“Just because we don’t hold you responsible for what’s happened doesn’t mean you are free and clear. The Heretics are still out there. They will move against you — against all of us — sooner than you think.”
“Samhain,” I whispered, nodding. “I know. I thought about the past sacrifices and realized they must be following the lunar calendar.”
They glanced at one another.
“Perhaps there is hope for you, yet,” Agatha muttered grudgingly.
“Colette instilled in you the fundamentals, at the very least.” Sally graced me with a tiny smile. “She would be happy to know you haven’t entirely abandoned her teachings.”
“I may not strictly believe in the witchy woo-woo, not the same way you do, but that doesn’t mean I’m totally close-minded. Do you really think, after what happened to Eliza, that I’d question the danger the Heretics pose?”
They were silent. Clearly, they didn’t have much faith in me after my previous pig-headedness when it came to this subject.
I swallowed down a heavy sigh. “I know I didn’t take this seriously when you first tried to warn me. But I promise I’m taking it seriously now. When Halloween arrives, I’ll have ample protection to keep me out of their creepy little hands. You don’t need to worry.”
They exchanged another glance, conducting an entire conversation without a single word uttered aloud, the way only close friends could. I wondered if, in sixty years, Flo and I would still be talking with eye rolls and head tilts across crowded rooms. I sincerely hoped so.
“You must understand, Gwendolyn. Even if you don’t believe in thewitchy woo-woo, as you so affectionately refer to our sacred practices… the witchy woo-woo believes in you. The Heretics will do everything they can to reclaim the power they believe we bound fifty years ago, to unleash their dark revenge on the entire town in retribution for being cast out. And it is your Aunt Colette’s blood —yourblood — they need to do so. You are the key which will unlock the door to devastation.”
“Figures,” I muttered lowly. A line of customers was forming behind Sally and Agatha, but I ignored it. “Look, ladies, I appreciate you coming here today. But like I told you, I am well protected.”
“How?” Agatha sounded skeptical. “You have no power.”
I pointed at the twins on the couch — only to realize they were no longer sitting there. Sometime during our confrontation, they’d crossed through the shop without my noticing. They now stood in silence several feet behind Agatha and Sally, looking every inch the bone-snapping, gun-toting badasses I’d promised. Muscular arms crossed over their chests, inky eyes intent, full attention trained on us as they shamelessly eavesdropped on every word we exchanged.
Agatha and Sally both gaped a little at my devastatingly handsome bodyguards.
“See?” My lips turned up at the corners. “Totally in good hands.”
Agatha, with considerable effort, pulled her gaze back to mine. “Be that as it may… be careful. Eliza’s loss was a harsh blow to our coven’s collective strength — as the Heretics well know, which was why they targeted her in the first place. But we are not entirely depleted. Nor will we sit idly by on Samhain. We are gathering our forces. When the Heretics make their move, we will be ready to meet them in kind.”
“We may not prevail, but we have a duty to try,” Sally added. “For you. For Colette. For Eliza.”
I stared at the two little old ladies, with their wrinkled cheeks and coiffed gray curls peeking out from their wide-brimmed hats, wondering what sort of forces they could possibly summon to effectively combat a sect of crazed killers with a penchant for bloody pentagrams. If I was thinking rationally, I might’ve said they were deluded. But, honestly, in that moment, all could think was that they were a heck of a lot braver than most people I’d ever met.
“We need to go, Sally,” Agatha said. “We’re going to be late for Eliza’s viewing.”
“Okay, okay,” Sally muttered. But she didn’t go. Instead, she took a step closer to the counter — making both twins tense — and pulled something from her pocketbook. “Here, Gwendolyn. Please, take this. It once belonged to your aunt. She would’ve wanted you to have it.”
Before I could move a single inch, Sally leaned forward across the counter and slipped a thin silver chain over my head. I felt a warm weight settle against the bare skin between my breasts and, when I looked down at my cleavage, I saw a pale colored pendant shaped like a spike and engraved with strange symbols resting just above the plunging v-neck of my blouse.
“A bone shard from the first High Priestess of our coven,” Sally explained, her voice barely a whisper. “For protection.”
I wasn’t sure how a necklace was supposed to protect me, but I didn’t see the point in quibbling. Belatedly, my mind processed the first part of Sally’s description. “Wait. I’m sorry — did you saybone shard? As in… from askeleton?”
“Indeed.” Sally was unruffled. “Chiseled from the femur of your own ancestor, Sarah Goode.”
My brows rose. “The Sarah Goode killed during the Witch Trials?”
“The very same,” Agatha said.
I lifted my hand to touch the pendant. The tip was remarkably sharp. The strange witchy sigils were etched deep into the bone. It reminded me of an ivory elephant tusk, carved with meticulous care. Creepy as it was, there was no denying it was beautifully crafted.
“Thank you,” I forced myself to say as my hand closed around it. “For this. And… for keeping me safe. I wish…” I thought of Eliza and my eyes began to tingle. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances. I wish… a lot of things.”
“Me too, dear,” Sally whispered.
“Can’t change the past. No use fretting over it,” Agatha added.