Magic Rising (15 page)

“Or any backlash on you,” added Astra. “She could say you’re trying to discredit her, just like she did to you.”

“I’m not sure how putting Stella on trial is an act against you,” said Seren. I shuffled around so my back was to the headboard because it seemed rude to sit with my back to people while talking. Seren looked uncomfortable and as she spoke, David’s hand glided over her own. “It still feels pretty nasty to do that to Stella. I’m not arguing that Georgia put Mrs. Dorling up to it with false promises, but it still seems pretty… well, yeah, nasty.”

“Georgia is pretty nasty,” snapped Laura, echoing her second daughter. “I wouldn’t put anything past her.” She jumped to her feet, pacing behind her and Byron’s chairs. “Can you imagine the Council if she gets it under her thumb? It’ll be worse than Eleanor Bartholomew’s interference during Robert’s tenure. Etoile, if you’re determined to do this, you have our support.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Etoile fixed her gaze on us. It was one I knew all too well and for a fleeting moment, I saw how her expression mirrored her mother’s. She was just as steely and determined. “Georgia wanted revenge on Stella for foiling her plan a while back.”

“The necromancy?” Seren asked.

Etoile nodded. “Rumour has it she was planning a coup, but when we inadvertently stopped that, she was forced to rely on bullying tactics, lies, and promises, to win support. If she knew I were running against her, she could have planned to discredit me by having Stella excommunicated. Then, she could paint me as an aid and abettor to a murderer and herself as defender of the race, or some such nonsense. It’s plausible enough to ruin the election for me. Even if no one believed it, the insinuation would be there.”

“I think I hate her,” I said.

“Me too,” agreed Astra, surprising me. “I hate bullies.”

“Who else is running?” Byron asked. “Aside from you and Georgia?”

“I don’t know for certain. Not many. I’m sure of that.”

“If this is all true, there’s a more important question,” I said. “The candidacy is supposed to be kept secret until the formal announcement. Who told Georgia you were her competition?”

NINE

The Summit wasn’t just the social event of the witches’ calendar; it was a week-long schmooze-fest of balls, lunches, private dinners, consultations and campaigning. The candidates didn’t officially reveal themselves for a day or two, but there was already talk about who would run. Given the bullet, Etoile‘s name topped many conversations as rumours circulated that a Winterstorm planned to run for office.

Over supper on the night of Etoile‘s shooting, Laura and Byron regaled us with stories about the previous Summit, and they were clearly looking forward to the event, albeit with some trepidation given Etoile‘s declaration, not to mention the shooting. If the bullet hit a few inches lower, it might have been a very different story. We all thought it, but none of us mentioned it. Despite the Council ordering a search of the area, the shooter was not found. If Etoile was worried, she did a good job of disguising it.

“That’s the first thing I’ll change,” Etoile declared. “I’ll make it law that the Summit must be held every five years. No more long occupancies of any office in the Council. It’s not democratic and it’s not accountable.”

“You’re going to be popular amongst the existing members,” remarked Byron.

“Screw them,” responded Etoile with her usual verve.

I just hoped she wasn’t going to use that as her campaign slogan.

Now, two days later, as I looked around the sixteenth floor grand hall taking in the Council members that Etoile discreetly pointed out, I kind of got her point. They lorded their positions over the lesser witches, confident in the knowledge of their tenure, despite what this Summit was designed for: electing a new Leader.

“Not for long,” said Etoile, plucking my stray thought. “It’s their arrogant attitudes that have given us problems over the years. Look at Lisette. She’s headed the judiciary for ten years already.”

The party was supposed to be a meet-and-greet, a chance to see old friends and meet newcomers, but to me, it felt more like everyone was eyeing up the competition. Given the numerous looks thrown our way, I was glad I’d gotten dressed up in a long black skirt and black bodice covered with silver-grey lace. My heels boosted me three inches, putting me almost at Etoile‘s height. She paired her black, silk dress with an arm sling. I thought it was more for effect than support. It seemed to have the desired result: everyone knew who she was.

