Do Not Go Gentle by James W. Jorgensen

unfortunate.”
    â€œReally? Please explain.”
    Timothy slid forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees as he spoke. “I believe we need to start disposing of the bodies in a different location from where they were taken.”
    â€œWhy do you believe that?”
    â€œWell, when we were only engaging in this activity on an occasional basis, disposing of the bodies back where they were taken was not a great risk. Since our recent increase in the number of abductions, disposing of the bodies in the same place as the abduction greatly increases the chance of a timely discovery.”
    â€œWhy would that be the case?” Sedecla asked in her slow, contralto voice. While not overt, if one listened closely, a trace of a Mediterranean accent emerged.
    â€œEasy. Once someone is reported missing, the police immediately start looking in the places the person is known to frequent. This results in the body being discovered and identified potentially much faster than we wish.”
    Sedecla nodded and steepled her fingers. “So you believe this problem is due to my increased requirements?”
    Timothy shook his head slowly. “I did not say that, Mistress—”
    â€œ Fool. You did not have to
say
it. You clearly
meant
it.” Sedecla paused, but Timothy knew better than to interrupt when she was angry. She sat in silence for several minutes, looking out over the water. At length, she looked back at the men. “I suppose I must not be too angry with you. ibn Ezra, as head of my sect, has long known the reasons for these abductions and the reason for the current need to increase their number.”
    Timothy nodded to Sedecla. “Thank you, Mistress. While I do not question your needs, I can do my job much better if I have more information.”
    â€œVery well. You have all observed the ritual I conduct with those I receive as my
qurbana
, my sacrifices. The ritual allows me to absorb the
mana
, the life force, of these sacrifices. Their life force restores my life force that has been leeched from me by both the passage of time and the cost of my magics.” Sedecla paused to drink some water and observe their reaction.
    Choate spoke up. “I see, and how long have you been performing this ritual, Mistress?”
    Sedecla laughed softly. “Far longer than you could imagine, Rufus. Many, many of your lifetimes.” Sedecla looked out over the water again, her gaze faraway, as if she were looking at different waters or waters from a different time. “Since my plans are now changing, I suppose I must impart at least some of my secrets to you if you are to serve me well.”
    Looking back at her managers, Sedecla paused, and then spoke again. “Achan knows more than the two of you who do not belong to the Disciples. Have you never wondered at the name of my sect? Do either of you know anything about the Witch of Endor?”
    Choate shook his head, but Timothy held up a hand, index finger and thumb pointed skyward. “Yeah, isn’t she mentioned in the Bible?”
    â€œVery good, Timothy,” said Sedecla with a soft laugh. “First Samuel, Chapter 28, verses 3-25 to be precise. Saul became afraid on the eve of battle with the Philistines and did not receive any assurances from the Lord. So, despite having forbidden the practice of necromancy, Saul asks his servants to find him a witch or medium to consult with the spirit of Samuel. Saul then went to a woman known as the Witch of Endor, who raised Samuel’s ghost for Saul.”
    â€œSo your sect worships this Biblical witch?” asked Choate.
    Sedecla shook her head gently. “Not exactly. As I told you, I have survived many normal lifetimes by the use of my
qurbanic
ritual.”
    Choate’s eyes narrowed, and he coughed, a deep, rasping sound, like the tearing of thick sheaves of paper. “Am I to understand that you believe yourself to be the
actual
Witch of Endor? If so,