Chapter 8 Meeting of Minds

8

Meeting of Minds

BELLE DID A less than great job of hiding her sudden understanding, the realisation painted across her face. The Gowden sisters were legendary. Even she, with her limited knowledge of the world of witchcraft, instantly recognised the names. In her defence, they were older now than their iconic portraits in the grimoire. Although saying that, it was almost guaranteed that the sisters had taken the pledge of the cauldron, an esteemed decision presented to Selcouth's elite, to stretch the normal passing of their human years in the name of bettering their magic for the good of wicche-kind. Age really was just a number in this realm.

It was well known that the sisters, while not the slightest bit similar in appearance, were equally matched in their unrivalled levels of magical ability. In passing chats with Belle about coven history over the years, Bonnie had told the inspiring story of how the sisters had swiftly risen from obscurity to the top of the coven, thanks to clear skill and natural prowess, following the untimely death of the previous sage. The coven had fallen into turmoil, but these two women raised it from the ashes in a united front of sisterhood. They were widely respected and admired, revered even, by any and all who encountered them. Their grasp of the magical arts was said to be exceptional, bending usual boundaries to their will. She'd heard many times from her mother that, although they often bickered over anything at all—tradition versus modernisation, spell lore, tea readings, soap operas—they always stood together for the coven. They had steered it through uncertain times of history with an unyielding stance. The Gowden sisters could always be trusted to do what was right for Selcouth. That included, it would seem, delivering final verdicts on its future via EquiWitch trials.

"We will be conducting your hearing today. You may even enjoy yourself, love. We do have a laugh here, we do get a bit silly," Bronwyn said, as she gestured to the rows of jury members quietly observing.

"You've got Cas there, Caspar Strix. Balancer here at Selcouth, the one to make sure everything is conducted properly and fairly. A useful man to butter up, aren't you, Cas?" Bronwyn gave a tinkling wave to the man at the front left of the jury.

He sent a grand and kindly nod in Belle's direction.

"There's Andromeda there, and Felix and Wilmott. I probably don't have time to introduce everybody, or Morena will have me strung up. But if you stay for the lunch spread once we've wrapped up, then you're sure to meet us all properly for a natter. We're a friendly bunch, Belle. Oh, and Elspeth, she's your girl if you're in need of any winter recipes. Makes a smashing cheese soup, does our Elspeth."

Elspeth, with tight dark ringlets underneath her hat, gave a quick wave to make herself known and replied, "Yoo-hoo!"

"Wow, great. Cheese soup sounds…great," said Belle, trying to seem enthusiastic.

"And Aoife and Ike and Spottswood. And that handsome devil to the back is Rune. The coven's rising star, that one. I believe you two are already familiar. Maybe you can give him a run for his money, Belle," Bronwyn said proudly.

Belle startled. Bronwyn was referring to a man who'd seated himself at the back of the right-hand jury. Bronwyn wasn't wrong about the handsome part. He leaned against the side of the pew with long limbs, all angles and presence, an air of distinct, detached boredom but passive grace. Dark hair brushed the shoulders of his long black leather coat, a single curl falling forwards, and a shadow of stubble added to the angles of his face. He played absent-mindedly with the silver ring on his thumb. He was the warlock who'd appeared at the bookshop—of course.

"You're too good to me, Bron," he replied, and gave Belle a nod, faintly amused. Rune removed his glasses, breathed on them to fog the lenses, and began to polish them with the untucked tail of his shirt, all while keeping his eyes firmly on her.

"Hi, birthday girl."

What felt like several slow-motion moments later, Belle tore her gaze away from Rune and his ridiculous coat straight back to Bronwyn, listening intently and decidedly not letting her eyes wander anywhere else. Belle hoped that the burn she could feel in her cheeks wasn't visible under the low lighting.

"It's lovely to meet you. All of you, finally."

"This is your coven, Belle. All except your lovely mum, of course. I'm sure you understand that family members are not permitted to sit for an EquiWitch. We've no time for nepotism. But I'm sure Bonnie is waiting to hear all about it. We are ready to welcome your endarkenment with open arms."

