Waking the Witch (Otherworld 11)

"Is there anything about the group that does worry you?" I asked.

She chewed her lip enough to flake the skin, then said, "Kind of. It's Megan. She--" She took a deep breath. "Look, I don't like Megan, okay? No one does. She's a bitch. The only reason she's still around is because she runs the business. And because Alastair ... well, he's kind of attached to her, you know. But I don't like her and I'd be happy to see her tossed out on her skinny ass. I'm telling you that now, because if you find out later that I don't like her, it'll sound like I was making this up."

"Okay."

She didn't go on right away. Drank half her coffee first, and I struggled not to fidget. Sitting for so long reminded me that I'd been up all night, and I found myself swallowing a yawn with every third breath until she finally blurted it out.

"Megan's a voodoo priestess."

I tried to look shocked. Probably did a decent job of it too, because while I knew someone up there was practicing Santeria, Megan was at the bottom of my list. If there's a type of person who picks up a religion like that, Megan definitely didn't fit it. Alastair did, though--he might seem distinguished, but he was nothing more than an old hippie, the kind of person who'd be attracted to a mystical religion.

"Voodoo?"

"Kind of. Claire said it wasn't voodoo but something else."

"Santeria?"

"That's it."

"So Claire knew."

"Yeah, but ... It was weird. She wasn't too fussed about it. She said she'd talked to a friend, who explained that it was just a kind of religion. It freaks me out, though."

"Do all the girls know about it?"

Vee shook her head. "I just told Claire because she

was my roommate, and she seemed smart, so I wanted to hear what she thought. I'm the only one who knows. Except Alastair. He ... he helps Megan sometimes. With the rituals and stuff. They do them in a room behind the shed, late at night, when everyone's sleeping. I saw them once. I think that's why Alastair likes Megan so much. She's cast a spell on him."

I struggled to keep a straight face and nodded. Why are humans so enamored with the myth of love spells? Even at my most desperate, I wouldn't have been tempted by a spell to make Adam fall in love with me. My ego is way too healthy for that.

I asked Vee what she'd seen. There was nothing, though, to suggest Megan and Alastair were more than typical adherents doing typical protection rituals, like the one in the shed.

"They do sacrifices," she said, when I didn't seem impressed enough. "That's what Claire told me."

"Animal sacrifices."

"So she said."

"You think Megan had something to do with the murders?"

She shifted in her seat.

"Did you hear anything that might suggest a ritualistic link?"

"No, but ..."

I waited. Nothing.

"But ..." I prompted.

"Alastair was gone the night those town girls died." She blurted it as fast as she'd told me about the Santeria. "I got up for a glass of milk. I don't sleep too well. When I was in the kitchen, I heard the door open. It was Alastair. He looked ... sick. He looked sick."

"Was Megan with him?"

"No, but do you really think she'd take care of the bodies? She had him do it. She killed those girls in a voodoo ritual, then she made him take the bodies into town. It wasn't his fault. He had to protect her."

There were a lot of holes in this theory. Still, it bore investigating.