At some point, as I processed this alarming development, the witchy trio had ceased their discussion and turned to look at me. I belatedly squeezed my eyes shut and feigned unconsciousness, but it was no use. I wasn’t a good actress in the best of times and these, admittedly, were not those.
“She’s awake.”
“Yes, Agatha, we can see that.”
“Don’t say my name, you dingbat!”
“I’m sorry!”
“Don’t be sorry, be smart!”
“Give me a break! I’m not a criminal mastermind.”
“And yet, you manage to cheat at canasta every time we play.”
“That’s a blatant lie! I don’t need to cheat to beat you.”
“You couldn’t beat me if I was a bowl of egg whites!”
“Your new nickname will be meringue after Sunday’s meeting. Just you wait!”
“Bring it on!”
“Oh, I’ll bring it.” There was a contemplative pause. “I’ll also bring my cheesecake.”
“With the raspberry preserve?”
“Yes. Are you making those lemon scones again?”
Truth be told, I was struggling to keep up the unconscious charade. Whatever I’d expected (i.e.: torture, interrogation, threats, intimidation) it wasnota conversation about card games and baked confections. Perhaps my captors realized they’d strayed from their intended course, because — with a rustle of fabric and a low huff of air, as though someone had caught a swift elbow to the midsection — they fell markedly silent.
I took a deep inhale, trying not to fidget as the seconds ticked on. And on. Andon. Finally, when I thought I’d go mad from the strain, one of the voices broke the crushing silence.
“We know you’re not asleep anymore, Gwendolyn,” she murmured. “You might as well open your eyes.”
Hellfire.
With a sigh, I peeled open my heavy lids and glared at the cloaked figures. They’d moved a bit nearer, now standing only a handful of feet away, but I still could not make out their features. In unison, they began to close the remaining distance between us.
“Wait!” I yelled, startling them to a sudden halt. I swallowed hard and lowered my tone to a reasonable volume, desperately trying to keep my voice steady. “If you kill me, you’ll never get away with it! Livestock is one thing. I’m aperson! People will notice I go missing.” I gulped in a breath of air. “In fact, I’m sure they’ve already noticed. A friend was waiting for me when you grabbed me in that alley. She’ll call the police if I don’t show up.”
At least, I hoped she would. Flo had a tendency to get lost in the music as soon as the band went on. It might be well into the first set before she realized I’d never made an appearance.
The cloaked figures looked at each other.
“Killyou?” one asked, sounding bewildered. “Why on earth would we kill you, Gwendolyn?”
“Why did you kill all those innocent animals?” I retorted immediately, heart thudding hard against my ribcage. “Why did you leave that donkey butchered in my alley?”
The trio traded another glance.
“Itwasyou guys, wasn’t it?” I asked. “Don’t tell me there’s more than one crazed coven of witches running amok in this town.”
“We do not associate with the Heretics,” the central cloak decreed, her voice conveying a deep sense of disgust at the mere implication. “We cast them out. Banished them, many years ago. But they have returned.”
I blinked. “Heretics?”
“Yes. A dark sect of witches, who once shared this territory with our coven. It is they who conduct blood sacrifices. It is they who pervert the teachings of the sacred goddess with their twisted practitioning. Not us.”