Page 27

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The music is so loud, it’s shaking the walls of the frat house as we walk out into muggy Louisiana air.

I wait for my ears to stop ringing before I check to make sure I have both my purse and my friends with me.

Rachel is already headed down the porch steps so I follow and then help Nneke get down without face-planting in her way-too-high heels.

As the designated driver, I’m wearing gym shoes with my dress tonight to make sure I don’t twist an ankle wrangling in my besties but we’re all clear headed tonight.

Nneke gives me a half-smile in thanks, her eyes still glued to the ground.

I guess “clearheaded” isn’t the word I should use for us.

Nneke’s ex-partner showed up with a new boo just ten minutes ago and was already scarfing her face down in front of everyone.

Which would be fine if things had ended amicably between them or at least if Nneke was the one to break things off; but considering they’re the one that ghosted Nneke and blamed her for every bad thing in the relationship, seeing them hooking up with someone else so soon is—icky.

So, vibe already ruined, we’re headed out for pizza and reruns in our pajamas instead.

The autumn wind whips around us as Rachel and Nneke start weaving through the mess of vehicles hand in hand.

I’m headed that way too when I realize my right shoe is untied.

Ugh!

I only remember that I need new shoe strings when I’m nowhere near a footwear store.

I fish my car keys out of my purse to unlock the car so the girls don’t have to stand waiting for me and then bend to tie the offending sneaker.

The only warning I get that my life is about to change is the crack of a branch before powder is thrown at my face and everything goes black.

When I come to, I find myself in a drafty cabin lying on a dirt floor.

I can feel rough rope around my wrists and ankles and my head is sore but otherwise I seem to be okay.

The cabin is dark, its sole source of light coming from the fire in the middle of the room heating a black cauldron.

The fire cracks and hisses as I give my eyes time to adjust.

There’s one, no, two bodies on the other side of the cauldron.

One in a long black dress and the other in pants and an apron.

I can tell that the one in pants is slicing something by the quick, sharp sound of their knife on a cutting board.

The other walks back and forth from where they’re standing to the cauldron, pouring handfuls of small bits in a little at a time.

Since they seem to be preoccupied at the moment, I try to unfurl the rope at my wrists without them noticing.

Even though my hands have been tied in front of me, I don’t want to look down and risk getting caught so I feel around for the end of the rope and work my way backwards to unravel the ties.

I fumble around and make slow progress as the two continue adding things to the pot.

“Where do you want to go this time?” the one in the skirt asks as she drops what looks like berries into the cauldron next.

“It’s too soon to go back to Marietta,” says the one who hasn’t moved from the far side of the cabin.

“You’re always thinking about that place, Deenie, where else would you want to go?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? And what does it matter right now? Just focus on the spell and take one thing at a time.”

The other one, Deenie’s, snippy voice comes out harsh and mean but I’m too focused on what she said to read too much into it.

A spell ?

I can feel the sweat already making its way down my forehead.

I want to gnash out at the rope binding me and make a run for it but it’s even more important now that my moves go unnoticed.

I don’t know what they have planned, I can’t fight my way out of this without calm, level-headed thinking.

“Oh so when a handsome man with money calls you Deenie, it’s no problem. But when your own flesh and blood calls you a cute nickname, it's vexing.”

“Henrietta! Man. With. Money. When you have a private jet, you can call me anything you want.” The woman turns to her sister for the first time, pointing her knife to accent her words. “But until then, you’re the only one who knows the name our mother gifted me so I would prefer that you use it when we’re alone.”

“Fine, Marlmadine .” Henrietta huffs and brings something back over to the cauldron. They continue moving in quick silence while I work on my rope. Every time I feel the tension ease a little bit, it sort of cancels out the itchiness of the rough texture. It releases finally, just as Henrietta and I make eye contact.

“She’s awake.”

Shit.

“I don’t understand,” Henrietta continues, “we always use the good stuff for sacrifices.”

Marlmadine shrugs, keeping her focus on whatever she’s doing at the counter. “No matter, she’ll still bleed like the rest of them.”

Bleed? Oh no. I don’t handle blood well. I just barely make it through my cycle each month and feel queasy every time I have to get my blood drawn. I can’t run if I’m passed out.

Since I don’t have to pretend anymore, I push myself up to a seated position. I don’t even wait until their backs are turned again to start untangling the rope at my feet.

“But Marlmadine, she’s trying to get away.” I freeze like a deer in headlights for a second before pulling any string I can get my hands on. I have one word going through my head like a grandma at bingo night: hurry .

“Well stab her then, I’m almost done with these oranges.”

You keep your rusty little blades to yourself. Those jiu jitsu classes my dad made me take before starting college are finally going to come in handy.

“But what if she fights back?” Henrietta pulls a small knife out of the right pocket of her dress and it is indeed rusty. She bends her knees, slowly walking toward me as if I’m a rabid animal caught in a snare. Finally free of knots, I pull the rope’s length from around my ankles and feet.

“Then cut her toe off, I don’t care, just get her blood and throw the knife in the cauldron, we don’t have much time.”

Henrietta looks at me warily but continues her approach. Out of the two, she’s not the one in charge and I wonder if I could pit them against each other.

“I wish I could tell you that it won’t hurt,” she says,” but it will.” I wait until the very last second before she’s in striking range to grab her hand holding the knife and push on the meat of her palm, under her thumb, to get her to release it. I twist us both on the ground to confuse her while I wrap one leg around her torso and grab her left bicep with my right hand. I’m like a cobra, keeping her back flush against my chest so she doesn’t have space to buck out. I reach back with my left hand and feel for the knife, grabbing the handle and holding it to Henrietta's neck.

