Coven

Erin fed the fire until her eyes stung with smoke and her dress smelled of ash. Sparks leapt upward only to die in the damp night air. Every stick she laid on felt like a bargaining chip spent too quickly. She risked a glance at Remy. He hadn’t moved in an hour. His posture was loose, almost casual, but his stillness was too perfect — the watchful patience of a wolf.

She was tiring. The fire would burn out long before the sun broke the horizon. He could wait.

“So,” she said at last, voice level though her throat was dry, “how many of you are there?”

Remy’s eyes flicked toward her, gleaming faintly in the firelight. His mouth curved, a thin grin that showed the edge of his teeth. “Our coven,” he said. “Four. Three men, and a woman.”

The word lingered in the air: coven, like an echo of witches, though spoken by a vampire.

“And you’ll take me to them?” Erin pressed, though every nerve in her body told her she should flee instead.

Remy’s head snapped slightly to the side, startled, as if she had struck him. “You wish to meet them?”

She let her lips curl in defiance. “Why not? I imagine I’m the first witch you’ve met”

His laugh was low and amused. “The first who has spoken to me, yes. But not the first I have seen.”

He rose, unfolding from the shadows with that strange, unnatural grace. “Very well. Follow. And make yourself a torch, witch — the forest does not always welcome strangers.”

Erin bristled at the word, but she held her tongue. Better he not know her name.

***

They moved through the forest with no path to guide them. Remy walked as if the woods had bent themselves around his steps, never stumbling, never pausing. Erin followed, torchlight guttering in her hand, her ears sharp for movement. There were no tracks, no broken twigs, no sign of dwelling. These creatures had lived in shadow long enough to leave nothing behind.

It made sense. In their wandering across the continent, they must have learned the ways of hunters, the natives, perhaps others, and the dangers of being seen.

A voice, low and sharp, cut through the trees. “Remy. Why do you return so soon? And why do you carry fire into our woods?”

A shape slipped from the dark, a woman’s silhouette, tall and cruelly poised. Erin tightened her grip on the torch.

Remy chuckled. “I picked up a stray, Isabeau. Thought she might be of use.”

“Useful?” The woman’s tone was scornful. She stepped closer, her face catching the light — beautiful, terrible, with blood smeared at her lip.

In an instant Erin flung her torch into a bush, sparks blooming into firelight. She dropped low, freeing her hand to summon the roots beneath the soil. The sudden blaze showed Isabeau reeling back from Remy’s arm, his strike swift and sharp.

“Isabeau,” he said with mild irritation. “Not for feeding. For speaking. She’s a witch.”

The woman wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “A witch,” she repeated coldly. “Then you are twice a fool for bringing her here.”

“Perhaps,” Remy muttered, adjusting his sleeve. “But perhaps not. Maybe she can help mend what we’ve lost.”

Erin’s pulse hammered. She felt the rot; two more presences lurking at the edge of the burning bush. The roots coiled beneath her fingertips, ready to strike.

“Lucien. Rodrigo,” Remy called into the shadows. “Come out before someone dies needlessly.”

From behind the flame stepped a tall figure, elegant and pale as carved marble. His beauty was unsettling, almost inhuman, and he moved too close to Erin. She raised a root, sharpened to a point, less than two feet from his chest.

The vampire arched a brow, his voice smooth and cultured. “Careful, witch. It is ill-mannered to threaten a guest.”

Another blur of motion, and Rodrigo stood to her other side, grin quick and sharp. “So this is a witch? I expected something less plain.”

The insult was too much. Erin swept a root from behind and knocked him sprawling into the dirt.

“Speak again,” she hissed, “and I’ll plant you where you fall.”

Lucien’s laugh was soft and mocking. “Mind your tongue, Rodrigo. Even a witch deserves courtesy.”

Rodrigo spat, scrambling to his feet, but Remy lifted a hand. “Enough. Look at her. Did you think fire would answer to a human’s bare hands?”

Rodrigo’s grin faltered. “No,” he admitted, still wary.

Erin’s eyes flicked from one vampire to another — and only then did she notice the difference. Two talismans gleamed faintly on brows — Remy’s and Rodrigo’s. Lucien’s forehead was bare. Isabeau’s too.

“So only two of you can walk in daylight?” she asked, voice sharp with new confidence.

The coven stilled. Then Remy sighed, shoulders lowering.

“When we came ashore, we each bore one,” he said, touching the stone on his brow. “But last year…a storm, and hunters in the trees. The rain came so heavy the charms would not cling. We pressed them to their brows with our own hands as dawn crept nearer. But the sun is patient.”

His voice thinned. “Two slipped. And the fire came. Do you know how long it takes for a body to burn, witch? Long enough to hear them scream.”

Silence followed, broken only by the crackle of the burning bush. Erin fought the urge to laugh, to rejoice that two parasites had already met the sun, but she swallowed it down. She would not survive mockery.

“So,” she said instead, smirking, “you think I might fix them. Or enchant new stones.”

Lucien inclined his head. “That seems to be Remy’s gamble, little witch.”

“And would you trust me to take the stones back to my homestead?” she asked. “There are other witches there, from the Caribbean. Together, perhaps—”

“Absolutely not,” Isabeau snapped. Her voice was venom. “I would sooner burn than hand my fate to a witch.”

The air grew tense, heavy. Erin felt the roots twitch under her hands, ready to strike or defend.

Remy broke the silence. “Then a compromise. We give her Lucien’s talisman. She tries her craft. I will follow to see that she does not betray us.”

Rodrigo nodded reluctantly. Lucien gave a graceful tilt of his head. Isabeau hissed but said nothing more.

“And what do I get in return?” Erin asked, forcing steel into her voice.

Isabeau’s lips curved. “You live.”

One by one, the three melted back into the darkness, leaving only Remy at her side.

He stepped close enough to touch her shoulder, though she swatted his hand away. “Do it well,” he said softly, “and I promise you a greater reward. But know this, witch — you and I are not as different as you think.”

Erin glared, her pulse still racing. “Don’t patronize me, vampire.”

Remy only smiled, and the night seemed to fold tighter around them.