The thirteen witches, cowled and cloaked, stood in a circle in the great room at the mansion. At the top of the circle, twelve o’clock, if you will, sat an ornate chair and before it stood the High Priestess. Torches in sconces on the walls provided the light. It was the 21st Century, not the twelfth, but the trappings of the coming ceremony were much the same as they had been 900 years before.
No one moved a muscle or made a sound as they awaited the stroke of midnight. It’s arrival was heralded by the peal of a bell in the giant grandfather clock sitting against one of the building’s stone walls. The clock rang, of course, a dozen times, and when the clang of the final peal dissipated, the High Priestess, Absynthe, as she had been known since she’d ascended to leadership of the coven, spoke. “Be seated my sisters and let the ceremony of the full moon begin!”
Absynthe sat and there was a rustling of cloaks as the other witches took their seats, eleven of them, all still cowled, for they would not lower their hoods until the High Priestess lowered hers. The twelfth witch remained standing.
There was an audible gasp when the eleven seated women realized that the twelfth was not going to take her seat, and then the booming voice of the High Priestess, who bolted to her feet, whipping back her hood to reveal her long raven hair, icy blue eyes and gorgeous face. “Who dares challenge me?”
The twelfth witch pulled back her hood to reveal shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair, dark eyes, and a beautiful freckled face. “Kaitlyn!” Absynthe shouted in fury. “You shall pay dearly for your insolence. Dearly!” The blonde spoke then, the first words uttered by anyone save the High Priestess since the thirteen women had entered the room. “Or, perhaps,” she said softly, “You will.”
Absynthe’s blue eyes grew even icier and a sneer crossed her lovely red lips. “Enough!” she shouted, her voice echoing off the stone walls. “This meeting is at an end! We shall convene on the next full moon at the Circle of Combat. Prepare well for that meeting, Sister Kaitlyn, for it will be your last.”
Absynthe turned her back on the coven’s other twelve members and stormed from the chamber, the loud banging of the door leading deeper into the building making it clear no one was to follow. Instead, the eleven women, still cowled, sat stock still as Kaitlyn, head held high, exited the chamber. All waited until she was in the foyer before rising. None wanted to be seen associating with her, lest someone think they condoned or, perhaps, were involved in what Absynthe would surely consider treason.
As Kait walked out the door into the cool nigh air heading for her car, the other witches, entering and then leaving the foyer, followed at a distance. The blonde was not surprised. They were, all of them, afraid of the High Priestess, and for good reason. Well, thought the blonde, she was not. Kaitlyn’s reverie was broken as she felt the sleeve of another cloak brush hers. She heard a harshly whispered, “You fucking idiot! What were you thinking?”
Before Kait could respond, the other witch, still cowled, was striding away. She’d recognized the voice, though. It had been Amanda, her best friend in the group. Amanda was one of the sisters she planned to keep around, and her actions on this night affirmed that decision. Amanda was frightened and hurt about not being let in on what was happening, but, still, even in protecting herself, she did not leave Kaitlyn completely alone.
The blonde’s drive back home was half an hour, and Kait spent it in contemplation about all the events that had led her to the momentous action she’d taken this evening. She’d been introduced to witchcraft in college and had become more and more involved as she’d gotten older. By the time of her marriage at 22, it was a major part of her life. After she divorced a few years later, it became an even bigger one.
Kait was 25 and newly single when she’d met Amanda at a gathering. The pair had hit it off, and the pretty brunette told the blonde about an opening in her coven. Kaitlyn had been interested. Joining a group of like-minded people to do good things? That was just what she needed.
A few days later, Amanda had taken Kait to see Absynthe, and the pair had gotten on very well. The High Priestess had made no immediate decision, but all three women knew what that decision would ultimately be. Kaitlyn became the thirteenth member of the group and quickly found out that it was one of the oldest active covens on the planet, having started in England centuries ago before moving to the New World to avoid the intolerance of the era…only to find new intolerance in its new home. But, the coven had persevered.
The pretty blonde had fit right in with the other women almost immediately. She’d liked everyone and respected Absynthe. All that changed after about six months. It had been another full moon ceremony. And, another night on which only eleven of the twelve witches standing before Absynthe had taken their seats. The one who’d remained standing was a blonde named Lori, who, it turned out, would be the last in a series of women to challenge the primacy of High Priestess Absynthe.
