The MacGregor by Jenny Brigalow

of music hummed in her ears.
    Douglas stopped at an old metal door fitted flush in the curved tunnel wall. He hit the door thrice. A small round hole appeared and an eye looked at them. And the door swung fluidly open.
    Megan stepped back in shock as a wall of noise accosted her eardrums.
    Douglas grinned. ‘Welcome to the Jackal and Hide!’ he yelled. Megan slapped her hands over her ears and followed him inside.

Chapter 18
    Sean didn’t consider himself a judgemental man, but he felt justified in gawping. Both women were attired in long white nightgowns of an old-fashioned design. Cotton, full-length with lace at the collar. Draped over their shoulders, presumably to keep out the night chill, were long, deep red cloaks. And, to top it all, they both sported large black pointy witch’s hats. Seriously? Was it Halloween?
    The women were close enough now for him to make out their age. The elder was probably high fifties and the younger mid-twenties. The elder spotted Salem, put down an old-fashioned carpetbag and let out a small squeak of excitement. ‘Look, Lydia, it’s Salem!’
    Lydia smiled. ‘I told you he’d remember.’
    Sean’s heart missed a beat. Oh dear, they were obviously a pair of escaped lunatics. Maybe he should nip home and call the cops.
    But he forgot his good intentions as the younger, Lydia, finished patting Salem and stood up and shrugged off her cloak. The breeze moulded the gown against her body and, even in the moonlight, Sean could see the slenderness of her waist and the supple proportions of her arms.
    She turned and looked at her companion with an expression that was both pleading and frustrated. ‘Your turn, Nancy.’
    But Nancy just giggled and pulled her cloak around her ample figure. ‘Oh Lydia, I can’t. I feel such a fool.’
    â€˜Nancy, don’t be ridiculous, it’s perfectly natural.’
    Lydia shook her head. ‘That’s easy to say, but I’m too old to start cavorting naked in the middle of the night. I’ll get bronchitis.’
    Sean clapped a hand over his own mouth to stifle the roar of laughter that threatened to escape at any moment. He’d always liked mad people.
    Lydia pulled off her hat and revealed a long, pale face framed by soft black curls. ‘Well, take off the cloak at least. That can’t hurt, can it?’
    Nancy giggled once more, despite the scowl offered by her companion, but complied. Her red cloak collapsed at her feet in a dark puddle revealing her face, short greying hair and big wide eyes.
    â€˜Let’s do the circle then,’ said the younger, Lydia.
    Sean watched in fascination as the elder woman untied a bag from around her neck and walked a circle, leaving a shining snail trail in her wake. Chalk or possibly salt, he decided. Soon she paused and inspected the work. She must have been satisfied for she beckoned to the younger woman and they both went to the edge of the trees and picked up dead wood and pine cones. In the centre of the circle they built a fire. Salem entered the circle, slumped down, licked his paws and wiped his face clean.
    Once more Lydia attacked her companion verbally. ‘Nancy, we are going to give thanks to the Goddess. It has to be naked. Sarah already told you that.’
    Nancy’s sweet face suddenly looked sad. ‘But Sarah’s not here, is she? And we are only two. Sarah said we had to be three. And I don’t think that Salem counts, do you?’
    Lydia was silent for a moment. Crickets chirruped in the long meadow grass and the water burbled merrily along its path. She turned around and looked up at the woods. ‘No,’she said clearly, ‘Salem doesn’t count. But I think the young man spying on us over there might.’
    Sean was dumbfounded. How the hell did she know he was there? The obvious answer was that he wasn’t as well hidden as he’d thought. Embarrassed, he ducked down. But, after an