The Black Hat Society

Hagatha rapped a wooden ladle against the frothing cauldron on the table in front of her. The sound swallowed the little basement of St. Prunella's Basilica, like the knell of an iron funeral bell. The brims of half a dozen black hats lifted in response.

"I call this monthly meeting of the Black Hat society to order. All rise for the pledge."

Chairs screeched on the polished wooden floor as the witches rose and joined their hands in a circle. Their voices rang out in a discombobulation of notes and tunes, but each witch brought her all to the song.

"With black hats upon our heads, and black cats at our side.

As the Moon grows full and bright, across the clouds we ride!

Some spells bad and some spells good, but all spells serve our will.

That no sister may we chide."

"Alright everyone, have a seat. Sister Grizelda will come around with the punch. Since this is the most auspicious month of October, I thought I'd make a special Blood-Pumpkin brew."

Minnie, a young witch, raised a well-manicured hand. "Don't you mean, blood orange?"

"You must be new here." Hagatha sighed, gathering her patience. "If I meant blood orange, that's what I would have said."

Grizelda leaned in to whisper as she passed Minnie a wooden cup. "Oranges won't be in season for another seven months. But don't worry, you'll like this."

Minnie examined the contents; a viscus, red liquid with an orange shimmer. It smelled sweet and full of iron. She sipped, and was mildly startled to find that it was still warm. She glanced around the room to find that none of the other sisters were having any trouble smothering their cups. She took a big gulp, and found that after the initial shock had worn off, the drink was very fortifying.

Hagatha settled in with her own cup of punch and sipped before continuing to address the group.  “Now, most of you are familiar with our New Year’s Rite and bake sale.  But since I see we have some new faces, I’ll lay out the itinerary.  From October 28th to the 90th, we have ourselves a bake sale to raise money for St. Prunella’s Children’s Hospital.   Last year, we raised over $2,000.  I suspect at least half of that was from Sister Cursula’s sea salt and caramel oaties.”

There was a smattering of applause, bringing a blush to  Cursula’s wrinkled, slightly bluish face.  She was always a rather modest witch, but she took great pride in her baking. It usually left anyone who ate it, rather speechless.

“Yes, well done.” Hagatha continued. “After the bake sale, on the 31st, we open up the basilica for trick or treaters. They come through, get their candy, and go home.  As they do, Vice president Grizelda, Secretary Revola and myself will carefully select one child for the ritual to take place that night.   They’ll be given one of these.”

From the table next to her, she lifted a piece of chocolate shaped like a crow, wrapped in gold foil. Minnie was sure she’d never seen anything like it before.  A quick glance around the room told her she was in the minority.  The other witches grinned and some even rubbed their hands together in anticipation.   The young witch was fairly certain she knew where this was all headed, and she was on the fence as to whether she wanted to be a part of it.

“The child we’re looking for will have great youth and vitality.” Hagatha continued. 

“And a little meat on the bones wouldn’t hurt either.” Grizelda jokes.  A titter rose from the crowd, including from Hagatha.

“This little bonbon is laced with quite a powerful homing spell that will draw the child back to us after he or she has surrendered to sleep.. Once we have them, the ritual can begin.  This is a mandatory event, of course.  I expect all sisters to be in attendance.”

Minnie raised her hand once more.  “But what if...What if you’re a vegetarian?”

Half the room laughed at her, and the other half just looked impatient. Hagatha smiled with a mix of amusement and pity.  “Is it the meat you have a problem with consuming? Or the spirit?  This order utilizes every piece of its sacrifice each year.  We all draw power from the sacrifice, and we all share in the burden of the secret. I’m afraid if you’re unwilling to participate, then you’re ineligible to share in our gifts.”

Minnie slumped in her chair and rested her head in her hand.   The idea of eating any sort of meat, let alone a child, positively revolted her.  But she’d worked for months to get into this order.  She couldn’t throw it away for something that only happened once a year.  And that part about raising money for the hospital made her feel a little better.  Even if it was equitable to giving money to save baby cows, and then having a hamburger. 

“Alright.” Hagatha clapped her hands once. “On to old business and new business.  Revola, will you read the minutes from the last meeting?”

…

Things wrapped up, and all the witches began to depart.  Some flew off on brooms, while others carpooled.   Minnie shuffled her pointy shoes down the street, kicking an empty soda can into an alley. The autumn air was crisp, and creeping close to freezing. Her neck shrank into her collar, but it did little to shield her face. Her pointed black hat kept threatening to blow away, so she finally  gave up and carried it home.

Minnie kicked her shoes off at the door, and peeled off her long, green and black striped socks.  She looked up, and was greeted by Alfred’s big, yellow eyes, staring at her from where he was perched on the banister.

“Aw, hey Alfred. Did you come to see me?”  

The impressively large Great Horned Owl shivered his wings in reply. He turned his head to survey the room, and settled back on her.

“I bet you don’t have any problem with eating meat.” She sighed, hanging her hat on a hook. “I dunno… Is it just me?”

The owl let out a small trill, and flapped his massive wings. He made a pass of the lower landing, and flew into the darkened abyss of the upper floor.

Minnie sighed and followed him up.  “They’re going to do it whether I participate or not.” She mused as she climbed the stairs.  “So what do I have to gain by abstaining?  I can either stick to my guns and miss out, or…”

Her mother’s advice came back to her as she dressed for bed.  “If someone wants you to do something you don't want to do, then they’re not really your friend.”   Sure, that’s easy to say to kids to keep them off drugs and whatever, but what about  shared power? Couldn’t this opportunity bring her untold success in her career? Her empty love life?  And all it would take is a bite or two of meat.  

She thought of that child’s family, and how they would worry over his disappearance, and maybe never stop looking.  It was awful to think about.  Maybe she could donate to their relief effort if she started getting paid more at work.  Rolling herself up like a burrito, she looked at the clock.  1:47AM.  She closed her eyes and snuggled in for a few hours rest.  She had a big batch of cupcakes to bake before work.