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LUCAS

Rose was elated when we told her we’d be taking her in. We got her settled into a guest room at the Olson estate, and the doctors said she’d been doing much better since then. I was grateful we were able to help her, because each individual we helped was progress toward a better community.

I didn’t expect to rebuild Octavia Falls overnight, but I’d severely underestimated the amount of damage the priestesses had done. I’d seen with my own eyes the buildings they’d bulldozed to the ground, and I spoke with the families they’d left on the streets. Still, I was constantly learning new ways the priestesses had fucked the coven over.

For one, our justice system was in shambles. The priestesses’ way of holding an execution without a trial wasn’t going to fly with us, which meant restructuring a lot of processes. We’d arrested our suspected traitor, Lincoln, but we didn’t have any hard evidence to try him with, so we were forced to set him free. He was still hanging around town, probably ferrying information back to the priestesses, but we couldn’t exile him unless we could prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he was responsible for assisting the Executors’ escape, and he’d done a good job covering his tracks. Still, Miles was keeping an eye on him.

While we hadn’t heard anything from the priestesses or the Executors since the hospital attack, we were presented with a new crisis every day. Everyone was looking to us now for answers, and we had to make quick—oftentimes heavy—decisions. There were so many problems that we couldn’t fix them all, but we were damn well going to try.

First and foremost was making sure people were safe, which meant getting a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, as well as prioritizing their health. In the following week, we volunteered our time at the Octavia Falls annual blood drive and spent our nights serving food at the local soup kitchen.

We had no option but to take on debt from the United Supernatural Union. Once the funds arrived, we were able to implement grant programs to help businesses get off their feet to create new jobs, as well as provide a temporary health assistance program to help those who were currently unemployed. The money could only go so far, though. We couldn’t pay everyone and had to provide tax incentives to recruit volunteers to undergo medical training so we could increase our healthcare staff numbers.

As soon as we could, we got to work contracting local construction crews to finish the apartment complexes the priestesses had started building. There were so many people who simply needed a place to live. Between massive layoffs, housing foreclosures, and forcing intercast families apart, the priestesses had left many families homeless. Not to mention there were dozens of orphaned children with nowhere to go after the priestesses had openly executed their parents. There weren’t enough families in the coven qualified to take the kids in, because the approval process took so long. We’d had to make the tough call to send these kids to foster families outside the coven, even though the last thing we wanted was to take them away from their people.

In just a few short weeks, the coven had finished one wing of the new apartment complexes. It was a point of contention among the coven, as certain vocal members raised concerns at our town meeting about how we were going to decide who got to stay in the apartments rent-free and who was going to have to wait for housing. We couldn’t delay housing people until all the apartments were finished, though, because these people needed a warm bed to sleep in now . It was the worst feeling in the world having to turn anyone away, but we did our best to help the most vulnerable first. We were still rebuilding and would open more housing as soon as possible.

The housing crisis was only the first of many problems. To aid in the food shortage, we converted several plots of city-owned land into community gardens. Teams of volunteer Alchemists were working around the clock to tend to the crops. Their magic made the plants grow faster, and they’d already made their first harvest. Still, we couldn’t produce fast enough. I’d been to the food pantry to help pass out produce, and I witnessed people waiting in line for hours, only to be told there was nothing left for them and to come back tomorrow.

We were making progress, but there were still hundreds of people who weren’t getting the help they needed. It wasn’t enough.

Despite what we’d done in such a short amount of time, we couldn’t undo everything the priestesses had damaged—including their own people’s psyche. There were still coven members who called themselves Miriam’s Chosen and claimed that what we were doing was all a manipulation tactic to gain power. Misinformation was at an all-time high, with members of Miriam’s Chosen patrolling the streets claiming we were refusing item donations and confiscating people’s belongings. They scared coven members into believing that if they accepted help from us, the Imperium Council had the right to take their land. Even if we could help everyone, some people wouldn’t accept the assistance.

Nobody knew what was true or not, and there was little we could do to combat the lies. The priestesses had given a platform to idiots who no one would’ve taken seriously before, and now people believed them, which was a problem. Some radical members tried to burn one of our gardens, though the police department responded in time to arrest the vandals and save most of the crops.

