I know there are those who disapprove of my becoming the leader of the coven. It is inevitable, given such a large collection of strong-willed, powerful people, that there should be rivalries and voices of dissent. I also know, however, that most will accept that the position is my right. The Lazarus Coven has always followed the system of inherited rule. One day my eldest child will succeed me. If I ever find anyone I wish to marry. I wear no jewelry and will remain barefoot throughout the ceremony. Aside from being secured back from my face, my hair is loose. I can’t help thinking of my initiation. I was just thirteen when I presented myself, similarly attired, to be accepted into the coven. But on that occasion there was only my father, Violet, and a handful of coven members to witness me taking my vows. And no one had any expectations of me. How differently they might have regarded me if we had known then that dear Papa was not to walk this earth many more years.

Glancing at the gold clock on the mantelpiece I see that it is already midnight, the most potent time of night for Lazarus witches, so that all our most important events are timed to start to coincide with the mesonoxian hour. The coven will be assembled in the secret chamber beneath Number One Fitzroy Square. There will be hushed voices, tension growing as they wait for their new Head Witch to arrive. Not until the first hour of the full night is past its first half can I appear. Then, and only then, will the time be right for the successor to the Head of the Coven who now dwells in the Land of Night, to put herself forward.

The minutes crawl by. I close my eyes and steady myself with an incantation asking for strength. The ancient words are so familiar to me, learned over many years of diligent study, and I find their exotic sounds reassuring. I have been preparing for this moment for so long. My father prepared me. I will not fail him.

Do you truly believe yourself to be worthy of the title your father held?

Who is this? Who speaks to me uncalled?

The shock of hearing the unwelcome spirit again, tonight of all nights, sends chills through me. I still my mind and quiet my thoughts. If I give any outward sign of my distress, Violet does not notice it.

You are wrong to put your faith in a few prayers, a handful of dusty words, and scribblings, Daughter of the Night. You dabble with forces beyond your imagining.

Leave me! I will not converse with one who violates my thoughts in such a way. One who is too cowardly to identify himself.