“Are you havin’ a wingding?” Darla called.

  “NO!” I responded, glaring at them both. “Go back home.”

  “We heard voices and,” Libby started.

  “Are you sure you ain’t havin’ a soiree?” Darla demanded. “I was just sure you was over here, cuttin’ a rug.”

  I looked up at the ceiling. “Dear Goddess, please bless me with the gift of patience.”

  “They can come in, can’t they?” Poppy asked, making the situation worse.

  “Ugh,” I grumbled as I pointed to the couch. “Come in, sit down, and not a word from either of you!” Darla giggled, and they immediately walked into the living room and did as I ordered.

  Meanwhile, Lorcan hadn’t torn his attention from me. “What’s an assembly and why are Poppy and I here to discuss it? Beautiful and discerning creature you are, I’m sure you’ve noticed that neither of us are of the witchy persuasion.”

  “I was wondering that myself,” Maverick muttered. “Why are the vampire and gypsy here?”

  I shot him a dirty look. “Because they’re just as important to this coven as you are.”

  “Explain,” Maverick said.

  “Poppy is here because if the spell recognizes her, then in my mind, she’s an honorary witch.”

  “Oh,” Poppy said and surprise echoed across her face—surprise because I hadn’t told her why I’d wanted her to come over.

  Maverick started to chuckle—potentially at the thought of Poppy becoming an honorary witch, until I cut him off with a scowl.

  “Stop laughing! Poppy is at least as powerful as Astrid,” I continued as Poppy gave me a grateful expression. “In fact, I’ve never met a gypsy with as much potential.”

  “Yet, she’s still mortal,” Maverick said.

  “She’s mortal, true, but she’s nothing to be trifled with. And if we’re going to turn up to a gathering of witches, we need every advantage we can get.” I took a breath. “Poppy is an advantage.”

  Poppy glanced up from the rose-quartz crystal she’d been fiddling with, a megawatt smile lighting her face. She was going to have to tone that down if she wanted to pass at the coven. The blonde hair was going to be a standout all on its own. Maybe I could convince her to dye it red, temporarily. Three red-haired witches looked a little less conspicuous than two red-haired witches and a very obvious gypsy.

  “Keep in mind it might not work,” I continued, looking at Poppy. “Witch magic and gypsy magic run on different wavelengths. Yours could be completely incompatible, which would mean you’d be excluded from the spell. But if the spell does recognize you, it could change the nature of your magic, Poppy.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, appearing concerned.

  “Well, in order to become a unit, our power has to mingle,” I continued.

  “Your magic almost certainly would get a boost,” Betanya added as she faced Poppy. “And you may be able to work minor spells.”

  “Ya,” Olga chimed in. “Und you could zink of yourself as a half-vitch.”

  “So, if that’s not okay with you, then back out now,” I finished.

  Poppy chewed her lip and passed the rose-quartz from one hand to the other as she mulled it over. I waited. As anxious as I was to begin, this wasn’t a decision to be made lightly. It took a few minutes, but she stopped fondling the crystal and peered up at me.

  “As far as the assembly is concerned, wouldn’t it hurt your credibility to be seen with a gypsy?”

  “I’m already a Blood Witch,” I answered as I shook my head. “Most everyone at the assembly will write me off just for that alone.” Then I took a deep breath. “I’m actually hoping that by bringing all of you, I’ll scandalize Mother into challenging me.”

  “Do you think we’d be that much of a scandal?” Lorcan asked.

  I nodded. “I mean… look at us.” I waved a hand around the room. “Two red-haired witches, a warlock, a witch on probation, a gypsy, and a vampire. Not to mention we also have two Blood-Witch ‘abominations’.”

  “I’m no longer a Blood Witch,” Betanya reminded me.

  I nodded. “It won’t matter to them. Regardless, I think we’ll give Celestine heart failure before we can even make it to a casting competition.”

  That earned a round of nervous laughter.

  Even Maverick seemed amused.

  There was a keen, almost anticipatory look in his eye.

