“Me? No, of course not. That’s a joke.”

The rage boils over in the witch. Kendra raises her hands, thrusts them forward, making contact with the bride’s chest.

“It’s not a joke,” she says, but her words are covered up by Daphne’s scream.

FORTY-ONE

Theresa

“You pushed her. Not us. You killed her.”

I recoiled at Alice’s words, falling back against a tree trunk. Only it wasn’t a tree trunk. It gave way, crashing to the ground. I’d knocked into Alice’s beehive.

I’d left the party to try to find Lily at the bridge. But it was dark, and I got turned around, and that’s when I saw the Ivies wandering off the lake path. When I heard them say my name, I stopped. I had no idea what I’d hear would be that sinister. Or revealing.

As Bettina shouted, I ducked and crawled as quickly as I could in my owl costume out of the beehive area and back into the woods, heading toward where I thought the lake was.

The bees were buzzing all around me. I was afraid at any moment I might feel that pain on my body, a sting. This far away from my EpiPen, it could be fatal.

Like that day at the lake.

I’d only babysat Nora—Ellen—a few times, as a favor for Greg.

The last time, right here, I’d been stung. So stupid to forget my EpiPen. We’d plopped down in the field to pick dandelions. And the pain, so sharp and sudden and unexpected. Trying not to panic, tugging Ellen back, back, back across the field. I’d called Greg, but he hadn’t answered.

So I’d asked the first woman I came across for help. A young mother with two little boys. Her hair had been shorter than she wore it now, but still those carefully placed highlights. That square, commanding face. I’d forgotten the face until I heard Kendra mention that day. She’d driven me to the urgent care center, Ellen and me in the back seat, my throat swelling, tighter and tighter. Like breathing through a straw...

Kendra.

And she was a killer.

I had to get to that bridge. It was motherly instinct and sheer adrenaline guiding me, even though all the paths looked the same.

My owl dress was thin, but I appreciated the stretchy material now that I had to move fast. The low-hanging branches caught my owl ears headband and I ripped it off, annoyed, and tossed it in a pile of leaves.

My brain was floundering with all the information I’d just learned. They’d killed Daphne. She hadn’t jumped. She hadn’t left her baby. She’d been pushed. Kendra had killed her, and the other mothers had helped.

And it should’ve been me.

I pulled out my phone. Scrolled through for Maggie’s number. I sent her a text.