Belle took a second to glance across the jury again. This was it. The entire gathering of witches, warlocks and wicchefolk alike in the United Kingdom. Those who had been found or sought out or had openly declared themselves, anyway. There seemed so few of them in the grand scheme of things and yet more than she'd ever considered before. Unexpectedly, she found herself longing to be a part of it. Properly. To know them. Some more than others.

"You see? We don't bite," Bronwyn added. "Unless you're a biscuit, then I'm afraid you are in trouble."

"I am so glad I've spent vast years of celestial existence on this planet only to wither and die while waiting for this wretched hearing to finally begin," Morena interrupted, shuffling a stack of papers atop the podium.

Bronwyn ignored her, only smiling wider at Belle. "It'll be more of a…lovely chat. A reintroduction after fifteen years. All right, poppet? Wonderful, wonderful. Go on, then, Mor." Bronwyn wrapped a firm arm around the side of her sister, who instantly went rigid and leaned away at a sharp angle. "Do your thing, all of the dramatics. I know you do so enjoy making the children cry."

Morena rolled her eyes so dramatically that it seemed to Belle she could probably see the back of her own skull in great detail. She clapped twice with long, spindly fingers to summon silence in the courtroom before casting her hands towards the sky. All sound and movement seemed to cut from the air once again as the pendulum froze mid-swing, taking out the fire with it. The lights faded to eerie dimness.

"Belladonna Blackthorn, your presence was summoned here today, as is the practice of our preternatural kind, to deliver you unto a life of true eternal magic."

Morena read from an unfurled scroll levitating to her right, but she clearly knew the ceremonial speech by heart and was delivering it with marked enthusiasm.

"We congratulate you on your thirtieth orbital completion within the non-wicche realm. This feat brings with it myriad trials and questions upon yourself, your mind and your existence."

Dramatic but not wrong , Belle thought. Her late twenties had indeed been constant, incessant trials and questions about herself, her mind and her existence.

"This, the greatest and most important of traditions, shall mark the conclusion to your endarkenment, and be held here today, the first day of the month, Winterfylleth. Do you agree to submit to your trial with truth, certainty and bravery in thunder, lightning and in rain?"

It seemed to Belle that Morena was enjoying her role a little too much. Belle shuffled uncomfortably on her hands, perched on the rickety wooden stool, then realised that Morena was waiting for a response. "Oh, of course. Truth, certainty and…"

"Bravery, dear," Bronwyn said, nodding enthusiastically.

"That's the one." Belle clicked. "Yes. Bravery."

Morena practically snarled at Belle's delivery, ruining the rhythm of her own, but continued her speech with added vigour. "It is a fact of magical life, as proven and evidenced through history, that witches, warlocks or wicchefolk will be challenged by their co-existence with non-wicche society."

"Hear, hear," the jury echoed in ceremonial manner.

"The monotonous world of the non-wicche will strive to crush, to beat and to flatten the magic out of any soul who deigns to explore or reveal their own power."

"Hear, hear," they chanted again.

This seemed a little much to Belle. It was only working with Christopher, really, which ever left her feeling particularly crushed, beaten or flattened. The rest was okay. Witches clearly enjoyed a bit of show more than she'd ever realised, perhaps a fair compromise for spending most of their lives hiding their magic.

A deep, dark crimson red overcame the last of the light in the room, and Morena's shockingly pale complexion glowed translucent against it.

"The non-wicche people, oblivious to the potential for wonder that surrounds them, fear wildness. They fear the power that our proud and present kind represent. They see in us what they cannot and never will see in themselves. Ashamed and bitter, knowing that their own magic could never, and will never, dare to show itself."

Belle's brow furrowed.

"Within them, magic withers. Within us, it shines."

"Hear, hear," the jury echoed again.

Belle thought of her friends. She would argue that they each had their own version of magic to share with the world. She wasn't sure that they should be considered ashamed or bitter. As a witch who mixed in the non-wicche world, she couldn't help but bristle at the criticism of those whom she loved. Neither Bonnie nor her grandmother had ever expressed sentiment like it, never attempted to divide the two sides of life.

Morena, looking satisfied with her performance, cast a quick hand over the scroll at her side, which re-rolled itself up tightly and vanished.

"You don't half commit to that, Mor. Very good." Bronwyn gave her sister a quick round of applause as the lights rose.