  I imagined Mother wasn’t the only one who’d be beside herself regarding this development. Aunt Tabitha had exiled both her children for defying the coven. Or, in Maverick’s case, just for existing. Not only would he now have the backing of a coven—something he’d been denied most of his adult life—he would also have a chance to prove himself to every witch who’d ever wronged him. I’d definitely have to lay down some rules if this went according to plan. Rules such as: no grievous bodily harm.

  “None of this explains why I’m here, sweetling,” Lorcan reminded me.

  “Right,” I admitted. “Because our energies mingle on a very elemental level, there’s a risk that I could contaminate everyone with my death magic. And, I don’t have to say it, but one Blood Witch is bad enough. We don’t need four Blood Witches, a blood gypsy, and a blood warlock created in the process.”

  “So?” Lorcan asked.

  “So, you’re my would-be sire. That means, I’m counting on you to repress that part of me that could potentially turn everyone else…”

  “And how long am I meant to repress this part of you, if I’m even able to do so?”

  “For long enough to perform the ritual.”

  There was a collective intake of breath.

  In all the excitement, no one had really stopped to consider the possible drawbacks. Honestly, I hadn’t considered them until after I’d gotten Maverick to agree to joining my coven. And that’s when it had dawned on me.

  I cast my gaze around the room again and gave them all a bitter smile.

  “I understand if you want to back out,” I said as I faced each person.

  Olga watched me with pale, half-focused eyes. Sometimes the German witch could be downright inscrutable. She seemed to be aware of her surroundings, but not in them, most of her concentration fixed on faraway maybes. She’d been blessed (or cursed, depending on how you looked at it) with second sight long before I’d been born. She’d known, before Mother and I, that I’d be important. At least, that’s what she’d told me.

  She tucked a strand of wispy white hair behind one ear and shook her head slowly. “Ve cannot afford not to do ze spell.”

  Based on her expression, it looked like there was more she wanted to say. “Okay?” I started.

  She nodded. “I have seen zis moment already—in my mind’s eye. Und it is crucial ve attend zis assembly. Vanda’s moment ist coming. If ve vant to challenge Zelestine’s power, zis ist zee time. Zee opportunity von’t come again.”

  My heart skipped a beat and then resumed double-time. What exactly was Olga seeing? I wished I could scoop the answer out of her skull so I’d have a clue as to what to do. I needed to know if the outcome was worth the risk. But, alas, that wasn’t possible and knowing from trying to get Olga to explain other visions, she didn’t seem to understand them fully, either. She just went on feelings she had about them.

  “But,” Olga continued. “I must varn you…”

  “Okay,” I said as the words faded from her lips.

  “Ven I vas in my own house, zee vindow blinds fell.”

  Everyone just stood there, each of us wearing our own perplexed expression.

  “Summa bitch.” Charlie Ray was the only one who spoke.

  “Um,” Poppy continued as she faced Olga. “Was that a bad thing?”

  It was then that Olga began nodding with effort. “Ya, ya, very bad zing, very bad zing! Zee fall of zee vindow blind ist a very bad omen!”

  “Oh,” I started, still frowning as I wondered if maybe it might be better to form this coven sans one of the witches.

  “But as zoon as zee vindow blind fell, I replace it back in its zocket, so I believe zee evil vas averted.”

  “And damn good thing for your quick thinking, Olga,” Lorcan said, a smile ghosting his lips.

  “Ya, good zing.”

  Wanting to get things back on track, I glanced around the room again. “So, whether or not you want to join my coven and attend this assembly is up to you.”

  A weighty silence descended over the room. I waited, heart hammering in my chest as I wondered what decision everyone would make.

  It was Maverick who finally broke the silence. He spoke slowly, but with conviction. His gray eyes were flinty, hands bunched in the fabric of his coat.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m tired of letting prejudiced witches dictate how I live my life. This coven may not be much, but at least it’s nondiscriminatory. And if it fails?” he shrugged. “Well, then, at least we can say we tried.”

  Astrid nodded. “Maverick is right and based on Olga’s vision, it sounds like this is something we’re supposed to do.” Olga nodded at her. “I think it’s worth the risk. Besides, I trust Lorcan,” she continued as she turned to face him and he gave her a nod. “I believe he will be able to keep us safe from Wanda’s blood magic.”