The cult’s response was inconsequential compared to the contention among the volunteers. Coven members had come together to help provide resources, and though they meant well, the hardest part was getting people to decide on a solution together and start taking action. It seemed that everywhere we went, people were arguing about details that didn’t matter.

Every time I stopped by the community gardens, the two head gardeners were bickering about one thing or another. They couldn’t get on the same page about which crops would produce the most food, and were constantly arguing about which plants to grow. Eventually, Nadine and I had to make an executive decision just to get them to put seeds in the ground. The radicals were easy to deal with, but regular people, who hadn’t technically done anything wrong, were the hardest ones to handle, because their inaction led to big problems.

That left most choices up to us, to the point where we were making hundreds of decisions every day. Before becoming a priest, I understood that the Imperium Council was responsible for everything regarding town policies, budgeting, infrastructure development and regulation, and upholding citizen rights. However, I didn’t understand how much negotiation and compromise that required.

We oversaw everything including public works; social services; maintaining roads, parks, and other local infrastructure; providing emergency medical services; managing property taxes, water supply, and sewage; protecting our local environment and managing waste; providing care to the animal shelter; managing the cemeteries; operating the food banks, shelters, and senior centers; planning for community events; and appointing officials to complete all these tasks. It was our job to stay informed on all of it, as well as make sure that each department was working in harmony and that our limited resources were allocated appropriately. Most of our days were filled with public appearances or meetings. When we had a spare moment, we volunteered where personnel was limited.

Every day was different for us. A whole month had passed since we were placed on the council, and it was already July. Nadine, Grant, Talia, and I spent that morning with city staff going over the town’s budget. Chloe wasn’t there, because we took turns staying at the house to watch Marcus and to be around in case Rose needed anything. Together, the council had approved a new tax rate that would provide relief for struggling families, but we were met with pushback from our staff.

“We don’t have the money to be lowering tax rates right now,” Jude Bennett said. We were on good terms, on account of having protected his kid, Travis, when the Gingerbread witches were kidnapping children. He worked in the city’s accounting department, and though he was kind and willing to work with us, we had differing opinions on how to manage the city’s funds. “The Waning has forced our syrup and cider producers to slow production, because we don’t have the magic to infuse into the products. Alchemy magic is what makes our produce superior to others, and we now have a shortage of high-quality exports. The money’s just not coming into the coven. Lowering tax rates means less money for the council to allocate to necessary programs.”

“We have a starting point,” Grant pointed out. “We’ve taken out loans from the United Supernatural Union, and Hok’evale has sent food and supplies to help us get back on our feet.”

“It isn’t enough,” Jude argued. “ Hok’evale is focused on sending aid to Kinpago and rehabilitating the Hawkei from the damage caused by their own civil war. They don’t have the resources to send enough aid here. Taking on debt is only going to be bad for us later.”

“We don’t like it either, but there’s no easy solution here,” Talia said. “We need to take out these loans to help our people.”

“We need to be thinking about the future of the coven. By taking out more loans, we’re placing the burden of paying them back on the next generation,” Jude pressed, before turning to me. “Do you want your son taking on this debt? Because he’ll be the one paying these loans back when he’s your age.”

“If we use the money properly, then we can rebuild our economy and pay off the loans before our children are in our position,” I replied. I understood that the coven didn’t want to take on the debt, but no one had suggested any helpful alternatives. There really wasn’t any other choice.

“You don’t want to owe the United Supernatural Union. They’ll come back and expect a favor,” Jude insisted.

Nadine stood from the conference table. “We need to do this now, because if we don’t, our people will continue to suffer. If we don’t help our people today, there won’t be a coven in the future.”

The staff members continued to push back and complain, and by the end of our meeting, nothing got done. I wished that Chloe was here. It was difficult never having all five of us in a room at once, because Chloe would’ve been an asset when the city staff started pushing back. Nadine was pretty good at stepping in and setting them straight, but the priestesses had spread so many lies about her that she was struggling to earn certain people’s respect.

After our meeting that morning, we met with Judge Calloway and members of the police department to consult on new laws that would lower sentencing for first-time misdemeanors and provide more rehabilitation resources to reduce the rate of second-time offenses.

