Instead of taking to the skies after leaving Lysander Hall, Amara shapeshifted back into the form of her old friend. She did her best to appear aloof and disinterested, a simple heavy coat holding back the cold weather as she went for a casual stroll around town. Despite her calm exterior, she boiled with rage as she thought back to the events from moments earlier.

Who do they think they are? Don’t they know I’m doing this for them?

Tch.

It doesn’t matter.

I know what the real problem is. As soon as I find Davenport, I can end this once and for all.

As much as she wanted to sprint to her destination, to storm the Coven manor and raze it to the ground, she knew she needed to be patient. It hadn’t even been an hour since she’d smashed through their wards to grab Palesa, and she had no doubt they were on high alert. Although she didn’t understand the magic that went into their wards, she hoped that returning so quickly meant they wouldn’t have time to restore them. With the proper disguise, she might be able to walk in without raising any suspicion at all.

The buildings around Amara were dead silent. Dull, warm light painted the darkened streets in yellow-orange hues, and every few minutes a lone car would drive by. Snow crunched under her feet as she left the campus, slowly walking towards the manor nestled on the edge of the large forest preserve. Off in the distance, easily perceptible by her demonic senses, a single toll of a bell echoed out from the bell tower just south of the main campus.

At her relaxed pace, it took Amara nearly twenty minutes to reach the Coven’s manor. She’d expected to hear chaos, frantic scrambling as the Coven tried to repair the damage, but for some reason she heard nothing of the sort as she closed in.

Maybe they have ways to magically dampen sound? It wouldn’t surprise me.

Just before rounding the final corner, as she prepared to enter the house and see exactly what state the Coven was in, Amara shifted her form once again. She gave herself thick, voluminous hair, darker skin, and elaborate white eyeliner, even double checking her appearance in an illusory mirror to make sure she looked just like Imani. Satisfied with her disguise, she picked up the pace and started towards the manor.

From the outside, the house looked every bit as empty as it sounded. Further confused, Amara double checked her surroundings to look for any potential traps, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. As she walked up to the front door, she confirmed that the protective wards were still broken. The strange haze that had permeated the mansion from earlier was gone, and she didn’t feel any resistance as she reached for the front door. Still paranoid, she took one last look behind her before opening the door and walking inside.

She’d hoped to find activity, witches running back and forth with notebooks and spell components, but instead the manor was completely empty. All the lights were off, and Amara heard nothing but the faint hum of the central heating.

Where is everybody?

The darkness meant nothing to Amara, thanks to her flawless night vision, and she began looking around to familiarize herself with the building. She currently stood in the middle of a grand foyer, the walls lined with large, elaborate paintings. A small handful of doors and grand entryways teased the true size of the house, and Amara slowly wandered from room to room in hopes of finding out what had happened here.

A large dining room near the entrance held a massive table, and while surrounded by nearly a dozen chairs, only four appeared to see regular use. The chair at the head of the table was significantly larger and more regal than all the others, causing Amara to scowl as she imagined Davenport sitting there.

Nearby double doors led to an expansive kitchen. Large, exposed wooden beams ran across the ceiling, disappearing into large decorative stones that lined the upper third of the walls. This room, more than any other, betrayed the true age of the manor. An elaborate white brick fireplace, likely originally designed for cooking, had been repurposed to hold a small pile of lumber. A massive, wooden island took up most of the center of the kitchen, and above it hung a collection of fruits, spices, pots, and pans, some of which Amara suspected were purely decorative. The walls of the kitchen were lined with extravagant, top-of-the-line kitchen appliances that were so expensive they’d been custom designed to blend into the older architecture.

Amara didn’t sense anyone here, and so turned her attention to the next room.

Maybe they have a panic room? I should keep an eye out for any signs of magic that might conceal an entrance.

Many of the other rooms shared similar stylistic flourishes. She found two rooms that had likely originally been servant’s quarters, but were now simple bedrooms. Amara couldn’t find hints of them having been used recently, and without any suspicious magical clues, she kept searching.

The next room was a large parlor, complete with a grand piano and an impressive, five-foot-tall harp. A small fireplace sat in between two plush loveseats, and a chaise against the opposite wall had a book resting face down on its armrest. Amara didn’t bother checking the title when she picked it up, and instead lifted it to her nose to smell its pages. The rich smell of paper was obvious, but underneath that she detected hints of the person that had likely read it last. The smell of dried flowers and woodchips reminded her of Palesa, so she set the book down and continued on her way.

The last room on the main floor was either a study or a sitting room. The faint smell of incense lingered around the brilliant marble fireplace, one that definitely saw frequent use, and that smell clung to the rich green velvet of the four armchairs that surrounded the fireplace. The walls in this room were entirely hidden behind massive bookshelves that extended from floor to ceiling, and Amara briefly mused that this would be the perfect room to set up a secret entrance. However, despite spending nearly ten minutes searching the place, she was unable to find any contraption, magical or mundane, that revealed anything out of the ordinary. With no further rooms on the first level left to investigate, Amara turned her sights to the second floor.

As she carefully crept up the large, elegant staircase, she began to suspect that no one actually lived in this house. It was definitely in use—she’d found Palesa sleeping here, after all—but there were no signs that anyone had attempted to turn this manor into a home. There were no personal touches, no hints of socialization other than a larger than average dining room table. Even the paintings, which all seemed to be of random, unrelated people, seemed like they’d been plucked from an historical exhibit rather than a real place people lived.

