Gather the Witches 

“It’s an old cotton mill,” Lavinia explained the next day, pressing her fists onto her hip bones and surveying the crumbling walls. “Isn’t it perfect? The third floor is just one big open area where the textile machines used to run. It backs up to Letum Wood, so witches can transport to the forest, then slip inside the back doors and up the stairs.”

Mildred appraised the mouldering building with a critical eye, worried it would cave in while they met inside. Nothing but forest and empty fields surrounded the decaying mill tucked deep in the Middle Covens. An old dirt road made a winding turn not far from the entrance to the mill, but it had overgrown with weeds, leaving only two faint tracks.

“I think it will be just right, Lavinia,” Mildred said instead of voicing her concerns. “It’s far from Chatham Castle and seems big enough for all of us. Well, as many as we could fit anywhere, I suppose. Show us the inside.”

Five minutes later, Mildred, Stella, and Marten stood at the top of an open room cluttered with old ironwork machines and discarded brooms. The rusting machinery that once produced the finest textiles in the Central Network would have to be pushed aside, of course, but otherwise, the large space would be just right. Puffs of cotton sprang into the air and floated on an invisible breeze when they walked through the room.

“It’s perfect,” Mildred said. “We’ll assemble them here for the meeting tomorrow night. Since most of them haven’t been here before, they won’t be able to transport in the first time and will have to walk or ride horses. At any rate, this will be much safer than meeting near a town.”

“Yes,” Lavinia said with a wide grin. “And they’ll fill the whole room. All of them want their revenge more than ever since the massacre.”

“Good,” Mildred said. “Call them, Lavinia. Gather the witches. We have a war to win.”

The next evening, Mildred watched in astonishment as witch after witch poured into the old cotton mill. She’d never seen all her students gathered in a single space before, having always split them up into different classes. Her old Assistant Barnaby had even arrived, giving her a shy wave from the corner of the room where he stood. A few gypsies came, their bright, exotic sashes and billowing clothes drawing nearly all the eyes in the room. To the Resistors’ credit, no one openly shied away from the gypsies, though they weren’t overly friendly either.

“Merry meet again, Miss Mildred.” Mysterious, gray-eyed Ann winked when she walked past. “It’s good to see da leader fighting da darkness.”

Dolph and his trusted Captains filtered through the mill, searching every hand for the silenda, noting each face present. Marten stayed close to Mildred’s side, murmuring protective incantations under his breath, coating the windows and doors with spells to prevent sound from traveling. A definable tension ran through the crowd. Mildred caught whispers of the massacre everywhere she went. The thirst for justice burned in all of them.

“Let’s begin,” Mildred told Lavinia after the trickle of bodies slowed. “The less time we’re grouped together, the better. I won’t stand for a replay of earlier this week.”

Lavinia bobbed an obedient curtsy and disappeared into the mass. Mildred cast her eyes around the room, lingering on a figure in the back. The hem of an ivory gown peeked out from below the blackest cloak, and a lock of blonde hair tumbled from its hooded depths.

“Marten,” Mildred asked, gesturing to the unknown participant. “Who is that witch?”

“Mabel,” he said. “May’s granddaughter.”

Mildred looked at him in surprise. “Indeed? I don’t remember swearing her in with the silenda.”

“She has a silenda. I checked myself. She’s from the Bickers Mill Covens and looks nothing like May, so you may not have recognized her.”

“But the Resistors are mostly servants from the castle.”

“You accepted trusted friends and family members from your Covens, remember?”

Mildred shook her head. She didn’t remember and that frightened her most of all. Was the silenda taking so much out of her now? Could she continue at this rate? She let out a long, weary breath. Since the massacre, she hadn’t slept much, plagued by nightmares and a heavy conscience. It didn’t matter if she thought she couldn’t continue with her responsibilities; she had to.

“Can Mabel be trusted?” she asked.

He hesitated. “She swore the vow of silence.”

Mildred pushed the thought from her mind, trusting in the power of the vow for the time being. The room quieted by degrees thanks to Lavinia’s barking commands. With as much dignity as she could muster, Mildred lifted her hem and stepped onto a box. At least three hundred pairs of eyes stared at her, but she felt no fear.

I would lead these brave witches anywhere.

“I’m quite overwhelmed with gratitude for you, today of all days,” she said. “Almost all of us have worked together for years now as a kind of family, and we welcome with open arms anyone here today. May we fight together to save our homes and avenge our dead.”

A bellow rose from Todd and his kitchen friends. They whooped and shook their angry fists.

“We’re here tonight to lay out our final plans,” Mildred continued. “Dolph, Marten, Stella, and I have worked hard at finalizing what we’ll do to overtake the Elitists before they can establish a new law.”

“When do we act?” a voice called from the obscurity of the room.

“When Donovan dies,” she said. “The Resistors at Ashleigh House will notify us the moment he passes. I will send you a message through the silenda so you know to go to your assigned positions. Once I give the command, we act.”

