Chapter 2

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"No. No. No, absolutely not."

I sighed but I hadn't been expecting any other response. The coven members who had been able had come to the Catacombs upon my request. All slumped shoulders and faces full of muted foreboding. They knew me too well.

Mrs Horton, of course, had been the first to arrive accompanied by her son, and my heir and blood-cousin Toby. He had taken to attending every meeting I now held, and I half-wondered if he was constantly walking on edge shells waiting for me to mess up. Mrs Horton glided into the meeting room, a force to be reckoned with in a mass of skirts. In contrast, Toby slunk in behind her, red-rimmed eyes clashing with the sprinkle of freckles across his nose and cheeks in an unusual display of emotion. I wonder if he'd argued with Arden. I needed to unpick that later.

"I owe him," I muttered quietly.

"Witches owe angels nothing," said Mr March from his seat next to Mrs Horton as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his thin arms. "Not our existence, and certainly not for driving the demons back below ground. Don't get me wrong, High Witch, personally, I am as grateful to him as I'm ever going to be grateful to an angel. His management of Chaos has brought us peace for the last two months."

Mrs Phillips cleared her throat, and she looked at me with soft motherly eyes. Gran used to look at me like that, a sign that she still loved me before delivering what she had to say. That I wasn't needed at the coven meeting or that I had to stay home to be safe. "And it is a peace we should not disturb, High Witch. Your angel is doing wonderfully, and he's doing it for you. Best to leave him be."

I felt the pricking burn of tears in my eyes and my lip began to wobble. "It was my responsibility."

I met the eyes of Marian Tudor, the mother of two young children. Without uttering a word I knew she would be in agreement with the others, she had people she needed to protect. "And now it's someone else's. Be grateful for the gift he gave you. I'm sorry, High Witch, but unless something changes where we are required to intervene, you'll find us unmoved on this subject."

"And as your heir I am in agreement," said Toby, though his eyes dipped when I met his gaze.

"You are only heir because I say so," then I sighed, feeling the shame of my words and tone only after they'd left my mouth. It wasn't true, Toby was my blood, Darkmore blood and he'd be my heir regardless.

I looked around at the sea of faces who expected so much of me and felt my stomach sinking. I also had people to protect. The weight of their gazes bore down on me like a leaden shroud, suffocating and relentless. Mrs Horton's stern countenance softened ever so slightly, a silent plea lurking in the depths of her eyes. Even Toby, ever so stoic, betrayed a flicker of apprehension, his fingers tracing patterns on the worn wooden table.

The creaking of the meeting room door broke the tension, Fawn slipped through the narrow gap, offering an apologetic smile. She brought a hint of summer in a breeze of citrus and coconut scent as she hurried to a vacant seat next to Toby, keeping her head down. Dressed in a maxi-dress of cobalt blue, with a shimmer of gold dusting her dark skin, Fawn exuded an air of quiet elegance.

I suddenly had a little more strength to fight.

"Maybe it's not about owing him then," I protested, the words catching in my throat like splintered whispers. "It's about doing what's right and his name is Rafe. If we're at least acknowledging the sacrifice he made for all of us, not just me, then we can do better than keep referring to him as 'the angel'."

Mr March's scepticism hung heavy in the air, a tangible barrier between us. His voice, laced with a hint of reproach, cut through the silence. "But what is right, High Witch? Is it meddling in matters already resolved, risking the delicate balance the angel - forgive me - Rafe has given up so much to maintain?"

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