Page 56 of Magic and Matrimony

“What do you think this trial will be?” Piper gathers her hair from behind her neck and pulls it over her shoulder. The red strands burn like fire. It’s a silken fall of crimson that contrasts so beautifully with her skin.

“I don’t know, but I’m ready to be done with it.”

Piper nods and we get out of the car. The coven house reminds me a bit of a miniature White House. With columns and classical style architecture. Odie is waiting for us out front, leaning against a pillar. Her long, nearly white-blonde hair is being whipped around by the wind. Roman pulls up a moment later. He gets out of his car and stares at the house with his arms crossed. We’re all thrilled to be here.

The coven house is three stories with a glass greenhouse on the roof that was built to grow herbs and plants during the winter. That’s where we’ve been instructed to meet for our challenge. We climb the steps like a group of delinquent teens being sent to the principal's office.

The staircase that leads to the roof is narrow and definitely doesn’t adhere to ADA code. Odie and Roman go first and I lead Piper in front of me, getting an eyeful of her luscious ass as she takes each step. As if sensing the direction of my gaze, Piper throws me a questioning look over her shoulder.

“Eyes up here.” Piper gestures north of her ass, but her hand stops near her breast. I cock my head. “If you say so.”

She makes an exasperated sound.

The door to the roof is industrial metal and heavy as hell. It screeches in resistance as Roman pushes it open. The glass conservatory fills up much of the southern half of the roof. It’s a beautiful structure made of glass and wood with copper cladding.

Piper’s eyes go wide as we step inside the enclosure. This must be heaven for her. I know how much she loves to create drafts and potions. The glass building smells of damp earth. Along the outside are shelves and shelves of plants and herbs. Vines crawl up the glass walls and curl around the industrial style light fixtures that hang down. There are workbenches with wooden counters that have been pushed to the outside of the room. In the center is a long table that isn’t typically here. It’s laden with food and drink of all kinds. There are roasted chickens, every form of potato, biscuits, and twenty different kinds of cheese. There’s an entire spread of sliced meats, olives, and dried fruit. Meatballs covered in a cream sauce sit next to a platter of flaky pastries. In the center of the table are jugs of lemonade, wine, and even sangria.

Lucida is standing at the head of the table, wearing her usual long, floaty skirt and a knitted sweater that was probably her grandmother’s. The other coven council likelies stand in little pockets around the greenhouse. Francesca, Anastasia, and Tucker are near the head of the table where Lucida has taken up her post. My mother is wandering around the room, touching different plants as if they’re speaking to her. She doesn’t have Earth magic, so it’s all for show.

Once again, it appears we’re the last to arrive.

“Excellent.” Lucida claps her hands together. “It looks like we’refinallyall here.” She doesn’t go so far as to look at her watch, but there’s an impliedyou’re latein her words.

“Tonight’s challenge will not only test your mettle, but also your ability to observe and recognize magic.” She waves her hand over the table overflowing with food. “Most of these items have been infused with a potion. Some are harmless, others are not. Some are just plain old food. In order to leave this room. You will need to eat or drink something. It’s up to you to decide which item is safe for consumption and which will cause harm.”

“Well, this is fun.” I look at the platters of fruit and cheese, loads of crusty bread and pitchers of wine, both white and red. They could all kill us.

Piper’s eyes are calculating. She stares at the table, cataloging each item as if she can already sense which potion has been used in each.

Lucida looks out the top of the glass ceiling, where the sun is setting, leaving streaks of orange and pink in the sky.

“You’ll have thirty minutes to pick your poison. Or not.” With that, Lucida saunters away. The door of the greenhouse clicks shut behind her with the definitive sound of a lock bolting in place. Of course it’s not just a deadbolt keeping us in here. Magic hums around us, a spell trapping us inside.

Roy Turner moves straight toward the door, placing his hand on the knob. He’s thrown back with the violent force that sends him sprawled on his ass. He stands up, rubbing his butt, laughter in his eyes. “It was worth a try.”

“Well, that settles that.” Roman frowns down at the table full of food. “Anyone want to take the first bite?”

Piper doesn’t move forward. She’s watching the others in the room. I won’t eat until she does. I’m not going to leave her behind. Not that I think she wouldn’t be able to suss out the poison, but thoughts of leaving her in here with Tucker make my skin crawl. Francesca huffs and moves toward the table. Anastasia sticks close to her side.

“Stand back,” Francesca barks when Anastasia comes a little bit too close.

Francesca picks up a grape, smells it, and pops it into her mouth. She moves toward the door and exits without another word. Anastasia picks another grape from the vine and shoves it into her mouth. She smirks as she heads toward the door, only to fall to her knees and then collapse face first onto the cement ground.

The smack is loud.

“Someone should check on her.” Hannah King frowns. Roman would probably rather throw her off the roof than bother to check if she’s alive.

Hannah sighs and steps over to Anastasia. Crouching down beside her, she places two fingers on her neck and checks for a pulse. Anastasia has a reputation, not only in our coven, but in Mystic Hollows. She’s not well liked.

“She’s breathing,” Hannah says.

And now she’s out of the competition. What a shame.

Hannah stands up and dusts off her hands on her jeans. She walks away and leaves Anastasia where she lies. She did more than I’m willing to do for the woman.

Hannah picks up a pastry. It’s a delicate little tart with glazed fruit on the top. It looks pretty damn tasty. She sniffs it and then cocks her head. I don’t know what Hannah’s magic is, but whatever she does, she determines that the little tart isn’t worth it. She sets it down and picks up a square of cheese. This time she eats it without hesitation. With a nod, she walks toward the door and follows Francesca out into freedom.

“Well, are you going to pick something?” my mother says from across the table. She stopped wandering around the room and has found a spot across from me. There are chairs pushed under the table, but no one is sitting.