She approached Lydia, who indicated the cauldron. Maria reached in and came up with a dagger. Lydia uncorked the vial. "If you please."

Maria unsheathed the blade and made a quick, shallow slice on her thumb. Holding it over the vial, she allowed three drops to fall in, then returned to her place in line, dagger still in hand.

"Next," Lydia said.

On my turn, I did as everyone else had. The cauldron held many daggers and I selected one—they were all identical. Releasing it from the tooled leather sheath, noting the similarly tooled design on the blade and the razor-sharp edges, I cut my thumb and added three drops to the vial.

When everyone had made their donation, Lydia put the stopper in the vial and returned it to her pocket. Then she strode to the western end of the dais and gestured to the east. "Let the Elders enter the Covenstead!"

The eastern doors creaked open. Glowing rays of dawn fingered through, bringing crisp autumn air and birdsong with them. One by one, with infinitesimal slowness, four old women filed in.

It was a kind of parade, a cavalcade of witches, a procession of disguised power. They were not a pretty sight. Eyes sunken, skin sallow and waxen, wrinkled and scowling, they shuffled along as Nana did, their gnarled hands gripping their ceremonial staves tightly, aiding their slow progress.

Each wore ceremonial robes, flowing layers of gray and maroon and black. The lapels and cuffs of the robes were hemmed in silver designs: crescent moons for the first two, ankhs for the third, and pentagrams for the fourth. These variations meant something, gave clues to their status, but the symbolism was lost on me. I wondered if Hunter understood it.

White hair, either thick and slightly frizzy or softly curling ringlets, cascaded over their shoulders from under the wide brims of crooked, pointed hats, each with a band and silver buckle. The bands for the first two were maroon, the third was gray, and the last was deep, deep purple. Upon the bands were tarnished charms—badges they had earned. Among the charms, I saw spiders, crow's feet, centipedes, snakes, fireflies, dragonflies—there were more I could not see.

The very air they stirred reached me and it carried a promise: here, was unequivocal power.

The Elders were not to be trifled with.

Why had I ever thought I could hide what I was from these women?

The Elders took their places upon the outermost thrones, leaving the center empty.

"Enter the Eldrenne!" Lydia cried.

The doors to the east had shut, but now they creaked open again and a mist flowed through, curling across the floor. I could smell anise and nutmeg.

Another woman stepped into the doorway, head down, and paused like a shadow against the swirling mist. A raven sat upon her hunched shoulder. The staff she held was topped with a small crystal ball held in place by a weaving of wood as if the staff had sprouted branches that twisted together to form a beautiful, loose net.

Edging the staff forward, she eased from the doorway and began crossing the distance toward the dais very, very slowly. The bird launched itself to the air with a cry that echoed throughout the dome. The Eldrenne seemed never to take a step but to flow like the mist at her feet. Her other hand was held slightly out, palm to the floor, fingers spread. She wore large rings with big stones set in tarnished metals. They seemed very fitting on her twisted fingers.

The robes of the Eldrenne were gauzy black-on-black layers that fit her frail frame as if there were nothing but a ghost below her bony shoulders. The edges bore elaborate embroidery in metallic black thread. Her hat was a scrawnier style, the narrow brim rippled slightly. The cone bent behind her and slightly under. A copper pentacle charm dangled from the tip. The band around her hat was shiny black, the buckle copper. Charms were spaced along the band, as well as up the cone of the hat. Some even dangled from the brim edges.

Her hair was a white waterfall, sleek and fine, falling into the mist where the ends were hidden. She approached the dais steps, floating up them smoothly, as if hovering. When she arrived before the center throne, she turned to the assembled group and the mist retreated, flowing up and under her robes.

The brim of her hat finally levered up as she lifted her chin. A silver veil with a large black appliqued spider hid her face.

Free hand rising in a smooth, slow gesture, she revealed her face. Her sunken cheeks were pink; stark against otherwise pallid skin. When she opened her eyes, I gasped; her eyes were covered by a fine, bluish film.

The Eldrenne was blind.

She sat on her throne, the Elders to either side deftly parting her long hair so she did not sit upon it. The raven landed upon the high back of her seat and settled its feathers.

"Welcome, dear Elders and Eldrenne, to Venefica Coven. Merry meet," Lydia said, arms raised high. Placing her hands on her heart, she bowed her head. "We are honored to have you here, presiding over our Eximium."

"We thank you," the Eldrenne said. Her voice was tremulous, thin and breathy. "Merry meet to you all." She gestured to her left. "Morgellen."

One of the Elders with the crescent moons on her lapels, Morgellen, spoke. "Twenty-one of you have asked to compete." Her voice was firm and her words came quick. She was probably the youngest of the Elders before us; she sat straighter and had moved slightly faster. "The first test is mine to designate. Over the next few hours, you will all take a lengthy written test. It will assess your knowledge of basic craft as well as the advanced specifics needed to serve as high priestess. We will choose ten and a single runner-up to proceed to the next round." She thumped her staff on the dais.

A written test. How modern and unmystical.

Lydia ushered us all below, then spoke to us in the hallway. "Here is the testing room." She gestured to an open doorway as we passed. "Breakfast will be served immediately, in the dining room, here." Again she gestured and, this time, stopped outside the door. "After eating, you may remain there or return to the holding room, which is down the hall. You will be summoned to the test room promptly, so don't dawdle."

After being in the darkened dome, the kitchen's fluorescent brightness hurt my eyes. The breakfast coffee wasn't made yet, so I took that task upon myself and promptly set about making some. While filling the pot and transferring the water, I considered my personal goal: beat Hunter early and get us both out of the running.

That was the only way to avoid contact with the Elders. But it was highly unlikely that Hunter would be in the bottom-scoring half of any witchy written test.

Crap.

I made coffee strong enough to degrease an engine. I was going to need it.

Part one of the written test consisted of ritual format, sabbats, pantheons, and moon phases. Part two covered spirit guides, astrology, divination, herbs, and gemstones. Part three was spell-casting, charms, potions, talismans, and amulets. And the fourth was for Rites of Passage, the Fivefold Kiss, Handfasting, Crossing, ethics. Each section had a hundred questions. Mostly, it was multiple choice.

The Moon is waxing full in Libra, and the planetary hour is in Mars. You are burning incense made of High John the Conqueror and basil, and you have a violet candle, a circle of turquoise stones, and a jade elephant on the altar beside your statue of the Goddess. What kind of spell are you casting? A spell to:

A.) defeat enemies in battle

B.) achieve fair, swift justice

C.) banish an illness

D.) communicate with the dead

E.) find favor of the powerful

And so on.