There’s no way this is the Coven’s main headquarters. They call Davenport “Headmistress,” which implies a school; I wonder if they have a larger campus elsewhere in the country, and this manor simply exists as a base camp in case they visit the school.

Amara was less suspicious that rooms on this level would have hidden secrets in them, and spent far less time in each room. Just like the first floor, she skipped over all the bathrooms, and the only public space she found was a small landing near the staircase that held several small lounge chairs. From there, it was easy to deduce that this level existed purely for bedrooms.

There were four in total, most of which were painfully similar in design. Again Amara found no true signs of personalization, merely small collections of personal effects that betrayed this house’s purpose as a temporary residence. Closets only held a small handful of outfits, half-empty suitcases were tucked under beds and, much like the kitchen, modern-day luxuries had been retrofitted into each room.

The only bedroom that Amara spent a considerable amount of time in was Davenports. Even had there not been other hints, the sheer size of the room alone would have been a dead giveaway. The four-poster bed was twice the size of every other mattress in the manor, and the columns that sat on each corner were ridiculously overdesigned. Thick, plush green curtains were tied to each of the posts, casting even darker shadows on the already darkened bed, and even the ties were hopelessly overindulgent. A stack of worn, leather journals sat on a mahogany side table, but flipping through them revealed nothing but notes on runes and magical theory. The room didn’t have a built-in closet, but a large armoire against the back wall held several of Davenport’s dresses. There, Amara found exactly what she was looking for: hints of the Headmistress’s scent.

Grabbing the fabric, Amara pulled it close and inhaled. She detected strong notes of earthy, burnt wood, though the scent was much darker than Palesa’s. Underneath that smell was a faint undercurrent of vanilla, and Amara took a few moments to commit the scent to memory.

Perfect. Now to find Davenport.

Closing the armoire, Amara made her way out of the master bedroom and walked towards the staircase. While she hadn’t located her prey yet, she had a strong lead, and was ready to search elsewhere on the campus. However, as she approached the banister, she heard the front door open. Its thick, ancient hinges creaked once, then twice as the door closed again, and Amara looked over the banister at the person who’d just entered.

To her surprise, she saw Vee.

Interesting, I didn’t know Vee knew where this manor was. Tessa must have told her; it’s not like she cares about secrecy anymore.

Placing a hand on the railing, Amara started walking down the stairs. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

Vee looked up, then sighed in relief as she saw Amara. “Oh, thank goodness. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Amara!”

A soft chuckle escaped Amara’s lips. “Who says I’m Amara? I’m clearly Imani Mabaya, the coven’s favorite little hanger-on who's here to assist in their cover-up.” After a playful laugh, she stepped down to the main floor as she approached Vee.

“Cut the crap, Amara. We both know how easy it is for me to detect you.” Vee held up a hand, which briefly pulsed with angelic energy. Strangely, despite seeing it as clear as day, the energy didn’t bristle against Amara’s infernal aura. Although initially surprised, Amara decided it made sense. After all, she’d never had this much power coursing through her veins before.

“I assume you’ve set Palesa free?” Amara asked, circling around Vee to head towards the entrance.

“We have, but she’s still… you know,” Vee muttered, casting a glare towards Amara. “What exactly did you do to her?”

“Nothing she won’t recover from. I fed as much as I needed to make sure she couldn’t fight back. I could have taken more, but I chose not to. I’m not a monster, Vee.”

“Then why kidnap her? Why steal her away to that dark corner of campus?” Vee asked, her eyes still glued to Amara.

“I have to assume Tessa has told them everything, and if that’s the case, I wanted to pick somewhere we at least wouldn’t be disturbed by other students. Plus, back when I dealt with Derek and Mr. Luxnor, I learned just how powerful a motivator fear can be. Waking up and seeing the bloody remains of all those cultists? I imagine she was terrified, not that it got us anything.”

Vee’s eyes went wide with recognition. “So, what now? You leave to go finish your bloody crusade?”

Now next to the front entrance, Amara nodded. “We could do it together, Vee. There’s no way Davenport could stand up to both of us at once.”

“I won’t do that, Amara. Please, just let this go.”

“Let it go?!” Amara hissed. “And let them get away with it? Let Davenport throw us to the wolves while she hoards all the magic of the cosmos? Once her siphons take effect, there’s no telling how powerful she’ll become. This is our only chance!”

For a brief fraction of a second, Vee seemed surprised by Amara’s words, but a second glance revealed that Amara had likely imagined it. “Do you even know where she is?”

“I have her scent. I won’t need long to find her.” Amara paused for a moment, reaching for the door handle before clicking it open. “I want to do this together, Vee. I don’t enjoy doing this alone, but you’ve given me no choice.” The door opened, and Amara turned to leave. She knew she wouldn’t be able to convince Vee to join her, so there was nothing left to say. She heard Vee start to run closer, and expected to feel Vee grab her shoulder, or perhaps her hand, but neither happened.

Instead, Amara’s entire body froze with shock and pain as a dagger plunged into her back. Fear gripped her, and before she could respond, Vee stepped even closer and grabbed her shoulder, pushing the knife deeper.

“That’s for Palesa, you demonic bitch,” Vee muttered, her illusory voice melting away.