Page 15 of Sweeter than Honey

Not like any of us do.

Well, except for…

“Amara,” Celine sighs, looking out the window. She opens the limo’s door before it even comes to a stop, and leaps out.

Celine’s partner, Amara, is waiting for us by a large, white-stone building that appears to be a large library or perhaps a school. Her hair falls around her shoulders in long rope twists, and she wears an embroidered golden witch’s robe. She has warm hazel eyes and golden-brown skin that glows even in the moonless night. When they see each other, Amara runs toward Celine and Celine picks her up, twirling her around. They kiss deeply.

“Calm down, you two,” Xia laughs, following Celine out of the car. “You saw each other two days ago.”

“Gross,” I moan, crossing my arms and looking away from my sister and toward the imposing building before us. “Is this where the meeting is?”

“Yes, in the main hall of Twin Torches Academy,” says Amara, disentangling herself from Celine. “But there’s no time for a tour. The meeting has already started.”

She leads us up the oak-lined, cobblestoned street to the school. There’s nowhere to park, so the car remains awkwardly on the gravel path behind us.

Amara waves her hand to open the massive wooden doors. The main hallway is lined with towering portraits of good witches in austere robes, and class pictures going back centuries. It’s lit by candle chandeliers, the flickering light making the faces in the paintings seem to watch us as we go by.

“So this is where Hallie goes to school?” I ask.

“No, that’s Elmwood Academy,” Celine corrects. “The inclusive magic school that Amrita started. This is Twin Torches, the good witch university.”

“No vampires here,” Damien translates, with a raised eyebrow in my direction.

“Or evil witches,” Xia adds. She grins as she teases Amara. “What do you teach, Professor Moonfall? Pie Baking 101? Advanced Stargazing?”

“Offensive magic and broomstick-riding,” she replies, smirking at Xia with glowing yellow eyes.

“Oh really?” Xia says, a note of surprise in her voice. “That’s myclass at Elmwood.”

“I didn’t know that! You should come and do a seminar here next semester…”

Xia snorts. “I’m sure Lavinia would love that.”

“You can’t teach another seminar,” I snap at her. “I need you at the hotel, Xia!”

“Would you all stop bickering,” Celine whispers urgently, as we come to a set of tall doors. “We have more important things to focus on!”

We fall silent as the unmistakable aura of magic wafts over us. The sound of chanting can be heard even through the heavy door. Amara waves her hand again to open the doors just enough to let us all through.

If she was hoping that we could make a sneaky entrance, she was wrong. The witches are gathered in a circle around a raised wooden dais at the center of the large assembly hall. There appears to be about two dozen of them, all clad in ornate, embroidered robes. Two of them wear black pointed hats, unironically. Candles hang suspended in the air, glowing in hues of yellow, orange and gold.

When we walk in, the chanting abruptly stops. There’s a woman standing on the dais, her arms raised majestically in the air, her face tilted toward the heavens. She gives us a severe look.

“Ah, Tudor Thornblade’s progeny,” she says, not concealing the disdain in her voice. “Late again. I see you have no respect for our customs or ceremonies.”

Celine’s eyebrow twitches. “My apologies for our lateness. We left the city as soon as we rose for the evening, but traffic was heavy.”

“Traffic,” says Lavinia, as though the concept is fantastical. But she doesn’t push the matter. Instead, she raises her arms again and completes the chant.

The witches eye us suspiciously as we approach, so we maintain a little distance from them. Amara stays with us, even though it would certainly make more sense for her to join the other golden-robed good witches who form the center of the circle. They’re easy to pick out. They have bird, cat and dog familiars, and wear gold and flowers in their hair.

Xia immediately spots the other evil witches, who stand on theouter perimeter. Their robes are crimson and purple, and they’re adorned with heavy jewelry and, in the case of one evil witch, an inverted pentagram etched on her forehead.

“Hi, Astrid!” Xia shouts, abandoning us for her friend.

Celine looks a little annoyed that our numbers are dwindling. We’re the only vampires at the meeting. For a moment, I think we’re the only non-witches, but then I spot a trio of panther shifters in their human forms, wearing jeans and open plaid shirts over bare chests.

I pull my phone out of the pocket of my beige pantsuit. One bar flickers teasingly across my screen. Celine stares at me angrily. With an irritated huff, I pocket it again.