She shifted in her seat as the members of the Church on the Hill gathered in the sanctuary. Sweat formed on her brow.
You can do this. She squirmed a bit. How the hell had her life gotten to this point? She still wasn’t sure what God would want from her. She had prayed, a lot, for hours.
She closed her eyes and pleaded with God again. Please, Lord, help me see the way…
She had to follow her gut, and her gut told her these people had crossed the line. It was one thing to be racist. It was another to plot injury or death. And she feared the members of her church were about to do just that. They’d gotten out of control.
The group meeting tonight included about two dozen people—those who had volunteered to be members of the committee whose sole purpose was to run the Masters out of town. Just knowing she was faking like she would ever be a part of something this covert made Mary cringe.
“Let’s take our seats, folks,” Pastor Edmund said. “We need to keep this meeting brief and get home before the weather gets any worse. The snow is really coming down out there.” He chuckled.
Mary swallowed her discomfort and tried to sit still. Her leg kept bobbing up and down.
“Word has it that the newcomer to our community, Laurie Hamilton, is a witch.”
Several people gasped.
Mary froze. What?
“Do you mean like Wiccan? Crescent moons and all that?” Brock asked.
Edmund shook his head. “No. I mean a witch. Satan’s minion. Perhaps she was sent here to test us. She has powers. She is responsible for the weird weather we’re having. Strange phenomena occur in her presence.”
Mary gasped. She couldn’t stop herself. And she wasn’t the only one.
Several ladies from the church stared at the pastor with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open.
Seriously? These people actually believed the woman was sent by Satan?
“Stranger things have happened. God has sent us a test. He is watching us to see how we respond. We cannot allow this woman to threaten our way of life. I’ve been in this town all of my seventy-two years. My parents were married here and are buried in the church cemetery.”
He slammed a hand down on the pulpit, and everyone flinched. “If Satan has sent us a test, we must accept the challenge with our eyes wide open. We must eradicate the horror of this woman from our lives.”
The man named Brock raised a tentative hand and then spoke. He looked to be about twenty-five, and Mary knew he worked at the ski resort. “Sir, I met Laurie last week at the lodge on the slopes. She didn’t seem supernatural to me.”
Pastor Edmund stared at Brock for a few moments and then chuckled sardonically. “Of course she didn’t. When God sends a wench to test our faith, he puts her in a very nice package. She’s meant to fool us.” His voice grew stronger and serious. “She’s not what she seems.”
Brock nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. In fact his brow was raised, widening his eyes as if perhaps he found Edmund’s words to be preposterous instead of reasonable.
At least someone in the room was less cracked than the others.
“What do you propose we do?” Ada asked her husband.
“We need to beat her at her own game. We need to send someone strong-willed to lure her into a different kind of web.”
Florence laughed, her cackle making the hairs on the back of Mary’s neck stand on end. “That floozy would probably fall for anything. We need to send a man and get her to fall for him. If she was sent by Satan, she undoubtedly thrives on fornication. Anyone will do.”
“That would explain why she keeps company with two men. She constantly needs to draw from their essence. Suck the life blood out of them.” Pastor Edmund thumped the Bible in front of him. “We must stop her.”
Brock jumped to his feet. “You think she’s a vampire?”
Edmund rolled his eyes. “No. That was just an expression. Of course she isn’t a vampire. She’s a whore, someone whose power increases each time she fornicates.”
Mary almost laughed. She found it comical Edmund would scoff at the idea Laurie was a vampire, and yet he believed her to be a witch sent by Satan to screw every man in town and turn them to evil.
Nothing about any face in the room was funny, however. These people all believed Pastor Edmund as if he spoke straight from the gospel. They were a strange group—seemingly brainwashed. And Mary had been under the same spell most of her life too, but she had shaken herself free of this intolerance the moment taking lives had entered the equation.
“I’ll do it,” Brock declared.
Do what? Mary wondered.
“What do you propose, son?” Edmund asked.
“I’ll talk to her. See what I can find out.”