The Witching Hour

Chapter 39 - Oath

"Absolutely not." Selene bolted out of her chair, her chignon bouncing at the sudden movement. She put her hands on her hips before crossing them over her chest.

"Why not?" the woman purred from Mammon's side. Her dark purple hair was pulled to the side in a tight braid. Its coloring reminded Ivy of the sangrias Hunter made during the summers as he told stories from his travels to Spain. She bit her lip at the painful memory.

Members of the faction openly met them with hostility, their faces contorting in disgust. Those at the edge of the aisle pulled back, some even shoving their children behind them. Ivy and the rest of the Pentacle spun to face the front of the room. Soon enough, Mammon and the succubus stood in the open spaces between the bench and the two witness tables.

"Mora, you know why," Selene glared at the woman. If looks could kill. "The last time your kind was on the Council, we were very nearly destroyed – from the inside out."

"Oh hush, times change." Mammon waved her off. Spinning on the heel of his leather shoe, he faced the room. He zeroed in on Griffin, who sat still as a statue with balled up fists. Ivy sensed his anger from here. If Mammon said anything, she worried Griffin would bite Mammon's face off.

"You haven't had much...diversity on this Council in some time," Mora said, tapping her chin with an index finger, the red gleaming like blood. She inched closer to the empty seats. Her thirst for power radiated off her. She jutted out her lower lip and sent them the widest, most innocent eyes she could muster – for being a soul-draining monster. "What do you say? You'll give us a second chance?"

"We promise to be good." Mammon put a hand over his heart. "Scouts honor. Swear it on hell itself."

Ivy held back a snort. This man – no really, demon – was something else. Marina elbowed her in the side for her to keep it together. Ivy smoothed down the front of her shirt and crossed one leg over the other to hide her reaction.

"You may sit in, but you are not officially on the Council," the vampire beside Selene spoke up. He exuded power from his custom suit to his slicked-back black hair and darkly trimmed beard. While his exterior experience made him appear in his late 40s/early 50s, his eyes held centuries of knowledge.

Selene gave him a side-eye glance that teetered on resembling a glare, but she didn't comment. He must be the leader of the vampire coven for Selene to bestow that level of respect and not question him. Selene was not one to back down.

"Ah, Leandro, always a man of reason," Mammon sang, taking the seat beside him. Leandro didn't flinch and spared him a minor glance. "Pleasure to be here. Now, where were we?" Mammon's gaze ran over the crowd and the witness tables until he found Ivy again. His lips twisted into a smile of pure satanic evil. She couldn't escape his trap this time.

"We were about to commence the question," Selene snapped. She clenched her jaw, the muscles flexing under the duress. Ivy swore she saw an eye roll.

"Just in time," Mammon said in glee, rubbing his hands together. He undid the button on his suit jacket and sat back in the plush leather chair.

"Witches, please state your names and powers for the, ahem, new Council members," Selene coughed out.

One by one, Ivy and the others introduced themselves. Diana made no movement or had any external reaction to Ivy's name. Maybe they weren't related, but Tatiana had said that Ivy had family in Malachi Peak...

"What did you find in the forest?" Nicholas, the junior werewolf, asked.

"Blood, chains and prisons," Ella said. Her voice held strong and commanded all the attention on her. "It was horrific."