Meiner seemed to have a special way of pushing Dayna’s buttons.
Thankfully Reagan came to her rescue. “Okay, let’s think about the details of the murders. He takes a body part every time…maybe for some kind of ritual.”
“Sure,” Cora said, “but why witches specifically? And if Bronagh is right and the guy hasn’t been active for years, why start now?”
“This isn’t working.” Faye shoved the bowl away bad-temperedly, and the water sloshed out over the tablecloth. This earned her a reproving look from Yemi. “None of this is going to work.”
“We need hours and hours to assemble information, which we don’t have.” Brenna sighed. “We’re running out of time.”
“Or…” Reagan’s eyes grew wide, and she looked sideways at Dayna. “We need someone who has already devoted hours and hours to researching the Butcher.”
It only took a second before it clicked, and Dayna groaned, shaking her head. “Are you really going to make me do this?”
Reagan shrugged apologetically. “You know I’d never suggest it unless it was literally a matter of life and death, but Faye’s right. We don’t know how much time we have.”
“Let me guess.” Meiner raised a brow. “The ex?”
Dayna ignored this, giving Reagan her most woeful look. “I hate you so much right now.”
“You dumped him,” Faye said pointedly. “It’s not that bad.”
“And it’s painfully obvious he’s still in love with you.” Reagan grinned. “He’ll probably hand over his life’s work if you ask him.”
Dayna waved a hand at them, face glowing hot. The very last thing she wanted was a discussion about her love life in front of Meiner King. “All right, okay,” she said hastily. “I’ll see what I can dig up.”
Brenna was frowning, brows creased, and Dayna could guess what she was about to say. “It’s okay,” Dayna said. “Really. I got this.”
“Of course she does.” Faye jabbed one finger at Dayna. “You’re strong. You’re not going to put up with any of his church bullshit. Get in, get the information, get out.”
Dayna cleared her throat, glancing at the floor. Meiner and Cora were both directing curious stares at her, and she had to force herself not to squirm in her chair. She really didn’t want to have to explain anything to the new witches. Or talk about it at all, actually.
Brenna seemed to notice her discomfort, because she added hurriedly, “And in the meantime, what? If that doesn’t pan out, what are we left with?”
“You know what I suggested before.” Grandma King had turned from the window now, and she raised her thin eyebrows at Bronagh. “You know how effective it would be.”
“And I can scarcely believe you have the balls to mention it to me again,” Bronagh snapped. “We aren’t doing a contact reading, King. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t let your witchlings do one either.”
Grandma King scowled, tugging at the collar of her sweater. “I’ll thank you not to tell me what to do with my own coven.”
Dayna frowned at Reagan, puzzled, and Reagan shrugged. “What exactly is a contact reading?”
“Contact, as in, one of us must have come in contact with something the murderer touched, or the murderer himself.” Bronagh gave them a sharp look. “And none of you are to ever attempt it.”
Reagan gave a noncommittal shrug and kicked her boots up on the table. “I dunno, sounds like a solid plan to me.”
Faye gave her a disapproving look and said, “Feet off the table, Reagan,” at the same time Yemi cried, “Nawa o! Get your dirty boots off!”
Reagan rolled her eyes at Dayna. “This is why I never tell people about my two moms. They’re so embarrassing.”
Brenna ignored her. “Not a contact reading, then. A joint reading. With this many of us it should work.”
There was a pause. The older witches glanced around the table at one another.
“We need at least seven for a joint reading, and there’s only the five full witches,” Yemi said. “That won’t be enough power.”
Bronagh was nodding thoughtfully. “But if they ascend, we could do one. It could work.”
Yemi looked from the old woman to her daughter, frowning. “Their ascension isn’t happening yet. They haven’t picked their gods.”
Brenna pressed her lips together, like she was fighting what she wanted to say. She gave Dayna and Reagan a meaningful look.
Dayna sat up straight. She’d picked her god years ago. Had known almost from the beginning she’d pledge to Danu. Reagan was the same way with the goddess Brigid, and when Dayna glanced over at her, her friend was leaning forward, hands on the table.
“Yes, we have, Ma. We’ve told you, we’re ready.”
“It’s true. She’s a great witch.” When Reagan gave her a grateful look, she shrugged and grinned back. “What? You know it’s true.” Anyone could scry and read cards, but Reagan had dedicated herself to the craft her whole life, could recite every spell she’d ever learned.
“They’re still young to have so much power.” Yemi fidgeted with her teacup, turning it around on the saucer. “I don’t know…”
Dayna pressed her lips shut, forcing herself not to comment, even though she felt ready to burst. She caught Meiner’s eye almost accidentally and was startled at the look on her face. Meiner was staring at her grandmother with an expression Dayna couldn’t pin down. Frustration? Longing?
Beside her, Cora shifted, her face eager. “We’re ready—”
“Not you,” Grandma King snapped, without looking at Cora or her granddaughter.
“But she just said they can’t.” She looked sullen, but Grandma King waved her off.
Brenna glanced nervously from her mother to Grandma King. “Er, well, best to do it on the first quarter moon. Tomorrow night, actually.”
Faye nodded. “We’ll have to pick one.”
“We could do it together.” It was Meiner who spoke now, and Dayna could see the look on her face had turned from frustration to hunger, probably more transparent than she realized. “Get it all done at once.”
“Sorry, lass.” Bronagh sounded apologetic. “You don’t mix two covens’ ascension days. It’s too complicated to risk something going wrong.”
“Reagan and Dayna are ready, Yemi. And we shouldn’t wait,” Brenna said gently. “Not with the way things are. With the way they may become.”
Nobody had to ask what she meant.
“Aye, you’re right. Tomorrow night,” Grandma King said. “We’ll do it then.”
“It should be us,” Meiner said, and Dayna sat up straight, anger pulsing through her.
“Hell no,” Dayna said. “If anyone ascends it’s Reagan and me.” The scorching glare Meiner shot her now was nothing like the minor irritation and amusement from earlier. She scowled back, arms folded over her chest.
If Meiner wanted a fight, she was going to get one.
“It should be us,” Meiner repeated, turning back to Grandma King. “Cora and I are both ready. And we’re older.”