Sadie tittered from the other end of the table, and Fiona shot him what she referred to as her death stare.
Mrs. Ranulf turned to Fiona with an approving smile. “You don’t spend too much time thinking about boys, do you, Fiona? With test scores like yours, I think you’re destined for great things.”
Fiona glanced around the table as if looking for help, and Tobias shrugged at her. She’d somehow become a favorite of Mrs. Ranulf’s.
Munroe’s mother pushed her bowl of cereal away. “I’m not sure how many of you know the history of the Sanguine Brotherhood.” No one spoke as her eyes scanned the room. “There are some who call us the Purgators, but I find that such an old-fashioned word.” Her eyes swiveled to Munroe. “Why don’t you fill in our guests on our culture.”
Munroe’s chest swelled within her white blouse. “The Brotherhood dates back to antiquity. After the storm god wiped out nearly an entire Roman legion in Britain, the remaining centurions sailed to Denmark.”
Mrs. Ranulf nodded, a smile brightening her face. “In Denmark, the Brotherhood established their own dynasty. And with the Vikings, our faith was spread around the globe.”
Munroe stroked a strand of her hair. “For thousands of years, the Sanguine Brotherhood protected villages and cities from the evils of witchcraft.”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “The Brotherhood sounds awesome. And some of the Founding Fathers were part of it?”
Mrs. Ranulf sighed deeply, looking to her daughter with a wistful smile. “I’ll be honest. The republic wasn’t really our thing. We didn’t like all the nonsense about separating church and state, and between you and me,” she flashed a conspiratorial grin, “most people can’t be trusted to vote.” She leaned back in her chair. “Some families were made to rule. It’s in our blood. But the Brotherhood does what it can to remain in power, even if it means adapting for a time. I feel certain the country will welcome my son Harrison’s leadership someday.”
Munroe’s cheeks burned. “And me, too. I’ll be a leader, too.”
Mrs. Ranulf tilted her head. “Women are meant to support the men. You know that. Without order, we are nothing.”
Silence descended on the room.
“Well, I hope everyone slept well.” She cleared her throat, and the frost in her voice did nothing to assuage Tobias’s unease. “There was a bit of an incident last night.” She ran her tongue over her teeth.
Fiona choked on her cereal, coughing into her hand. Munroe still glared at her mother, whose face began to soften as she smiled faintly.
“Munroe’s aunt Stella is not well. She was found wandering the grounds in the middle of the night. She gets into the strangest places sometimes.” A half-strangled laugh escaped her throat. Her eyes lingered on Mariana, whose black eye makeup included tiny star designs today. “I don’t suppose any of you were out last night, were you? Wandering around past your bedtime? The guards didn’t see anyone but the—” She cleared her throat again. “Munroe’s aunt was ranting this morning about seeing someone.”
Tobias tried to catch Fiona’s eye. Is that who’s locked in their crypt? An insane aunt?
“Mariana, you were friends with the Mather Witch, weren’t you?” asked Mrs. Ranulf.
“Celia? A few of us were. I mean, we all knew her. Or thought we knew her.”
“It must have been a great surprise, finding out she was a terrorist.” Her cheeks had whitened.
“I’m sure we were all inside last night,” said Connor after a while.
Mrs. Ranulf’s lips twitched into a half-smile, and her knuckles whitened as she crushed her napkin in her fist. “Well, I’m sure you’ll all tell me if you see anything amiss.”
“Of course, Mrs. Ranulf.” Sadie’s freckled face was all sincerity.
“If you work with us, and let us shepherd you, the world can be yours. Let me show you something.” Mrs. Ranulf leaned back in her chair, pressing both hands on the table. “Harrison!” she yelled. “Harrison!”
Within seconds, the blond assistant rushed into the room, struggling to hold a wiggling toddler. His shirt rode up over a protruding belly as the woman tried to grip him. “Nnnnnnyyuhhh!” He kicked out his legs, dropping onto the floor before the assistant picked him up again in a flurry of small feet and fists. A tiny sneaker flew across the room, hitting a wall.
Mrs. Ranulf looked out at the table. “Harrison. Show our guests how you’ve memorized the names of all the presidents.”
“Ugh, not this.” Munroe stared at the ceiling.
Harrison kicked at the assistant. “No no no no!”
“Harrison!” Mrs. Ranulf glared at him. “You won’t get your gold star for the day if you don’t follow the rules.”
Harrison stopped struggling, pouting as he scowled at his mother.
“Washington…” Mrs. Ranulf arched an eyebrow, waiting.
“Washew,” he mumbled.
“A-dams.” Mrs. Ranulf’s head dipped and rose in an exaggerated nod.
Harrison pinched his fingers as he spoke, twisting from side to side. “Ada.”
“Jeff-er-son.”