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“Why bother killing them at all?” I questioned.
She grabbed another carrot, but paused, as if contemplating how much to say. “I was meant to be your master, but the coven didn’t want me. That doesn’t mean I can’t do my job to protect you.”
“Protect me?” I balked. “If you are my master, then you should’ve been there for me!”
“I was!” she insisted. “How do you think you survived your skateboarding accident last year? My shield prevented deadly injuries. I didn’t have to get directly involved to help you.”
I couldn’t believe it, but it made too much sense. I’d been skating boarding down the mountain when Nadine nearly hit me with her car, and I went careening off the road. I’d walked away without any major injuries. I’d blacked out, but the doctors said I didn’t have a concussion. But if she wanted to help us, then why didn’t she want us to know she existed? She’d left me alone, and that wasn’t fair.
“That’s a shit reason,” I said. “I thought I was alone. You could’ve come to me and let me know you were there all along.”
“So you could stop me from my work?” She turned back toward her stew and tossed a potato in, before stirring it. “I’ve watched you long enough to know that you would never approve of my methods. It would be futile to try teaching you.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “And what method is that, exactly?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. Being exiled from the coven changes a person beyond anything you can imagine.”
“You must’ve done something bad to be exiled,” I figured. “Perhaps that’s what changed you.”
“As if the coven needs a viable reason to start a witch hunt,” she scoffed. “All it takes is one person who doesn’t like you, or someone who thinks you broke the mold. I thought I could do good with my reaper powers, but according to the coven, women shouldn’t be reapers. They shunned me like they shunned all the women before me.”
I reeled back. “You weren’t the first female reaper, then?”
“No. There have been many female reapers, but the coven saw reaping as a man’s job,” she sneered. “They saw the mark of a Mortana and believed me to be nothing more than a common necromancer. They wouldn’t let me live in my truth, so I left.”
“I’ve researched all the reapers,” I countered. “There’s one per generation. Each time one dies, another receives his power.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “True, but more than one generation can live at the same time.”
Holy shit. A beat passed before I spoke again. “So… what? There’s a female reaper for every male reaper, and they’ve just been erased from history?”
“Yes,” she replied. “You say that as if it’s so unbelievable.”
“We live in a society that regards women as powerful,” I pointed out. “Why would they ever question your power?”
“The coven is a matriarchal society built on patriarchal influences,” she shot back. “It wasn’t always this way, but the coven has become nothing more than a patriarchy in lipstick. You’re ruled by misogyny.”
“That’s not true. We still have priestesses—women still rule,” I insisted.
“Being a woman does not absolve a person of misogynist acts,” she responded. “It is precisely because women hold power in the coven that other women are being hanged. Anyone different who breaks the status quo is taken out, so the priestesses can stop people from getting new ideas. Women hold power, and the priestesses don’t like when other women speak up. Just look at your traditions—Miriamic women still take their husband’s last name.”
“Tradition isn’t necessarily a flaw,” I said.
“It is when it’s used to reduce a person’s power,” she replied. “Think of what it takes to become a reaper—the Warlock’s Trial. It’s sexist language.”
She turned her back to me. The woman kept her eyes down as she began snapping green beans to add to the stew. I sensed deep pain within her. My heart twisted, and I felt for her. Maybe it was the connection we shared with our magic, or the fact that she’d been protecting me all this time. I didn’t really know why I felt the way I did, but I had a deep desire to get through to her.
“I understand that you’ve been hurt, and that may have driven you to do things you regret,” I started softly.
She let out a light chuckle. “I don’t regret dealing with the people no one else will.”
“You mean by killing them?” Nadine asked in an even tone.
Something flashed in the woman’s eyes, and the truth hit me.
