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“So my question is, will your power help us protect the coven?” I asked Claudia.
She opened her mouth to say something, but Lilian stepped in. “Claudia Sinclair is powerful in many ways. I hardly think an interrogation regarding her magic is necessary. She has intense knowledge of magical artifacts and connections with other races that could earn us allies if we encountered an international dispute.”
“What about what’s happening in our own coven?” I asked calmly. “Shouldn’t we start there? Someone killed Professor Perez. Perhaps Mrs. Sinclair can demonstrate how she can help us by joining us in a spell. There must be something we can do to identify the killer.”
It was a challenge, but the priestesses refused.
“Nadine, please,” Margaret said. “We’re not here to discuss that at the moment. We’re here to vote Claudia onto the council.”
I kept my gaze on Claudia as I spoke, watching for her reaction. “And I’m willing to offer my vote if you can show me she’s the best choice.”
Claudia opened her mouth, but she snapped it shut a second later. “I have nothing to prove to you.”
I folded my hands in front of myself. I was sick of everyone treating me like I was only here out of convenience. Mother Miriam had accepted me as a priestess. She’d told me I belonged here. And I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me differently.
I was a fucking priestess, for Alora’s sake. And that meant something to me. I made a promise to protect this coven when I joined the Imperium Council. I would do everything in my power to fulfill that promise.
“With all due respect, Mrs. Sinclair, you are here to get my vote,” I stated firmly. “So yes, I do believe I’ll need more information before committing. What are your qualifications?”
Claudia scoffed. “The council has no requirements for this job position.”
“A job position?” I cocked an eyebrow. “This isn’t a job. This is a life-long commitment to the goddess and the coven.”
Hell, we weren’t even paid. The other priestesses came from family money or owned businesses in town. I’d had the thought that they’d refused pay because they didn’t need the money and it looked noble, but I knew better than to ask.
Claudia drew her chin up. “And what qualifications did you have when you joined the council, Miss Evers?”
She was challenging me, but I wouldn’t back down so quickly.
“In a few years, I’ll have my degree in Criminal Justice,” I told her. “I’m studying Miriamic law. Many priestesses train their whole lives before taking on this position. Do you have a background in coven law and supernatural history, and if not, will you be studying it during your time on the council?”
Claudia shifted in her chair. She was obviously getting really fed up with me. I thought my questions were completely justified.
She pursed her lips. “I have an extensive background in supernatural trade, which I believe will serve you well on the council.”
“The other priestesses have been forming diplomatic alliances for years,” I pointed out.
Claudia frowned. “It would be a tragedy if you made an enemy out of someone who has so many supernatural allies.”
It was a threat if I ever heard one.
“Things around here need to change,” Claudia continued.
“Yes. That we can agree on,” I said.
“I have many ideas for where to make these changes, in order to ensure a strong and compliant coven,” she said confidently, like she’d put a lot of thought into this. “For starters, we must restructure the way the coven spends its tax dollars, so they can be used in the most effective manner. We must eliminate any unnecessary expenses that divert money to important investments. We’ll begin at the school, which has proven to be a large expense on taxpayers. I believe the priestesses have already advised the school board to cut unnecessary classes.”
I thought of Lydia’s Supernatural Religions poster, which the Executors had torn up. They couldn’t fool me. They weren’t cutting classes to save money. They were getting rid of any classes that taught us to think for ourselves.
“Next, we’ll cut the park fund completely and gather volunteers to maintain our park system,” Claudia continued, sipping on her wine like she was merely talking about the weather. “And we’ll eliminate government-funded health insurance for students—”
“Hold on,” I interrupted.
The mere mention of eliminating student health insurance terrified me to the core. Grammy helped pay for one of my health plans, but the insurance I got through the school supplemented it. Without my insurance, I’d never be able to cover my medical bills. We had a health center on campus, and all care was covered for students. If a student needed emergency medical attention at the town’s hospital, most of that was covered, too. It was all part of our tuition plan. If the priestesses took away our insurance, most of us couldn’t afford to seek medical attention—not for emergencies, or birth control, or anything.
“You can’t leave students without health insurance,” I insisted.
Claudia lifted her chin. “If students want health care, they should pay for it themselves privately. Surely, the students’ parents will cover it. And the scholarship kids can go without. All they really need is an education, anyway.”