  “Und you know vhere I stand,” Olga said.

  “Then it’s settled,” Betanya said, smoothing her skirt as she took a step closer to me. “We’re going to be a coven.”

  I looked around at everyone else. “Unless there are any other objections?"

  I waited, but no one spoke. Poppy seemed cautious, but didn’t comment. Astrid was vibrating with nervous tension. Olga just smiled.

  I knelt and retrieved the bag at my feet.

  “Alright everyone. Gather your familiars. It’s time to forge a coven.”

  Chapter Five

  “You’re using... that as your familiar?” I asked, casting a dubious look at the shape in Poppy’s arms. “I mean… in case you didn’t notice, Poppy, it’s a stuffed animal.”

  Poppy clutched the stuffed pig tighter to her chest.

  It was Finn’s stuffed animal and after he’d been abducted by faeries last year, I’d enchanted the stuffed animal to come to life. Piggy, as Finn called it, wasn’t the brightest thing in the world (because I hadn’t magicked him with much intelligence), and was positively terrified of the washing machine, hence his rather dingy appearance. Poppy had to make do with taking a washcloth to the thing every once in a while. That was probably the reason she’d stuffed it into a knit sweater—the sweater covered more surface area and could be tossed in with the other laundry.

  “As you all are so fond of reminding me, I’m a gypsy not a witch. Thus, I don’t have a familiar.”

  “Am I going into the washing machine?” the pig in question asked.

  “No, you’re not,” Poppy answered and gave the thing a hesitant smile. I was pretty sure she was terrified of it.

  “Okay, while you might not be a witch with a familiar, you decided to use that stuffed animal instead?” I asked, frowning.

  “His name is Piggy,” she corrected.

  “My name is Piggy and I love Finn,” the thing cooed at me. Jesus, I hadn’t realized how frightening it really was.

  “This may not work,” I said as I inspected it and, in doing so, took a step away from it.

  “Well, you enchanted Piggy, so he’s the witchiest thing I’ve got,” Poppy argued with a shrug.

  “You named the stuffed pig Piggy?” Maverick asked, and didn’t bother to hide the scorn in his voice.

  We’d all gathered in the foyer of Lorcan’s Tudor Revival. Well, my Tudor Revival now. It had been absolutely essential that I claim sanctum on the building our coven would be calling home. Much like the duplex, Lorcan had sold the Tudor Revival to me at a criminally low price. Apparently, he’d originally bought the place for three-hundred-thousand dollars. I was getting it for a fraction of the price. I’d have felt guilty if I weren’t so relieved. And if I were capable of feeling guilty…

  Getting booted from the Crescent Circle Coven hadn’t just been bad for my morale, it had also hit me right in the wallet. Mother had cut me off financially when it became clear I wasn’t going to fall in line with her plan. She’d wanted to stuff me into a small cottage in Tacoma, where she could keep a close eye on me.

  It would have been comfortable. Easy. Uneventful. Boring as hell. Though it had been an odd year and a handful of months, I couldn’t deny that living here, in Haven Hollow, made me happy.

  Happy here.

  It was almost absurd.

  Last year I’d have given almost anything to live in Mother’s wine cellar—just to be close to the coven. And hey, there’d be plenty of wine.

  Jokes aside, I’d never imagined life outside the coven could be so... fulfilling. Living among gypsies, faeries, vampires, and so many others had taught me what being happy really looked and felt like. Sure, they were all annoying, but I still... cared about them.

  Clearly, I was going soft.

  “Am I going to be in the coven?” Piggy asked, pulling me out of my reverie.

  “No, you’re a stuffed animal,” I answered.

  “And I’m Finn’s best friend!”

  “And you’re quite the abomination,” Lorcan said from where he stood behind us. Then he sighed. “But I suppose I should be grateful for the fact that you aren’t trying to kill me like that other hideous creation of Wanda’s.”

  “Acmonides,” I supplied for him on a laugh as he nodded.

  “That thing was quite terrifying.”

  “Ha, that sounds like a situation I would have relished witnessing for myself,” Maverick said, startling the barn owl, named Isis, on his shoulder. She flapped her wings and nipped at his ear reproachfully. He slapped a hand over the injured ear. “Ow!”

