stepped out onto the stage. A lever flipped with a metallic clunk and a spotlight blazed on, pinning her in its beam. She was blind, the world washed in a pillar of white.
The PA system crackled to life. A woman’s voice echoed over the old, tinny speakers.
“We have four questions for you. You will answer them truthfully.”
Seelie cupped her hands over her brow, shielding her eyes from the light.
“The first question is, what is your name?”
Normally it would depend on who was asking, but she knew what she needed to say.
“My name is Cecilia Rose Kendricks,” she called out to the darkness.
“The second question is, what do you seek?”
She knew this one, too. Her palms were moist, her mouth dry, her heart pounding. But she knew exactly what she wanted. She’d never been more certain of anything in her life.
“I seek the Sisterhood of New Amsterdam,” she said.
The voice was silent for a moment. She started to worry. Maybe she’d guessed wrong, maybe this was all some kind of practical joke—
“The third question is,” the voice said, “why?”
“I want to learn,” she said. “I want to learn about the craft, about Hekate, about…all of it.”
Silence answered her.
“And Aislin chose me. She chose me to carry her family name, to bring her legacy back to life. I have to—I want to honor that. She protected this city with her magic. I want to do the same. And no matter what happens, whether I find the Sisterhood or not, whether I ever find a living teacher, I’m going to do everything I can to learn and practice and be the very best I can be. That’s…that’s just who I am. That’s what I have to do.”
“The fourth question is,” the voice said.
The voice paused, making her wait, her skin crawling from the tension. She counted her breaths in the stillness. One, two, three, four…
“Do you like buttercream frosting?”
Seelie blinked.
“Do I…” she said. “I mean…yeah. I like buttercream frosting.”
The spotlight died. The houselights came up.
“I’m so glad you said that,” Patty told her.
Cheers and laughter washed over Seelie. Women filled the stage, some in street clothes, some in dark robes, mingling with bright smiles and plastic wineglasses everywhere she looked. Some of them were near Seelie’s age, some old enough to be mothers, or grandmothers, and a woman wearing a crisp business suit pressed a glass of rich red wine into Seelie’s trembling hand. The gathering parted as a dark woman in turquoise, the neck of her gown dripping with strands of pearls and gold, wheeled over a rolling cart.
“Praise our mother,” she said. “See, I wanted to get two cakes just to be safe, but we threw this together on short notice and all the bakery had was buttercream frosting.”
“I said you were worrying for nothing,” Patty told her.
“Nothing, my ass! We don’t find one of our wayward sisters all that often, much less a legacy. We’re doing this right or we’re not doing it at all. So, we’re doing it right.”
“Hold up,” Seelie said. “I thought…what was all that about you being abandoned and not knowing if the Sisterhood still existed and—”
“Grandmama lied,” Maxine said. The teenager reached for a glass of wine and Patty snatched it away from her. “It’s almost like she’s a witch or something.”
“I mostly told you the truth. I really did leave town and miss the strife in the eighties. I had no idea anyone survived. I came back home a few years ago and found they’d been rebuilding all that time. As for you, we need to have a very long talk about your future and the work ahead. But that’s for later. Tonight is just about introducing you to the coven. Letting you get to know them, and vice versa. Then a very light initiation ritual, to mark you as one of us.”
“I’ll get the cattle brand warmed up,” Max said.
Patty swatted her away with the back of her hand. “Enough of that.”
“One of you,” Seelie said. She almost couldn’t find the voice for it.
“I believe in saying important things with cake,” Patty told her.
She turned the cart lengthwise. Birthday candles flickered around a rim of scalloped white frosting. The decorator had carefully drawn the petals of a rose in the corner and written a simple message in flowing crimson script.
Welcome Home, Cecelia.
Seelie stared at the words. Her lips parted, ever so slightly, as tears welled in her eyes.
“I’m home,” she whispered. “I’m really home.”
* * *
It was funny how fast the world could