Mildred conjured a cloud of a million black beads that flew into the air, hovering in a loose formation above her head for all to see.

“Now I shall review the plan for the night of the overthrow. Marten, Stella, Lavinia, and I have split you up into teams according to your magical strengths and talents.”

The floating black beads divided into a vast array of groups, both large and small, over the top of Mildred’s head.

“A collection of teams made up of at least four Resistance members each will be assigned a specific Council Member, Coven Leader, High Witch, or known Elitist to find and subdue during the takeover. Place them in the dungeons once you arrest them; I’ll interrogate them after the takeover. Although emotions will be running high, I want no unnecessary violence. This is the Resistance, not a riot. We’ll do the right thing, which means no killing unless your own life is threatened.”

Swarms of black beads attacked other beads, surrounding them and separating them from the rest. “Understand?”

The group haphazardly nodded. A chunk of black beads shot off to the side and hummed above Lavinia’s head, rotating around a small castle. Her chest puffed out.

“The maids, led by Lavinia, will infiltrate the entire castle through the secret passageways to keep track of Evelyn and the other Elitists without being seen and notify us of what’s happening. Some Council Members may know about the secret passageways and try to use them to escape, in which case the maids will capture them. If another group needs help, they’ll be a possible resource.”

“Possible resource,” Lavinia repeated with a severe glare. “We’ll be very busy.”

“Meanwhile,” Mildred continued, gesturing to a sprawling clump of beads that had zipped over to Marten, Dale, and Jorden. “These three will work with the Guardians surrounding the castle and placed strategically throughout the Network, especially in Ashleigh City, Newberry, and Chatham City. If any discontent arises, the Guardians will reassure and subdue. We want the smoothest transition possible with as little violence as we can manage. They may use paralyzing incantations and stunning spells but will not curse anyone.”

“What about Dolph?”

Mildred’s eyes slid over to Dolph and caught his steely gaze. His jaw flexed, and he nodded to her. “He’ll take care of Noah, the Head of Protectors,” she said.

The host of beads pulled back together, formed a circle, and dissolved in a burst of falling black snowflakes. Two young teenage girls in the front, William and Lily’s daughter Hazel and her friend Tabitha, giggled when the flakes fell in their hair.

“What about Evelyn?” someone called.

“Are you going to fight in a Magia against her?”

Mildred paused, her breath catching in her throat. Yes, Mildred. What about your friend? Will you fight her in the most uncontrolled of all fights, the Magia?

“I will,” she declared with a stony voice. “Evelyn is mine.”

Stella, who clung to Dale’s arm not far away, nodded in resigned acceptance.

“We will distribute your individual assignments tonight. Meet with your Team Leader and begin to prepare. Time is our most precious commodity. I expect all of you to use the silenda to coordinate practice with each other between Resistance meetings so that you’re ready to go when the time comes. Any questions?”

Mildred fielded questions for another twenty minutes, and when no more came, hopped off the box with Marten’s assistance. A swarm of Resistors surrounded her in a chattering hoard. She addressed their concerns one at a time, conversing with unparalleled patience while the crowd ebbed away.

An hour later, she sat down on her box with an exhausted sigh. A painful pulse at the base of her neck threatened to morph into a splitting headache. The chattering voices—though gone—still persisted in her mind. She rubbed circles along her temples to allay the pain.

“More witches came than I expected,” Marten said, his cheeks puffing out. He laid his hands on her shoulders and pressed into the tight muscles. “They really would follow you anywhere, wouldn’t they?”

“They’d follow any leader that promised them freedom.”

“No,” he replied softly. “Not anyone.”

“Four hundred witches showed up,” Dolph said, flanked by his Captains. “We couldn’t fit all of them in this room, so the rest waited in the stairwells and on the second floor. I manipulated a few incantations so all of them were able to hear.”

“So many?” Mildred asked, tilting her head back. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Think this plan will work?” she asked him. “No one presented any objections. I think we’ve covered most of . . . well, everything.”

Dolph jutted his bottom lip forward but eventually nodded.

“Yes. I do.”

Mildred let out a long sigh. “Good,” she said. “Me too. But for now I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.”

Stella studied her with a wary eye. “You all right, Milly?”

“Yes, fine. Just tired after . . . talking to so many witches.”

But Stella’s acute gaze haunted Mildred as she stood, brushing her skirt until it lay straight, and avoiding eye contact with her friend. The deep weariness that permeated into Mildred’s bones left her drained, leeched dry of all energy. Displaying their plan visually through magic had required most of the energy that the silenda hadn’t taken, but she forced her usual calm facade. Better, she thought, to not alert them to just how heavy the silenda had become, for they needed it. It was the lifeblood of their movement, the only way to safely communicate.

“Good night, all of you,” Mildred said. “I’m going to retire to the home of the kind witch who is hosting me for the night. Lavinia, thank you for your help in finding this place. It’s perfect. I’ll see all of you tomorrow.”