  Betanya and Olga were watching the exchange with an air of bemusement.

  “Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” Betanya stage whispered to Olga.

  “Nein.”

  Given that Olga had been on probation for the better part of two hundred years, it made sense that she was out of the loop—not only regarding the doll I’d created to terrorize Lorcan, but Olga was out of the loop, in general. Before her banishment, she’d been a teacher at an elite magic school, so she probably hadn’t gotten out much then either. And Betanya had been stuck on the other side of the veil for decades so she wasn’t much better.

  But Acmonides was a subject I wasn’t in the mood to relive. Not when we still had so much to do.

  ***

  Later that evening, the moon was high and full in the sky—a requirement in order to do the coven spell.

  Everyone but Lorcan and I were seated cross-legged in a candlelit circle. Olga’s familiar, Franz, was carrying on with Charlie Ray and generally making a nuisance of himself, as he was wont to do. Franz was a rather large raccoon, and his grasp of English was tenuous, at best, so I could never understand him.

  “You speakin’ English?” Charlie Ray, on the other hand, was easy to understand.

  “Ya-ya!” Franz said as he reached forward and tried to pinch the skunk on the tush.

  “You stop that!” Charlie Ray said and yanked his well-proportioned bottom away.

  “Keep both of those onerous creatures away from me,” Hellcat said, as he regarded the skunk and the raccoon warily. “They are both quite uncultured.”

  “Put a paw in it,” I said as I turned to scowl at the rude cat.

  “Amusing as this is, don’t you think we should start, sweetling?” Lorcan reminded me gently, as Yule stood behind him, wagging his tail up at his master. “It is a quarter to midnight.”

  “Right,” I muttered. “Astrid, do you have a connection to Yule yet?”

  Astrid glanced down at the beagle as he looked back up at her and then plodded over, dropping himself into her lap. His tail thumped her foot every time she scratched behind his ears. From the looks of things, Lorcan’s guardian spirit was in doggy heaven. And as to the reason why Astrid was borrowing him as her familiar? Astrid wasn’t old enough to have her own familiar yet (that would happen when she turned eighteen), so Yule was the next best thing. Guardian spirits were created by the goddess, so it stood to reason he’d be an acceptable substitute for the purposes of our spell.

  Astrid nodded. “It’s not a strong connection, but it’s there. And I think I can make the connection last until the end of the ritual.”

  “Good.”

  We were about to tie ourselves together; we were going to become a tight unit. Our little Island of Misfit Toys was going to become a proper coven. There was every chance it could go horribly wrong, but if it didn’t... this was going to change everything.

  There was a beat of silence, and no one moved. We barely breathed. Even though we’d been prepping for the better part of an hour, what we were prepping for hadn’t really sunk in until now.

  “Scapegrace,” I said.

  “Huh?” Poppy asked, looking up from Piggy.

  “Scapegrace,” Hellcat repeated as though she were hard-of-hearing, leaping onto my shoulder, claws digging painfully through the fabric of my blouse. And on purpose, I might add.

  “Um, what is that?” Poppy continued.

  “A Scapegrace is a mischievous or wayward person, you unlearned weevil.”

  “Otherwise known as a rascal or a reprobate,” Lorcan added, giving Poppy a little smile, before he added. “You unlearned weevil.”

  They both laughed at that while Hellcat glared at them in equal turns.

  Lorcan then looked at me. “Do you mind if I ask why you mentioned the word?”

  I nodded. “Our coven needs a name… and one that has some sort of significance.”

  “And you thought ‘scapegoat’ was a good name?” Poppy asked.

  “Is there a goat here?” Piggy responded, looking around and appearing disappointed when he didn’t find one.

  “Scapegrace, you chit,” Hellcat corrected.

  “Why wouldn’t we just be the Haven Hollow Coven?” Poppy asked.

  I faced her and frowned. “We could name the coven after the place it was founded, but it’s best not to, in case we might ever have to migrate to a new location. I was thinking that because we’re all pariahs in our own ways, tossed out for breaking the rules or being considered less than, the name ‘Scapegrace Coven’ might be apropos.”