Leanne hugged Vanessa, relieved to have cleared the air even if she’d gotten confirmation that she was the crappy friend in this scenario. But it was impossible to do better if you never admitted you were the problem. After circulating a bit more, she took a break and Gladys caught her eye, signaling silently for a word. She followed the older witch out of the suite of offices and down the back stairs. It must be a serious discussion if it required this much privacy; Leanne stepped out into the brisk autumn evening, tasting a hint of early snow in the air. Briefly, she wished she’d grabbed her jacket, but Gladys wore such a severe expression that foreboding shivered through her. Leanne rubbed her hands over her forearms, trying to keep her face from showing how concerned she was.

“It must be major, or you wouldn’t have pulled me away at this juncture,” she said.

“You’ve always been sharp,” Gladys said. “That wit will take you far.”

“What’s this about anyway?”

“I’ll be blunt. And brief, as much as possible. Each witch council member is tasked with choosing their own successor. Nobody else is apprised of when the transition takes place exactly. This keeps the process private and anonymous.”

“Makes sense,” Leanne said. She already had a bad feeling, but Gladys had mobilized the coffee klatch, and they were both witches, even if they weren’t part of the same coven.

“You were already on my short list as a possible replacement. Now that you’ve successfully embedded yourself in mundane government, you shot to the top. So this is your formal notification. When the council resumes meeting after the first of the year, you will take over my role and all related responsibilities.”

Shit. It’s even worse than I expected.

“Am I allowed to decline this honor?” she asked cautiously.

Gladys smirked and folded her arms. “You are not. This is the witch equivalent of jury duty. If your name is called, you serve.”

“Dammit,” Leanne said. “Would you have still picked me to replace you if I’d lost?”

“Likely not.”

“This is maybe the first time I’ve ever been sorry about winning,” she muttered.

“I won’t keep you from the revelry long, but do you have any questions?”

Her first impulse was to say no and flee, but that would be irresponsible, and it wouldn’t save her from this additional expectation. “I’ll think about it and text you. But…is there any compensation relative to all the work? I quit my job to run for city council and I’ve been managing on my savings. I planned to do some freelancing after the election, but if you’re saying I have to do witch council work for free—”

“There’s a generous stipend,” Gladys cut in with an amused look.