Pierce halted, just shy of center stage. “May I approach, Madam Coven Member?” he asked, voice booming so he could be heard without an amulet.

Oliver reached to touch his own amulet. “No,” he said flatly, and Vivian gave him a withering look.

“You gave me this job, Oliver,” she said sharply. “Let me do it.” And as Oliver frowned, she turned and dramatically crossed the stage to hand him another amulet. “The coven recognizes Gordian Pierce.”

Pierce fingered the metal ring, his eyes going everywhere but to me as he took off his coat and went to set it over the podium. Slowly he took over the stage without saying a word. His head came up, and the crowd became still. He wasn’t wearing anything unusual, just brown slacks, a white shirt, and that flamboyant vest, carefully buttoned and holding a pocket watch. The way he carried himself evolved as he stood there, and I stifled a shiver as Trent grunted in surprise. He was different, dangerous. And I had no idea what he was going to do.

“I’m of a mind to beg your pardon, Madam Coven Member,” he said softly, his words going out perfectly with the help of the amulet. “And with all due respect to those fine witches you have assembled here, sworn in and ready to commit their lives to service, there is no coven opening. I am here.

I am the sixth. And that’s all the pie there is.”

The crowd stirred, most of the noise swallowed up by the space. With a sliding sound of wood, Oliver stood. “Get him out of here!” he roared, stirring the people into a buzzing whisper.

Pierce didn’t recognize him, fixed on Vivian, waiting out the noise.

“You are a black witch!” Oliver shouted. “Shunned and—”

Pierce spun, and Oliver’s words choked off. “Bricked into the ground, aye, where I gasped out my last, six feet under, buried alive and breaking my nails to bloody stumps as I tried to claw my way free. And I died despite it. But I’m a coven member nonetheless, and I have returned to claim my position. And 156 years of back pay.”

Ivy leaned forward and tapped my shoulder. “I take back everything I said about your sleeping with him.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said dryly, and Trent stifled a guffaw. Jenks, though, clattered his wings for us to shut up so he could hear.

The other coven members put their heads together, and I waited, watching them. Amanda looked scared, Oliver full of bluster, Wyatt peeved, and Leon like he wanted it to be over.

It took only a moment, and then Oliver said, “You are a black witch, tried and condemned. You have lost your claim. Security!”

Dropping back a step, Pierce took a stiff stance. I knew he couldn’t tap a line, but it was dramatic, and the approaching men halted before they even hit the puddle of light.

“I will be heard!” he shouted, eyes angry. “This meeting, called for Rachel Morgan to apologize for using black magic in her effort to save lives, is a farce. The goal here is to validate or deny the use of black magic for the greater good, not apologize for using it. I opine that until you make a fist of the issue, I have a claim!”