Page 53 of The Tenth Muse

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, whereelsewould 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. Aspell? 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 usboth 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.”

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