Marlmadine finishes chopping at the counter across the room while Henrietta struggles to free herself from my grip. I almost think for a second that she can’t hear us squirming but then realize that she’s just a drama queen when she finally pours the last of her items in the cauldron slowly, gives a big huff, and rolls her neck before setting her board down.

“Really Henrietta?

” Marlmadine folds her arms and cocks her hip to the side.

“You can’t do one thing right today?”

Henrietta stops thrashing in my arms to answer her sister.

“What are you blaming me for, I told you I didn’t have a good feeling about this one.”

“You never have a good feeling about any of them. I swear your old age makes you weepy but as soon as you get a whiff of that sweet youth, you have no problem throwing the body in the river and carrying on with your life. For once, can we just skip to that part instead of you whining my ears off?”

My jaw mentally drops but on the outside I try to keep my face expressionless and tug her sibling impossibly closer to me.

“You want to kill me?”

“Well no, not technically,” Henrietta says from below my chin, “We want your youth, but the spell demands your life in return, not us. It’s just a price that has to be paid.”

Marlmadine growls, “Shut up Henrietta. And you,” she points to me, “Quit this nonsense and let her go. You don’t know what you’re into girl, and if I have to take that knife from you myself, you’ll wish you’d stayed asleep.”

There’s got to be a way out of this.

I can’t go out like this, and I haven’t studied for the last month not to dominate my chem exam.

Obviously they have magic on their side, but they also like to talk.

“How long have you hidden behind your magic, taunting and threatening people?” I look Marlmadine in the eye across the cauldron.

“I bet you couldn’t take this knife away with your bare hands if you tried.”

“I know what you’re doing, little girl,” she says, pointing her finger at me.

“Been there, done that, snapped a bone in half. We haven’t got all night, hand over the knife.” She comes around the pot to us in slow, heavy steps.

“ Am I doing something?” I smirk just to rile her up a bit more.

“Or are you using that as an excuse because you’re too afraid to be wrong? As it is, your sister is looking to you for help and you haven’t moved an inch to save her. Seems like you’re pretty powerless to me.”

When Marlmadine’s face drops into a sneer, I know I’ve got her going now.

“Listen you little bitch?—”

“Oh, I’m the bitch?”

“The only thing I’m afraid of,” she continues, “is getting a gray hair listening to your feeble attempt at survival.” She steps closer to us, just within reach now.

“But you are no match for me. I swear you young people always?—”

I swipe out with the knife, jabbing Marlmadine’s arm, and nicking Henrietta in the process.

My blood is pumping so hard in my ear that I don’t even register whatever Marlmadine’s snarled at me next.

My intuition is saying do whatever it takes to get the knife in the pot.

I twist Henrietta so that I can stand but someone grabs the back of my shirt.

I toss the knife before my feet get swept underneath me.

I hit the floor hard and then everything is still.

It takes me a minute to get the breath back in my lungs and I have to hold my head in my hands, eyes closed, and wait for the dizziness to stop.

But no one’s trying to come at me.

I don’t even hear them anymore.

I contemplate for a moment if this was all some weird nightmare but the flutters in my chest and pains in my body tell me it’s real.

I can hear the crackle and feel the heat of the fire burning under the cauldron.

My throat is closing and I take big, deep breaths to force it to relax.

Only then can I open my eyes and survey the scene around me.

Henrietta is laid out on the floor where I left her.

Marlmadine is stretched over her on her side, arm out and reaching for where my shirt was just a few minutes before.

Henrietta’s face is down but Marlmadine is venomously staring straight at me without blinking.

They look …

paralyzed?

It’s scary to think that this is what would have happened to me if I hadn’t moved fast enough.

If I hadn’t woken up at all.

A ringing picks up in my ears, and I feel like there’s no air left in the room.

They tried to kill me.

Would’ve done it with no guilt or shame, simply because I’m the one they picked tonight.

My feet start moving before I’ve told them to.

I back up until I hit the wall behind me and slouch against it.

I let it help ground me so I can think; I have to do something.

I’m no longer in immediate danger but I don’t know how long this immobile state is going to last.

It’s pitch dark outside and I have no idea where I am, I have to be smart about this.

I start pacing and try to concentrate on coming up with options.

The easy answer is to make a run for it and hope for the best.

I’m certain that if I reach some semblance of civilization, I can make it back home.

And I have to assume that if or when they’re unfrozen, they won’t be stupid enough to kidnap me a second time.

But, even if they don’t catch me, they’d just kidnap some other unfortunate girl less capable of protecting herself.

I can’t let that happen.

But I’m also not a killer; what do I do?

Oranges catch my eye as I pass the counter for the fifth time.

These were meant to complete the spell.

I certainly don’t want any youth from them, but perhaps I can change the spell?

Ask for something else?

I pick up the slices, juice running down my fingers.

I’m pretty sure I heard somewhere that witchcraft is all about intention.

You have to guide it with your mind or energy or something in order for it to fully work.

It’s at least worth a try.

Especially when I look over and see that Marlmadine’s eyes have shifted from hatred to fear.

She doesn’t want me to throw these orange slices in.

Perfect, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

I step forward and add them to the pot before I lose my nerve.

I think about safety, and warm arms wrapping around me.

I think about my toes curled in warm sand and the calmness that comes with it.

But mostly, I think of myself, alive, and not cowering from fear of the sisters across the room from me.

Nothing happens for a minute, the bubbles of the boiling water continuing to pop up and burst as Marlmadine and I stare each other down.

But then a light gray mist starts to creep out from the cauldron, turning darker as it curls across the floor in thick swaths.

Soon I’m cut off from view of the sisters, the mist so thick I can barely make out the shape of my shoes underneath it.

A cracking sound like thunder rings out and a gust of heat hits me, instinctively making me close my eyes.

And when I open them, another figure is standing in the room.

“Hello muffin, what are you doing here?”