“She sureishandling this well,” Sister Elenor agreed brightly, pushing over the plate. She sounded so proud of me, which did make me feel a little better. Maybe I didn’t look as terrified on the outside as I felt on the inside.
The cookie was as big as my head. And it was peanut butter—my favorite.
I broke off a piece and popped it into my mouth, savoring the delicious flavor in order to focus on something positive and good in my present situation. Tender, yet chewy, it reminded me of Gram’s cookies—God rest her soul—only better because the Sisters used creamy peanut butter, notcrunchy. Ever since I heard there was a government standard for an acceptable amount of rodent parts in peanut butter, I imagined the crunch being bones. Which was why I preferred creamy.
Nibbling on another bite, I looked around the coffee shop. Every inch of wall space in Unholy Grounds was covered in local artwork, gothic crosses, handwritten wooden signs with funny slogans, and posters advertising various community events. Once a month at the community center, there was a meetup for board game enthusiasts. A local yarn shop hosted a drop-in knitting circle, while a book club calledBooks and Bikescongregated here every Tuesday night. Then there wasSinister Scooters, which looked like a motorcycle gang of retirees, except they rode...motorized scooters? And then there was an upcoming festival called Monsterval that the EMT had mentioned.
It all seemed so perfectly normal, if not a little quirky. No wonder I hadn’t picked up on anything being amiss until I got to the hospital and really started paying attention.
Several people stood in line to place their orders, including a middle-aged woman wearing a bikini coverup who was casually resting her hand on the head of—gulp—a huge leopard at her side. It was gorgeous with a shiny golden coat and black spots. No one was paying them any more attention than if they were a human couple.
Behind the counter was a purple-bearded elf barista with gauges in his pointy ears, a friendly Australian accent, and a smile that made you feel as if you were the reason he was so happy. Everything around me was charmingly mundane…if you ignored the eccentric, supernatural stuff.
I took a few more bites and sips and gained a little clarity.
It didn’t actuallyfeelas if I were in mortal danger. With this realization, the tension between my shoulder blades eased a little.
I had a lot of questions for the Sisters, of course, but I wasn’t sure exactly where to start.
“So, you’re witches?” I narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t that, like, a conflict of interest considering you’re nuns?”
They laughed.Giggled, actually.
“I’d always known there was something different about me,” Sister Mary-Francis said, leaning back in her chair. “As a child, I could levitate small objects, turn lights off and on, do simple enchantments. That sort of thing. But it wasn’t until I joined the convent as a young woman that my spell-casting powers really developed.”
“Girl power,” Sister Elenor declared, making a fist and giving it a little pump. “You know, like when women live together, they often have their periods at the same time.”
Sister Mary-Francis gave an exasperated groan. “Do you mind?”
“Go on,” Sister Elenor prodded. “Tell her the whole story.”
“I was just about to until you interrupted me.”
“No one’s stopping you,” Sister Elenor retorted.
The two nuns continued to bicker back and forth like an old married couple until finally Sister Mary-Francis turned to me again and vigorously cleared the frog in her throat. “As I was saying, I was kicked out of the sisterhood when I set a priest’s robe on fire.”
My eyes widened. “Are youserious?” I hoped she wasn’t easily angered. I’d hate to be on her bad side.
“There had been rumors circulating about this priest for months, but nothing concrete. That is, until I caught him peeping into the women’s restroom through a hole in the janitor’s closet. What was I supposed to do?” One corner of her mouth twitched conspiratorially. “Ignore him?”
“He didn’t die or anything,” Sister Elenor quickly clarified. “Just scared the bejeezus out of him.”
Sister Mary-Francis smiled ruefully. “When MotherSuperior learned what I’d done, that was the end of that. She kicked me out and told me not to come back. Because I was adopted as an infant, I didn’t know much about my blood relatives. So, I did some genealogical research, got one of those DNA tests. Low-and-behold, I discovered I’m descended from witches.”
That must’ve beensomediscovery, I thought wryly.
“What happened to the priest?” I asked, almost not wanting to know the answer. I was a lapsed Catholic, so I knew the church’s history of turning a blind eye to priests behaving badly.
“He got the boot,” Sister Mary-Francis said. “Last we heard, he was working at his brother-in-law’s car wash franchise.”
Although I had nothing against people who worked at car washes, this fall from grace seemed fitting.
I turned to Sister Elenor. “Did something similar happen to you?”
“Goodness, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m human, just like you. Mary-Francis and I were best friends at the convent, so I was quite upset about what had happened to her. Frankly, she’s a hero in my book, if you ask me. After Mary-Francis moved to Darkaway, which she’d heard about through her fox-shifter genealogy friend—what was his name again...?”
“Maurice,” Sister Mary-Francis replied.
