Hail to the Queen (Witch For Hire 2)

“Pretty words that mean nothing. I was raised to fight for what I believe in, and my people.”

“And you have. Now let them return the favor.”

I grunt and wince, immediately regretting it.

His look screams, ‘See.’

“It’s poor manners, kicking a girl when she’s down,” I croak.

“I’m not kicking you. I’m trying to make you see reason.”

“I’m not conceding this time. You’ve gotten most of what you’ve wanted since I came back—”

“And you haven’t?”

“No,” I say firmly.

Shock reaches us.

“I’ve met you halfway and compromised left and right with the understanding that we are literally two different species who think in different ways. You’ve a

sked me countless times to keep this in mind. Can you honestly say you do the same? This is who I am. I won’t spend the rest of our time together biting my tongue and feeling encroached upon. I protect the people I love. That means putting myself in the line of danger. It can’t be helped. Stepping in as Lady and Matriarch are going to exacerbate that fact, not lessen it. I ask you to give me the same respect I give you. For a modern man, you have some archaic inclinations when it comes to love and relationships. “

He looks offended. “I’m a gentleman with decorum.”

“No one would deny that.” I can feel the wheels in his head turn. After a quick knock, the nurse enters.

“It’s good to see you awake, Ms. Esçhete.” Her presence ends the awkward conversation. Worn out from the emotions, I welcome the reprieve. This is far from over.

***

Present

I take my time finishing my tea, making the council wait for me to begin my speech. It’s a trick I’ve learned from the court. No one does polite insults the way they can. This might be their show, but we’re in my territory, and that gives me some home court advantage. I set the empty cup on its saucer and clear my throat.

“As Felicite shared with you briefly, we’re dealing with a Djinn. For eons, they’ve searched for a way to break through the veil between our worlds. It seems they’ve finally succeeded.”

“What do you they want?” Vale asks.

“To make us suffer and take over. I was able to hold off the inevitable by resealing the tears, but it’s a temporary solution. The recent rashes of disturbances are connected to the breach, but we’re not sure how or why. Information on the Djinn is few and far between. Thanks to Cristobal, we’ve found an expert on the subject, Baal Shem Issur Shafir.”

“A what, my dear?” Meadow asks.

“A Baal Shem, a Jewish holy man, similar to a rabbi who specializes in history. He’s agreed to educate and assist us.”

“Wait, are we talking about a Jewish exorcist?” Zephirin snorts.

“Issur is much more than that. An expert on the Djinn with access to rare and accurate documentation, he’s the best chance we have. He’s come up with an interesting theory I’d like you to allow him to share.” I grab a scone from the three-tier tray and wait as they talk among themselves. The high-tea setting is informal, but the decisions are life-altering. After a time, Mémé turns to me.

“We’ll hear him out,” Vale says, speaking for the rest of the group.

“Thank you.”

“Please send Baal Shem into the parlor.” A few moments later the pocket doors slide open. The expressions range from shocked to uncomfortable when they realize I’ve summoned him without saying a word. It’s almost comical. At five-foot-five-inches, the thin man with a shock of white hair under his wide-brim, black hat should seem frail. Two mid-length payots curl along either side of his long, thin face. His black suit is modest. If one passed him on the street, they wouldn’t look twice.

It’s in direct contrast with the aura of power that surrounds him. The intensity in his dark gaze labels him a man not to be trifled with.

I stand. “Baal Shem Issur thank you for joining us today.”