Page 135 of Demon's Bane

Marianne nods slowly. “Uh, yeah, she’s in her office.”

“Great! We’ll show ourselves up.”

Without giving the other witch time to stop us, Joan uses the hold she has on me to drag me up the grand, sweeping staircase toward the second floor.

The entryway’s walls are paneled in dark wood, some lined entirely with bookcases that stretch to the ceiling, and others covered in portraits and art, shelves filled with glass bottles and trinkets and other little curios. Above, an ornate chandelier casts the space in flickering candlelight, and decorative carved sconces illuminate the hallway we walk down when we reach the second floor landing.

We pass other witches as we go. All different ages and appearances, but they do share one thing in common.

Expressions in shades of surprise and shock, wide eyes as they watch us pass.

It’s not difficult to understand why. I’ve forgone the glamour for this meeting, and apparently it must not be a common occurrence to see a demon darkening the doorway of the coven hall.

As we make our way up one staircase, then another, I can’t shake the feeling of witchmagick on my skin. Iron and copper, cool and metallic, the strands seep from every inch of this place.

The power of the coven hall is undeniable. Steeped in what I can only guess is generations’ worth of magick, it has me stepping a little closer to Joan as we reach a set of double doors.

Joan pauses, takes a deep breath, and looks back over her shoulder at me. I squeeze her hand in reassurance, and she raises the other to knock.

“Come in.”

Esme’s tone sounds as casual and unbothered as it did that night in Joan’s shop, and if she’s surprised to see the two of us stepping into her office, she doesn’t show it for a moment.

This space, too, hums with power.

A wide window at the far side of the room looks down over the grounds, and dozens of potted plants compete for space in the light it lets in. More bookcases, an unlit hearth, and cabinets of magickal artifacts line the walls. The High Priestess sits behind a wide wooden desk that dominates the middle of the room.

“Joan,” she says lightly. “So good to see you back in this realm.”

“Glad to be back.” Joan matches Esme’s tone, not stumbling over the fact that we didn’t, in fact, let her know about our brief foray through the Veil.

With as many wards as Joan mentioned she has, and with the chaos of the last few days and the truth about the Crescent witch who aided and abetted the wielder, it’s no wonder that she would have gotten word about our involvement in it all.

“You made it back in one piece, then,” Esme says, looking Joan up and down before glancing at me. “And you brought Rhett back with you. I can only assume that means you’re—”

“Mates, yeah.” Joan strides forward and drops into one of the chairs on the side of the desk opposite Esme, despite not receiving an invitation to sit.

With their upright wooden backs, the chairs aren’t exactly made to accommodate wings, so instead of sitting, I take a few slow steps forward and stand just behind my mate. I rest a hand on her shoulder, and Joan glances up at me with a small, chagrin smile.

“Sorry. Were we keeping that to ourselves?”

“Tell whoever you’d like, little mate.”

Esme. The coven. The entirety of the thirteen realms. I’d have them all know who Joan belongs to, whoIbelong to, and though pride is a roaring, triumphant beast in my chest at the thought of it, I keep my face carefully neutral.

I’m here to back Joan’s play. However she wants to handle this, it’s my job to support her, protect her, give her whatever she needs.

The High Priestess watches our brief interaction with narrowed eyes, but remains silent as she gathers the papers on her desk into a neat stack, sets them aside, then folds her hands in front of her.

“I also assume you’re here to face the consequences of breaking our bargain.”

My fierce little mate is undaunted. “I don’t know what you mean. I upheld my end of the bargain.”

“Really, Joan. In what realm do either of us believe that to be true?”

I fold my arms across my chest, let my wings flare a little behind me in silent warning over the tone the High Priestess is taking with my mate, but she doesn’t even spare me a glance.

And Joan, not backing down for a moment, presses on.

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