At the end of the hall is a door to the Ritual Room. It’s where house meetings and official ceremonies are held. We had a brief welcome-back meeting here during my first week and another one about a week ago, so I’m not totally unfamiliar with the space.
Kasey enters the room ahead of me, walking confidently down the makeshift aisle, brushing her hands along the chairbacks nearest her.
I hesitate, looking beyond her at the dark room. The walls and ceiling are painted black, and there are no windows; even the wall sconces and the iron chandelier barely give off light. It’s not exactly the room I want to be hanging out in at night.
Not that I’m doing any of this for the fun of it.
Reluctantly, I follow Kasey in, our footsteps echoing around us. Like the rest of the house, various wards and enchantments cloak this space. But in here, with the dark walls that feel like they’re closing in on you, the magic feels a bit suffocating.
“Are we meeting other people here?” I ask, eyeing the rows of empty chairs that have been left out after the room’s last meeting.
“Not exactly,” she says, offering nothing else.
Her cryptic response sets my frazzled nerves further on edge.
Kasey doesn’t stop walking until she reaches the back wall of the room.
She pulls out a vial from her pocket and pours a powdered concoction of herbs and who knows what else into the palm of her hand.
She lifts it to her face. “Reveal yourself,” she whispers, then blows the powder at the wall.
Where a moment ago there was solid, unbroken wall, now there is a simple black door.
I’m speechless at the hidden door.
Kasey turns to me with a mischievous grin. “Pretty neat, huh? This coven is full of secret stuff.” She grabs the doorknob. “Ready to see more?”
I nod, struck by the sight—and the realization that there’s more.
Kasey opens the door, and on the other side of it is a small white room. The only thing remotely interesting about this room is that it houses what looks like a spiral staircase, one that twists below my line of sight.
Once the breathtaking nature of the illusory magic has worn off, my unease returns. But now it’s not just this situation that isn’t sitting right; it’s the fact there’s a hidden door that leads to a hidden staircase that leads to another hidden chamber, and all this is connected to the house I sleep in.
Going to have to ward my room biweekly, just to feel safe.
Kasey steps across the threshold, then turns to face me. Before I cross into the room, I stare carefully at the wall, looking for the spells that hid this room. The magic that covers the walls is complicated and made by many separate hands. It only puts out the faintest shimmer—and I know there must be even more spells that are themselves cloaked from even witchy eyes.
It’s honestly beautiful and fascinating, and I wish I had a notebook to jot down all that I see.
Kasey shares none of my wonder. The moment she sees I’m getting distracted, she heads for the staircase.
“C’mon,” she says, “they’re waiting for us.”
Right. The rest of the spell circle.
“How did the rest of them get here?” I ask, entering the room and shutting the door behind me. “Are they also coven sisters?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she calls over her shoulder. “That’s not really what this circle is about.”
That didn’t give me any sort of reassurance.
I need the money, I tell myself—because it’s the reassurance I need to follow through on this.
I head down the staircase after Kasey, the air getting cooler as we go. We descend to a level practically glowing with amber light. When I step off the staircase, my eyes move to the narrow hallway ahead of me, the walls covered in stone masonry, the floor fitted with marble.
It all looks like something made at least a century ago. There’s a musty smell in the air that no amount of magic can banish.
My power loves it, even if the rest of me feels trapped down here.
Fitted to the walls are sconces with flickering candlelight, the wax weeping down their sides.
“What is this place?”
“A persecution tunnel,” she says. “One of many.”
I forgot all about persecution tunnels, but they’re a big part of supernatural building plans; they are, in essence, a literal way to escape persecution.
“Henbane is full of these things,” Kasey continues. “You know how witches are,” she says, lifting a shoulder.
Cautious. Too much of our history has been full of violence against us not to warrant it.