Cloaked Campaign, page 4
“It seems like a very backward little town,” Verity said disdainfully.
Reg would have agreed with her under other circumstances. She had frequently had reason to complain about how old and set in their ways so many of the town’s citizens were, how they needed to drag themselves into the twenty-first century, to “get with the program.” But she didn’t like how Verity said it and was so judgmental without knowing anything about the inhabitants of Black Sands.
“I don’t know if I would say that,” Reg countered. “But it can be a little… frustrating at times. I’m sure you’ll find your place here quickly. People that you click with.”
The beautiful woman looked down her nose. “Perhaps,” she sniffed.
Reg wanted to ask her what she was doing there if she thought so poorly of Black Sands, but she bit her tongue and didn’t. People didn’t always have a lot of choice about where they moved. They were transferred at work, moved home to take care of aging parents, or inherited a house that needed to be looked after or flipped. There were a lot of reasons people ended up in places they didn’t like to be. Reg had lived in plenty of places she would have preferred to leave. And usually, she did leave at the first opportunity.
“So, where are you living? Are you close by?”
“A couple of streets over,” Verity said with a nod, motioning to the north toward the cemetery.
It was too bad she was so close. Reg had been hoping that they wouldn’t be likely to run into each other on the street or in the grocery store and that Verity wouldn’t have any reason to come and see Sarah on a whim.
But it was what it was. Reg didn’t have any control over who moved into Black Sands.
Sarah returned with the teapot. “There you are; this will be so much better.”
She poured a stream of scalding water into Reg’s teacup, then added some to her own and made a movement toward Verity.
“No,” Verity said, “I will not be staying much longer.”
“Oh, but you just got here,” Sarah protested.
“Yes, but I have things to do. You know how it is when you move somewhere new.”
Reg knew that Sarah hadn’t moved in a long time. Not since she had built the house, at least a century before. But she would have had to deal with many moves in the years before that. Raising a family, having to move because of prejudice against witches, children or a husband who needed to be closer to schools or work.
Sarah made some supportive noises and, before long, by the time Reg had finished stirring as much sugar as possible into her tea, Verity rose to her feet. “It was a pleasure to meet both of you.”
Reg said goodbye but did not add anything like “Call me if you need anything” or “I hope we’ll see you again soon.”
Sarah walked Verity to the front door and saw her out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sarah returned to her seat, turning her attention to Reg.
“What a surprise it was to open the door and find that one on my doorstep,” she declared, leaning toward Reg as if to tell her a secret. But they were the only ones in the living room.
“What do you mean? Just because you’d never seen her before? Or… something she did?”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone new. And in case you didn’t notice… she is very new.”
Reg grinned. Sarah meant that Verity was beautiful, she supposed. “Davyn told me she was pretty.”
“He should be slapped for that. Pretty is an insult to a woman like that. My goodness.” Sarah patted her cheeks. “Makes me feel like a worn-out old thing. I never looked like that, even with the best potions. I feel like a frumpy old crone.”
“You’re not frumpy,” Reg told her immediately. “You’re always very neat and attractive. You can’t compare yourself to someone like her. I’ve seen models who are ugly by comparison.”
Sarah nodded her agreement. “And it isn’t only her looks. Did you… could you see her aura?”
“How could I not?” Reg shook her head. “Can’t she… dial it back a little? You can cloak your powers so they are not so… blinding, can’t you?”
Sarah shrugged. “Yes. Usually you can,” she agreed. “Unless maybe you want everybody to see. To know how powerful you are.” Sarah fiddled with her cup, considering it. “You have the sight, so it is probably far more obvious to you. But even to someone who has no powers… I imagine she still glows. She’s very… showy.”
Reg sipped her sweetened tea. Almost too sweet even for her tastes. But not quite. “So she’s joining your coven?”
“I have invited her out. Whether she will decide to join us long-term or not, I do not know. It will depend on how she gets along, I suppose. We will have to see how she fits in. I don’t know.”
“She wanted to join Davyn’s coven. Did she tell you that? That’s who she went to first.”
“A warlocks’ coven?” Sarah shook her head. “Why would she want to do that?”
“I don’t know. She said she wished there were some mixed-gender covens around. Maybe she’s just used to that in… wherever she came from. Did she tell you where she is from?”
“No. I hinted around a bit, but she was not forthcoming. And I did not want to be rude.”
“No, of course not. Are there a lot of mixed gender covens around? I know there aren’t here, but is that a thing? Are there a lot of them?”
“I haven’t kept up on it, honestly. I prefer to focus on our situation here. The rest of the world can do what they want. The community, rules, and politics of our covens. It does seem like the rest of the world’s issues are creeping in here as well.” Sarah pressed her lips together, looking disapproving.
“Are you talking about Corvin?” Reg asked. “About him being able to run for the coven leadership now?”
“Yes. That’s certainly part of it. A century ago, even a decade ago, no one would ever have predicted that we would get to this point. Where a warlock of his kind can be elected.” She shook her head, lips pursed like she had tasted something sour.
