Within the Flames

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It began as a game. Death was always a game, under civilized circumstances.

Tea was served. Tea and sandwiches, accompanied by glistening cakes and sugared cookies. The guests fidgeted inside the small room with its stone floor and hard wooden chairs: rare antiques made for kings and queens, in older, darker, years.

In all, six women were present. Three were in their early twenties. Strong girls, with clear skin, bright eyes, and rosy cheeks. Good girls, chosen for their good hearts.

The two women who had lured them here were older, though only just. The woman in charge had chosen them, years ago, for reasons that had nothing to do with goodness.

Which was why they were still alive. Whether or not they stayed that way would depend on how the wind blew. The woman in charge had trained them. She knew what they were capable of. She knew the precautions necessary when dealing with them.

“So,” said one of the newcomers, a lanky brunette with an unseemly penchant for gum chewing. “This is just like a sorority, right?”

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