Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(64)

After an eternal wait, the door opened. I straightened, my stomach churning in fear. Papa came out first, his face pale but stoic. The way his lips pressed together and his eyes seemed to look past me told me all I needed to know.

I stepped forward. The coiled magic released and flooded my chest with a dragon-like roar. He shook his head to indicate I shouldn’t speak, put a hand on my shoulder, and nodded to Tiberius.

“When are they removing you?” Tiberius asked, his tone as hard as flint.

“Today,” Papa responded. The sadness in his eyes hit my heart. I had to look away, to take a deep breath and gain control of the inner dragon. The High Priestess appeared behind Papa, standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” she said in her business-like tone. There was no inflection and no apology behind it. “You may not agree with me, but trust me when I say that this is for the best.”

He gave a curt nod.

“Come on, B,” he said, turning me around to leave. “Let’s go.”

I looked over my shoulder and locked eyes with the High Priestess. She watched me go, an inscrutable expression on her face.

???

That afternoon, the most solemn assembly of witches I’d ever seen gathered for the announcement of the new High Priest.

Bodies filled the high and low baileys, stretching past the wall, all the way down Chatham Road. Witches lounged in the trees surrounding Chatham Castle, their bodies infusing the branches with specks of white and brown. Maids opened the windows so that those working inside could hear. Not a single witch within a day’s travel would miss this announcement, and some came from even further. Those who could transport came at irregular intervals, landing outside the Wall to control who stood in the baileys. Protectors scattered throughout the crowd in disguise. I thought I recognized Merrick amongst them, although I couldn’t be sure. Guardians stood sentry at every entrance.

At one minute to three, the High Priestess stood at the edge of her office balcony, facing the whole bailey. Papa, Tiberius, Marten, Zane, Stella, and I stood just behind the High Priestess. Stella’s unwavering demeanor gave me strength. Papa stood back with Zane, talking quietly in the shadows they so loved.

The High Priestess spoke the moment the clock finished striking the hour.

“Today,” she called, “I will announce several pieces of business. First, I release Derek Black as Head of Protectors.”

My heart stalled in my chest. Although I knew it was coming, it still hurt. Clive wasn’t within sight, arranged that way on purpose, no doubt. Papa lifted his chin, drawing in a deep breath. I tried to rally my strength, but found I could not. The building powers prevented it.

“I institute Zane Thomas in his place.”

Zane stepped forward to stand next to the High Priestess. The crowd didn’t move. I wasn’t even sure they were breathing. The magic whipped through me with all the power of a gale. Stella put a stabilizing hand on my shoulder, linking me back to reality. A wave of calm rested on me, but even that couldn’t subdue the magic for long.

“It’s okay, Bianca,” she said in a quiet murmur.

“The next High Priest,” the High Priestess said without preamble, “will be Derek Black.”

I wasn’t sure when it happened, when the moment of hearing turned to understanding, when my heart comprehended what my head couldn’t. I knew it when my blood turned to ice and my knees buckled beneath me and I reached out, holding to the wall for purchase. I knew it because cries of excitement and alarm rang out around me, but none so great as my own.

No matter what ruckus they made, no matter how loudly the Guardians and congregated witches cheered or booed, nothing could compete with the seductive voice in my head.

Your task is to kill the next High Priest.

The next thing I knew I was sprinting down the corridor, past the arched windows that allowed fresh spring air to pour inside. Alone in the long halls, I ran through Chatham, my feet echoing on the floors. The magic threatened, so I ran faster.

No, no, no, no.

The blackness that meant I was transporting came, and I fell forward with a clear image of Miss Mabel’s bungalow in my mind. The wind pressed against me, moving stronger than I’d ever felt. The force was so heady that for a moment I imagined it would press my eyes into the back of my head.

Miss Mabel’s voice was the next thing I heard.

“I’ve been expecting you, Bianca darling.”





Reckless

I tumbled head over heels onto the red cave floor, slamming into it with a heavy thud. The moment I landed I sprang to my feet.

“What have you done?” I demanded. Miss Mabel lounged back on a chaise, a bored look on her face. A wooden chest stood on the floor next to her with a small, silky reticule waiting on top.

“Merry meet. How are you?”

“I won’t do it!” I cried, storming toward her. “I won’t kill my father for you!”

She tilted her head back and laughed. “Oh, Bianca. You’re too much fun, really.”

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew all along who the High Priestess was going to pick.”

Miss Mabel sighed and sat up.

“It’s Mildred’s own fault. She so bloody predictable, Bianca. Who else would she choose? Don’t tell me you thought it was Marten. Or Jansson? What a bore.”