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“Let’s see what she knows,” I suggested.
“Mira,” Nadine stated firmly. “The priestesses would like to have a word.”
“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” she told her friends. She waved them off, leaving us alone in the hall.
Mira approached us, looking Nadine up and down. “Why would they send you?”
“Because I’m a priestess,” Nadine said coolly. “Tell me why you lied.”
She scoffed. “I don’t lie.”
“So the priestesses lied to me when they told me you talked to the judge?” Nadine was manipulating Mira, and she was pretty damn convincing at it.
Mira frowned. “I did talk to the judge.”
“And you told her Monica Torres hypnotized you?” Nadine pressed.
Mira crossed her arms but didn’t answer.
“You realize an innocent woman is going to die because of your testimony,” I growled.
Mira scowled. “Who are you to question me? I’ll tell the priestesses you guys are harassing me. I don’t believe they actually sent you.”
“Go ahead and ask them,” Nadine bluffed. “But be quick about it. They don’t like people who waste their time.”
Mira hesitated. She obviously didn’t want to upset the priestesses. She narrowed her eyes at Nadine and spat, “Just stay away from me.”
My hands curled into fists as she turned on her heel and walked away. “Mira’s so desperate to get on the priestesses’ good side. She doesn’t care that she killed an innocent woman.”
Nadine shook her head, like she refused to believe this was happening. Slowly, determination entered her features. “We’re not going to take this lying down. The priestesses haven’t won yet.”
Monica was pronounced dead at 6:28 p.m. that night. She had been poisoned by the priestesses, and by the following morning, the entire coven believed she was responsible for The Hearse Tragedy.
The setting sun peeked through the clouds on Sunday evening, as if sending rays of hope down on an otherwise melancholy day. An anonymous donor had arranged the funeral funds, and the service was scheduled the evening following her death.
Talia sniffled from the back seat as we drove to the funeral home to pay our respects. “At least we know someone’s on our side,” she said softly. “Clearly, someone cared enough to pull this together so quickly.”
“We don’t know that,” Grant said harshly. “It could be a ploy pulled by the priestesses to parade Monica’s dead body through the streets.”
“Grant’s right,” Chloe agreed. “Something about this doesn’t feel right.”
Nadine and I exchanged a sad glance, but neither of us spoke.
We pulled up outside the funeral home and climbed out of the vehicle, our cats following. There were only a few other cars here. My stomach sank. Monica deserved a bigger funeral than this. So many people who had loved her hadn’t shown up, simply because they took the priestesses’ word. They had ruined Monica’s reputation, and they didn’t seem to care at all.
The priestesses stood near the front doors, speaking lowly to one another. Claudia Sinclair stood beside them, wearing a black dress that looked nearly identical to the priestesses’ robes.
“What are they doing here?” Talia sneered.
Chloe scoffed. “They’ve come to see who would dare come to mourn a traitor. They want to see who opposes them. Why do you think I tagged along? I want my grandmother to see just what I think of her.”
We climbed the steps. The priestesses kept their sharp gazes on us the whole time, and my skin crawled. Inside, a few people milled around, but they were mostly funeral home workers. The room that held the casket was practically empty. People spoke in such low whispers that it was almost too quiet.
Talia gestured to a woman who stood near the casket. “That’s Monica’s sister.”
A cat prowled at her feet. I thought it must be hers, until the cat pawed at her for attention. She kicked it away rather harshly.
“Get off of me, you diseased rat,” she growled, and the cat slunk away, letting out a mournful mew.