Maybe it was inevitable. There were more and more voices speaking out about racism, sexism, ableism, and every other kind of discrimination that witches and warlocks like Corvin were bound to jump on the bandwagon and complain loudly about how the magical world was against people like Corvin who had been born with a curse. It wasn’t Corvin’s fault that he had inherited his father’s ability to steal the powers of other practitioners and a seemingly bottomless hunger for powers that needed to be filled. The magical community had established boundaries and rules to be able to live side-by-side with those afflicted with this power, and one of those rules had always been that such practitioners could never lead a coven. It was foolish to think that such a predator could lead a coven without causing the members harm. Maybe those with great willpower could for a time but, sooner or later, Reg knew, they would be bound to give in.
Reg had seen what happened when Corvin was denied what he wanted. She shuddered. She had been naive, still learning about her own powers and the community and the rules and how everything worked. She had been warned to stay away from Corvin but, even after he had stolen her powers once, she had still allowed herself to be alone with him and had nearly lost everything.
Warlocks like he was could not be trusted, no matter how smoothly they talked and how attractive they were. His charm was like the nectar in a carnivorous plant, designed to lure prey close enough to be consumed. If Reg allowed herself to be pulled in by Corvin’s friendliness, good looks, and even his vulnerability, there could be terrible consequences.
“I need to talk to some of the warlocks in his coven,” Reg said to Sarah, who was sipping her tea patiently, waiting for Reg to work through her dark thoughts. “I just can’t believe… they know what he is, what he is capable of. I don’t understand how they could even consider electing someone like him. And he only has to convince a few of them to vote in his direction…”
Sarah nodded. “Warlocks of his ilk are very convincing. And he has been working on this for a long time, whispering in the ears of those in authority, haranguing people for hanging on to old, prejudiced ideas. Saying that everybody has been mistaken and that his kind are perfectly capable of leading without putting anyone else in danger. It’s been done in other places. So far, without ill effects.”
“It won’t last.”
“I agree, my dear.” Sarah took a sip of her tea. “Anyone who thinks that this can go on indefinitely is very naive. People don’t like being accused of prejudice, especially unfair prejudice. But we must be practical. Recognizing that a tiger cannot help being a predator does not mean that we must release it into the goat pen.”
Reg grimaced at the image. “Yeah.” She took a few more long sips of her tea to lower the level in the teacup. She wasn’t enjoying the over-sweetened tea and wanted to go home. There was no point in rehashing their opinions about Corvin’s suitability for the coven’s leadership. Their opinion wouldn’t change anything. Reg had to figure out a way to do that by talking directly to the members of the coven. “Thank you for the tea, but I need to be going. I have things to do before I start receiving clients today.”
“Of course,” Sarah agreed with a nod. “You have your own responsibilities.”
“I am going to talk to Corvin’s coven. Or a few of them. It wouldn’t hurt if you and Letticia and some of the others did too. The more people who speak up…”
Sarah spread her hands apart, shaking her head. “They don’t want to listen to old crones. What do we know? We’re just falling behind the times. Progress doesn’t stop because a few of us are too stuck in our own prejudices to change. These warlocks think that they are being modern and progressive, that no one will be able to accuse them of being old or obsolete.”
Reg just shook her head.
“We have to try.”
CHAPTER NINE
Reg let herself into the cottage, her mind on Corvin and how she would approach the coven members and persuade them not to vote in Corvin’s favor. It was too late to prevent the change in rules that allowed Corvin to run for the leadership of the group. That damage had already been done. Instead, she had to convince them that electing Corvin would be a mistake and that they needed to vote for Davyn, the only safe choice.
Starlight sat in the middle of the floor, looking at Reg. He didn’t meow or hurry forward to greet her, just sat looking at her accusingly.
“What?” Reg protested. “I didn’t do anything!”
He didn’t move, nose pointed directly at her, waiting for her to make amends for whatever he imagined she had done.
“What’s wrong?” Reg asked. “Are you hungry?” She checked the time on her phone. “You think I’m too late getting back to feed you? I left kibble in your bowl.”
He didn’t move or acknowledge this. So maybe not about food, then. “I was just over at Sarah’s,” Reg said, in case he had been worried about what had taken her so long. “We were just talking. Met a new witch over there today. Called Verity.”
Starlight gave her a slow blink. No. That wasn’t it. Something else was bothering him.
“I was just training with Davyn. I told you that was where I would be.”
She felt confirmation from him at that. Now she was on the right track. But why would he care about her going to train with Davyn? He was used to that. And he didn’t dislike Davyn as he did certain other warlocks. He knew that she needed training with her firecasting. Bad things could happen if she didn’t keep her firecraft focused and under control.
Unless…
“Oh, I know what this is.” Reg put down her shoulder bag and walked across to the kitchenette, where she searched in the fridge for something to give Starlight for his dinner. She found a container of chicken stew that smelled good. It would make a nice change from tuna. She spooned some into his bowl, but Starlight didn’t move. He just continued to stare at her reproachfully. “This is about Ember,” Reg guessed. “You don’t like me seeing him.”
