I parked on the side of the road, well away from the parking area used by the witches. It was closer to the sacred grove, but I didn't want to alert anyone to my presence.
The storm that had threatened earlier still hadn't unleashed its rain, but the atmosphere was thick with humidity. I'm sure the sky would burst any time now, but I hoped I got through the meeting before it did.
It was about a half-mile hike through the woods to the clearing.
Mom's robe fit me perfectly.
I didn't want to believe I had a lot in common with my mother, but I certainly couldn't help looking like her or having her same build.
However, I have to admit that wearing her robe creeped me out. You'd think I'd feel a sense of comfort or maybe like I was enrobed in a hug, but no.
I felt like a thief that had stolen one of Mom's beloved treasures.
I brought a flashlight and I aimed it at the ground as I maneuvered through the trees.
Ever so often the cloak would catch on forest debris or an errant bush and stall my progress.
Grumbler easily traversed the uneven ground, leaping over fallen trees and skirting thorny bushes.
As we got closer and closer to the coven's meeting spot, I heard the murmur of voices and the crackle of the bonfire.
Nerves beat in my belly like a primal drum.
The foreboding that pulsed through me the entire time I readied myself for tonight was now an ache from my throat down to my toes. Not even the cleansing and meditation rituals had calmed me.
I had never been to a meeting on my own.
Like other legacies, I'd attended gatherings with my mother. She'd been a powerful witch and respected member of the coven, even if she wasn't always well liked.
Finally I reached the outer edge of the circular impression where Garden Grove witches had met with each other since 1850. I turned off the flashlight and put it into the robe's left side pocket, pulled the hood over my head, and hid behind a large oak.
My heart hammered against my chest.
It's almost time. Grumbler rubbed against my legs. Are you ready, mistress?
I wasn't ready. Not by a long shot. But I had to suck it up and confront the coven and their acerbic leader.
As I studied the area, I realized nothing had changed. The seats made from stumps still formed concentric circles around the huge pyre.
Everything looked exactly as I remembered from the last time I'd been here.
I don't know why that surprised me. Maybe because I expected Dorianna's poisonous touch to denigrate even the most sacred of spaces.
I watched the robed witches interact with each other. The meeting hadn't started yet, so everyone was socializing as they waited for the Council of Six.
Intense yearning filled my soul. I wanted to be part of the coven. I wanted my birthright. And most of all, I wanted to ensure my sisters had their rightful places within Garden Grove's witch community.
Attending the coven meeting without a formal invitation was a nearly unforgivable breach of protocol. But Dorianna had forced me into this situation when she refused to bring my application before the coven.
Usually legacies were not required to apply, but Dorianna and her mother had thrown every obstacle possible in front of me. How could I present our case if I couldn't even talk to the witches?
I couldn't worry about that now. With the evidence of my mom's purported innocence in hand, they would have to forgive my bending of the rules.
"In perfect love and perfect trust," intoned Dorianna and the rest of the Council as they walked forward and surrounded the bonfire. "We open the circle and invoke the Goddess's protection of our coven on this night. So mote it be."
"So mote it be," echoed the coven.
Dorianna wore a pure white robe stitched with delicate green leaves and vines. It matched the dress I'd ruined.
Well, technically, Dorianna had ruined it by tripping me. I wondered if she'd gotten the stain out or if she'd had to choose a different dress.
My little evil heart hoped my sneaker print was a permanent addition to her Versace.
My gaze traveled to Tilda. Her robe was green embroidered with the same motif as her daughter's but in white. How ironic. Neither she nor Dorianna had a clue about gardening. It would make more sense to have little houses decorate their robes. Or maybe daggers given the way they always stabbed people in the backs.
"Take your seats, brothers and sisters," said Dorianna.
The rest of the witches sat on the tree stumps. No one wore their hoods up, and I spotted Sara in the first circle of seats. Andrew Narrow was further back in the third row—and his expression suggested he didn't want to be there.
The Council of Six was comprised of Tilda, Dorianna, Joe Banton, his ex-wife Marie Banton, Carol Jones, and Aida Caulder, who was ninety if she was day.
Tilda had snaked my mother's spot on the council, and Dorianna wrongly occupied the position that had once belonged to the Narrows.
I didn't see Andrew's parents with him. I scanned the participants and realized they weren't there at all.
Huh.
"I'm afraid the first order of business is a sad duty." Dorianna walked around the bonfire, meeting the gazes of the witches. "Today, my mother and I experienced an unfortunate incident with Cassandra Willowstone. She broke faith with us—and thereby the coven—by attempting to steal from me. Your princeps pythonissam."
A series of gasps and the rise of voices followed Dorianna's erroneous announcement. My stomach clenched in shock, but fury soon washed away the cold feeling of absolute betrayal.
How dare she.
I felt Grumbler tug on the hem of my robe. She looked up at me, her eyes wide. She shook her head. Patience, she counciled. Wait a moment more.
I clenched my fists and attempted to calm myself.
But Dorianna wasn't finished. She nodded, her expression full of fake sorrow. "I know, brothers and sisters. We hoped that the Willowstone heirs would prove of better substance than their mother. It appears that is not the case." She made another circuit around the bonfire. "Therefore, I must recommend we ban all Willowstones from our coven permanently."