Tension was high in the presence of the judge. She’d judged our trial and hadn’t been kind, but she agreed to work with us because Mother Miriam declared us not guilty.

“That’s not the way the system works,” Judge Calloway insisted when we presented our idea. “If you’re easy on criminals, they won’t learn their lesson and will offend again. You’re putting people at risk by giving these criminals a second chance.”

“We need to give people a second chance at life,” Nadine argued. “People commit crimes for a reason, and if we can get them the help they need, there’s no reason for them to offend again.”

“That may be the case for some, but not everyone can be helped,” Judge Calloway barked back.

“We need to give that chance to the people who can be helped,” Nadine pressed.

“This is ridiculous,” an officer piped up. “The coven can’t go soft on crime when we’re at our most vulnerable. We need to be tough right now.”

Several officers mumbled an agreement. Gregory and Brayden exchanged a wary glance. The other guys were all big muscles and broad shoulders, the kind of men to be out in the field taking down criminals. Gregory and Brayden, on the other hand, would surely be placed in the office pushing papers. That was fine, because we needed someone to do that work, but the poor rookies didn’t know how to speak up.

Miles stood, his sheriff badge shining prominently on his chest. “My officers have a point. I agree with them, but at the same time, what we’ve been doing isn’t working, so we need to try something else. I’ll stick with the Imperium Council if this is what they think is best.”

Judge Calloway sighed. “I’ll endorse this new initiative because you’re asking me to, but you have to understand that some of these people can’t be rehabilitated. People are going to get hurt due to this policy, because you can’t rehabilitate everybody.”

That was really the best we could ask out of this meeting, but I worried the new policy wouldn’t have the effect we desired because people didn’t want to enforce it. They didn’t quite seem to understand what we were suggesting, and miscommunication seemed to be the most difficult hurdle for us to overcome.

Later that day, we visited one of the town’s residential construction sites and met with the foreman about their progress. Several more units were supposed to be ready for temporary housing, but they were running behind schedule.

“We’re doing our best to get this done, but we don’t have enough hands,” the foreman told us. “Our crew is working seven days a week, and they’re exhausted. I’ve got two guys out this week due to injuries, and another one’s sick. It’s not going as fast as we hoped, and we can’t start letting people move in until these units are up to code. It’s a public health hazard.”

“We’ll have to adjust our timeline,” I suggested. I hated to say it, but I didn’t see an alternative. If we made these people work too hard, they’d burn out, but if we didn’t get these units finalized, our homeless population would suffer. It seemed there was no way to take care of everyone , and that totally sucked. “In the meantime, where do you need help? We’ll do what we can.”

Nadine, Talia, Grant and I spent the next two hours installing kitchen cabinets and countertops in one of the units. We were sweating by the time we had to rush off site for our next meeting.

After lunch, we stopped by the Miriamic Messenger to host a press conference. The newspaper wanted a report on our progress, but there were so many answers we couldn’t give.

Where are the priestesses?

Have you found them yet?

What do you plan to do once they come back?

I had to carefully maneuver or downright ignore most of their questions, because I couldn’t give them the answers they wanted. The journalists had more questions than we anticipated, so we stayed there an hour longer than planned.

That put each of us late for our following meetings. As members of the Imperium Council, each of us had the authority to represent the council at public functions. Nadine attended a meeting at the hospital, while Grant represented us at a presentation put on by the Planning and Zoning committee. Talia attended the school board meeting to keep us up to date on changes happening at Miriam College of Witchcraft. I met with constituents and left with twenty more problems to address.

We had only minutes to update each other on what we covered in each meeting. Nadine had to deal with the hospital board arguing about which patients to help, which really pissed her off. Several board members agreed they needed to help the healthiest patients first, because the sick people were already dying anyway.

Grant got caught in the middle of an argument with the Planning and Zoning committee about whether we needed more residential buildings to house our people, or if we needed to be building more businesses to stimulate the economy. Somehow, the former band members of the Wicked Warlocks, Clay and Carl, had ended up at the meeting—probably due to some connections their parents had. These two had been trouble for us before. I guess they thought they were some sort of experts because they worked in construction now, but they were just idiots intent on causing trouble. According to Grant, they kept shouting over anyone who brought up points in favor of focusing on residential housing. Grant managed to deescalate the situation, but no decisions had been made by the end of the meeting.

