Voodoo by Samantha Boyette Page B

take her to a party.”
“She didn't like parties,” I said lamely. Behind me, Stephen stirred, but I didn't dare turn around. The six scar-faced men looked ready to fire if I so much as twitched.
    “Everyone likes parties,” Clea said, beginning to pace with four slow steps. She was a stunning figure in the form fitting black dress and heels. “You were always so popular, so outgoing, everyone liked you. Claire was older, but the kids in her grade knew you better than her. They never cared about her.”
    “That’s supposed to be my fault?” I asked. “I would have let Claire come with me anywhere, but she was too stuck up.”
    Clea took a long step forward and slapped me across the face. The crack echoed in the empty church. Tears filled my eyes as needles of pain twitched through me. Clea looked ready to do a lot more than slap me.
    “Alyssa?” Stephen moved behind me. This time I turned. “What's going on?” He was lying on his back still, looking around at the guard.
    “It's okay,” I said calmly.
    I stood up, the guns following me, but no one shot. Clea glared ice at me, her features sharp and threatening. Below that, I could see something else. There was a hint of the softness that had always surrounded Claire. I took a deep breath, and hoped I was doing the right thing.
    “Claire was a bitch,” I said.
    The church was silent enough that I heard a branch creak over head. “We were both bitches,” I continued. “It was high school, and Claire hasn't even been there for the last two years. She's at college now, and you know what? She loves it. She has friends there, friends I have never met, and she goes to parties, and she gets good grades.”
    “Does this rant have a point?” Clea tried to sound bored, but it was a lie. Her hand gripped the amulet around her neck. I pressed my advantage.
    “Yeah,” I said. “The point is, move on. Maybe I was popular in high school, but that doesn't mean anything. Those people who Claire thinks I was such good friends with? I haven't talked to most of them since graduation, and I don't really care. I’m in college now, moving on with my life. You know who I care about? My sister.”
    Clea grimaced, as if the words had hurt her. I began to walk toward her. She stood her ground, but seemed to lean back as I drew close.
    “She doesn’t care about you.” Clea bit the words out. “She loves being me. There is so much power in this body now.” Clea put her hand to her stomach, eyes lighting up as she continued. “No one would dare hurt me and it is the closest thing to freedom Claire has ever known. She loves it and she will let me kill you in order to keep it that way.”
    Clea strode to a crumbling stone alter, lifting a silver-handled knife. Her heels clicked across the stone floor as she returned and pressed the blade to my neck. Her hand shook, the blade nicking my skin. Her other hand went to the amulet.
    “She doesn’t want me dead,” I said softly. “She doesn’t want this life you’ve trapped her in. My sister was good. She didn’t hurt people like you do.”
    “She wanted to,” Clea said through clenched teeth. “Especially you.”
    “She hurt me plenty,” I said, my eyes drilling into Clea’s. I ignored the pain of the blade against my throat. “And she knows it.”
    “Shut up,” Clea screamed, pulling away the knife and shoving me backwards. I stumbled back a step, but caught my balance. She was holding the amulet in both hands now.
    “I want to see my sister again. I want us to be friends the way we were when we were little. I want to stay up late talking with Claire about boys, or school, or whatever. I want her to stop being bitter about the things we have done in the past, and start moving on. I’m sorry I ever hurt her.”
    Clea backed up a step, but I reached out and grabbed her arms. I pulled her to a stop, tugging her hand away from the amulet. The stone had begun to crack. I felt the cold barrel of a gun against the back of