Belle swallowed a snort.

"If you're not going to do it by the book, Bronwyn, then it's not worth doing at all," Morena hissed, her lips so firmly pursed together that her dark lipstick disappeared.

Again, Bronwyn ignored her. "Belle, if you're ready, poppet, we'll begin your manifests. Let's get those out of the way, and then we'll be done and dusted with this palaver. And you can get home to enjoy the rest of your birthday. Have you got a cake? I'm always partial to those caterpillar—"

"Is this really the time?" Morena snapped.

"Oh, and I've got my sooth stone here," Belle said, fumbling at the pin on her strap, struggling to unhook the clasp with nervous fingers.

She approached the podium and reached up to hand it over to Bronwyn, who took it in the palm of her hand. Belle could have sworn the elder witch inhaled a tense breath as she took it, her eyes fixed on the small stone. Belle noticed what must have been Bronwyn's own stone sitting on the end of a chain around her neck, misted grey behind the glass.

"I don't know much about this little thing," Belle said fondly. "Is it important?"

"Important? Oh, well, perhaps…" Bronwyn's voice trailed off as she examined it gingerly.

"Do I need it for the—what do you call them—manifests?"

Morena let out a cutting bark of a laugh, startling Bronwyn. There was a disconcerting murmuring amongst the jury, who began to shuffle and fidget. To Belle's shame, the words "clueless" and "foolish" distinctly simmered above the whispers.

"No matter, Ms.Blackthorn. This historic and prestigious moment is clearly no concern of yours. Never bothered to memorise the grimoire, I take it? Otherwise you'd know that a sooth stone plays a sacred part in the final moments of endarkenment rites. I dare say, not something you need to worry about. Perhaps we should forget this whole ceremony. I truly haven't the patience for this today." Morena viciously massaged her temples.

"Oh, Mor, please," Bronwyn tutted. "Don't pretend that you have any patience at all, today or any other day."

"I think I have, in fact, been very patient while you both prattle on with—"

"You're about as patient as a lion cub getting its claws clipped. And you're nowhere near as cute or fluffy, so you can't get away with it, I'm afraid."

"Bronwyn, I warned you that this would not run smooth." Morena's temper flared. "There is quite clearly no natural witchery exhibiting from Ms.Blackthorn. No skill of note has shown itself, no preternatural instinct developed—"

"Madame Sage and Madame Sage." A deep gravelly voice boomed from the jury and echoed across the books that lined the walls, making both the sisters and Belle jump in unison, as well as several jury members. The lights and the pendulum were snapped from the spell's effects, returning to normal.

The man who Bronwyn had introduced earlier as Caspar rose confidently from the first seat of pews on the left. Thick silver-streaked locs reached down to his elbows against his cloak, which he'd paired with a burgundy suit. His handsome aged face seemed irked by their bickering, but his poise remained positively regal, calming. He was evidently well practiced at intercepting Gowden squabbles.

"Madames Sage, if you please," he repeated, indicating for them to steady themselves. "It would be unfair to lead Ms.Blackthorn into this ceremony without some further clarity. She is evidently feeling anxious. Perhaps the honourable jury will grant some time for additional discussion."

Belle, wanting to immediately die on the spot, jumped in. "Oh no, honestly…I don't want to cause any—"

"Please, Ms.Blackthorn," Caspar said with gentle assertion. "We are in no rush; time waits for men of magic if we so wish it to. I'd invite you to accompany me, and perhaps Bronwyn would be so kind as to join us for a moment?" His words were not a suggestion.

"And what would you have the rest of us do, Strix? All wait here patiently while you enjoy a quick ‘get to know me,' I suppose? I truly despair," Morena said.

"Yes, please, Mor. Shan't be long!" Bronwyn called. "Oh, Rune, you come along, too, lovey."

Rune slapped the thighs of his trousers as he rose to make his way down the pews. Belle did her level best to ignore the faintly mocking smile that he was exhibiting, as though he knew that Belle would be annoyed at his inclusion.

"Why does he have to come?" Belle followed uncomfortably after Caspar, trying to keep pace as he strode towards the back of the courtroom.

