Michael scanned the room, seeing flashes of different
emotions flit across the faces of the coven members. Here and there he saw
relief, but mostly he saw disappointment, and every few faces it was anger. For
a breed meant to be upholding the good, this particular species of witch seemed
to be slightly too ambitious. He didn’t like it. Just as well that their new
leader was not among them; the last thing this Coven needed was another
megalomaniac.
“Not here?” Aeron asked, far more demanding.
“I think that is a matter to be discussed after Jessica has
had a moment,” the Arc interjected, putting his hand on Jessica’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, Michael,” Jessica calmed him.
“Do you...” Aeron said softly, “...have any idea where is
he?”
Michael watched his charge sort through whatever it was that
she was Seeing. He wondered what it was that she saw; it was the weird thing,
this pact between the One and Apollo to protect the Cassandrian line. To think,
Sariel had kept Morgan company for more than a human lifetime.
“He’ll find us,” Jessica said, opening her blind eyes, “we
just have to have some patience.”
Aeron scanned her face for a moment and then stepped back.
“Very well,” he said quietly, and then raised his voice, “Lore
dictates that in the absence of a Coven Master, the Diviner, the Loremaster,
and the eldest member of the Coven form a quorum and lead the coven until the
Coven Master comes forward.”
“So...who’s the eldest?” Jessica asked.
Aeron scanned the room, muttering to himself, his eyes
lighted on a young brunette.
“That’ll be Charles Aswynn,” he said after a while, “Michaela,
where is your father?”
A rustle of murmurs, and finally Michaela Aswynn spoke up,
“My father isn’t here, I guess he forgot.”
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