Spooky Well-wishes

Hannah Moore

The door squeaks open as the final accomplice arrives before we set our sights on the aging cemetery. Two of us nod, I stand straight, and swallow my pride.

"Avegail, how lovely it is that you could join us tonight." I stammer.

"Gertrude, we do this every year, you don't have to address me like that." Avegail calmly replies. I shake my head, thoughts racing and bouncing around within the confines of my skull. Satchels are stuffed with books, wires covered with herbs are removed from the walls. Silently, we glide towards the cemetery, keeping away from the prying eyes of others. Once our arrival is certain, the iron gates creaks to allow entry. Avegail leads the charge towards the empty lot. Like sheep, the rest of us creep behind her, not wanting to disrupt the strained silence.

As the trees of the empty lot welcome us, we obtain comfort in preparation for the annual ceremony. The outermost robes are removed, satchels are emptied and adjusted, and stumps are dusted off for seating. Every year, on Samhain night, the coven known as "The Black-Feathered Angels", my coven, gather to honor our ancestry. Other citizens of Timpton city rumor that we curse our enemies and dine on the limbs of deceased youth. Most sayings surrounding our deeds are shams, with little evidence in support of the claims.

"Sisters," chimes Avegail. "Are you ready to begin?" Six weary voices chirp responses of varying degrees of readiness. Passing over every member's face, I notice slight differences in the faces. My stomach tightens, warning me of a traitor not yet revealed. I hold my tongue, knowing that irritation arises from false accusations. Avegail finishes her task before facing the middle of the circle.

"Darling sisters," Avegail muses. "My intuition is telling me there is a traitor in our midst." I wasn't the only one that felt their presence then.

"Sister Avegail, who do you think it may be?" questioned Sarah.

"Not I, sister Avegail!" shouted Leslie, defending herself from a statement not yet spoken. Utter madness ensues, and once allies rush to each other's throats.

"Enough!" screeches Avegail. "No one has accused another of betrayal. If you could calm down, we can figure everything out." Seats are filled, the air has thickened with strict tension. Avegail glances over every face, as I did, before settling in her stump.

"Avegail," I whimper, "What process do you suspect should be taken?"

"What do you suggest?" Avegail ponders.

With certainty, I respond, "I suggest due process. No one is guilty until proven so." Avegail nods, taking consideration of every word. She grasps her book of shadows, flipping through the pages until arriving at the page of choice.

"Sister Avegail," Sarah starts. "What are you searching for?"

"An answer," responds Avegail. "There may be a spell that can help find who we're looking for." Glances are exchanged, suspicions arising as the moments tick by. After a few moments of reading, Avegail looks back from her book of shadows.

Slamming the book shut, Avegail shouts, "Which one of you is the imposter?" With startled eyes, mouths lay agape in response as words are formed with haste.

Sarah stands, "Avegail, I'm the traitor." A burst of light swallows Sarah, and in her place stands a devious faerie. A shriek of laughter erupts from the faerie as they scurry off to join the rest of the group before their hunt. The rest of the coven and I scramble towards my home, terrified of the rest of the fae hunting us down.

With four more faeries hot on my heels, I shove the rest of the coven inside before slamming the door shut behind me. We regain our breath, and struggle to figure out what to say.

"Gertrude, did you get hurt?" asks Leslie.

"I'm alright," I stammer. "Just a little shaken up." We gather our chairs, not knowing what to do next. I remove my book of shadows from my satchel, wanting to figure out why Avegail didn't just use the honesty spell we learned in England. Flipping through the pages, pausing to read notes and other details, I eventually reach the page on the fae. I read the personal notes, those which state that every other year we've been infiltrated by a faerie.

"Could we have been hexed by another coven?" I ponder aloud.

"What do you mean, Gertrude?" ask Avegail.

"Every other year, we're infiltrated by a faerie." I answer. "Do you think we could have been hexed by another group? Or that they let the fae know about our group?" Heads fall, papers are flipped, and Avegail nods once more.

"It's possible," she concludes. "What other group is there though?"

"There is one group," chimes Javery. "The Blue Jay."

"The Blue Jay?" questions Leslie.

"Yes, 'The Blue Jay'," responds Javery. "They are situated over in Charlen Bay."

"Why would they want to hurt us?" Avegail asks.

"Apparently, my twin sister got jealous of this coven, went to Charlen Bay, and started her own," answers Javery. I furrow my brows, as do many others within the group.

"You have a twin sister?" asks Leslie.

"The better question is," chimes Avegail, "why would she want to hurt you, Javery?"

"She's always been the jealous type," answers Javery. "Never been one to want to share things, or people for that matter."

"That is no reason for betraying one's own sister," Avegail firmly states.

"What can I do about it?" Javery asks.

"Why don't we return the favor, so that karma doesn't have too?" Leslie suggests.

"Leslie, that is a very brilliant idea," I encourage.

"Now sisters, we don't want to be doing someone else's job, now would we?" Javery asks. Everyone else shakes their heads, wanting revenge for the havoc caused by Javery's twin sister. All journals and books in relation to hexes are ripped off the shelves, and decisions rapidly start taking effect. Eventually, we decide to alert the fae in their are that they have mentioned wanting to work with the fae, and see if anything results from it.