"For the purposes of their investigation, the sheriff's office has asked me not to reveal any photos from the crime scene yet," the mayor continued, as the deadly silent room hung onto his every word. "However, I can identify the bodies as Rallsburg University students Alexander Nelson and Jaysmith Miller."

  "What about the third victim?" Gordon Merrill asked, his phone prominently in his hand as he took notes. There was a sharp intake of breath throughout the room, as everyone remembered a child had been caught in the crossfire.

  "We will not be releasing a name until the family gives permission," Rowan responded evenly, staring down his nose at Gordon with barely-concealed contempt. It was mostly a pointless question—there were so few children in Rallsburg that even a single one missing was obvious—but Gordon wanted Rowan to say it aloud.

  The mayor and the local paper had been at odds for years. Rachel had never quite gotten the story, but there had been some bad blood during the last election as Gordon supported the opposition. From what she could dig up, Rowan Rhistler had won in a landslide anyway.

  "How did they die?" Robert Harrison growled from his seat. The former lumberjack's thick eyebrows furrowed and his slanted mouth was hidden behind his thick beard, giving the impression of a sentient, malevolent bush.

  "Now, that ain't appropriate. We don't need-a-know that," Julian Black chimed in, rising to his feet. "Them deaths are a tragedy, but it's more important we find who done them in and start taking action."

  A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd.

  "Thank you, Mr. Black, but the sheriff has the situation well in hand," Rowan interjected from the front. "Mr. Harrison, as I stated before, the specific details of the crime are vital to the investigation and cannot be released at this time."

  "Horseshit," Robert snapped. "I heard they were burned alive. You're trying to hide a nutjob among us."

  "Is that true, Mayor? The victims were set on fire?" Gordon Merrill chimed in, his phone held aloft eagerly.

  Jackie Nossinger stood, her glare matching Robert's in intensity. "If you want to get into it, Bob, yeah, they burned. Now who told your gossipy ass about it?"

  "Friend of a friend," Robert replied evasively.

  "That's crap, Robert," Neffie Bowman spoke up. Her melodic voice provided a nice contrast to the gruff and gravelly voices of the Sheriff and the lumberjack, the smooth politician of Rowan Rhistler and the slight whine of the journalist Gordon Merrill. Her attractive exotic features even more so, as she rose to her feet. "If you've got a source that knew about the murders before this meeting, you've got a responsibility to the town to own up."

  "So what if I have? We all oughta known sooner than this. From how he tells it, they died nearly a week ago."

  A collective gasp rolled through the assembly, Rachel included. Jackie had obviously come straight to her upon discovering the bodies, so when had they died?

  Robert smiled with satisfaction. This was the reaction he'd been hoping for. Jackie faltered in her response, leaving Robert the floor to continue.

  "That's right, folks. Our sheriff and our mayor knew we had a psycho in town and didn't say a goddamn word for a week!" His eyes looked wild as he turned to face his fellows in the row beside him. "What if he'd come after you in your diner, Dan? Or your shop, Hector? What if he went for your sister, Preston?"

  "He'd get what's coming to him," the deputy retorted at the last bit, and a faint laugh echoed through the hall, easing tension just a little. Rachel smiled. It was true, Neffie Bowman was a scrapper and the whole town knew it. Anyone going for her and expecting easy prey would be in for a nasty surprise.

  Robert wasn't about to let the attention he commanded go to waste, though. He still held the rapt attention of the room, as if each of them were attached to a leash and he held the end of every rope. "There's something going on in this town, and we all know it. It's been happening for months and we've all been plopped on our hands waiting for the next tree to keel over."

  Rachel felt a rush of adrenaline at his words. Robert Harrison, of all people, would be the one to reveal them? It was inconceivable. Robert, however, had different prey in mind than the hidden community that secretly permeated his town. His target was far more public.

  Robert paused for effect, before his head snapped to lock eyes with Cinza. "We've got a damn cult in our town and it's high time someone looked into what they're doing."

  Every head in the room followed his gaze to Cinza, seated calmly between her two lieutenants. Ruby looked nervous and shrunk deeper into her hood, her red curls still plainly visible in spite of her attempts. Her other companion looked as though he hadn't heard a word.