Talia had an even worse time at the school board meeting, which had been open to staff and school board members alike. Verla had invited several students to attend, in order to give the student body a voice in upcoming changes. She’d recruited the best of the best—Darcy, Samantha, and Alex. They were good people, and I knew if anyone had the rest of the student body’s best interests at heart, it was these three.

Unfortunately, Camille got wind of it and showed up to bitch about how there weren’t any student Mentalists in the meeting, and that she should be included to represent her Cast. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and one I’m sure could’ve been resolved easily if she hadn’t brought along Gwen and Valerie to make a scene. Apparently, the three of them screamed at the school board until everyone was on their feet arguing. The way I heard it, the meeting ended with Professor Lewis slinging slurs at Professor Richards, until Professor Loren had to step in and use her telekinesis to force either side to opposite ends of the room. That must’ve been quite a sight, considering Professor Loren was old enough to be my great-grandmother. I was sure she was more than sick of everyone acting like children.

Talia complained that the meeting couldn’t progress regardless of the controversy, because some people wanted to keep the curriculum as-is, and others wanted to change it. She was frustrated because the school was supposed to open back up in September, and the staff couldn’t even get on the same page about what to teach. That was all between determining what to do with the limited space they had, and finishing construction on the school in the meantime. There wasn’t room to house students in the dorms anymore, so they had to convert the rooms on the upper level into classrooms to accommodate enrollment. Students would have to travel to campus this year until we could find a better solution, because we just didn’t have the magic necessary to restore the space-bending spell to hold that many people.

My friends and I wouldn’t be enrolling this year, because our jobs were too important to be taking classes at the same time, but the school board needed to get moving on these plans if they wanted anyone to start classes in the fall.

I was more than worn out after addressing constituents’ concerns. I just wanted to fix everyone’s problems, and despite holding all this power, there was little to nothing I could do to fix everything.

We missed dinner to meet with the event committee about the Summer Harvest Festival, which was held in August every year to celebrate our farmers and the first harvest. The tradition was quickly approaching, and it required a lot of organizing ahead of time. Unfortunately, we couldn’t even get started planning, because the coven couldn’t decide if we should even hold the festival.

“You want to host a festival when we still have homeless people on the street? It’s selfish to host a party when our people don’t have food,” Meredith balked. We’d encountered her before—once at her sister Monica’s fake funeral, and once at the Festival of Santos, when she denounced her marriage and joined Miriam’s Chosen on stage. I wasn’t surprised her opinion differed from ours, but for once I could actually see where she was coming from.

“I understand it’s a lot to ask the coven to plan for this, but it’s important that the coven has community-wide events to look forward to,” I said.

“This festival is an opportunity to bring the coven together, which makes it a priority,” Nadine added.

“We shouldn’t be wasting our time with fun stuff,” Meredith argued. “People are dying!”

“Nadine and Lucas have a point,” Talia stepped in. “People need to feel like a part of the community, and this is a sacred event. It’s our religion.”

“I don’t care about our religion!” Meredith exploded. “I gave up my husband for my religion, and it was all a lie! Mother Miriam has done nothing . I don’t care about worshiping her anymore, and neither should the rest of you.”

“I agree with Meredith,” Krista Thomas said. She was the mother of Caleb Thomas, one of the young boys who’d been killed by the Gingerbread witches. She volunteered on the program committee and had always been kind to us, but she didn’t agree with our stance on this. “We don’t need to worship Mother Miriam if she’s not going to show up for us. We can be witches without following her.”

“What good does that do?” Grant asked. “Our magic is tied to Alora. If we aren’t following her, we won’t be witches.”

“At least we’d survive,” Meredith pressed. “We’re losing our magic to the Waning anyway. We’ll inevitably lose our magic anyway.”

