“I’m astonished you found that much,” Serinda said. “Who knew Nostradamus would prophesize about the charmlings? And I think this only reiterates the fact, Sarru, that we are your coven now. We are your protection, and we will be diligent in our endeavors.”
“Calling me sarru, putting me on this pedestal, is still not acceptable.”
Gigi laid a flattened a hand on the table in front of me to emphasize her point. “Defiance, it is. It must be.”
I took it into both of mine. “It’s not, and it never will be.”
Annette, ever the wordsmith, pushed her glasses up her nose and said, “Then I guess it sucks to be you. Can I call you Sarru?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“If we may get back to the business at hand,” Gigi said, getting back to the business at hand with a saucy toss of her silvery-blond hair, “Serinda, our coven must be strong. Now more than ever. It cannot have an absentee leader. Therefore, I am no longer the doyenne.”
“Of course you are.”
“I need to make that clear.”
“There’s nothing unclear about the situation.”
“The coven needs to move on.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Serinda,” Gigi said, exasperated. “The position is yours.”
“Teflon,” Serinda blurted out, and I almost burst out laughing.
Both Gigi and Minerva looked confused, and Gigi proved that fact by asking, “What does that even mean?”
“It means I’m Teflon, and your words won’t stick to me.”
I couldn’t help but see a little of Annette and me in their banter. In fact, when Serinda lifted her cup and took a long draw while batting her eyelashes at my grandmother, I had to hold back a giggle.
Annette coughed suspiciously as well.
Gigi looked away, refusing to fall for her friend’s ploy at levity. “The position is yours now. And it’s about time.”
“Posh.” Serinda set her cup down and waved a dismissive hand. “You were gone a few days. You are most certainly still the doyenne.”
“Serinda, I died.”
“I am very aware,” Serinda said, her voice cracking. “But if you think that paltry excuse will be enough to shirk your duties, you’re mistaken.”
Wow. They had a really rigorous breach-of-contract clause.
“Paltry?”
“You are still very much the doyenne.”
Serinda’s chin quivered, the emotion almost too much for her, and she picked up her cup again to hide behind it, splintering my heart, spiderwebbing it with hairline fractures. Her best friend’s death had surely devastated her. Had it been Annette, the vivacious and bubbly love of my life… I couldn’t imagine what she went through.
Gigi took a moment to gather herself as well. It was a wonder they didn’t have this conversation while I was out, and I was curious as to why. “But, Serinda,” Gigi said, her tone exposing the fact that the words saddened her deeply, “even if I wanted to, I… I can’t go back.”
Serinda turned a curious brow on her.
“The inner circle knows what happened, yes. How I died. The fact that Defiance lifted me out of the veil, but the others. The novices. If word gets out about what Defiance is capable of… It’s already almost cost Defiance her life. And Annette. And Roane. And I won’t let it happen again.”
Minerva winced at the reminder of recent days. “I’m so sorry,” she said to Gigi before turning to me. “I am so, so sorry.”
I wrapped an arm around her blanketed shoulders and decided not to tell her about the waffle impression on the side of her face. “Minerva, that was not your fault.”
“Yes, it was.” She sloughed the blanket off and stood, her head bowed in shame. “I’m part of your coven, part of the inner circle even, and I let it slip that you brought Ruthie—the doyenne!—back to life.” She looked at Serinda, wringing her hands like a child waiting for punishment. “I understand if I’m out.”
Serinda dropped her gaze. “Minerva, that was partly my fault.”
“What?” Minerva crossed her arms and eased back against the island. “Why would you even say that?”
“I knew what a horrible man your uncle was. I knew you could not be happy, but I had no idea he was so abusive. I wanted you to find your own way. To… to learn to come to me—to us, your sisters—for help when you needed it. I had no idea how much he’d beat you down.”
She chewed the tip of an abused thumb. “You couldn’t have.”
“I could have, actually. I should have seen the signs, Minerva. The mistrust. The skittishness. They were all there. You had PTSD practically stamped on your forehead.”
Minerva curled into herself, her shoulders concaving, and I saw it then. What she was searching for. Her heart’s deepest desire. And, as happened so often, it was nowhere near what I expected. I may not be able to brew a love potion, but I could, at the very least, hook her up with the man she’d been pining after from afar for years.
I quirked an impish brow at Annette. She questioned me with a quirk of her own. I nodded toward Minerva, and her face brightened, knowing we were going to have some fun in the near future. To do some good. To help the girl get the thing she most wanted. Or, more specifically, the man she most wanted. Well, if he wanted her, too. I wasn’t a monster. Or a pimp.
Admittedly, Annette could never have discerned all of that from my quirk, but she would find out soon enough.
“Please accept my apology, Minerva.” Serinda rose and took the girl into her arms.
“It’s okay. It’s hard to separate the PTSD from genuine weirdness.”
I laughed softly. I knew I liked her. “Then you are definitely in the right place.”
“And,” Gigi added, “in the right coven.”
Minerva fought a wave of emotion by ducking her head and letting her long dark hair fall into her face. It was a tactic I’d used several times in my life, too.
“Still,” Annette said, crinkling her nose in thought, “I think we need a name.”
Gigi pursed her mouth to keep from grinning. “We don’t need a name.”
“All the cool covens have them.”
“Which explains why we don’t have one.”
“I know you’re dead set against calling it the Salem Arc of the Coven-ant, but what about Easy Bake Coven?”
Gigi looked at me, helpless.
“Or the Lovin’ Coven? You know. Because of our policy on inclusivity.”
People already suspected witch clans of having all-night orgies. That name would not help. I elbowed my bestie. “How about we table that for now, Nette.”
“Okay, but I’m on it.” She held up her pencil as though it were a sword and she was vowing her allegiance to the cause. “I’ll come up with the perfect name. Don’t you worry.”
This was the same girl who came up with Breadcrumbs, Inc., so I had to remind myself she did have some aptitude for such things. “Okay, you think about it.”
“For a long time,” Gigi said. “Think on it long and hard.”
Annette nodded. “Right. Like meditate on it. Really let it simmer. Gotcha.”