Sherry typed in the authorization codes to use Con funds to engage satellites in the search for the missing authors. Yes, it was expensive, but if they were not found, alive, the Con was going to be sued out of existence.

As she finished, her door burst open. Melody charged in. She wore a jacket, pants, a bow tie, and a fez. It was almost professional. Why in the world would she wear a fez?

Melody took the fez off. "Ma'am! I've found something. It seems these aren't the first authors to disappear. Ever since 2025, groups of them have gone missing. Most were in the continental United States, but a few in Europe."

"And were these others safely recovered?"

The excited smile fell from Melody's face. "Um, no. Actually, all of them were found dead. Except one."

A chill ran along Sherry's spine. "Who was the one?"

"The bus driver."

#

The authors continued to regard the sugar-bone skeleton in the rocking chair. It glittered as it rocked in the breeze.

"Yeah, witches are bad and dangerous, blah, blah, blah," Chay said.

"That isn't what I said," Steve replied. "My story is true, the sweet witches--"

"Stop!" Chay yelled. "Can't you all see what's happening? We each get prompted by events, reminded of some story that we know well, and we tell it. Someone is baiting us, distracting us."

"How do you know?" Amber asked in a soft voice.

"Because my people do it all the time. We're all just sacrificial animals. Part of a test."

"Whose test?" Kristin asked.

Chay spun, pointing his finger at the woman with the headdress of coins. "Her!" he said. "She's the only one of us who's not a story teller."

The woman laughed. "Oh, but I am," she said. "But in one other thing you are wrong. You are not being distracted. Your stories are part of your test."

And with those words, she vanished. Though her disappearance took only a moment, each of the authors could see the layers of her peel away, one after the other. The skin shimmered and was gone, leaving a pulsing network of blood vessels suspended upright. The blood vessels, in turn, faded to grayish mist leaving organs of various description floating within a rib cage. These, too, shimmered and were gone. The bones shook, became dust, and swirled away on the wind.

"Maybe you'd better tell us more about your people and this test, Chay," Amber suggested.

Chay sighed. "Perhaps you're right. My story is an old one. You might already know a version of it. It goes like this..."