That made me really sad to hear, because our magic was our identity, and if we didn’t find a permanent solution to bring it back, we’d lose who we were entirely. Some days, it felt like we were fighting a losing battle. We’d fought so hard to stop what the priestesses were doing and to make the coven better… but we didn’t realize how bad things really were. It was becoming clear that we weren’t able to do this by ourselves.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was starting to understand why the priestesses had to put their foot down and control everything. I thought they were being dictators, but it occurred to me now that they had to be forceful, or no one was going to listen.

But that’s not the way any of us wanted to lead the coven. We weren’t going to take people’s choices away, even if we had a difference of opinion. No matter how hard it was, we would continue to do everything in our power to rebuild these people’s lives, while maintaining their autonomy.

The event committee eventually agreed that we would host the festival, but I didn’t have high hopes that it would be anything like it was in years past. These people didn’t seem very excited or motivated to make it anything special.

We were all exhausted. It didn’t help that my parents had been blowing up my phone all day, as usual. I hadn’t wanted to see or talk to them when we returned to Octavia Falls, but now that my contact details were public, they hadn’t stopped trying to get in touch with me.

Dad was constantly sending messages to my work email with ideas for the council. He acted like he wanted to help, but it was obvious he was only interested in bolstering his own position, as most of his “suggestions” were completely insane. Last week, he’d emailed a massive rant about how we needed to start forcing ungrateful college kids into the workforce, even though they hadn’t finished their degrees and didn’t have the qualifications yet, not to mention there weren’t enough jobs in Octavia Falls to go around right now. I stopped reading the email once I got to the part that said, If these entitled kids don’t get off their asses, people like me are never going to retire. We can’t hand off these skilled jobs to morons.

Dad thought his opinion meant more because he was employed. It baffled me that anyone would hire him, because he was a nightmare to work with, but he did get the job done. Dad was a functioning alcoholic who’d managed to hold down a factory job since I’d been away, but Mom had been laid off from the cider mill a few months ago. She sent multiple texts per day, trying to get me to visit her.

It was obvious what they were doing. My parents hadn’t given a rat’s ass about me when I was a broke, struggling college kid, but now that I had something to give them, they wouldn’t let up. Dad thought because I was a priest I could change the laws to benefit him, and Mom only wanted to see me because I had a grandchild to give her.

By the time we got home that night, Marcus had already been asleep for hours, and Chloe was passed out on the couch. She hadn’t been at work today, but she was just as tired as the rest of us. We’d made a promise to the coven, and we took that pledge to heart. We were working sixteen-hour days, and none of us had taken a day off in over a month. I didn’t mind committing everything I had to the coven, so I hadn’t realized the kind of toll it was taking.

I sat on the couch in our wing of the estate the following morning, cradling Marcus in my arms. Our wing was like its own mini apartment, with a small living room open to a kitchenette area and a walkway behind the couch leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

I fed Marcus a bottle while Nadine took a quick shower. Rishi was playing with a toy mouse, while Isa lounged on the back of the couch and Oliver groomed himself on the floor. We didn’t usually take the cats to work with us, because we were constantly running around town, and we felt better leaving them home with Marcus.

The sun hadn’t risen yet. We were up this early most days, and we wouldn’t be in bed until long after midnight. Yesterday had been one of our longest days, and with Marcus up half the night after we returned home, I was running on less than three hours of sleep.

I rocked my son back and forth while he stared up at me with a curious expression. I sang him a lullaby.

The moon will come out

The owls will hoot

A cat catches a mouse

That runs over your boot

The bumps in the night

Are just soft lullabies

You’re safe in your bed

Til the morning sunrise

A wide smile spread across Marcus’s face, and it melted my heart on the spot. He was seven weeks old now, and it was the first time I’d ever seen him smile. It might’ve been the first time he smiled ever.

“You like the song?” I cooed in a high-pitched voice. “Daddy’s a little off-key, but I can sing more if you’d like.”

Marcus’s smile had already faded, and he went back to sucking on the bottle—quite viciously, I might add. If I didn’t know his feeding schedule, I’d have thought he hadn’t been fed in days. He was a tiny little glutton and nearly ripped the bottle right out of my hands.

“Whoa, slow down, buddy,” I teased. “You’re a hungry fella, aren’t you?”

Marcus crossed his eyes, and I tickled his toes to see if he’d smile again. He gave the tiniest of smiles and stared up at me like I was his whole world.

