Isabel stood with James by her side in front of seven Wiccan, all of whom were older than the two teens. Her eyes were narrowed and she let her Magick flow, putting noticeable pressure on the Wiccans. These were not young Wiccans who did not know the fine line between obeying a coven and honoring a Custos, these Wiccan were old enough to patrol with the Calor Custos before he disappeared. They knew the price of disregarding her word in favor of someone who was not the Vita or Calor Custos. If they were lacking in some area of study, Isabel was to be clear on what would happen to the Wiccan to slight her.
She would not bend on this matter. She could not bend on this matter. If these Wiccan saw her as weak, they would harm all under her protection.
"As there has been an increase in demonic activity on our patrol routes, I want to make this as explicitly clear as I possibly can. Unlike the other patrol teams with their younger and naive members, this patrol team has patrolled with a Custos before and should know the consequences of disregarding my orders," she said. Isabel stood as still as a statue, her voice had a dangerous tone that had everyone standing at attention. "For those of you who do not know, I will be kind and fill that chasm of your education. To disregard a Custos order is to ask for death. There have been eleven innocent dead because of the former patrol members' slight against me. They have lost their status as patrol members and I have grounded all of them with the council's permission.
"Apprentice Carter and I are carrying athame blades. Invoke my ire by continuing this trend of disrespecting the word of a Custos, and I will sever your dominant arm as my father did with Master Henderson when I was three. For those of you who do not know what happened, Master Henderson decided that I was becoming arrogant in my skill as a Wiccan and whipped me ten times for completing his near-impossible tasks. My father found out and prompted severed his dominant arm with an athame. When Master Henderson brought his case to the Council of Wiccans, it was decided that the punishment was extreme but justified and declared that Cassor Livingstone was without the guilt of any crime."
Master Henderson was her tutor in Wiccan studies before her mother called favor to Madame Fenstermacher. He did not believe that female Wiccans could amount to greatness and too great joy whenever she failed to meet his impossible expectations and would grow angry when she surpassed them.
It was the eve before the communities prepared for the summer solstice, and Isabel was tasked to create a glamoured show of great Magick to represent her family. Master Henderson was called to task to help her. She had overlapped glamours to create a great image that he said would fail. When she ignored his attempts to create a more humbling image of flowers and unicorns, and she had succeeded to his ire. He called her imperious and had lashed at her ten times before her cries were so great that they caught the attention of the staff who called for her parents.
He took an athame from Isabel's toolkit and struck down on the man's dominant arm that rose to lash at her for the eleventh time. Isabel had been traumatized by the actions of the tutor that she would sit in on all lessons held for James by the numerous tutors for hours if needed. The same athame that severed the arm of her once tutor lay in arms reach of the Ventus Custos as she stared down the tutors in striking distance of her apprentice.
If her apprentice did wrong by the tutor, she would administer the proper and equal punishment when the tutor asked. If the tutor attempted to administer what they deemed a proper and equal punishment, Isabel would strike them down before they were in striking distance of her apprentice.
And, there have been many who tried to get to Isabel Livingstone through her apprentice. After the first five were chopped to bits and pieces, the next six beheaded, and the following eight drawn and quartered; the community had learned. Apprentice James Carter was off-limits and Master Isabel Livingstone, the Ventus Custos, will strike down anyone who tried otherwise.
"My father was not a Custos. If I, the Ventus Custos, were to sever the dominant arm of a Wiccan who disregarded my words for that of a high priestess, do you think that outcome would be any different? Do you think that they would dare to go against me? The last Livingstone and the Ventus Custos, the Thuban Coven's High Priestess-in-training?" Her eyes scanned the faces of the Wiccans in front of her, she saw the seed of doubt enter their minds as she spoke. "If the Council did nothing for the nineteen Wiccans who perished by my hand for daring to strike my apprentice, what makes you think that any of you will be safe or that your families protected for going against my word? This is your final warning. Disregard it and you will lose a dominant limb. Try after that…"
Isabel turned her back to the group, she still had things to do within the hour before she started her patrol routes with the different members. As much as Isabel would miss the patrol team she had built up over the last three years, she had a reputation to uphold, and being a lenient Custos was not on the list.
So, she held her head up high and kept the cold smiles on her face to mask the softness of her heart. "And I will plunge the athame into your hearts and curse your spirits to be devoured by Baptiste. Then, I will drag your empty and rotting corpse in front of your families and explain in great detail why you have perished."
Isabel was a girl of seventeen and should not know how easy it was for her to strike down disobedient little Wiccans for disregarding her authority. She should be partying and fooling around with guys, studying and stressing about university; instead, she was watching her apprentice's back and her own as she navigates the politics of being an underage leader in a secret society ruled by an entity older than dirt. Isabel's eyes fluttered, and she fought to take an intake of breath.
As much as it will hurt to kill one of these Wiccans, the grief that she feels for failing to protect the newborns, the toddlers, the children, and the parents during these last few patrols was too great for her to ignore. Her self-control was hanging by a thread, and she was desperate to prove to herself that Magick did not pick her because of her Livingstone heritage. Isabel wanted to believe that she was chosen because Magick saw something in her that she could not.
Isabel took long strides to put some distance between her and the Thuban Wiccans. She wasn't sure she could survive another patrol without some survivors. She didn't think that she would survive if these patrolling Wiccans betrayed her when they knew the consequences. Isabel gave a silent prayer as she walked away with James trailing as a living shadow. She prayed that the Horned God would watch over her as she went into battle once more and that he would ensure her victory today against whoever was plotting against her. She prayed to the Matron that she would make her family proud, to the Mother that she and James would be safe, and to the Maiden, Isabel prayed for an innocent to be spared. James whispered when they were finally alone, "Isabel?"
"Hm?" She was exhausted. The likelihood of any of the patrol members living past this patrol was dangerously low, which meant that she would have to put in more time to look for replacements and train them to be patrol ready while relaying on more traitorous Wiccans to test the limits of her kindness. That meant that more Wiccans would die by her blade, more Wiccans needed to be chosen; and the cycle would forever repeat in a never-ending cycle of violence. Was staying with the Thuban Coven the right choice?
"Are you really going to put their dead corpse in front of their families?" It was a hard spot to navigate with James because of how his father had perished for a second time. Isabel's hands rose up to cover her face. Everything was a mess at the moment, and Isabel did not want her hunches about the Thuban Coven to be true. At the same time, it seemed that High Priestess Gabriella was showing more of her hand than she wanted to. Isabel did not like how the cards were stacking up. "Isn't that bit cruel?"
"I will not need to do so if they heed my warnings, James," she said. Her voice was tired and in pain. "I'm not going to dangle their bodies and decimate their honor. The bodies will lie before them and their crimes will be read."
James sighed. "I know you're not like that, it's just…"
"Just that someone stole your father's cooling corpse and made him into a puppet that required you to be the one to cut the strings of him and it felt like you were killing him after he was brought back to you. I know, James. I swore I wasn't going to be like that and I plan on honoring that oath I made to you when I took you in," she said.
There were a lot of oaths made over the course of three years between the two teenagers. Isabel swore to protect, provide and profess as the master of an apprentice. James swore to obey, learn, and profess as the apprentice of a master. They swore allegiance to each other, and have honored those oaths. While there were bumps along the way of their relationship, James and Isabel made sure that the two always knew where they stood with one another.