The Coven (Coven of Bones, #1)(5)

“We have one last student to collect before classes begin in two days’ time,” George said, helpfully navigating away from my enjoyment of tormenting those who would rid the world of me if they could. Fortunately for me, they lacked the power necessary and would be stuck in this eternal misery with me.

I preferred the fires of Hell to the confines of the body crafted to trap me here.

“I was under the impression that we’d already collected two new students for each of the Houses. Am I incorrect in that assumption?” I asked, furrowing my brow. My men had successfully collected two whites, purples, grays, blues, reds, and yellows from outside the magical barrier surrounding Crystal Hollow.

“A new witch has made herself known to us,” Susannah explained, sitting up straighter upon her dais. She looked to the lines of symmetry at her side, to the twelve witches who led each of the houses within the town. They were representatives of the original sixteen families that founded Crystal Hollow—all that remained of those noble lines in the centuries that had passed.

“Then surely, she can merely attend next year? If she’s sixteen, she’s far too young to begin at Hollow’s Grove for another four years,” I said, spinning in a circle slowly as I waited for any of those gathered to echo the sentiment. Hollow’s Grove required all students to be at least twenty years of age, given the proclivities that happened within the school walls once a week when the Reaping came.

One of the White witches stood from her seat, tiny crystals sewn into the fabric of her gleaming robes as she held out a folder for me. I took it, flipping the manilla page open to glance down at the photo resting on top of a packet of information.

Shocking mismatched eyes stared back at me—the left a faint, pale purple and the right sparkling like liquid gold. They were deep set and upturned at the outer corners, surrounded by deep olive skin. Her hair fell in full waves around her shoulders, a deep mahogany that was almost black, shining against the ebony leather jacket she wore to cover the first hint of fascinating curves.

I shifted the photo lower, the name at the top of the file making my brow raise in question. “Willow Madizza?” I asked, looking at what remained of Susannah. She was the last of the Madizza line, and I wasn’t certain that she counted in any substantial way. Not when she wasn’t really alive and existed alongside but separated from the rest of the witches.

“She’s not sixteen, merely hidden from our sight for four years after her awakening. She is the last of a founding family, Alaric. Surely, even you can understand that it is of the utmost importance that she is brought to Hollow’s Grove immediately,” Susannah explained.

“How has she remained hidden all this time? Why didn’t you know she existed before now?” I looked around the room.

For the witches, it was sacrilege to question the Covenant. I didn’t pretend to care about such formalities, not when my soul was far older than they could dream to be. I’d existed since the dawn of time, since the creation of the Earth itself.

A few centuries was nothing but the blink of an eye.

“I have to presume her mother warded her from the sight along with herself after she faked her death over two decades ago. She truly passed last week,” Susannah said.

There was no heartache over the descendant who should have been her great-, great-something granddaughter. Only the desire to see her bloodline restored within the town she presided over.

“I’ll send Juliet. The girl may feel more comfortable if it is a woman who makes contact. Does she know what she is?” I asked, flicking through the file. She’d attended a human school, worked at a human newspaper. There was no sign of magical training in the documents.

“No. I want you to collect this one yourself. We have no reason to believe she has any clue what she is. But if she does, she possesses the magic of an entire lineage within her, Alaric. She’s unpredictable at best—more than likely dangerous if she feels cornered. Take Juliet with you, as well as Kairos, at least. See that she’s unharmed but make it clear that her attendance at Hollow’s Grove is not optional in this case,” Susannah instructed, standing from her seat.

The other witches followed, bowing their heads in respect as Susannah approached me in the center of the circle. She laid a skeletal hand upon my shoulder, the dark magic that animated her rippling through me. It called to me, as like called to like, recognizing that we weren’t so different after all.

Immortal souls trapped within something not quite alive and not quite dead.

“You want me to force her to come here?” I asked, the whisper echoing between us.

I possessed no morals. I cared nothing at all for the girl I’d never met or the free will most would say she had a right to. But the Coven cared about such things. They mandated that nothing could happen in Crystal Hollow unless a witch gave permission.

From breeding to feeding, they consented every step of the way. Even if they had to twist circumstances to gain that consent, they did what they had to do to ease their guilty conscience with lies.

“No matter the cost. Do you understand me?” the Covenant asked, and even without the flesh of eyeballs to gaze back at me, I felt the press of her intentions. She would not allow her line to die out, not when she, at last, had a chance of seeing it replenished. “For the good of the Coven, the girl must return with you.”

“And if that only makes her hate my kind? What then?” I asked as her hand left my shoulder and she swept past me, heading for the private rooms at the back of the tribunal where she and George kept themselves isolated except to speak with their flock.