[ Highest Rank #101 in Mystery/Thriller ]
Time has passed. Things have changed. Isabeth, Benny, and Faith aren't quite the same. They have blood on their hands, a code they honor, and secrets they keep locked away. The Psychopath Maker knows this an...
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Isabeth sent out a group text after leaving Fiona's bedroom and forty-nine minutes later they all stood in the old church in Poe Woods. Isabeth tried to forget the last time she was at the dilapidated place of worship but the memories of The Psychopath Maker's letters still haunted her.
"Why'd you summon us here?" Harper asked. Her petite frame was swallowed in an oversize blush sweater as she hugged herself.
Isabeth lit the last candle, "Clayton thinks Faith killed Fiona." She blew out the match, dropped it on the splintering floorboards, and crushed it under her foot. "Does that bother anyone?"
"Yes," Dalton uttered bracing his weight against a dry rotten pew. He was on his way home, after calling his family's driver when he received Isabeth's message. "Does it bother you, Alex?"
Alex stepped out of the dark corner, "Not really. Faith doesn't need a protector." He felt Isabeth's eyes on him. He shrugged at her. It was the truth.
Faith groaned at Dalton's words as she raked her hand through her tousled hair.
Malachi tsked. "Can we not do this now." He picked at the old wax that built up around the silver tray over the years. "Trying to determine who killed Fiona is not our job."
"Then whose job is it?" Dalton countered loudly.
"Sheriff Edmonds!" Malachi hollered back, the candlelight flickered in his pensive eyes.
Ale scoffed, "That hack doesn't know what the hell he's doing. If we leave it up to him we'll all go to jail."
"I have this feeling!" Isabeth shouted drawing all their attention. She lowered her voice feeling the heat of their eyes on her. "It's a cold stillness in the air that betrays you into believing everything is going to be okay. It's the night-light in your room, reminding you if you just focus on the light you won't think about the demons haunting your closet."
Faith cringed, "For shit's sake can we not say the D-word, we don't need to beckon shit we can't get rid of." She stepped closer to the flame by Malachi.
Isabeth continued, "Something bad is about to happen; worse than Fiona dying. Or one of us taking the blame. I feel it in my soul." She rubbed at the goosebumps rising on her arm. Her eyes flicked to Alex and Faith and they knew what she was talking about but neither of them spoke. "It's not a coincidence we don't remember, none of us has a single memory between the toast and when we woke up. How is that possible?"
"Scope-amine" Harper uttered standing in the pulpit.
"Scopa, What?" Malachi queried.
"Scopolamine." Preston corrected. "Or The Devil's Breath." Faith grumbled another D-word worse than the first. "It's an odorless, tasteless blocker of the neurotransmitters that carry information to the part of our brain that stores short-term memory loss." Harper Googled it while he steered the wheel.
"How do you know we had this?" Faith turned to Harper.
"I fainted.... that morning after leaving the guest house," Harper answered. "Uncle Hans insisted on taking me to the hospital and Auggie had my blood drawn." She breathed deeply. "The results came back today."
"It was in the wine." Malachi declared. "Our memories don't fade until then. I remember being in the kitchen. I remember you handing me a glass." He looked to Faith. "I don't remember taking my food out the microwave. I don't remember eating it. I don't remember the fucking countertop and I don't remember Fiona not being alive." His eyes watered. Alex rubbed Malachi's shoulder, feeling his brother's pain. It was hard for Malachi to cry, especially outside the privacy of his room.
"Someone came into our town..." He looked down at the onyx lion-head ring on his middle finger; the ring Fiona bought him and insisted he wore to the Harvest Bonfire ensuring Faith would think it was sexy. "And killed my friend." A tear splashed on the lion's mane.
Isabeth, Alex, and Faith shared a look that held answers to the questions that befuddled their friends. They knew the who and the what that came into town but neither of them spoke a word. Now wasn't the time. The knowledge they held would only horrify their unknowledgeable friends.
No one uttered a word as they exited the church. They hiked back to their cars in silence until Isabeth's phone buzzed. She pulled her cell from her purse to read the text. Almost tripping on overgrowth she stumbled quickly regaining her balance. She tugged Faith's arm stopping her friend's gait.
"I need you to ride back with Alex and Chi," Isabeth whispered.
Faith narrowed her eyes, "Why?" She looked down at the lit phone in Isabeth's hand. She quickly read the words. "Sure." She firmly rested her hand on Isabeth's shoulder looking at their friends journeyed ahead of them then focused her orbs back on Isabeth. "Don't do anything thing you'll regret."
"I won't." Isabeth insisted.
Who do you think sent Isabeth the text?
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