When I slid the de Clermont key in the meeting chamber lock, I was overcome by a sense of déjà vu. The doors swung open and the uncanny feeling increased. My eyes locked on the the ouroboros— the tenth knot—carved onto the back of the de Clermont seat and the silver and gold threads in the room snapped with power.
All witches are taught to believe in signs. Happily, the meaning of this one was clear without any need for further magic or complicated interpretation: This is your seat. Here is where you belong.
“I call this meeting to order,” I said, rapping on the table.
My left finger bore a thick ribbon of violet. The goddess’s arrow had disappeared after I’d used it to kill Benjamin, but the vivid purple mark—the color of justice—remained.
I studied the room—the wide table, the records of my people and my children’s ancestors, the nine creatures gathered to make a decision that would change the lives of thousands like them all around the world. High above I felt the spirits of those who had come before, their glances freezing and nudging and tingling.
Here is where you fight for justice, they said with one voice.
“We won,” I reported to the members of the de Clermont and Clairmont-Bishop families who had assembled in the salon to greet us when we returned from Venice. “The covenant has been repealed.”
There were cheers, and hugs, and congratulations. Baldwin raised his wineglass in my direction, in a less effusive demonstration of approval.
My eyes sought out Matthew.
“No surprise,” he said. The silence that followed was heavy with words that, though unspoken, I heard nonetheless. He bent to pick up his daughter. “See, Rebecca? Your mother fixed everything once again.”
Becca had discovered the pure pleasure of chewing on her own fingers. I was very glad the vampire equivalent of milk teeth had not come in yet. Matthew removed her hand from her mouth and waved it in my direction, distracting his daughter from the tantrum she was planning. “Bonjour, Maman.”
Jack was bouncing Philip on his knee. The baby looked both intrigued and concerned. “Nice work, Mum.”
“I had plenty of help.” My throat thickened as I looked not only at Jack and Philip but at Sarah and Agatha, whose heads were bent close together as they gossiped about the Congregation meeting, Fernando and Gallowglass, who were amusing Sophie and Verin with tales of Gerbert’s stiff demeanor and Domenico’s fury, and Phoebe and Marcus, who were enjoying a lingering reunion kiss. Baldwin stood with Matthew and Becca. I approached them.
“This belongs to you, brother.” The de Clermont key rested heavy in the palm of my outstretched hand.
“Keep it.” Baldwin closed my fingers around the cool metal.
The conversation in the salon died away.
“What did you say?” I whispered.
“I told you to keep it,” Baldwin repeated.
“You can’t mean—”
“But I do. Everyone in the de Clermont family has a job. You know that.” Baldwin’s golden-brown eyes gleamed. “As of today, overseeing the Congregation is yours.”
“I can’t. I’m a professor!” I protested.
“Set the Congregation’s meeting schedule around your classes. As long as you answer your email,”
Baldwin said with mock severity, “you should have no problem juggling your responsibilities. I’ve neglected the family’s affairs long enough. Besides, I’m a warrior, not a politician.”
I looked to Matthew in mute appeal, but he had no intention of rescuing me from this particular plight. His expression was filled with pride, not protectiveness.
“What about your sisters?” I said, my mind racing. “Surely Verin will object.”