A Witch's Feast (The Memento Mori Series #2)



Mrs. Ranulf scanned the students seated in rows. Afternoon sunrays filtered into the drawing room, electrifying her curls with pale light. She stroked the chalice pendant around her neck. Tobias sat to Fiona’s right, arms folded in front of a black T-shirt. She hadn’t heard how he’d managed to sneak back to his room, but he was safe.

Mrs. Ranulf’s nostrils flared, and her heels clacked across the hardwood floors. “For your own protection, the guards have begun checking rooms at night. We believe that someone among you still practices witchcraft. We have ways of detecting these things.”

Around Fiona, students sat in rows of wooden chairs. On the other side of Tobias, Connor tapped his knees with the tips of his fingers, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Jonah slumped in his chair to Connor’s right. From Fiona’s left, Alan shot her a nervous glance.

Dr. Mellior stooped against a bookshelf at the front of the room, staring over the rims of his glasses.

Mrs. Ranulf wore a flowing, cream lace dress with an open neckline. “We’re here to shelter you. To protect you. To guide you. And yet someone among you still practices magic. Infecting our house like a sickness.”

Fiona tightened her fists. What would happen if she just stood up and confessed?

Dr. Mellior nodded solemnly. “We must protect you from yourselves.”

Munroe’s mother turned her back to him, pulling up her hair from the nape of her neck. “Would you?”

Dr. Mellior stepped toward her. His long fingers fumbled with the clasp around her throat. His eyes lingered over her pale shoulders, and his tongue ran over his thin lower lip as he pulled the necklace from her.

She plucked it out of his hand, gripping it in the air with a smile. “This should help us uncover the witch among you. The pendant will sear the skin of anyone who lies.”

Connor stopped tapping his knee, sitting bolt upright and looking around the room with incredulity. “Is this, like, legal?”

Mrs. Ranulf shot him a sharp look. “Relax. If you’re pure, you’ve got nothing to fear. Just tell the truth.”

Fiona’s blood pounded in her ears, and the temptation to confess burned in her mind. She could envision herself screaming “I’m a witch!” so clearly that it almost seemed like an inevitability. And would that be such a terrible thing? She would at least find out where they’d taken Mariana.

Mrs. Ranulf prowled toward Jonah, the stoner. “Let’s go in order, shall we?” She beckoned him forward.

His shaggy hair hanging in his eyes, Jonah rose with a half smile, standing in front of Fiona. “Uh, okay.” He was at least a foot taller than the woman.

“Come closer.” She reached up, pulling his face toward her. She forced the pendant against his cheek as he hunched over.

“Whoa, okay.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Are you a witch?” she said.

“Uh, no.”

“Have you recited any spells?”

“Nope.”

“Have you used any herbs or charms to alter reality?”

He stared at her cleavage. “Herbs that alter reality?”

“Have you used any magical herbs?” she demanded.

“No.”

Fiona’s nails dug into her palms. I’m a witch. She wanted to scream it to the rafters.

Connor inched forward. “Is this really necessary?” He cleared his throat as Mrs. Ranulf’s icy gaze fell on him. He pointed to the pendant in her hand. “You’re using a magic charm.”

She pulled her fist from Jonah’s face, clutching the pendant in the air. Her cheeks reddened. “This is a tool of Blodrial, the one true god. Those of you who don’t believe soon will. The Purgators’ rose will bloom in this great nation once again.” She turned to Jonah, straightening her dress. “You may sit.”

Dr. Mellior closed his drooping eyelids, nodding approval.

Mrs. Ranulf smiled, holding out her hands in a maternal gesture. “Don’t let your fear get the best of you, Connor. Just tell us the truth.”

He shook his head. “I’d like to leave.”

Her smile disappeared. “There are new laws now. We will do whatever we can to keep our country safe.”

Fiona bit her thumbnail. Why is Connor so freaked out? I’m the one who’s going to be permanently branded in a few minutes.

Mrs. Ranulf’s pale gaze bored into the golden-haired boy. “Connor, tell us now if you’ve done something you shouldn’t have.” Her hands hovered outstretched as she stepped toward him.

His mouth twitched, and then his voice cracked as he spoke, shaking his head. “I was trying to protect myself. I saw what the witches did in Boston, when they cut that man’s head off. They killed all those people.”

“Tell us what you did. Was that you and your bat flying around at night, spying on us? Were you using magic last night?”