“Good morning, Gwendolyn.”
I whipped around, hot coffee sloshing over my fingers, cinnamon jar tumbling down the front steps and rolling to a stop in the garden beds. My heart was thumping double-speed.
“Mrs. Proctor,” I greeted stiffly.
She stood by the wrought-iron fence that separated our front yards, dressed in her typical gardening get-up — worn canvas apron, dirt-streaked gloves, pruning shears. She looked every bit the harmless grandmother, her hair smoothed back in a sleek chignon, her clear blue eyes untroubled behind her round spectacles. Not at all like the cloaked coven member who’d left me in a dank basement two nights ago.
Hellfire.
I’d wanted to talk to her, but not like this. Not unprepared. Definitely not alone.
“I see Colette did teach you some of our ways,” Eliza noted, staring at the sprinkled cinnamon by my feet.
“She also taught me that when someone shows you who they are…” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Believe them the first time.”
“You’re angry with me.”
“That surprises you?” I descended down onto the bottom step, never taking my eyes off her. My spine was ramrod with tension. I was ready to react at a moment’s notice if someone sprung out of the hedges and tried to grab me. “You kidnapped me! Who’s to say you aren’t about to try it again?”
“I admit, we acted rather rashly the other night. I apologize for my part in it.” She shook her head and sighed. “Truth be told, it wasn’t my plan to begin with. But Sally and Agatha can be… over-excitable.”
“Look, lady, the only reason I didn’t call the police was out of respect for my aunt. That courtesy will expire if you, or any other members of your coven, come after me again.”
“You don’t need to threaten me, Gwendolyn.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a fact.”
“We have much to discuss.” Her eyes drifted over my shoulder at the sound of a door swinging open. Two lively male voices spilled out into the morning. Dan and Rich, my other neighbors, who’d recently renovated the townhouse to the left of my colonial, must be headed to brunch.
“Our methods weren’t perfect, but our intentions were good,” Eliza continued, lowering her voice so it didn’t carry beyond my yard. “Surely, you must see that.”
“You think I’m in danger.”
“Youarein danger!” Her voice rose, despite her efforts to remain calm. “We are all in danger! The fact that you are too ignorant to see, even now, how much risk your existence poses is precisely why we took such drastic measures!”
“And if you had bothered totalkto me about it, before taking those measures,” I countered, my own volume climbing. “You might see that I can be a pretty open-minded person! But I tend to lose some of my open-mindedness when I’m tied to a freaking ch—”
“Morning, ladies!” A male voice called. “Everything okay, here?”
Swallowing down the rest of my words, I turned toward the street. Dan and Rich were standing by my front gate, staring from me to Eliza and back again. They both looked uneasy, not at all like their usual jovial selves. I realized immediately how this scene probably looked to them — like I was out here badgering an old lady, or something.
Goddess, if they only knew the truth…
“All good, gentlemen,” I said, trying to smooth over the tension. “You headed to brunch?”
Rich nodded, but his eyes remained on Eliza. “How about you, Mrs. Proctor? Are you all right?”
She fluttered a frail hand toward her chest. In an instant, her voice was all sugar, no steel. “Oh, yes, Richard. Just a small tiff about the garden beds with Miss Goode. I’m sure I’ll be quite all right in a moment.” She blinked at him, guileless, and smiled her best innocent-granny smile. “It’s just… my blood pressure goes up when I get upset…”
Oh, she was good.
Dan was flat out glaring at me, now. “Gwendolyn, I think it’s best you go inside.”
“But—”
“Let us make you a cup of tea, Mrs. Proctor,” Rich was saying, turning his back on me. Dan followed suit. “Our reservation isn’t until nine-thirty. We have plenty of time.”
“That’s not necessary, boys.”