"Rune Dunstan. A protector of sorts. Newly ordained, but certainly worthy of it. Exhibits a level of magical skill that you'd expect to see in someone a generation or two above," Caspar told her, heading through a door hidden amongst the bookshelves which seemed to materialise from nowhere with a quick rotation of his palm. Bronwyn toddled behind to catch up, Rune walking with his hands in his pockets beside her as they spoke under their breath.

"I really am so sorry about all of this. Have you got a busy afternoon?" Belle said, trying to patch awkwardness with politeness.

"Hecate House Athenaeum. Also my office, incidentally," Caspar announced.

Rune closed the door behind them and leaned against the fireside, his arms crossed in front of him. The remaining trio each took a seat in one of Caspar's wingback chairs. Belle admired the portrait in a large gilded frame above the mantel, a likeness of Caspar standing proudly next to a beautiful woman and two witches around her own age with curly hair, whom Belle also recognised amongst the jury, presumably the Strix daughters. A towering set of balanced scales and a huge sword were positioned at their feet in the painting.

With an elegant wave, Caspar cast a fire into the hearth, and the warm light bounced from the vast collection of shining telescopes positioned through the room. Huge rolls of detailed sky maps bound around wooden handles were stacked against the walls. A central table, which seemed to be a golden globe opened in half, depicted some kind of planet model and was covered in a scattering of carefully arranged cool-toned crystals. His specialist branch of magic was evident.

"Pardon my interruption on your special day, Belle. The energy of the courtroom felt in need of a reset," Caspar said. "I merely thought it best we take a moment to make sure we're all on the same page. It's my role to ensure all things remain even-handed, and that often requires rebalancing."

The fire crackled behind his words.

"Hence the title," Belle said.

"Indeed. As balancer, treasurer, gatekeeper at Selcouth, I'm here—along with Rune, of course—to keep you safe and well, and to keep things fair and measured. To make sure the spellwork is by the book, to make sure your jury is attuned to your true circumstance, that sort of thing."

Caspar seemed like he'd have any and all answers for her, probably to questions she hadn't even thought to ask yet. Belle nodded, making a conscious effort to not let overwhelm take hold. She glanced over at Rune and found that, despite his disinterested body language, his gaze was firmly fixed on her but darted to the fire when their eyes caught.

"And where do you come into all of this?" she asked him, finding herself bristling, unable to drop the lingering combative tone from their first encounter at Lunar.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he said with a raised eyebrow, spinning the ring on his thumb.

"Rune," Bronwyn said in a warning tone. He rolled his eyes in response.

"Watchman for Selcouth. Not something I volunteered for myself, but Bronwyn here was adamant that I accept."

"Well, who else were we going to ask to keep us all safe? Ruddy Elspeth?" Bronwyn replied.

"It's a protective role," Rune went on. "I monitor magic use across the coven for red flags, unusual activity, keep an eye out for anyone attempting any spells that they shouldn't be using."

"And acting as the coven's personal postman, too?" Belle asked.

"Only for you," he responded with a head tilt.

Caspar coughed pointedly, snapping the string of tension in the air. "The point is that some of our elders forget that younger coven members have not witnessed hundreds of these jury trials as they have. They forget all too soon what it's like to be at the crucial, vulnerable point of endarkenment. Thus, I am determined to ensure things proceed fairly. For anyone, of course, but particularly for the daughter of such a good friend."

Belle's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, you're friends with my mum?"

Caspar smiled fondly, beaming right up to his eyes. "Indeed. We were at university together. We faced our EquiWitch hearings together, and both specialised in Earth Sorcery. Bonnie followed her heart towards the nature of the land, while I found my solace amongst the skies."

"Belle, my love." Bronwyn spoke slightly too pitying to be comforting. "Maybe it's best we…spell it out. Leaping lizards, my terrible puns. I don't even mean to do it." Bronwyn adjusted herself in the deep armchair. Her feet didn't quite touch the floor. "All will be fine, I do promise you that. But as your elders, it is our duty to remind you officially that there is the chance that this verdict will change…well, everything."

"That'll make you feel better," Rune quipped, feigning innocence when Bronwyn shot him a look.

