“But we’re not through yet,” he reminded himself.

He glanced over his shoulder—none of the people nearby had noticed what was happening—then marched quietly up to the gate. The witches followed. He unslung his pack into his left hand, took the duffle bag from the red-haired witch with his right, and threw them both onto the now-moving conveyor belt.

He nodded at the red-haired witch. She stepped calmly into the booth. The officer hit another switch, and a beam of pale blue light appeared above her head, moving down towards her.

“And yet we ourselves are not without blame,” Antioch continued. “For we, too, are guilty of a sin, less heinous, but no less substantial—the sin of complacency, and only by an act of great...

Please subscribe to keep reading.