Vivian waved security back, and Pierce relaxed. From the audience rose a nervous murmur. Oliver, though, seemed too catty for my comfort. He looked to his left, then his right, to get everyone’s opinion and their nods, and sat back down with a magnanimous gesture.

Crap, it was all or nothing now. Apologizing wasn’t going to do it. I had to justify myself. Thanks, Pierce.

Vivian’s smile grew wide, as if that was a good thing, and I let out a breath, unaware that I’d been holding it. “The vacant coven membership remains in question then,” she said, glancing back into the wings to someone on the support staff. “All in favor of exploring the validity of legalizing black magic in specific people for the intent of the greater good and using the case of Rachel Morgan as the cornerstone?”

As one, they all muttered their ayes.

“Opposed?”

It was simply a formality, but no one breathed as she waited to the count of five. Clearly pleased, Vivian looked down at me, and my heart stopped. “Rachel, is this okay with you?”

“S-sure,” I stammered when Trent jabbed his elbow into me.

“Can we have two more chairs up here?” Vivian asked someone in the wings, and a skinny, tall man in black slacks and shirt emerged with two plain brown folding chairs.

“Well, get your ass up there,” Jenks said, and I had a moment of panic.

“Wish me luck,” I whispered as I set my bag on my chair and stood. I was feeling Jenks’s loss already as he stayed, perched on the back of my chair, beside Trent, where his dust sifted over a cooing Lucy, reaching for him with her little hands.

I felt unreal as I watched my steps, head down and looking at the red-and-silver pattern in the carpet as I made my way to the stage. The stairs had treads on them, but I still held the railing as I went up, my palms starting to sweat. Someone in the crowd hissed as I found the light. It was warm up here, but I shivered. Pierce stood beside the podium where the two new chairs waited. He wasn’t smiling. And I was so friggin’ scared.

“Come on, Rachel!” Jenks shrilled. “You’re a badass, not a bad witch!”

My head came up, jaw clenched. He was right, and I gave him a bunny-eared kiss-kiss. Someone laughed. I couldn’t see who it was through the lights, but I breathed easier.

Vivian’s Möbius-strip pin caught the glint of the spotlight, and wisps of her blond hair that had escaped her elaborate coiffure drifted in the heat as she approached me. Confident and sure, she looked miles away from the tangled mess in the back of my car. Handing me my amplification amulet, she gave my shoulder a squeeze to publicly show her support. It was a bold move on her part, and I appreciated it. She couldn’t be fired, but as Pierce had proved, you could be retired.