"I might not have exhibited a whole lot of flair or special talent," Belle said, "but I also haven't done anything terrible. I've never upset the balance, I've never touched time or death or true love. All the golden rules."

Caspar straightened his burgundy blazer, smoothing the lapels. "Which certainly works in your favour."

Belle frowned. "How do you decide if I'm…worthy? If I'm enough?"

"The trial begins when the coven recites the EquiWitch incantation together," he explained. "Once we begin, the pendulum at the back of the room…I'm sure you noticed it? That pendulum is a force of greatness. Its presence is no decorative choice. It stands on a precise nexus point. I don't mean to patronise you, Belle. Are you familiar with the word?"

"Nexus? It's a crossing point. Full of elemental energy," Belle said, relieved to have an answer.

"Exactly. Earth, air, fire and water all merge at those exact coordinates. And magic theory dictates that nothing is more powerful than that. Crossroads in the ley lines of magic itself."

Belle nodded keenly.

"In the wrong hands, the presence of the nexus can be manipulated towards dark magic, too. It's why the coven came to be in Hecate House, and one of the reasons why the place is guarded by the unpleasant challenges you faced earlier. The pendulum is a huge resource which we only call upon for this traditional, sacred ceremony of endarkenment to cement magic in its rightful place for good. The coven only leans on the abilities of the nexus when huge numbers of us are present together for fairness and protection. Otherwise, it is best left well enough alone."

"That pendulum holds access to time itself," Bronwyn said. "It resets magical balance, essential for completing endarkenment, cementing magic where it belongs and welcoming a witch fully to the coven."

"The nexus also allows us to bend time as needed, which is how your manifests will be shown," Caspar added.

"It'll call on the elements to show crucial moments from your past," Bronwyn said. "Key milestones from your life that have made you who you are and when you've notably used your magic to the benefit of yourself or others. Your highlight reel, so to speak, lovey."

"The jury will review the selection of manifests that the nexus creates and, with the advice of Bronwyn and Morena, decide whether your past history and present self meet the expectations of Selcouth, in truth, certainty and bravery," Caspar said.

Belle swallowed hard, feeling neither truthful, certain or brave. On reflection, maybe she never felt those things.

"What could possibly go wrong?" Rune said, tossing some kind of orb that he'd lifted from Caspar's display into the air and smoothly catching it with a grin. She ignored him.

"Thank you, Rune," Caspar said shortly. "Again we must stress that an expellation, a full removal of magic, hasn't happened in…well, a long time. I'll have to check the records. Certainly not in my lifetime, or in yours, Bron?"

"Only one banishment I've ever known of. But the circumstances were different. You're not about to break that record, Belle," Bronwyn continued. She leaned forwards and patted Belle's hand, which was still stress-gripping the arm of the chair.

"Told you, nothing to worry about, eh?" the elder witch chimed. "You'll get your coven colours, and then it's time for chocolate and buttercream."

Belle tried to offer a smile. Walking head first into the blaze with the blindfold removed wasn't all that much of a comfort when the flames were still licking at her feet.

"It's just that I'm not absolutely, entirely convinced at this moment in time that my historical use of the craft is going to be up to scratch. I mean, to reiterate, I've never done anything bad," Belle clarified, waving her hands. "World domination attempts have not been in the cards. It's just that I'm a bit…I'm more of a back-seat witch, I guess. A wallflower. A witchflower?"

"Nonsense!" Caspar bellowed happily. He clapped Belle on the back, making her cough, and dusted down invisible lint from his carefully pressed trousers. "All we're doing is taking stock—considering what you've achieved, the decisions you've made, the responsibility you've shown, celebrating the milestones."

Although he meant well, this made Belle feel even sicker.

He flashed her a dazzling smile and gestured for Belle to exit. "All protocol, you understand." He clearly considered the matter closed.

Bronwyn locked her hands over Belle's and grasped them with a tight grip. "You'll be gone before you know it."

Belle rose to follow Caspar and Bronwyn back into the courtroom, gathering her cape around her. Rune held the top of the door-frame. He reached for her shoulder as she passed underneath his arm. Belle looked at his hand as though it were a foreign object, then their eyes locked again.

"Seeing as no one else around here seems to have properly said it," he murmured, "happy birthday, Belle."