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Suddenly, the crowd’s whispers pick up, becoming faster and louder. The excitement grows thick in the air. He doesn’t need to say it—everyone appears to know what’s coming.
Drawing out the drama, Marcus takes a wide step back, stretching out the silence as he points down at the town hall stairs.
“It’s her fault!” he screams fiercely.
That’s when the crowd parts, and I finally see them.
My mother centered on the town hall steps, flanked by Stella and Hetty. They look bedraggled, bruised, and tired. But while Mother and Hetty are strangely calm and quiet, Stella appears to be asleep, snoring softly as she leans against the railing.
My heartbeat speeds up, a furious heat rising inside me. I move forward automatically, thoughtlessly pushing aside the crowd. Glancing up, I see Marcus thrust his finger toward my mother, continuing his demented speech.
“Isolde Sage killed her mate, released innocent omegas—including her son’s mate—and murdered her own innocent beta maid.” He lists her transgressions one by one on his fingers before stalling and glaring down on her sourly.
“And there’s something else…” His angry eyes pop up, narrowing on the crowd. “Something she’s done that I’ve never told anyone. It’s time now, I think. I’ve kept her secret long enough.” He pauses, sneering down at her. “Isolde Sage killed my mate.”
There’s a collective intake of breath before the hum of murmured conversation ignites into a faint roar. Fighting the crowd, I pick up various words and phrases floating around me.
I knew it.
Those Sages think they can get away with anything.
All the witch’s fault.
I move forward roughly, pushing aside bodies, trying to get to the front as Marcus keeps talking. The crowd was relatively quiet before, but now they’re pressing forward, their voices rumbling like angry thunder.
“I’ve never forgiven Isolde Sage for killing my mate.” Marcus continues to rile them up, his face an angry red and his eyes big and bulging. “She did it because she was jealous!”
Mother finally reacts, peering up at him with a horrified expression. “Jealous of you?” she yells loudly, her voice strained. “Oh, please!”
“Don’t deny it, witch!” he spits out angrily.
“I most certainly will. It’s ridiculous, and it’s a lie!” Mother screams, finally showing some sort of reaction as she struggles to stand up but fails, falling on her bottom. Exasperated, she addresses the crowd. “First, she was not his mate but a beta that he all but forced himself on. Second, I certainly wasn’t the one who killed her. He did.”
To me, her words are passion-filled and sincere, but no one else is listening to her. They’re all pushing forward, watching Marcus, and waiting for his verdict. While Mother crumbles, he’s calmer now, ignoring her as he stares forward.
“We’ve ignored many of the evil things that Isolde has done over the years. Swept them under the rug and pretended like they didn’t matter. Why?” His eyes dart curiously over the crowd. “Because her last name is Sage. We put far too much trust in the Sages and Cypresses in this town. Look where it got us!”
He pauses, his eyes flicking to the horizon. When I see a pleased smile spread across his face, I glance over my shoulder. My heart sinks when I see the bright orange sun rising over the dark line of trees.
It’s sunrise.
“So, people of Goldenrod, I have a surprise for you,” Marcus continues in a knowing, conspiratorial tone. “We’re expecting visitors this morning—any minute now, actually. People from the outside with a special delivery. Food. Supplies. Everything we need.”
Fervent voices pepper the crowd at the news, and Marcus keeps talking, bolstered by the scent of excitement.
“We’ll show them how seriously we take the Order in Goldenrod!” he screams, his voice hoarse. “And when they get here, we’ll burn the witch, Isolde Sage, and her cohorts. We’ll show them that we’re true followers of the Order!”
It’s as if a switch is flipped. The crowd turns from excited to chaotic, pushing forward as cheers and screeches erupt, echoing up and down the street.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I growl, attempting to move forward as I call out, “She’s not a witch! And they’re coming to kill us, not—”
I’m cut off, unable to move further before I’m pushed down, tripping over my feet and falling hard on my chest. I barely have time to register what’s happening before I’m dragged backward through the crowd, taking out a few bodies in my wake.
But other than the ones closest to me, nobody in the crowd really notices, so intoxicated with their desire to burn my mother.
I’m dragged all the way back to Spruce Street. When I finally stop moving, in the relative peace and quiet, I grunt, attempting to get up, but I can’t—I’m stuck down by an invisible pressure.
When a pair of feet appear in front of my face, I twist my face up enough to see Cass standing over me.