  "Y'all even got a name, or are you too autistic to come up with one?" Robert continued. From her side, Rachel heard Kendra quietly click her tongue in disgust, but she was too focused on Cinza's reaction to pay it any mind.

  Cinza stood very slowly, and lowered her hood, shaking loose her mane of silvery hair. "Names are just tools to help the uncertain come to terms with their identity. We know who we are."

  "Bunch of loonies," Julian chimed in, eliciting a laugh from a few in the crowd. Far less than Preston's quip earlier, Rachel noted with relief. They hadn't the level of support they pretended to hold, not yet at least.

  Cinza whirled on him. "And what are you, Julian Black? A failed con man turned failed entrepreneur-cum-delivery man? Do tell, what worldly insights can you offer to us?"

  "I can tell you the poor guys outside town were burned alive, and your cult seems to love its little fireside get-togethers on the outskirts," Julian shot back.

  Julian knew full well the cult never used fire, preferring Cinza's mastery of light manipulation for their elaborate stagings. Rachel tried to piece together his plan of attack.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Blame Cinza for the murders? It was certainly one way to consolidate power, as Cinza represented the largest coordinated voting bloc on the Council and was quite unlikely to ever support him. With her presumably in custody or at least wanted for questioning following this town hall, he could call for a vote and possibly have the numbers to knock Josh off the council. This presumed, of course, that he'd been able to hide his influence in setting her on the run.

  Rachel scanned the crowd, and saw with satisfaction that well more than half of the regular attendees to the Council were seated throughout the hall. If Julian tried to take Cinza off the board, everyone would witness it. Her gambit was paying off thus far.

  "So do many of the university's finest. I've seen Seth Merrill out there plenty of times as well. I'm glad you taught your son well enough to not burn the forest down," Cinza added, inclining her head at the journalist, who turned a shade of pink. For a former big-city reporter, he seems very prone to embarrassment.

  "Still leaves you with some explainin'," Robert jumped back into the conversation with his customary growl, further confirming to Rachel that the two were obviously working together. She wondered what Julian had promised the man. If he had even promised Robert anything; Rachel suspected Robert Harrison was a man more than willing to stir up trouble in town simply to be at the center of attention in his advancing years. "Y'all are some creepy sons of bitches, rolling through town in those cloaks. What've you got to hide?"

  "Is this really necessary?" Gordon Merrill countered, to Rachel's surprise. "Do you have any evidence to suggest they've committed any crime? We had a specific reason for coming together today."

  "You're one to talk," Robert retorted. "Your own toady is one of them."

  "Toady?" Kendra murmured next to Rachel, while Gordon looked taken aback.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean Morton Pollock, your assistant, is a goddamn greycloak. Oscar McKinney saw him out one day while working the power lines on the west end."

  Oscar gave a sheepish nod as heads swivelled to find him. He sank deep into his chair, looking deeply uncomfortable with the whole situation.

  "Well, that's… err…" Gordon stammered, his mouth making interesting contortions as he tried to form proper words.

  "They've snaked their way into our town," Julian Black leapt into the sudden silence. "They mean us ill. They take and give nothing back. And now good students of the college are dyin' out in the woods where they make their home. Can't we intervene?" Rachel was surprised by his audacity. Despite an audience that clearly felt no love for the man, he was still following through on his plan to remove Cinza from the field.

  Cinza herself looked furious, her small hands clenched so tight Rachel expected her fingernails must be piercing skin. For a brief moment, she feared the girl would throw caution to the winds and throw down then and there—but once again the leader of the Cult of the Grey showed her cool head in danger, surprising them all.

  The girl turned to face the mayor—her metal charms faintly tinkling from the movement—ignoring Julian and Robert in favor of the two elected authorities that were standing silent at the head of the crowd. "Well, Judges, the good people of Salem have declared their witches. Shall we send for the Reverend Hale or would you like to play the role yourself, Mr. Rhistler?"

