Free Poor Little Dead Girls by Lizzie Friend Page B

Nodded.
    She felt movement behind her head as someone untied her gag, then her blindfold. As the fabric fell away, she looked around frantically, searching for some sign of where she was. The room was dark, but there was a single, weak bulb hanging a few feet over her head. It cast a small circle of light around her, and beyond it she could just barely make out shapes in the darkness. There was something large and bulky in front of her, but nothing moved.
    She craned her neck and looked behind her, but the voice and hands had slunk back into the shadows.
    “Hold still,” it said. “Look straight ahead. Speak only when spoken to.”
    She turned and faced the hulking shape, squinting into the darkness. She felt strangely calm now, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to be in shock.
    Another bulb switched on ahead of her, then another, and a third, and things started to take shape. The mound in front of her was a large podium, set high on a dais three steps above her. There were three figures behind it, all in black robes with hoods pulled low over their faces. She blinked her eyes rapidly in disbelief. Either she was hallucinating, or she had been kidnapped by a satanic cult that watched way too many horror movies. She figured the odds were about even.
    Then the center figure spoke. “Welcome, Sadie Marlowe. You have been summoned to prove your worth in front of the tribunal. We are the Moirae.”
    Sadie’s jaw almost hit her chest. The voice was young. And female. The whole thing was some kind of sick joke — hazing, or just a really elaborate prank. Fear gave way to simmering anger.
    “I am Clo — ”
    “What the hell is a Morray? Someone who celebrates Halloween all year round?” The words were out before Sadie could stop herself.
    For a moment there was silence, and then one of the other hoods spoke up.
    “It’s moy-ray,” second hood said, with a little huff. “Like the Greek — ”
    Sadie heard a loud thunk under the podium, followed by a little yelp of pain.
    “Hey, I was just — ”
    “Shut. Up,” first hood hissed. Another thunk.
    Sadie was trembling again, but not out of fear.
    “I am Clotho, the spinner, the giver of life,” first hood started again, voice reverting to the low bellow she probably thought was super intimidating.
    “I am Lachesis, the drawer of lots,” second robe said, trying to match her tone and sounding like she might be having a mild stroke.
    “I am Atropo, the inevitable.” Third hood kinda pulled it off.
    Finally all three spoke at once. “We are the Fates, gatekeepers of the Order of Optimates, protectors of the brotherhood, and avengers of those who move against us.” Their voices echoed eerily in the drafty room. “You have been called before us to demonstrate your intelligence, your pedigree, your integrity, and your worth. If we deem you deserving enough to be one of us, you will be richly rewarded. If you are found wanting, you will be cast out. In either course, you will never speak of what has happened tonight. Swear upon your life, and the lives of your family members, that you will never breathe word of this to anyone.”
    As their last syllable died out, she had the oddest feeling the room was much larger than she had thought. She could hear a rustling that she had originally assumed was the ocean, or tree branches scratching against a window, but now it seemed unmistakably like the sound of bodies shifting in seats, like the soft white noise in the movie theater during a tense moment. Sadie swallowed, and she heard the voice behind her clear his throat.
    “Whatever. I swear.”
    Her voice came out clear and strong, but her mind was working furiously trying to piece everything together. She thought about the cryptic e-mail, the cheesy dramatic robes, and her dad’s joke about prep school secret societies. She wasn’t sure whether to cry with relief or laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all. Minutes ago she was sure she was going to die,