“You really want to talk about this publicly?” I asked. “I thought we were being discreet; plus, don’t you have to schmooze them? Win them over, just like Georgia is doing?” We both watched as Georgia passed from one group to another, her tinkling laughter reaching us as she interjected a comment here, laid a hand on a sleeve there, all smiles and charm, despite the rumbling gossip about her altercation with me. Wisps of it kept passing my ears wherever I went. Everyone knew who I was too.

“That’s what all the trips have been about. I think I’ve met every Council member and every spouse, plus, most of the old families and houses and a good number of others.”

“How did that go?”

“Some good, some bad. Some were more open than others about what they sought in a candidate, some just wanted to hear what they wanted to hear.”

“Maybe you should try kissing a few babies?” I suggested. “It works for the human politicians.”

“Better than Georgia trying to bite their little heads off!” Etoile giggled unexpectedly. She really wasn’t a giggler.

“I still can’t get in touch with Evan,” I told her as I observed Georgia, who had paused by a pair of warlocks. Judging by their indifferent expressions, they didn’t look too pleased to see her. “I called again yesterday and still nothing.”

“Maybe he’s out of range,” Etoile suggested, her eyes scanning the room.

“Micah is being evasive.”

“Micah is always evasive.”

“Do you think he’s in trouble?”

“Evan?” She looked at me and frowned like the thought was preposterous. “No.”

“I thought maybe…” Maybe I was being paranoid.

“What?”

“Maybe he was pissed off that I came to the Summit.”

“You didn’t have any choice in the matter.”

“I could have been a no-show.”

Etoile raised her eyebrows as she glanced at me. “You can’t be a no-show,” she said, looking away and waving at a woman in a long, inky-blue dress as she entered the room.

“He likes things to be between him and me. Not our species, him and me,” I told her, thinking how evasive Micah was being about the nature of any messages he’d been given by Evan. Obviously, Evan made the right call about me needing protection, but apparently, he didn’t think my exoneration for murder and Etoile‘s near hit from a sniper were valid reasons to call. I wasn’t sure what to think. I wished I had some other way of contacting him, some way he could not avoid like the phone. The only thing that stopped me from trying a spell was that I had concerns Evan’s situation might be more problematic than Micah knew. Besides, a spell seemed a little extreme, not to mention intrusive.

“Speaking of which, you’ll meet a lot more tomorrow night.” Etoile continued scanning the audience as she spoke and I wondered whom she was looking for. “The ball is an opportunity for a little species-intermingling.”

“Sounds…” I had no idea how to interpret that. Interesting? Weird? Dangerous?

“Exactly,” said Etoile. Apparently that covered “all of the above.”

“I thought the supes weren’t interested in any business other than their own?”

“Generally, no, but the Summit is a big deal. We send representatives to some of their most influential affairs and they all send some of theirs to ours. They have an abiding interest in who will be Leader because they will be relegated to dealing with whomever it is for decades.”

“Unless you change that,” I reminded her.

“Quite.”

“So, vampires, demons and werewolves, oh my?”

Etoile grinned. “You bet. Your friend, Gage, will be with the werewolf delegation.”

I froze. I’d forgotten all about my conversation with Annalise. In a rush, it came flooding back. “I haven’t spoken to him recently,” I said.

“Probably too busy tongue-locking with the red-headed wolf…” She wrinkled her forehead as if struggling to remember her name. “Michelle?”

“Yes, Michelle. His girlfriend. Don’t pretend you don’t know. I know you do.” I also knew she’d been very friendly with Jay, one of our local wolves, although things had cooled down there as her trips to the city increased. She hadn’t mentioned him yet.

“Maybe I don’t take as much interest in you.”

“Pfft. I’ve seen you speak to her. Anyway, what Gage does has nothing to do with me,” I told her, my voice cool. I remembered Annalise’s comments at her housewarming party about the talisman. I’d forgotten all about it, after telling her, though not promising, that I would keep my eyes and ears open when it came to the artefact. “How come he’s on the delegation? I thought he was a local packmaster, not a… a… um…” I trailed off and wrinkled my nose in thought. My knowledge of werewolves was shockingly limited. I should have been better informed, since my best friend was one and my house was surrounded by land that was used by werewolves as their hunting grounds. How had I come this far without finding out more about them? I felt like a bad friend all of a sudden, and promised myself I would be a better one when I returned home.

