longer good enough. Pippa surged to her feet and let the rage flow free. “So it’s fine if I kill demons for you, but the second I ask for help, I’m denied?”
Elder David held up a hand and lowered it as if telling her to lower her volume. Either that, or instructing her to sit back down. Pippa wasn’t sure which she hated more.
“We never told you to go after the Tro’grath, Philippa,” Elder Ranna said. “You did that entirely on your own.”
“I followed a lead! It had killed people,” Pippa said vehemently. “Was I supposed to just let it—”
“You’re not supposed to do anything,” Elder David snapped. “You are not a part of this Coven. What you do in your free time is entirely up to you, which means the consequences are entirely yours as well.”
It was bullshit. It was awful. Everything she’d done to try to earn her way into the Ash Coven was apparently something she’d chosen to do in her “free time.” She was completely, wholly on her own in a situation that had nearly cost her her life multiple times.
A liquid heaviness spread up into Pippa’s throat. Her lungs burned with the effort to not scream.
“At the last application meeting, you said you appreciated everything that I’ve done.”
Elder Ranna made a face that implied she’d completely forgotten she’d said that. “Oh, well, it’s true,” she said. “We do appreciate it.” Another one of those shitty, false smiles plastered itself on her mouth. Her eyes were as warm and kind as that of a dead fish.
“We appreciate it,” Elder David repeated. “We didn’t direct it.”
A thought came to Pippa then, like a last, desperate argument after the debate had ended. “One of them had a knife. With a poison on it. It blocked my magic from me for almost an hour.”
No point in telling them about the Reaper magic being unaffected; that wasn’t exactly a conversation she wanted to start.
Elder David sighed, though Ranna leaned forward, intrigued. “Can we see?”
Pippa nearly sagged with relief. She might be able to convince them that the threat she was facing was worthy of Coven assistance. “Yes, of course, it’s . . .”
At home.