Frankie #2
To frighten children. To the average human, death represents an ending. But to followers of Hecate, death is something else
entirely. To witches, death is a new beginning—a first step in a journey to another dimension.”
The girls kneeling in front of Haley cheer. I can’t see them too well because of how steeply the gully slopes away from where
I’m hiding, but from the sound of their applause, I can tell they like this speech. They like Haley. They must like her, or they wouldn’t be here, looking anemic and far too thin, but still on their knees reverently before her.
Even from where I’m crouching, I can see that all their skin that isn’t enveloped by the white robes is caked in dirt, and
covered in cuts and scrapes and rashes. Their hair, unlike Haley’s, does not gleam in the torchlight. Neither do their eyes.
They look malnourished . . . or exhausted. Possibly both.
Only Haley looks animated. She’s loving the attention. Like most cult leaders, she has charisma. She’s attractive. She’s well-rested
and well-fed.
And she’s very, very firm about her convictions.
This makes it impossible to look away from her, even for me, and all I can see is the back of her shining head. It makes it
even harder to disbelieve what she’s saying, because she seems to believe in it so much.
“Every fall, nature goes to sleep,” she’s telling the girls, “only to reawaken a few months later, revitalized and renewed. Death is nothing to fear, because it’s as natural as the changing of the seasons.
And so shall Hecate return, renewed and invigorated, after we’ve sacrificed this animal and returned his blood to the earth, which he and his kind have spent centuries pillaging. ”
On the words this animal, Haley turns to point to Ash, still motionless on the altar. That’s when I see that, in addition to tying his wrists and
ankles, they’ve gagged him, too.
I feel a spurt of fear so intense, I almost slip and slide down the side of the gully. I have to grab at the branches of a
nearby bush to steady myself. I have no idea what kind of bush it is, but spiky thorns pierce my palm.
Still, I hold on. I can’t let them see me, although my heart is hammering so loudly, I’m almost sure they can hear it.
But it appears as if I’m safe for the moment, since Haley goes on, “Gaia used this bone to open up a gate from this world
to the next.”
She lifts something small from a fold in her robe that I’m too far away to see properly. All the girls stare up at it solemnly.
“She used it at a time when human beings respected not only witches and magic but nature. They weren’t disconnected from their
food sources the way grocery stores and commercial farming have disconnected us. Our ancestors used every part of the animals
they killed.” Haley turns back toward Ash, and for a second I’m looking down into her face, but she doesn’t see me hovering
above her. Her gaze is fastened on Ash. “And I intend to do the same with this animal.”
On the words this animal, Haley reaches up to the altar to poke Ash, hard, in the ribs—the only place she can really reach without climbing up onto the rock formation with him, which I can tell she isn’t ready to do yet. That’s for the show’s finale.
There’s one good thing about her cruelty, however. When she pokes Ash, I see him recoil in pain. That’s the only way I know
for sure he isn’t already dead.
Relief mingles with the fear I’m feeling. I’ve made compassion and mediation my life’s work. I try hard to help ease people’s
pain while hopefully causing none. I would never knowingly hurt anyone.
But I’m going to kill this fucking bitch.
“Gaia used bones like this one to perform her magic because it still contains part of the mystical energy of the animal it
came from,” Haley goes on, as dramatically as a priest giving a Sunday sermon. “And it’s that energy—Gaia’s energy—that we’ll
capture from this animal tonight.” She pokes Ash again, but this time I don’t see his response.
That’s because I’m staring at what Haley has just pulled from another fold in her robes. This isn’t some old bone. It’s a
phone. She’s enabled the camera and is pointing it at Ash.
That little shit. She’s livestreaming. She’s livestreaming her human sacrifice.
“Unless,” she goes on, still filming, “this man’s family is willing to pay restitution for what they’ve done to this earth.
Let’s hope for his sake they are—but for our own sake, let’s pray that his blood will flow red and strong.”
Now Haley appears to be texting, her fingers moving swiftly over her phone screen. She’s sending her video of an unconscious,
bound Ash to someone. Then, just as swiftly, she puts the phone away and pulls something else out in its place.
My heart gives a lurch. It’s a knife. The long slender blade, shining in the firelight, looks dangerously sharp . . . sharp enough to kill.
Suddenly, I feel sick, and it’s not from all the possible psychedelics in the air. It’s fear.
“And with that blood we’ll anoint a new mother goddess,” Haley declares. “One who will lead us to an enlightened age unlike
any we’ve ever experienced before. One who will ensure that the earth is safe and all men tremble before her. One who truly
cares about her people. One who is . . . well, me.”
And that’s when I know I can’t hide in the bushes anymore. I’d been hoping I’d hear sirens by now, or at least a powerboat
or two. Surely Troy and Jackie must be on their way.
But evidently not.
It’s looking like it’s up to me, and me alone, to save Ash Merit.