Mystery Monday: Her Voyage, Part VII

As we talked, this strange woman who both was
And wasn't my own sister, honeybees
Surrounded us. They lighted, did not buzz,
Just quietly awaited something. "Please,"
She said with some anxiety, "Hold still."
I did -- I am allergic -- and we sat
That way for what seemed hours. When the chill
Of ev'ning then set in, a tabby cat,
A stray, jumped on the porch's railing, hissed,
And drove the bees away. "So then about
"These cultists," I began, but ageless Kris
Stole all my thought with such an angry glare
I felt that there was murder in that stare!"