"It all began ninety years ago,"
Patricia revealed.
"Conner Thurman was an ambitious businessman. Perhaps too ambitious. He'd always looked for an edge over his competition. He'd come upon a secretive club of elite world leaders, corporate leaders, politicians and celebrities. Not exactly the Masons or the Illuminati, per se, but certainly a group of rich and powerful people who enjoyed their elite status. They called themselves 'The Society'."
Admittedly, I was riveted to Patricia's unfolding tale.
"Conner Thurman wasn't quite in their elite status yet. Yes, he'd had some success in the hotel industry, but certainly nothing that would have given him a golden ticket into The Society. After all, few ever got the golden ticket.
"Conner was enamored by them. He wanted to rub elbows with them. And he did, sometimes. Just enough to whet his appetite further. The occasional golfing trip. The occasional dinner with some of the others. Always occasionally. Never was he fully immersed. Never was he truly one of them."
This was getting good. I nodded at her to go on.
"And, yes, he very much wanted to be one of them. Joining The Society meant that nothing would stop him or his business. He would crush his competition.
He would gain the only competitive edge he would ever need: he would have The Society on his side.
"That's all he would need.
And so, he hung around. He accepted their meager offerings and not-so-secretly wished for more. He wished very hard for more."
"As we all do," I said.
"Be careful what you wish for," said Patricia, raising her empty cup, indicating that she wanted more coffee. I looked at Allison. Allison looked at me.
"Fine," said my friend grumpily. She snatched Mrs. Thurman's mug from her hand.
"Your assistant has a bit of an attitude," said Mrs. Thurman, and not too quietly.
A coffee cup banged. The coffee pot banged. The refrigerator slammed.
"Here, madam," said Allison a moment later - and a little bit too sweetly.
"Thank you, dear," said Mrs.
Thurman, rolling her eyes.
"You were saying," I said, prodding her mentally. "Something about wishes..."
"Yes, Conner Thurman would get exactly what he wanted...and his family, even to this day - and perhaps forevermore - will continue to suffer because of it."
She went on. "Conner had been invited to a secret ritual. He had been told that it was an initiation ceremony. Conner was beside himself. Was he really, finally, truly going to be one of them? He hoped to God - and so he went with great expectations."
Initiation ceremony? Now it was starting to really sound like a creepy cult.
"And then?" I said expectantly.
"The ceremony was held outdoors at a private retreat. A gated, private retreat, complete with armed guards. It was the first time Conner had ever been to the Retreat. He would never divulge its location. But it was somewhere in upstate New York.
"Excuse me," said Allison, breaking in. "How do you know all this?"
"Because I'm one of them, dear. I may not be blood, no, but I am very much one of them."
She smiled sweetly and drank her coffee. Actually, not so sweetly. There was a darkness in her eyes. This woman, I suspected, had a cold-hearted streak in her.
She went on as I shuddered slightly.
"The ritual quickly got out of hand.
There were dozens of men in various stages of dress. Naked prostitutes. An altar covered in blood. Fresh blood.
Conner felt sick and turned to leave but was not permitted to. No, he had already seen too much. His choices were simple: become one of them, or join the fate of the others."
"He still wanted to be one of them?" I asked.
"Badly. After all, what were a few prostitutes?"
Sick, I thought.
Patricia Thurman continued, "One such prostitute was splayed out on the altar. Naked. Screaming. Begging for mercy. Conner was given a stone blade that he was told was imbued with supernatural power. He was told to use it to kill the screaming woman, to silence her, to sacrifice her."
I had a good idea what had happened from that point on. Patricia kept talking.