Page 116 of Cackle

“Lynn saw her out dancing in the yard.” Alex. “Late at night. Singing to herself. Ya can’t deny that’s a little strange.”

“Harmless,” Rose says. “It’s harmless.”

“Until it isn’t,” Oskar says.

The horror of it blooms in me. It’s an endless unfurling of embarrassment.

They’re all talking about me. Why are they all hanging out late at night talking about me? Gossiping about me? About . . .

A bead of sweat descends from my hairline down to my temple.

“Oskar, I appreciate you keeping us in the loop and raising your concerns. I understand why you have them, given your history, but Annie isn’t dangerous. She’s a sweetheart.”

“She is a very sweet girl.” Deirdre, I think.

Are the two really mutually exclusive? Sweet or dangerous?

“Doesn’t matter,” Oskar says. “She won’t be sweet when Sophie’s done with her. Don’t you see what’s happening here? She’s being manipulated.”

“Annie moved here without knowing anyone. She doesn’t have people. I don’t think her friendship with Sophie is as destructive as you’re implying,” Rose says. “It might even be a good thing. Don’t forget, a lot of what we have, we have because of Sophie. There are benefits.”

Oskar starts to laugh. It’s an icy, annihilating laugh.

“What?” Rose asks. “Our crops, our property, our health. Our entire way of life here in Rowan is possible because of Sophie. Deirdre?”

“Mm, yes,” Deirdre says. “We do have something special here. It’s not like this everywhere.”

There’s a branch poking me somewhere very inconvenient, but I’m too afraid to move, to make any sound.

“I’m tired of living like this. Under her thumb,” Oskar says. “It’s on us. We let it happen, and we’re letting it happen again. We have a moral obligation to do something. If not for our sakes, for Annie’s.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Rose says. “To interfere.”

“I hear what you’re saying, Oskar. I do,” Alex says. “But ya know, I have to agree with Rose. I don’t think there’s anything we can really do here. We’ve all heard the stories.”

“They’re not just stories,” Oskar says. “It’s history. Our ancestors. Many of whom died under mysterious circumstances after making enemies with Sophie. Anyone who moves against her suffers or ends up dead. That’s not a coincidence. Come on, Rose. How can you defend her? She curses people. Makes tonics out of their bones!”

My heart plummets. I’m nauseous.

“We don’t know that for certain. And even if those things did happen, they happened a long, long time ago,” she says. “You know as well as I do, Oskar, there is no Rowan without Sophie.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” he says. “You’re all terrified of her. Just admit it. Alex?”

“She is an . . . imposing figure. She can be a bit intimidating. But I don’t dislike her,” Alex says.

“Yes. I don’t dislike her,” Deirdre echoes.

“Tom?” Oskar asks. “Back me up here.”

“I’ve learned to live with the old bitch,” Tom says. “But there can’t be two.”

This unleashes something ugly from the depths of me. I experience a sudden and lawless swell of anger. It ignites like a match meeting a pool of gasoline.

The window shatters above me, sending shards of glass hurtling in every direction. There’s a symphony of clinking, followed by profound silence.

For a moment, I’m too shaken to do anything. A tear sizzles on my hot cheek.

“Hello?” Rose says.