Covington and Inez leave the stage as two guards advance on O’Shea. One pushes his head into the noose, while the other tightens the knot. O’Shea’s hood falls down; his bald head glints in the sun.

“By executive order of Brother William Covington, you have been convicted of treason against New England. Your sentence is death by hanging,” one of the guards proclaims. Then they both step backward.

The crowd is silent.

One of the guards pulls a lever. The trapdoor beneath O’Shea’s boots gives way. His body falls, jerking to a sudden stop.

The crack of his neck makes a sound like a wishbone breaking in two.

Sister Inez—a witch—is now in charge of New England.

One might think that cause for celebration.

But now that two of the people standing in Inez’s way have been disposed of, is there any doubt that I will be her next target?

Around us, the crowd has gone silent. Their faces are averted from the spectacle of O’Shea’s body, swinging in the icy December wind.

Alice grabs my elbow with pinching fingers. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

Chapter 18

WE’VE BARELY TAKEN OFF OUR CLOAKS WHEN there’s a pounding on Alice’s front door. Mei and Rilla tumble in, windblown, dressed in their Sisterly black. Rilla is carrying her battered suitcase; she must have come straight from the train station.

“What are you doing here? You were supposed to be gone a week!” I cry as she drops her bag and wraps me in a fierce hug.

“I didn’t feel right being away, between the fever and all the unrest,” she explains. “I sent Mei a telegram. She met my train and filled me in on what’s been happening.” Rilla’s freckled face is full of worry. “I’m so relieved you’re safe.”

Alice leads us into the parlor, while Prue bustles off to make a pot of tea.

“Is she safe, though? I told Maura and Tess where she is, in case they needed her.” Alice has settled into her corner of the pink love seat, her legs crossed elegantly at the ankle, gold slippers peering out beneath her rose-colored skirts, but she’s frowning.

I sit on a wooden chair near the fire, shivering. “Maura wouldn’t tell Inez. She’s still my sister.”

On the other end of the love seat, Sachi raises her eyebrows in silent skepticism. “That may mean something to you.” She straightens the apple-green feather in her hair. “But Maura’s proven it doesn’t mean much to her.”

“‘One sister will murder another,’” Alice quotes, and my stomach twists. “It’s in your stars, isn’t it? She doesn’t have to put the noose around your neck herself.”

If Maura told Inez where I am, she wouldn’t have to. Now that Inez has blamed me for the attack on the Head Council, I’m the witch all of New England will fear. Even now, word will be spreading throughout the country that I am the monster the Brothers have been preaching against all my life: a witch with mind-magic, capable of compelling others to do my bidding. It wouldn’t be enough to lock me up and throw away the key. They will have me killed, and people will spit on my body, and Inez will cheer at my death.

Surely that isn’t what Maura wants.

She can be impulsive, but she must know what the consequences will be if she tells Inez my whereabouts.

“She doesn’t hate me that much,” I say, praying that it’s the truth.

“She knew what Inez was planning to do with Covington, didn’t she?” Rory is perched on the arm of the love seat, her bright orange dress clashing wildly with the wallpaper of pink stripes and roses behind her.

I remember the way Maura refused to meet my eyes during our conversation about Inez’s visits to the hospital. “I think so.”

“Then she’s already been a party to murder,” Rory says.

“The murder of a terrible man who would have seen us all hanged gladly,” I point out.

Mei’s sitting in a high-backed blue chair opposite me. “I’m not saying what Maura and Inez did was right. Far from it. But . . . this is our chance, isn’t it? The Brotherhood is rudderless. They’ll be even more divided now—those who support Covington versus those who put O’Shea in charge versus those who want to call Brennan back from exile. And the people want change. I saw how bad things are when I was with my parents for Christmas. Our neighbors are sick, dying in droves. My brother would have died if it weren’t for Cate. People can’t afford proper food, much less medicine to help fight the fever—and only the rich are being admitted to the hospital now. People are starving because sick men can’t work and the Brotherhood never delivered the Christmas rations they promised. We have to do something!”

“I don’t argue that.” I look around at my own version of a war council. My heart twists a little, missing Tess. She ought to be present for any decision we make. In her current state, though, is she capable of helping? “But I don’t have any answers.”

Alice fiddles with her topaz earrings. “I don’t understand what Inez is trying to accomplish,” she admits, her blue eyes puzzled. “She claims she wants to put the witches back in power, to have us rule New England the way we once did. I used to believe all her grand talk. But this ruse with Covington—what is it she intends to do? Provoke a civil war? His leadership would have to fail spectacularly for people to consider the witches an option. They’re far more likely to elect another Brother, no matter how bumbling and corrupt she paints them.”

“True. It’s not as though she wants them to call Brennan back so we can all work together.” I snort at the very idea.

“But we do. I’ve been thinking about Merriweather’s suggestion.” Alice tucks a flyaway strand of golden hair back into her pompadour. “A triumvirate that consists of a Brother, a witch, and a commoner. I think he might be on to something.”

Sachi raises her eyebrows again. “You’d be willing to share power with a Brother?”

“And a commoner?” Mei sounds equally incredulous.

Alice shrugs. “It’s more power than we’ve got now.”

Footsteps sound in the hall. Multiple pairs of them. We all swivel toward the doorway as Prue, carrying the silver tea service, leads her brother and Finn into the room. “Look who I found in the kitchen!” she declares, making introductions.

Merriweather gets right to the point. “What in the devil is going on? Has Covington been miraculously resurrected, or is this some sort of witchery?”

“Compulsion. But we can’t expose Inez without exposing the entire Sisterhood.” I slump in my chair. “She’s dangerous. Unpredictable. She loathes me for opposing her. And Finn, she—” I falter, though everyone but Merriweather already knows the truth of it, and perhaps Finn has told him, too. “She’s the one who suggested Maura erase your memory. I daresay she’s only biding her time before she has you arrested for treason. You’re not safe in the Brotherhood anymore.”

Finn takes a moment to digest this news, then turns to Merriweather. “Looks like I need another line of work. Do you have need of a new reporter?”

“I can always use a good writer.” Merriweather claps him on the back while offering Rilla a cheeky grin. Across the room, she flushes with pleasure.