Page 22 of Bargain with Fate
“It took a bit of convincing,” Margie said, “but they managed to persuade me that there was safety in numbers.”
Never mind numbers. Margie was surrounded by the most formidable group of women on an island other than Themyscira. She’d be fine.
“I guess we’re finished here,” Meemaw murmured.
“I wouldn’t mind tapping into the hive mind for one more thing.”
Catherine tossed her tote bag on the lounge chair to Meemaw’s right. “Are you two talking about the monsters?”
“They’re called demonic spirits,” Louise corrected her, claiming the chair next to Catherine. Louise Perry was best known on the island as “the eye-patch lady” who accessorized the patch to coordinate with her outfits. Nobody knew the real reason she wore it. The story changed as often as I changed my underwear—anything from an alligator bit off her eye to sheused it in a cauldron spell as a substitute for eye of newt. I’d even heard rumblings that there was nothing wrong with her eye at all, and that the patch was merely a bid for attention.
“Actually, they’re called oni,” Meemaw said.
“I suppose you’ve been fielding lots of frantic calls about them,” Joan said, lying back against a lounge chair with an e-cigarette dangling from between her lips. With chestnut brown hair styled like a 1940s pin-up model and bright red lips, the witch managed to be both glamorous and intimidating.
“This is the Neighborhood,” Meemaw said. “Maya gets frantic calls about the sunset being less orange than the day before.”
“I don’t blame people for being anxious. I’m doing everything I can to get to the bottom of it as quickly as possible. I even went to see the dueling seers.”
Margie snorted. “You must’ve been desperate if you were willing to subject yourself to those two.”
“Did they see anything helpful?” Catherine asked.
“Nothing obvious. I can tell you what they said and maybe one of you will have an idea.” I would, of course, omit the reference to shadows. “Valerie said seven was a key number.”
“Seven Wonders of the World,” Meemaw said. “Seven Dwarfs.”
I looked at her. “That’s your contribution?”
The crone shrugged. “What do you have against dwarfs?”
“Nothing, except I don’t think the seers had a vision of seven small men cleaning my cottage.”
“You’re misremembering.Snow Whitecleanstheircottage. One man is incapable of cleaning up after himself, let alone seven of them.”
“Seven Pounds,” Joan interjected from the lounger at the corner of the pool.
“That’s a movie,” I said.
“I know. I thought we were naming movies with the number seven in the title.”
Louise straightened in her chair. “Oh,Seven! The one with the head in a box. That’s one of my favorites.”
I clamped down on a sigh of exasperation before it escaped. “We’re not naming movies, ladies.”
“Well, I’m a number seven enneagram if that’s useful,” Catherine said.
Meemaw gave her a look of pure disdain. “It isn’t.”
“Just because you don’t believe in enneagrams doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t indulge,” Catherine said, although her voice wavered slightly as Meemaw’s expression grew increasingly harder.
“Enneagrams are the personality equivalent of essential oils,” Meemaw snapped. “Anyway, the Silly Sisters had a vision involving the number seven. That’s what we’re discussing.”
“Vanessa and Valerie,” I corrected her. “There’s no need for name-calling.”
“I don’t know why you’d bother going to them for information when you have a coven of witches at your disposal.” Margie was clearly miffed by my admission.
“Technically, what they do isn’t considered magic, therefore, no rules were broken,” I explained.
