The Witch's Familiar

Chapter 37

You reappeared dazed and disoriented in a courtroom, standing in front of a tribunal, three wizards or witches dressed in black robes their faces covered in masks. While you were still loopy from the cookies, you were shoved into a sturdy straight-backed wooden chair with arms. Your wrists were secured with the manacles attached to the chair.

Your brain was becoming less confused, which was good, however your magic was still affected by whatever was in those cookies. You were going to let Sera eat that shopkeeper when you got out of this mess.

You weregoing to get out of this mess.

There was no reason for you to be brought before the Witch's Council, nor had you received any official summons. This was bullshit and you knew it.

"Witch Y/N, you have been brought up on charges of Corruption of Magic and-" the black-robed tribunal member in the middle started. You tuned him out for a moment, taking in your surroundings.

This wasn't the Witch's Council. Nor the Council chambers. You'd been there before. This was a really well done replica. But this wasn't the real council chambers and more importantly, this wasn't the real council.

"You're not the Council," you informed them. You were pressing the subject now before they quickly justified your death at this farce of a trial. You needed to stall them for time. Loki and Sera would notice your absence soon when you took too long to return from the store. Both of them could track and find you. Both of them could reach you telepathically even if you didn't have the power to reach them.

You just needed to stall for time for them to realize you were in trouble.

Or until the drugs cleared your system and you got your powers back.

You didn't much care which as long as you survived this confrontation with the witch hunters.

The fake council looked shocked at your words. They were used to acquiring lower level witches in their schemes, it seemed. You wondered why they were risking so much targeting you when you were one of the most powerful witches alive. "I told you we should have just killed this one," the one in the middle told his compatriots.

"Who are you? What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?" you demanded before they could get too attached to that train of thought. You needed to keep them distracted from killing you as long as possible. You were chained to a chair without your powers. You needed them to not kill you.

So you had to get them monologing.

Rule #1 of being a superhero, when you're held captive by the villains, get them monologing as soon as possible while you think of a way to escape. It was a great strategy and would buy you the time you needed.

Predictably, they fell for it and started talking. You didn't even pay attention to which one was talking. You needed to know who they were, what they wanted, and best of all, how to get out of here. "It usually takes much longer before you witches figure out we're not the real council. They spill their guts and sell their souls to us, binding themselves so tightly to our mission that they can't break free, before they'd even realized that we weren't their precious council," they laughed.

"Then who are you?" you demanded, glaring up at them. Damn, these guys were defective villains if you had to keep prompting them to continue their monologing.

"Our organization's name has changed over the centuries. In this age, we are known as the Brotherhood of Salem," you tried so very hard not to roll your eyes at that lame ass name. Really, it was awful. They couldn't come up with a better name than that? Seriously, that was just lazy writing on the part of whoever was leading this stupid organization. "Our goal hasn't changed, though. Our goal is simple: to eradicate all the witches,"