“Apparently, he ranks pretty high. I’m sure you can ask him tomorrow.”

“So…” I paused to put my thoughts in order as Etoile waved to another witch. “Witches and warlocks aren’t keen on the other races, but they’ll invite them to these shindigs and work with them when it suits them?”

Etoile glanced at me. “It’s called racism, darling. Supernatural racism. I’m going to change that too.”

“What happens at tomorrow’s event?” I had a printed program tucked in my purse, but didn’t have chance to read it yet. I didn’t want to pull it out at the event and look like a total newbie either. Playing it cool had its downsides; I was at a loss as to what would happen.

“The official suggestions for the new Leader will be proposed an hour after sundown. Sponsors will be secured, otherwise the candidacies have no validity. All the other species will be present for that, as a professional courtesy, but forbidden to participate or interfere. And after that — the ball. Mingling. Sucking up. Threats. The usual things. If we’re lucky, no one dies.”

“I’m glad I’m wearing black.” The blood would probably not show, if it came to that. It wasn’t the most cheering thought I’d had all day, but it wasn’t the worst one either.

“I have a dry cleaner on speed-dial.”

“Reassuring. Do you have backers?” I asked. “Is that what you need to win?”

“I have some endorsement, but I guess Georgia does too, and anyone else who runs. The vote could go any way though. I’m sure she’ll get plenty of votes simply because of her threats of retaliation if they don’t.”

“How would she find out who didn’t vote for her?” Aren’t these things kept secret? I wanted to ask.

“Same way she knew I was on the slate. She has a mole in the Council,” Etoile replied in an assured tone.

“I hope you’re working on finding out who it is.”

“It’s on the list.”

“How long
is
your list?”

Etoile sighed. “Long.”

I scanned the room and saw Daniel entering with Anders right behind him. Anders was tall and good looking with brown hair. He had an English accent that already had many of the female American witches in the room drooling. To me, his accent just reminded me that my birthplace was far away, and my adopted home. No, my
home
was in Wilding now. Both men were suited up, but where Anders had the cool British thing going on, Daniel clearly appealed to the younger crowd. His shy smile and boyish good looks resonated with the daughters of the older families.

So far, we’d done a good job of keeping Daniel’s relationship with the Brotherhood hush-hush. Daniel still felt deeply ashamed of his past, not that he had any choice in the matter. Just like me, he was new to the witch community, perhaps even more entrenched in it than I. Anders, who took him under his wing, led the small English contingent of witches who, only recently, had come out of hiding. I waved to them both. Before they could walk in our direction, Georgia stepped in their path. I watched as she leaned in to whisper something in Anders’ ear, before pulling back, and turning her head to Daniel. She said something and he paled then she spoke again to Anders. Glancing towards us, she smiled and moved away, the long skirt of her gown swishing behind her.

Anders said something to Daniel and gave him a nudge as they crossed to us.

“Stella.” Anders kissed both my cheeks in a friendly way, then Etoile‘s. Daniel gave me a quick hug, smiling at Etoile.

“What did Georgia want?” I asked.

“She asked me which witch I was going to sell out today,” replied Daniel. Fury rolled from his tongue and his jaw tightened. “Then she said she was surprised to see a Morgan here, and what ‘a small world’ it was, given that the Brotherhood leader has the same last name.”

“Then she said she hoped she could count on my support,” added Anders. “I don’t think she meant in defeating her. I got the feeling it was a masked threat.”

“Oh, Daniel, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so much for damage control. I knew it would come out one day,” my cousin with a resigned sigh.

“She’s a bitch,” Etoile added helpfully.

“And she’s got a point,” Daniel interjected. “Anders either supports her or she tells everyone what I did for the Brotherhood. She obviously knows about my father.”

I wanted to assure him that wouldn’t happen, but now that Georgia had both eyes locked on the prize, I didn’t doubt she would leak the information if she wanted to. Instead, I said, “That’s more information she shouldn’t have.”

“She could paint you as an abettor again, Etoile,” Anders pointed out.

Etoile gave me a look that showed she was truly pissed off and exhaled deeply. “I’m going to circulate. Let’s catch up later. All of us?”