letter two
My wiliest Green,
I must admit it’s been a while since I tried to speak with someone new. The Coven’s more social than I’ve heard you are. Everyone knows what we’re thinking all the time. The Mother says that our bonds of sisterhood grow stronger when we cannot keep secrets from one another. We build off what is in the others’ minds, taking ideas and constructing new ones on their foundations. We succeed because of this. We are unstoppable, even, because of this.
You’re the one thing I’ve ever had to myself.
So, I’ve studied. I want to impress you even in this realm, if I can figure out how. Is that too forward of me? Maybe, though I’m not sure that you care. Leaving this letter was forward in the first place. I’m simply matching the precedent you set. I love to read—did you know that about me? It must be jarring, to hear that the most ruthless opponent you’ve ever faced likes to spend her off days with her nose in a book. You can add that to whatever mental image of me you’ve so kindly taken the time to construct.
Most of the time, a letter opens with some kind of salutation. I’ve already taken the time to do that. Now, on to the next part: the body. I suppose it would be kind of me to offer some kind of condolences for meddling in your affairs, to put it lightly. I can’t say that I’m sorry. However, I can tell you that the pathologist you were supposed to meet is safe. She’s a lovely woman, and it’s a true shame that your paths won’t ever cross. Ours will, though. She’s going to be a valuable asset to the Coven. I’ll have to tell her about you. I’m sure you’re wondering how I managed to outsmart you. Since the plan already succeeded, I suppose I can let you in on that as well. I popped one of her tires this morning.
As for the empty mortuary, well, it wasn’t hard to convince any of the other workers that they needed to take a personal day. Working with dead bodies tends to take a toll on the mind, especially for those who never thought this would be the path their life brought them down. Thus, the strands braid together, and time marches toward the future I desire.
So I’ve addressed you. We’ve discussed (most) of our shared business, and what’s left, I think I’d like to leave a secret. There wouldn’t be any fun left if I divulged all my darkest truths to you right now, would there? There’s no need for you to answer that. I know you’ll agree. We’re too similar, you and me. The same things haunt us.
You were wrong to assume that I haven’t seen you other than the one time. I saw you laugh, once. It was terrifying. One of the few things to ever stop me in my tracks, though I beg you not to let that go to your head. You sprouted vines from the marble ground of the palace and wound them up the support columns. It was beautiful, for a split second. Then with a single flick of your wrist, you tore them down. The building fell behind me as I ran, salvaging what I could as your laughter echoed through the crumbling hallways. You were looking for me without knowing it. Funny how things shake out, isn’t it?
I imagine you with ivy winding around your fingers, gripping the pen as tightly as possible so that the truth of your words seeps into the page. And I’m sure you think those vines reach toward me as well. You want to believe they’re creeping up my arms, tying my wrists behind my back so that I have no choice but to bend to your will. Your mistake was answering. Now, you’ll be in just as much trouble as I will if your superiors find out any trace of this little dalliance, and I dare say I don’t believe that you’d give up before you get the last word. That is, unless loyalty finally does outweigh your curiosity and you turn yourself in just to bring me down with you.
That’s the coward’s choice. It would ruin your image if you took that route. Not that I think you care much about that, but it’s worth noting.
I’ve read that it’s good form to provide some kind of conclusion, so I offer you this:
I had fun.
I send my best wishes to here, or there, or elsewhere, or wherever it is you happen to be right now.
Purple