“Go on, Devon,” R.J. said, “you still have a vote.”

Momentarily, the expressionless man’s eyes unglazed, and he focused his glare on R.J.

“I don’t recognize this vote” was all he said, and once again he seemed to stare icily through to Ariel.

R.J. fought back his desire to tell Devon just where he could get off. This was going to be over soon enough, and he knew there was no need for an altercation now. He continued around the circle and came finally to rest in the center.

Standing at the altar opposite Ariel, R.J. held out the goblet and let a stone fall into it from his own palm, silently casting his vote. Slowly, Ariel lifted her hand to its rim and dropped in her stone. It rattled and clinked in the tense silence of the circle, then fell still. She brought her gaze up to meet R.J.’s, drew a deep breath, and then gave a slightly perceptible nod. R.J. tilted the goblet down to the altar and poured the stones out upon its surface. The pebbles glittered, as if winking back at them in the candlelight, each of their polished surfaces obsidian black.

Ariel turned and faced Devon, summoning every bit of strength in her being and borrowing from her fellow coven members as much as she could.

“You know the most basic law of The Craft is to harm none.” She stared at him coolly as anger seeped in to replace sadness. “You have violated that law, Devon.”

He continued to stare back at her, pupils large in his irises like puddles of ink in dirty grey ice. The circle candles flickered as a mild breeze began to blow.

“So I sacrificed a dog,” Devon answered her frostily. “You little wimps are just afraid to take the next step. You’ll never be anything but a bunch of wannabees.”

Ariel continued, ignoring his comment. “For your disregard for life and the most basic of Wiccan laws, you are hereby banished from this coven. Your punishment is that which you bring upon your own self, as anything you may do will return to you threefold. May the God and Goddess take mercy upon you.”