all Elvis had wanted was a badge from the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs. Naturally enough, the director of the BNDD had refused Elvis’s request. But half an hour later, President Nixon had presented Elvis Presley with the badge himself.
Ironic, she mused, that Elvis had wanted to do his part in fighting the drug culture, only to die as a result of his own excesses seven years later. Still, Nixon had made an important step in meeting the popular singer: The nation had taken note and for one brief moment, the wildly disliked president had looked almost … cool.
Cora Sterling was in a different boat altogether. Her approval ratings were skyrocketing every day. Yet it wouldn’t hurt for the media to know that she was taking the time to meet with people hungering for change.
Glancing around the small, elegantly set table, she glanced from one eager young face to the next before finally settling on just one. Her own daughter, Deidre Sterling, was now the public face of RFW. Rights for Witches had been growing in popularity for the last several months, but it wasn’t until Deidre signed on that the group had attained any sort of credibility.
Before Deidre, RFW was dismissed as deluded rabble. Foolish people who refused to see the inherent dangers of witchcraft. They were mocked on cable news shows, and social networking pages were continuously throwing verbal stones. But Deidre had changed all that.
Cora looked at her daughter and felt that stir of pride she always experienced around her girl. At twentyseven, Deidre had a mind of her own and a spine of steel, just like her mother. Which, Cora admitted silently, didn’t always make her easy to deal with.
“Madam President.” One of the young women spoke up and Cora turned a pleasant smile toward her. The slim brunette’s cheeks flushed a bright pink and she opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if she was suddenly too nervous to speak.
Cora waited, since her long-held belief insisted that He who speaks first, loses.
“Mom,” Deidre said into the stiff silence, “we appreciate you meeting with us. We know how busy you are.”
Cora gave her daughter a smile, reached out and patted her hand, then turned back to the brunette. “Of course I’m happy to meet with bright young people filled with ideas.”
A couple of the women exchanged sharp looks as if trying to figure out whether or not they were being patronized. But finally, after having found her courage, the brunette spoke up again.
“Madam President, the RFW is determined to shut down the prison camps where women—”
“Internment centers, not prison camps,” Cora corrected and the brunette stiffened, but nodded.
“Fine. These ‘camps’ are dangerous.” Her brow furrowed and her eyes took on the glittering light of the true believer. “Men prey on the inmates and innocent women are being swept up in raids when they’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
Cora didn’t care for the woman’s attitude, but she really couldn’t help but admire her spunk.
“I’m sure you all mean well, and I really do respect the fact that you’re all so impatient to change the world,” Cora started to say.
“Impatient?” The brunette—what was her name? Ah, yes. Susan Baker—interrupted her. Cora frowned, but it didn’t keep the woman from continuing. “It’s been ten years since magic was revealed to the world and in that time the prejudice and hatred have only grown. If we’re not ‘impatient,’ more people will die.”
One of Cora’s eyebrows winged up. She wasn’t accustomed to being taken to task. And certainly not in her own parlor. As if picking up on her ire, one of the Secret Service agents stationed around the room moved closer. Cora gave him a slight shake of her head to let him know she was fine and could handle one overwrought young woman herself.
“I understand your passion,” she said, looking at the woman with the steady gaze that had gained her seventy percent of the popular vote in the last election. “In fact, I applaud it. But you must understand that change takes time. And effort.”
“We do, but—”
“Mom.”
She shifted her focus to Deidre, expecting common sense and support. She got neither.
Instead, her daughter said, “When you were elected you pledged to close the camps. It’s been two years and they’ve only expanded. All we’re asking you to do is to keep the promise you made.”
Cora stiffened. She didn’t like being corrected. Arguing with Deidre in the privacy of the family quarters, when it was just the