J. Robb - Ceremony In Death

"Perfect day to pay a visit to Satan's handmaid." Peabody strained for false cheer and surreptitiously fingered a bit of Saint-John's-wort she'd stuck in her pocket. Her mother's advice for protection against black magic. The stalwart Peabody had discovered she believed in witches after all.

They went through the same routine with security, only the wait was longer and more unpleasant as the rain began to stream down in earnest. Nasty forks of lightning jabbed at the sky, their tines bright bloodred at the edges.

Eve glanced up, then back at her aide. Her smile was hard and cold. "Yeah, perfect."

They trailed water into the lobby, into the elevator, and into the foyer of Selina Cross's apartment.

And it was Alban who greeted them. "Lieutenant Dallas." He offered a beautifully sculptured hand graced with a single ring of thick brushed silver. "I'm Alban, Selina's companion. I'm afraid she's meditating at the moment. I hesitate to disturb her."

"Let her meditate. You'll do for now."

"Well then, come in and sit down. Please." His manner was sophisticated, faintly formal, and at odds with the barechested black leather unisuit he wore. "Can I get you something? Some tea perhaps to ward off the chill. Such an interesting change in the weather."

"Nothing." Eve thought she'd have preferred a quick hit of Zeus to anything brewed in that place.

The gloom suited it, she decided. The dank light, the wicked hiss of rain and wind on the windows. Then there was Alban, with his pretty poet's face and warrior god body. A perfect fallen angel.

"I'd like your whereabouts for last night between the hours of three hundred and five hundred hours."

"Three and five a.m.?" He blinked as if translating the military time. "Last night – or this morning, rather. Why, here. I think we got back from the club a bit before two. We haven't been out yet today."

"We?"

"Selina and myself. We had a coven meeting, which concluded around three. We cut it a little short as Selina wasn't feeling herself. Normally, we might entertain afterwards, or continue with a smaller, more private rite."

"But you didn't do so last night."

"No. As I said, Selina wasn't feeling well, so we went to bed early. Early for us," he explained with a smile. "We're night people."

"Who attended the coven meeting?"

His smile shifted into a serious, almost studious expression. "Lieutenant, religion is a private matter. And still in this day and age, one such as ours is persecuted. Our membership prefers discretion."

"One of your membership was indiscreetly murdered last night."

"No." He rose, slowly, keeping his hand braced on the arm of his chair as if unsteady. "I knew it was something horrible. She was so disturbed." He took a deep breath as if preparing both mind and body. "Who?"

"Lobar." Selina said the name as she stepped through a narrow archway. She was deathly pale, her cat's eyes shadowed. She wore her black hair loose today, with a wide dip over generous breasts. "It was Lobar," she repeated. "I saw it just now, in the smoke, Alban." She pressed a hand to her head, swayed.

"Quite a show," Eve murmured as Alban rushed across the room to catch her, to hold her against him. "You saw it in the smoke." Eve cocked her head. "That's handy. Maybe I should take a look at the smoke myself, see who cut his throat."

"There's nothing in the smoke for you but your own ignorance." Leaning on Alban, Selina walked slowly to the sofa. She sat with a rustle of her robes, lifted a hand to Alban's. "I'm all right."

"My love." He brought her hand to his lips. "I'll get you a soother."

"Yes, yes, thank you."

She bowed her head while he went quietly out. Oh, it was hard to keep a cat grin off her face, to stop the glorious images from playing back in her brain of the rite, the sacrifice, the blood.

And only she and Alban knew of the excitement, the power of that moment when Lobar had been offered to the master.

Only she fully understood the thrill of making that sacrifice with her own hand. She shuddered once with dark pleasure, stirred by the memory. The way Lobar's eyes had met hers, the way the athame had fit cold in her hand. Then the hot fountain of blood when she'd used it.

Imagining the shock, the fury Eve must have felt when she'd found Lobar so carefully positioned at the entrance to her own sanctuary, Selina nearly snickered. She pressed her fingers to her lips a moment, as if holding back a sob.

Alban was a genius, she thought, for truly only a genius would have created such beautiful irony.

"Visions can be a blessing or a curse." She continued in a voice strained with weariness. "I prefer to think of them as blessings, even when they cause me sorrow. Lobar is a heavy loss."

"Laying it thick, aren't you?"

Selina's head shot up, and her eyes glimmered with something more of hate than grief. "Don't mock my feelings, Dallas. Do you think power such as mine means I don't have them? I feel, I experience. I bleed," she added and, with a lightning movement, raked one of her long, lethal nails over her own palm. Blood welled dark and red.

"A demonstration wasn't necessary," Eve said easily. "I know you bleed. Lobar certainly did."

"His throat. Yes, that's what I saw in the smoke." She reached out for Alban when he came in, carrying a shallow silver bowl. "But there was more. Something else." She took the bowl, tipped it up to her lips. "Mutilation. Oh, how they despise us."

"They?"

"The weak and the white."

She took a black swatch of cloth from the pocket of her robe, passed it to Alban. He lifted her injured hand, raised it to his lips. With quick efficiently, he bound up her wounded palm. Selina never spared him a glance.

"Those who view our master with hate," she continued. "And more, those who practice the magic of the foolish."

"So, in your opinion, this was a religious murder?"

"Of course; I have no doubt." She finished the soother, set the bowl aside. "Do you?"

"Quite a number of them; but then, I have to investigate the old-fashioned way. I can't call up the devil and ask for a consult. Lobar was here last night."

"Yes, until nearly three. He would have taken the mark soon." Selina sighed, idly running her red-tipped nails up and down Alban's arm. "One of his last acts was to join his body with mine."

"You had sex with him last night."

"Yes. Sex is an important part of our rituals. I chose him last night." She shuddered again because the choice had been hers. And the deed. "Something must have told me."

"A bird maybe. A big black bird." Lifting a brow, Eve studied Alban. "So, it's no problem with you to watch while other men have sex with your… companion. Most men are a little territorial. They might harbor unhealthy resentments."

"We don't believe in monogamy. We find it limiting and foolish. Sex is pleasure, and we don't put restrictions on our pleasures. Consensual sex in a private home or licensed club isn't against your laws, Lieutenant." He smiled. "I'm sure you engage in it yourself."

"You like to watch, Alban?"

His brows lifted. "Is that an invitation?" At Selina's quick chuckle, he shifted and took her hand. "There, you're feeling better now."

"Grief passes, doesn't it, Selina?"

"It must," she agreed, nodding at Eve. "Life is to be lived. You'll look for who did this, and perhaps you'll find them. But the punishment of our master is greater and more terrible than any you could invent."

"Your master isn't my concern. Murder is. Since you have an interest in the deceased, maybe you'll let me take a look around."

"Get a warrant, and you're welcome." The tranq had clouded her eyes, but her voice was strong enough when she stood. "You're more a fool than I originally thought if you believe I had anything to do with this. He was one of ours. He was loyal. It is against the law to harm a loyal member of the cult."