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We were all ready to be done. Levian was already smiling like he’d won the whole election, which was about right. He really didn’t have any competition, seeing as the other options were me and Lucas, and Lucas’s hair was floating upwards of a foot above his head now with nervous crackles of magic. He didn’t exactly come off as a confident political mastermind.
“It looks like we have our three nominees,” Merci said, exhaling a breath. “Thank you everyone for coming, we will now—”
As she spoke, the cauldron angrily bubbled and gurgled, hissing and spitting like it was irate that Merci had cut it off too early. Like The Fates had more to say. Sure enough, seconds later, another paper shot forth from the potion in a startling array of embers and black soot and curling smoke.
“We have another nominee,” Merci said, looking astounded. “This nominee is a witch. Trixie Gardens.”
Trixie was mid-sip of tequila when her name was called. I would’ve laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity of it all if I wasn’t sitting on stage.
She spluttered, eyes widening. I couldn’t tell if the look on Trixie’s face was due to the foul nature of the gas-station tequila she’d just inhaled, or if it was dismay at the thought of having to make her way on stage.
“Me?” Trixie squeaked.
I couldn’t physically hear her due to the muffling charms around the room, but I could read her lips. She looked to Emmy, mouthed, “Me?” a second time, even as her friend tugged her arm.
Trixie stood, shuffled her way to the stage. I wished that I was a more evolved vampire so my first thought wasn’t to study the witch’s legs and note how long and beautiful they looked moving under a gown that made her look magnificent.
But apparently even after three hundred years of evolving, I was still a feral monster who couldn’t keep his eyes off the witch.
Trixie made her way through the crowd. Even the muffling spells couldn’t fully quell the murmurs slicing through the room. Trixie came from a long line of strong witches, but we’d never had a witch win the wildcard seat before. It was actually quite unthinkable as witches were often opinionated and their magic quite volatile.
Trixie made her way onto the stage, twitching her dress nervously so it flowed around her knees. She locked her gaze on me, glowering as if it was my personal fault that her name had been shot from the cauldron. As if I could influence The Fates.
“Welcome, Trix,” I murmured only for her ears. “I see you can’t stay away from me.”
“Shove it,” she muttered, taking the chair next to me.
Then Trixie leaned forward, took a long look at Lucas Paul the Third, whose toupee was halfway to outer space at this point. She dragged her gaze down to Levian, a little smile playing on her lips as the elfin candidate gave her a polite nod. She skipped right over me as she settled her hands and stared forward.
Merci gave the cauldron a long, weary look as she waited, hands clasped in front of her to see if another name would be spit out. She waited for so long that the black flame beneath the golden cauldron finally extinguished in a puff of smoke, signaling the end of the nomination process.
Merci expelled a breath of relief. She closed the book on the podium before her, and with that, the cauldron vanished in a puff of dusty ash and smoke.
“Now it’s time for the welcome speeches,” Merci said, obviously trying to regain her confidence. “We’ll go in the order of the nominations. Candidates are capped to three minutes, and you may use this time to introduce yourselves before the thirty-day campaign period officially launches. Lucas, that puts you first.”
Lucas Paul the Third looked like he might get lost on the way to the podium. When he made his way to the golden platform in the center of the stage, he was trembling so hard I wanted to put the man out of his misery myself.
In a shaky voice, Lucas Paul the Third introduced himself and got his name right on the fourth try. A glance at the audience told me that nobody was paying that much attention to the speech. Everyone was looking at Levian in hope. Or at me in fear.
After Lucas stumbled his way to a lackluster finale in his three-minute introduction, Levian took over and shared a well-rehearsed, obviously polished speech that had probably been written by a professional. He smiled at appropriate times, didn’t mutter a single ‘um’, and promised great things for our paranormal community. Bravo to him.
When Levian concluded his speech, the collective audience let out a breath of relief. We were all beginning to realize that it didn’t really matter who the other candidates were. There was already a clear winner. The next thirty days would be nothing but pomp and circumstance in the spirit of tradition to celebrate Levian’s eventual appointment to his seat within The Circle.
When it was my turn to take the stand, I found my gaze searching through the audience. It landed on Vix, who was smirking. A glance at the elves told me most of their community looked downright offended I’d dare to follow up the golden candidate. When I scanned everyone else, the general look was mortified that a vampire might take hold of the wildcard seat.
Which, to be fair, was reasonable. The last time a vampire had been selected as the wildcard, the power had gone to his head. Bennedict Black had eaten half of a small Ohio town before he’d been stopped in a deadly way.
“I’m Dominic Kent. Vampire,” I said roughly. “Nobody’s going to vote for me after a speech like Levian’s, so I’m going to keep this short.”
I gave a wink at the crowd which seemed to further terrify everyone. Except for a few brave souls who chose to laugh at my attempt at levity.
I spewed some garbage about my family history and wrapped up my speech after exactly one minute and six seconds. There was another collective rush of relief after I finished and sat my rear end back down.
“I’m Trixie.” Trixie’s knuckles were white as she gripped the podium to start her speech. “I’ve got to admit, I’m totally confused as to why I’m standing here. I’m definitely nobody special.”
A tittering arose from the crowd. Trixie seemed completely un-intimidating standing on the podium, so instead of terrifying people, her jokes hit the right beat with the crowd. Unlike mine.
“I’ll admit to a little secret.” Trixie leaned forward against the podium. “I’m a little bit drunk. That’s how surprised I am to be up here, because I definitely wouldn’t have had that last shot of tequila if I knew I was supposed to be giving a speech without slurring.”
