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Grant was getting visibly angry, and the crowd seemed to be having fun taunting him. Grant spoke up. “Being mixed race doesn’t invalidate my heritage. All my life, I’ve struggled to find the box I fit in, but I’ve realized one side of my heritage doesn’t invalidate the other.”
Grant gestured around the crowd. “Look around you. The coven has been racially diverse since it was formed, because our ancestors came from many places. If you think all your ancestors were Miriam’s descendants, you’re wrong. Witches married outside the coven for hundreds of years before coming together to form Octavia Falls. We’re a colorful society, and we must see the strength in our diversity—from race to sexuality to disability—just as we are stronger with diverse magic. Race is nothing more than a concept created by people to control others. We can find strength in our differences, just as we find strength in our Cast marks.”
His voice grew stronger as he spoke. “Our coven is our family, no matter how distantly related—by blood or by marriage. My mother wasn’t born here, yet she stood as a member of this coven for a decade, because Mother Miriam accepted her as family. Our Goddess knows family isn’t just about blood—it’s about connection, and we can heal that connection.”
“Then why’d your mom leave?” Ryan spat. “She didn’t belong!”
Grant got visibly flustered. His parents had divorced years ago, but it was over personal matters, not coven issues. Grant ignored Ryan and continued. “There is much we can learn from each other. The answer isn't in shunning people who are different from you. Our uniqueness should unite us.”
“He’s right!” Someone pushed through the crowd. When he made it to the front, I saw that it was Quentin. “I was born in the Miriamic Coven. My family has lived here for generations, and no matter how different all of us are, we’re all still witches and warlocks. We need to work together, not fight amongst ourselves. That’s what Mother Miriam would want.”
Their speech should have given people pause. It was everything The Coven’s Shield stood for and more. But the tense silence following Quentin’s words was more horrifying than hopeful.
Cody broke the silence by shouting, “They’re distracting us from the truth! Their deception will not be tolerated!”
The crowd broke out into cheers of agreement, and people began sprinting forward to get to Grant and Quentin.
“Run!” I cried.
Grant, Quentin, and Talia could still get away. They weren’t bound by noxite and being held by Executors like Lucas and I were. Grant dropped the microphone and jumped off the stage. He grabbed Talia’s hand, and they took off running beside Quentin. One of them cast a shield, protecting them from the crowd as spells whizzed over their heads. At the back of the crowd, the priestesses watched on, looking pleased.
My heart lurched as someone came up behind me and slipped something over my head. I gasped, but my air was immediately cut off as someone tightened a rope around my throat. A noose, I realized. I was certain this was the end. I would finally hang. My only hope was that it was all worth it in the end.
Someone leaned into me and whispered in my ear. “I told you I’d take pleasure putting a noose around your neck.”
James. That fucker!
I couldn’t protest. I couldn’t even scream. James yanked on the rope, and several hands were suddenly dragging me off stage. Lucas screamed protests and tried to yank free of his cuffs as he was dragged behind me, along with Everly. The Executors uncuffed one of my wrists, then yanked my arms behind my back. The cuffs clanged against something metal, and I felt a post in my back. I realized they were chaining me to a lamp post. They forced Lucas’s arm through mine on one side, and Everly’s on the other, then cuffed the two of them together. As they both struggled, my arms were pulled in opposite directions, and I cried out in pain. The noose loosened on my neck, though it was still hard to breathe.
Lucas and Everly stopped struggling. They backed against the lamp post as the crowd closed in on us.
“We’ll get out of this,” Everly said, but her hope was futile. We didn’t stand a chance against this mob. Not only were we hopelessly outnumbered, but we had no magic as long as these noxite cuffs were on.
Mira stood at the front of the crowd, her smirk visible beneath the shadow of her hood. She bent down to pick up a rock in the road. She drew her arm back and flung the rock straight at me. It hit my cheek, and I felt blood spring from a fresh wound. The crowd followed her lead, gathering rocks and throwing them at us. Stones large and small landed against my skin, and I screamed as I felt bruises break out all across my stomach and legs. Lucas grunted and cursed. Everly tried not to show her pain, but I could hear her drawing in sharp breaths. A spell sped through the air, and I heard a snap as it connected with Everly’s leg. Her scream echoed off the surrounding buildings.
The crowd descended upon us. Fists sank into my abdomen, and pain radiated across my skull as knuckles pounded into me. Something hard slammed into my knee, and I could no longer keep myself upright. I sank to the ground, dragging Lucas and Everly with me. The three of us crouched there, trying to block the blows, but it didn’t matter. There were too many feet, fists, and stones landing upon us. My vision blurred, and through the crowd I spotted the priestesses smiling.
A foot smacked into my head, and in the fleeting moment before I lost consciousness, I had one single thought. If Lucas was going to hear me die, I had to make my last thought a good one.
I’ll be with you soon, I thought before everything went black.
CHAPTER 19
LUCAS
Ididn’t know at which point I lost consciousness. I found my mind swimming in a blackened nothingness while my thoughts tumbled around without direction. I thought for certain this was the end, and it surprised me how much I didn’t want to die.
There’d been so many times that I had wished for death, moments I would never admit to, even to myself. I only ever went that far because I had lost hope. Accepting death felt like giving up. Maybe at one time, that seemed appropriate, when there was no one left to care about—no one to miss me. But that wasn’t the case anymore.
It made no sense. Life went on for the coven after we died, so why couldn’t I accept it?
It hit me like battle magic surging at me from all angles. I feared death.
It never occurred to me until then. There was a reason I’d never attempted to take my own life. No matter how many intrusive thoughts I’d had that made me want to do it, no matter how many times I’d gotten close, it was never something I’d actually tried to go through with. At times, I’d had the thought that I was a coward, that I should just get it over with. But something had always kept me holding on. It wasn’t because I was weak, or because my mental illness wasn’t severe.
Depression hit everyone differently, and for me, wallowing in my pain was more comfortable than the thought of dying. Perhaps it was the fact that life did go on after death that scared me the most—that even if I died, it wouldn’t fix anything… that I could make it worse. I wasn’t ready to find out.
It’s why I’d had such a hard time accepting my gift, because the thought of dying terrified me to the very core.