Starlight began to lick one of his paws with great attention.
“Yes, that’s what it is. You’re mad that I saw the dragon. You’re jealous.”
Starlight and Ember had not gotten along very well when Reg had first allowed the dragon into the house—unintentionally, of course. The cottage was Starlight’s territory, not a place for a hatchling dragon. The dragon, only a few days old, was equipped with fire and flight, two things that Starlight did not have and didn’t have any ability to combat. Not in his cat form, anyway, and Reg had only seen him take other forms in extreme cases.
“I’m not bringing him home,” Reg pointed out. “I just happen to see him when I train with Davyn. He lives at Davyn’s house now, so you don’t ever have to worry about him again.”
Starlight still didn’t seem too well-disposed toward Reg.
“You are my familiar,” Reg said firmly, bending over to place his bowl back on the floor. “I don’t like him better than you and I’m not bringing him home to replace you. How is it any different going to train with Davyn and seeing Ember than it is going to visit a friend who has another cat?”
Starlight crossed the room to sniff at his bowl. He didn’t begin eating immediately, acting instead like Reg might have put something bad into his bowl or was trying to poison him.
“It’s perfectly good chicken. Sarah made it.”
Starlight looked toward the big house, then conceded and began to eat. But he continued to give Reg the cold shoulder the rest of the evening, until her first appointment of the night arrived.
Day dawned, and Reg slept on. Her nightly activities kept her from being able to wake up very early in the morning. Throughout her childhood and teen years, countless mothers had criticized Reg for being a night owl and having such trouble getting up in the morning. They were always trying to fix her by adjusting her bedtime or setting up a new nightly routine, sure that with just one or two minor adjustments, she would be able to adopt a proper circadian rhythm like a normal person.
It had never worked.
Reg had instead been tired going to school. No matter how early they put her to bed, she could not get to sleep until some time after midnight and then was not able to get up on her own before school. She dragged through classes, fell asleep at her desk, and generally riled up her teachers until the afternoon when she could wake up properly and focus on her schoolwork.
But it was before noon when Reg got up, thinking about how to convince the members of Corvin’s coven not to vote for him. It wasn’t going to be easy. As Sarah had said, they didn’t want people to think they were dinosaurs, unable to keep up with the times. They wanted to be seen as modern and forward-thinking.
She didn’t know the other members of the coven as well as she knew Corvin and Davyn. But she had met them a couple of times.
She decided to approach Wilf Martin first. He seemed to be one of the most advanced practitioners in the coven. She didn’t know their levels within the coven, but she figured from his behavior that he was one of the most senior members after Davyn and Corvin. She had seen him take charge when Davyn and Corvin hadn’t been there.
He was an older-looking man, though she knew that meant nothing when talking about warlocks. A warlock who looked thirty might actually be centuries old if she were to believe what they told her. She still wondered sometimes if they were just shining her on. How could anyone be that old, even with magic? Wilf had a round, red face and a thick white handlebar mustache.
Thinking of his mustache made her think of Uncle Harrison and his long, black mustache and… dramatic flair for fashion. It had been a while since she had seen him last but, when talking about an immortal, infrequent visits were probably for the best.
But Wilf was not an immortal. He was as earthbound as Reg was. And she needed him to understand how dangerous it would be to elect Corvin as the leader of the coven. Maybe he already knew. He had said back in the beginning that if Davyn did not return to run against Corvin, then someone else would have to throw his hat into the ring. Maybe Wilf himself, though he hadn’t said so. He had at least understood that the coven needed some choice other than Corvin.
CHAPTER TEN
Sarah had given Reg the name and address of Wilf’s place of business. He was, apparently, a used car salesman.
It seemed odd to Reg that so many of the witches and warlocks had jobs that were so boring and non-magical. Didn’t they want to put their powers to use? To do something they enjoyed and were good at rather than just slogging through a normal job each day?
Reg checked the time as she got into her car. Maybe she should offer to take Wilf out for lunch. It would be easier to talk to him over a burger than while he was working. Black Sands was a small town, so it didn’t take her long to get to the used car lot. Reg sat in her car for a few minutes, watching the people moving around the car lot. There seemed to be a good balance between customers and salesmen. No one was standing around with nothing to do. No customers were waiting to be helped, but they were allowed to browse on their own if they didn’t want to speak to someone. Reg had dealt with used car salesmen before, and the experience was not always very pleasant.
She spotted Wilf with his big white mustache as he took a young couple over to a red crossover and told them about it, patting it on the roof. Then he left them to look at it and talk things over and turned around to look for another customer who needed help. Reg got out of her car and approached him. He gave her a welcoming smile, but she thought by the set of his eyebrows that he recognized her and was trying to remember where from. Then as she reached him, he recalled, and he faltered as he shook her hand.
“You’re… that witch. That psychic.”
Reg nodded. “We met when I was looking for Davyn. I appreciated you taking the time to talk to me that day.”
