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Chapter 6
Dominic
“You didn’t think to tell me about her?”
I ignored Vix’s piercing stare and focused my attention on the center of the auditorium. The Circle had magicked the hotel’s ballroom into a huge, glistening cavern lit by hundreds of thousands of candles hovering in midair. A large cauldron sat in the middle of the room, a metallic gold, waiting for its moment to shine.
A circle of seven high-backed, throne-like chairs sat around the cauldron. Only one was covered by a gauzy white shroud. It was the chair that would remain empty until it was filled by the person elected after all this stupid rigamarole.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I mumbled back to Vix when it seemed clear she wasn’t going to give up the conversation. “Trixie’s just a disgruntled tenant from my building. There was bound to be at least one when the letters went out.”
Vix shook her head, folded her arms across her chest. “If you want me to do the job you hired me to do, the least you can do is be honest with me.”
“I didn’t lie to you.”
“She’s the one, isn’t she?”
“What?” I glanced at Vix, startled truly for the first time in a long, long while.
It took me a beat too long to realize what Vix meant. For a split second, I thought she’d been able to see inside my head—witness to the incessant thoughts I’d been having about the curious witch.
Admittedly, some of those thoughts centered on the physical: the image of Trixie’s long, slender legs. The way her hair curled invitingly around her face. The smell of her shampoo.
Vix snorted as if she could read my mind. “She’s that ‘big rush of power’ you met in the alley the other night. The person you were worried might be your brother.”
My jaw tightened.
“There’s no use denying it,” Vix said. “Trixie Gardens is practically a neon sign for repressed magic. The chick glows from a mile away. I’m surprised humans haven’t started asking her to read tea leaves and discuss their futures. The woman is a ball of energy.”
I gave one succinct nod. “I thought it might be my brother the other night from the sheer amount of magic she gives off. I don’t know why it was so intense that night, but—”
“Trixie’s birthday’s coming up,” Vix said. “I Googled her on the way here. She’ll turn thirty soon, and that’s when witches hit their peak magical abilities. If she hasn’t figured out a way to release some of that energy, then she’s going to be in trouble.”
I gave another nod. I’d had the same thought. I hadn’t bothered to tell Trixie because she wasn’t exactly reacting well to advice from me these days. Or conversation of any nature. Or really, even my presence.
“Good talk.” Vix sat back as the members of The Circle walked on stage covered in their different colored robes. “For what it’s worth, she wants you too.”
“Huh?”
Vix licked her front teeth and gave me a wink. “The longing’s not one-sided, boss.”
“How do you know?” I growled. “Your security prowess tell you that?”
“That’s all my feminine prowess.” Vix winked, bit down on a red lip. “Trust me. She’s into you.”
“Welcome.” Merci Kinkaid, the witch responsible for facilitating the election, wore a gown of midnight blue with sweeping sleeves and a long train. The material was some sort of shiny velvet that glinted beneath the candlelight. “We’ll now light the Flame of the Fates.”
The room fell silent as Merci flicked her fingers and a black flame licked up the sides of the golden cauldron. She let it burn, watching with a careful eye. When it was ready, she gave another nod.
Silently, the six remaining members of The Circle took their seats on the high-backed chairs circling the cauldron. There was no front to this auditorium and no back. No start, no end to the circle. They were big on analogies here. Very corporate team-building-exercise of them.
Once seated, the members of The Circle waited patiently. All six of them wore different colored robes—emerald green to signify the witches, gold for the elves, deep purple for the dwarves, silver for the werewolves, burgundy for the giants. Black, of course, for the vampires.
The final seat remained empty, covered in gauze. The wildcard seat.
The reason the wildcard selection was such a big deal in the magical community was because this selection could upset the balance of the magical community. Six seats in The Circle were set—there were rules that a witch could only replace a witch, an elf for an elf, a vampire for a vampire. But the seventh seat was a wildcard and could be any species, and that could offset the balance of power in an alarming way for the entire magical world.
“The death of Yarrin Harbringer saddens our community,” Merci announced somberly. “Yarrin served The Circle as the wildcard selection for over fifty years, and his loss has rocked our world. While we grieve for him, it is essential to move forward with our selection for the new appointee.”