And he was mine—him and his mother.

It was a strange experience, becoming a parent for the first time. I couldn’t shake this sense of detachment I felt from my own body. I loved my son more than anything. Being a dad was my greatest joy, but even after all this time we had to prepare—since the day I learned Nadine was pregnant—it still didn’t feel real.

I always thought I’d hold my kid for the first time, and that’d be the moment I became a dad, but it wasn’t instant like I’d expected. Becoming a parent was a process, and no one had prepared me for that. I was sitting here holding my own baby, and I couldn’t believe that I of all people was a father. It was incredible really, but this moment felt more like a dream than anything. It didn’t make sense that I could be a father when I was still a kid myself.

Nadine emerged from the bathroom, and I snapped my attention back to the present. I was here in the flesh, holding my baby boy, and I knew it was real. It had to be.

Nadine was already dressed for work, though her hair was still wet. She dried it with a towel as she walked across the living room. “How’s he doing?” she asked as she leaned over the back of the couch.

The warmth of her skin was inviting. I tilted my head back to give her a kiss, then turned back to Marcus. “He’s perfect. Watch this, Nad.”

I tickled his feet again, and Marcus flashed a huge smile at both of us.

“Aww, you’re a happy little boy!” Nadine tickled his belly, and he smiled wider. “Oh, that’s the biggest smile I’ve seen yet!”

“You’ve seen him smile already?” I asked.

Nadine went over to the kitchen counter to prepare a pot of coffee. She pulled two mugs down from the cupboard. Neither of us had been coffee drinkers before now, but these days, we couldn’t go without it. “Yeah, he was lying on his belly and lifted his head up. It was so cute. I clapped and we celebrated, and he gave the cutest smile.”

“He lifted his head?” My tone had fallen flat. Marcus didn’t have a lot of strength in his neck, on account of being born a preemie. He also had a really big head for his tiny body, which didn’t help. The healing treatments he’d been given had made him so much stronger, but we’d been waiting for the day he could lift his head. It was a big milestone, and he’d come so far.

“Didn’t I tell you…?” Nadine trailed off, then pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh, Lucas. I’m sorry. You got home late that night, and I was going to tell you, but you were in bed before we got a chance to talk. We’ve just been so busy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I assured her. “I get it. We have a lot of responsibilities right now, and it’s hard to keep track of all these things.”

I was still sad I missed it. Marcus had only been in this world for a few short weeks, and he was growing so fast. At this rate, it felt like he was going to be off to college next week.

Nadine placed her mug on the coffee table and sat beside me on the couch. “Lucas, I’m sorry.”

“I want to be a dad. I want to be here for him. And I’m realizing how much of his life I’m already missing— we’re missing. We’re working so damn hard, and it doesn’t feel like enough.”

“We’re only getting started,” Nadine encouraged. She snuggled into me and ran her fingers through my hair. “Maybe I can help. What’s on your mind?”

I sighed, because I didn’t even know where to start. “I just want to help people and fix all their problems. You and I, we’re so good at problem solving, but I didn’t realize how many problems we can’t fix. This stuff is really hard to correct, because people are resistant to change and don’t want to cooperate. They have a different set of values and beliefs, and if Mother Miriam isn’t coming in to tell them what to do, they don’t agree. It doesn’t matter if we all worship Mother Miriam because everyone has a different idea of what that means. If we can’t get people on the same page on what our religion and identity is, then we can’t solve anything. If we don’t have an identity, we don’t have a coven. I didn’t understand the scope and scale of what we were trying to do.”

Nadine nodded in understanding. “These things take time. People are being difficult because their lives have been decimated, and they’re just trying to survive, but once we get them back to a safe place, they’ll see our good intentions and work with us.”

“How do we convince these people they’re safe?” I wondered. “We know that even when you're physically safe, your mind can still convince you you’re in danger. Our life is better than it’s ever been, and some days I don’t feel any different than I did when our circumstances were at their worst.”

Nadine curled her arms around me, until I was laying my head on her shoulder. The tightness in my chest eased, though my hands felt ice cold. Oliver rested his head on my leg and began purring.