Page 30 of Her Dreadful Will
“You must prick your finger a lot.”
He chuckled. “Not really, since I never sew anything.”
“Then why did you—ugh!” She groaned in frustration. “Goodbye, Achan.”
“Look, here’s my idea. You come to this gathering I’m having for my coven, and afterward I’ll answer all your questions. Not a date, okay? A group thing.”
“Wait—yourcoven? Achan, I don’t know where you got your knowledge about magic, but covens aren’t allowed under the rules of the Eldritch Convocation, unless you’re a Highwitch or a Witchlord with special permission to supervise one. No gatherings of more than two witches for magical purposes, and one of those two must be a Highwitch—”
“I know the rules. The people in my circle aren’t technically witches. They are sensitives and cognizants, mostly. We have an antigen, too.”
“They live here in town?”
“No, they come from all over Georgia and the Carolinas. You and I are the only witches in this town.”
“How coincidental,” she said dryly.
“I told you, I will explain everything after the gathering. Now will you come or not?”
Soleil stiffened. “I don’t think I like your tone.”
“Sorry, that was—” He cleared his throat. “What I mean is, please, will you do me the honor of attending?”
She already knew she couldn’t say no. The decision was already taking form, battling with her concept of what sheshoulddo, subduing any twinges of conscience in favor of what she wanted—no,needed. Her curiosity about magic and other witches had only been partly sated through the Institute’s classes. Faced with the possibility of learning more, that dormant appetite had awakened, voracious as ever. Of course she had to go. And if there weren’t more than two witches present, and they weren’t performing any spells, it wasn’t technically a coven, right? No Convocation rules would be broken. “When is it? And where? And should I bring anything?”
“Saturday night, ten o’clock, about halfway down Pigeon Trail on the south side of Hatter’s Fall. You don’t need to bring anything—except maybe a pack of markers. Black ones.”
“Um, okay...”
“See you this weekend, Soleil.” A pause, so lengthy she thought he had hung up. “It’s going to feel like forever till then.”
She bit her lip to subdue the smile creeping across her face. “Can’t wait to get it over with.”
He started to say something else, but she hung up. He deserved it, for sneaking intohertown. Instead of being honest about it now that she’d discovered him, he was bargaining, playing games. Was this how other witches acted? Tarek certainly hadn’t behaved this way; but maybe he was the exception to the rule.
As for Achan Gilliam, she was beginning to suspect that he was the exception to too many rules.
“He has a coven,” she whispered.
She couldn’t help a little shiver of anticipation. A real coven. Well, minus any actualwitchesother than himself.A faux coven made up of cognizants, antigens, and sensitives—there were no specific rules against that.
Cognizants were people who acknowledged the existence of real magic. Some knew of it because they had friends or family members who were witches. Others could sense magic and perceive it more clearly than most humans. Every time a human became aware of magic, they had to register as a cognizant, and the Convocation would investigate the circumstances under which the rules of magical secrecy had been broken.
Sensitives didn’t have enough radiance or magical energy to be considered true witches, but they could do very small amounts of magic with the right materials and guidance, under the right conditions. Most of them focused on herbal and healing magicks, or the hazy, unregulated areas of tarot cards, astrology, mentalism, and palm-reading.
Antigens were technically a subset of the cognizant category. They served as blockers, and each one was immune to a specific type of magic. Some could only block the use of magic on themselves, but others could extend the protection within a certain radius. The rarest and most powerful antigens were rumored to inhibit all types of magic; but they were the stuff of legend. The last known High Antigen had died over a century ago.
Soleil rubbed her eyes, conscious of exhaustion seeping into her bones again. It felt like normal human-level weariness, but she knew that if she went to her workshop and checked on the hyacles, it would deepen into debilitating fatigue. And this so soon after her second day of soaking in the sun. She’d thought she was fully recharged, but maybe not. A self-test of her radiance would show her how far she was depleted, but she didn’t really want to know.
Maybe if she checked in on just a few hyacles, and then went straight to bed—maybe that wouldn’t cause too much damage.
Wearily she pushed herself off the couch and headed for the workroom.
13
Vance Taylor never thought he’d be spending his tenth anniversary alone at a strip club, getting shit-faced.
And he definitely hadn’t expected to feel as torn up and wretched as he did, not with so many jiggling boobs and pouting lips an arm’s length away.
