This Coven Won't Break - Isabel Sterling Page 0,91
Council.
Outside my bedroom, the front door opens and slams shut.
An intense power washes through the house, and the scent of wildflowers and cut grass drifts through my room. There’s a new Elemental in the house. Someone with immense power. Archer mentioned the Elders were coming, but I didn’t stop to think the Elemental Elder might be among them.
The air buzzes encouragingly around me, and I leave the relative safety of my room. Archer and Cal are talking in hushed voices in the kitchen while Archer holds an icepack to his bruised face. Someone also bandaged his hands since I saw him last. The men fall silent when they see me, and Cal offers a smile. “How are you holding up?”
I shrug. “I feel ready to collapse.”
Cal crosses the room to hug me. “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
“We should go,” Archer says. “The Elders are waiting for us.”
In the small living room, Mom stands beside my grandmother, whose harsh exterior is more cracked than I’ve ever seen it before. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, but her arms are crossed defensively against her chest.
When Lady Ariana sees me, something in her breaks. Her posture deflates, and she rushes over. I have to stop myself from stepping back. My grandmother has never rushed in my entire life. She hugs me tight, and I feel myself go stiff before I force my arms around her.
“Thank the Middle Sister,” she whispers into my hair before she finally steps back, revealing the rest of the room.
Now that I’m here, I’m positive the older Black man standing beside Elder Keating is the Elemental Elder. The air seems to gather around him, and there’s this crackling of power that makes me want to speak in hushed tones. He’s wearing a tailored charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, and deep green tie. His neatly trimmed beard is flecked with white, and his head is shaved. Despite the bits of gray, it’s hard to guess his age. His warm brown skin boasts only the beginnings of laugh lines, but his dark eyes are deep wells of wisdom. Archer confirms my assumption when he introduces the man as Elder Hudson.
Behind the pair of Elders are the witches I’ve accused of treason.
Well, almost all of them.
Alice is sprawled out across the couch. She examines her nails like this whole thing bores her, but when her gaze flicks up to mine, it’s murderous.
Since Alice is taking up the entire couch, the two Caster Witches share the armchair. Coral sits in the chair itself, dressed in an orange-and-yellow knitted sweater, while Lexie sits perched on the arm, carefully surveying the room of witches. She’s wearing jeans, maroon wedge boots, and a long-sleeve T-shirt with some kind of chemical symbol on the front. Lexie catches me staring and raises one eyebrow. “It’s the chemical makeup of caffeine.”
“Is anyone going to tell us why we’re here?” Alice sighs dramatically. “I’ve done my part. My sponsors are threatening to cancel the tour if my mysterious ‘illness’ doesn’t end soon.”
Coral shifts uncomfortably as Alice speaks, but Lexie actually agrees with her. “I need to get back to school. I can’t keep missing classes.”
“You’re here,” Elder Keating cuts in, giving her Caster Witches a stern look, “because someone has betrayed the Clans.” Archer must have updated her on my theories while I showered, and it’s terrifying to hear those words from her. It makes them more real now that she believes, too.
“What are you talking about?” Coral shifts forward, perching on the edge of the chair, like she’s ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. “Why would anyone do that? What proof do you have?”
Elder Keating turns to me. “Care to explain?”
“Umm . . .” I’ve tried to avoid outright accusations ever since I thought a classmate—who was dabbling in dark pagan magic to get back at his shitty dad—was a Blood Witch. But now isn’t the time to lose my nerve. “We don’t know why, exactly, but the Hunters have been a step ahead of us this entire time. They couldn’t have done all this on their own. Someone had to help them past the barrier last night.”
Alice sits up, her nonchalance completely erased. “And what? You think one of us did it?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Coral adds, adjusting her pink-framed glasses. Lexie presses her lips into a thin line.
“It’s offensive is what it is. What the hell are you thinking, wind witch?”
“You’ve already called me that,” I say, which earns me an eye roll from Alice.