  "Enough of this," the mayor said with conviction. "Robert, Julian, you two will hold your tongues if you mean to accuse further, unless you can present solid, factual evidence about the group and not wild speculation."

  Rachel was pleased. The mayor had read the room and reacted accordingly. Having brought Cinza and enough sympathetic supporters, she was able to deflect what could have quickly become a dangerous witch hunt. The girl was more eloquent under pressure than Rachel gave her credit for. Perhaps they could get back to the matter of the actual murderer.

  "Actually," came an uneasy, uncertain voice from the back row. Once again, the rows of heads swivelled as if on a great long pole and a crank operator at the end was turning them all in unison. "They are witches."

  It was Dan Rhodes, owner of the local burger joint. Rachel filled her lungs with a deep breath, trying desperately to stay calm even as blood began thumping like a hammer on her skull. Dan wasn't someone so easily dismissed as crazy or having an agenda. He was an everyman, someone most of the town trusted.

  This wasn't going to end well.

  "Dan? You have something to add?" Rowan called from the front. Even the mayor trusted the man. Rachel felt the ice in the room thicken. The chill seeped up her spine.

  "I've seen it. People making fire from thin air, people with impossible things. Casting spells. You know, witchery."

  A pin drop would have been as loud as a gunshot in the hall at that time. Rachel was never more acutely aware of the unusually low number of vehicles present in Rallsburg. Since the train wasn't scheduled that day, the only sound was the soft chirping of birds in the distance and the faint hum of electricity.

  Rachel muscles were tense and coiled to spring. She slid her hand into her bag, reaching for a ruby. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Kendra, Hector and Ryan Walker had mirrored her action. Cinza herself was still the center of attention, else Rachel was sure she'd have done the same. Thankfully she'd remained calm so far, but Ruby was totally concealed within her cloak—and who knew what the red-haired girl might have at the ready underneath that sheet of grey?

  If they needed to move, for better or worse, Cinza's people were ready for a fight.

  "Explain," Jackie Nossinger spoke, her voice firm and far less skeptical than Rachel would have liked.

  "That girl who comes around every once and a while. She shoots lightning from her fingertips." Jackie raised an eyebrow. Rachel winced. They both knew the bodies were covered in electrical burns. "And a few guys that came in, they threw fire at her. Just thought everyone should know," he added sheepishly.

  It was the moment of truth. Did Rachel need to act? The others were watching her as closely as they dared, knowing better than to draw too much attention to her when she hadn't yet spoken. Gordon Merrill was her main concern, with his phone still out and recording copious notes. Who knew where those were being transmitted?

  "That sounds ridiculous," Hailey Winscombe said, her voice shaking. Rachel was shocked it had taken this long for her to speak up, when she was usually so talkative. Another element of the new Hailey. "People throwing fire and lightning? Are you on something?"

  A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd, but not as much as Rachel would have liked. Too many were starting to feel the unease and paranoia of the supernatural surrounding them. Still, nothing truly dangerous had been spoken yet. They were safe for the moment. Dan's concerns could be dismissed, his supposed witches discredited. There was no proof or even a person to question yet.

  "The girl, what's her name?" Robert Harrison asked, and Rachel's heart plunged into ice. Even Julian looked suddenly nervous, but he could hardly speak up in the deadly silence without putting himself under the limelight.

  "She goes by Rika, but I dunno if—"

  Rachel stood up sharply. Her chair scraped the floor in her haste. Rika was at risk, and—damn the consequences—Rachel still felt loyalty to her friend.

  "Hector, cut it," she called, across the rows of heads that were twirling in place like a shifting kaleidoscope to form rows of eyes all locked on her.

  At her word, Hector's hand flew out of his bag. A handful of mica dust leapt into the air and vanished with a hiss. The lights flickered off. Gordon's phone screen followed a moment later. The wide windows in the rafters caught enough light to still leave everything illuminated, and keep all attention fixed upon Rachel.

  The hum of electricity, the one constant sound, was gone. Only a faint breeze and the continuing song of the birds remained.

  She let out the deep breath she'd taken so long ago, and it felt as though every eye in the room followed her throat as it relaxed. The time had finally come.