Hail to the Queen (Witch For Hire 2)

“I think she wants me to ask you about the Reaping.”

Mémé fists her rose-colored, floor-length skirt. “Those were terrifying days.”

“I know, Mémé. I would never ask this of you if Alida hadn’t shown up.”

“It changed everything, morphed people into strangers and friends into foes. Those troubled times turned brother against brother and mothers against children. We were so divided. It’s a miracle they didn’t slay us all. There were two major groups of thought. Those who saw it as every man for themselves, and sought only to protect their own, and others like me who understood together we’d be stronger.” She trails off, eyes seeing something I can’t.

“What happened to those people?”

“They were slaughtered.

“Their ignorance and rigidity made them vulnerable to attack. We lost so many. I tried to tell them this was more than a witch-hunt. It was too broad and well organized. Everyone was being hit. In order to survive, we needed to be bigger than our prejudices and band together with the others, the way the hunters had.” The horror etched on her face burns itself into my brain. I’ve never seen her so distraught. Her entire body is trembling.

“They let people die. Pride was chosen over everything else. So much blood spilled.” She places a hand on her neck.

“What changed?”

“Our numbers dwindled, and I came into power because Maman fell. I went against them all, brokered the treaties we now live by, and fought the resistance. I stood my ground. I had to. I severed connections that would have led to our demise at a great personal expense to myself. I’ve gone over it so many times in my head since that night. I can’t stop wondering if I could’ve done it differently.” A sob erupts from her throat.

Jumping from my chair, I move to embrace her.

“Mémé?”

“I tore this family in two. Every time I think of how few of us remain I blame myself.”

I rest my cheek against her head, wishing I could take her pain away. “What would have happened had you not stood your ground?”

“None of us would be here now. It took all of us working together to defeat the hunters.” She sniffs.

“A wise woman once told me, being a leader means making the hard calls, and pissing people off.”

She gives a half laugh. “Using my own words against me?”

“When you learn from the best, there’s no reason to deviate.”

“I’ve held on to these secrets for a long time. Perhaps it’s time I air my dirtiest laundry.” She straightens and wipes her face. “It starts off benign. A difference of opinions. Each family member picked a side. It was as if someone had drawn a line straight down the center of us all.”

“Mémé. We have Fae.” My cousin’s panic-stricken face appears in the doorframe. The whites of her eyes stand out against her brown irises. Her dark hair falls across her forehead.

“We can’t keep them waiting. Send them back.”

What the hell is a fairy doing here? I stand.

Mémé raises her hand. “Stay, Lou.”

Confused, I return to my seat. I try not to gasp when the porcelain-skinned goddess with flowing, wavy, black hair, pointed ears, and a perfectly symmetrical heart-shaped face slinks into the room. Her movements transcend gracefully and fall into the otherworldly category. Her skin is luminous, lit from inside as if she swallowed the moon.

Her black gown shimmers as it trails out behind her, rippling like a living ink stain with every step she takes. Two steps behind her twins follow in her wake. Their eyes are a shade of black no human could ever hope to possess. Full of reflected light and the knowledge of ages, they make my blood run cold. Despite their beauty, these men are deadly. Bone straight, black hair tumbles around their sharp, angular features. A strong jawline and thin lips lend to their androgynous appearance.

“Sebile.”

“Witch.” Her voice is like wind blowing through the trees, haunting and eerie.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of her royal highness?” Mémé asks amusedly.

Sebile throws her head back, delivering a deep, throaty chuckle that makes me want to scramble from my chair and run.

“Still spry enough to play the game. Here I thought I’d find a feeble old woman having her power pried from her clammy, cold hands.”