J. Robb: Ceremony In Death

"Well, well," he said and smiled slowly, "our sturdy Peabody makes quite a picture."

"She sure… blends," Eve decided. "I have to meet with Alice alone. Why don't you go over and talk to Peabody?"

"A pleasure. Lieutenant…" He took a long look at her worn jeans, battered leather jacket, and unadorned ears. "You don't blend."

"Is that a dig?"

"No." He flicked a finger over the dent in her chin. "An observation." He strolled over, slid onto the stool beside Peabody. "Now, let's see, what would be the standard line? What's a nice witch like you doing in a place like this?"

Peabody slid him a sidelong look, grimaced. "I feel like an idiot in this getup."

"You look lovely."

She snorted. "Not exactly my style."

"You know the fascinating thing about women, Peabody?" He reached out, tapped a finger against her dangling earrings to send them dancing. "You have so many styles. What are you drinking?"

Ridiculously flattered, she struggled not to flush. "A Sagittarius. That's my sign. The drink's supposed to be metabolically and spiritually designed for my personality." She sipped from the clear chalice. "Actually, it's not bad. What's your, you know, birth sign?"

"I have no idea. I believe I was born the first week of October."

Believe, Peabody mused. How odd not to know. "Well, that would make you Libran."

"Well then, let's be metabolically and spiritually correct." He turned to order drinks, watched Eve sitting at a table. "What sign would you attribute to your lieutenant?"

"She's a tough one to pin down."

"Indeed she is," Roarke murmured.

From her table on the outer circle, Eve watched everything. There was no band or holographic image of one. Instead, the music seem to come from nowhere and everywhere. Windy flutes and plucked strings, a soothing female voice that sang with impossible sweetness in a language Eve didn't recognize.

She saw couples in earnest conversations, others laughing quietly. No one flicked an eyelash when a woman in a sheer white sheath rose to dance alone. Eve ordered water and was amused when it was served in a goblet of simulated silver.

She tuned in to the conversation at the table behind her and was further amused to hear the group's sober discussion on their experiences with astral projection.

At a table in the next ring, two women talked about their former lives as temple dancers in Atlantis. She wondered why former lives were always more exotic than the one being lived. The only shot a person had, in her opinion.

Harmless weirdos, Eve thought, but caught herself rubbing her still tingling palm on her jeans.

She saw Alice the minute the girl walked in. Agitated, Eve thought. Nervous hands, tensed shoulders, jittery eyes. She waited until Alice scanned the room, spotted her, then she inclined her head in acknowledgment. With a last backward glance at the door, Alice hurried over.

"You came. I was afraid you wouldn't." Quickly, she dipped into her pocket and drew out a smooth black stone on a silver chain. "Put this on. Please," she insisted when Eve only studied it. "It's obsidian. It's been consecrated. It'll block evil."

"I'm all for that." Eve slipped the chain around her neck. "Better?"

"This is the safest place I know. The cleanest." Still darting glances around the room, Alice sat. "I used to come here all the time." She gripped the amulet she wore in both hands as a server glided to the table. "A Golden Sun, please." She took a deep breath as she looked back at Eve. "I need courage. I've tried to meditate all day, but I'm blocked. I'm afraid."

"What are you afraid of, Alice?"

"That those who killed my grandfather will kill me next."

"Who killed your grandfather?"

"Evil killed him. Killing is what evil does best. You won't believe what I tell you. You're too grounded in what can be seen only with the eyes." She accepted the drink from the server, closed her eyes a moment as if in prayer, then slowly lifted the cup to her lips. "But you won't ignore it, either. You're too much a cop. I don't want to die," Alice said and set her cup down.

That, Eve thought, was the first sensible statement she'd heard. The fear was genuine enough, she decided, and unmasked tonight. At the viewing, Alice had been careful to slick on a layer of composure and calm.

For her family, Eve realized.

"Who are you afraid of, and why?"

"I have to explain. All of it. I have to purge before I can atone. My grandfather respected you, so I come to you in his memory. I wasn't born a witch."

"Weren't you?" Eve said dryly.

"Some are, and some, like me, are simply drawn to the craft. I became interested in Wicca through my studies, and the more I learned, the more I felt a need to belong. I was drawn to the rituals, the search for balance, the joy, and the positive ethics. I didn't share my interest with my family. They wouldn't have understood."

She dipped her head and her hair flowed down like a curtain. "I enjoyed the secrecy of that and was still young enough to find the experience of going skyclad at an outdoor celebration slightly wicked. My family…" She lifted her head again. "They're conservative, and a part of me simply wanted to do something daring."

"A small rebellion?"

"Yes, that's true. If I had left it at that," Alice murmured, "if I had truly accepted my initiation into the craft, and what it meant, everything would be different now. I was weak, and my intellect too ambitious." She picked up her drink again, wet her dry throat. "I wanted to know. To compare and analyze, rather like a thesis, the contrasts of white and black magic. How could I fully appreciate the one without fully understanding its antithesis? That was my rationale."

"Sounds logical."

"False logic," Alice insisted. "I was deluding myself. The ego and the intellect were so arrogant. I would study the black arts on a purely scholarly level. I'd talk to those who had chosen the other path and discover what had turned them away from the light. It would be exciting." She smiled tremulously. "I thought it would be exciting, and for a short time, it was."

A child, Eve thought, in the body of a stunning woman. Bright and curious, but a child, nonetheless. It was pitifully easy to tug information from the young. "Is that how you met Selina Cross?"

Paling, Alice made a quick forking gesture with her forefinger and pinky. "How do you know of her?"

"I did some research. I didn't walk in here blind, Alice. As a cop's granddaughter, you shouldn't have expected me to."

"Be afraid of her." Alice compressed her lips. "Be afraid of her."

"She's a second-rate grifter and chemi-dealer."

"No, she's much more." Alice gripped her amulet again. "Believe that, Lieutenant. I've seen. I know. She'll want you. You'll challenge her."

"Do you believe she had something to do with Frank's death?"

"I know she did." Tears swam into her eyes, deepening the soft blue. One huge and lovely drop spilled over and slid down her white cheek. "Because of me."

Eve leaned closer to comfort, and to block the tearful face from any onlookers. "Tell me about it, about her."

"I met her nearly a year ago. On the sabbat of Samhain. All Hallow's Eve. More research, I told myself. I didn't realize how deeply I'd already been drawn in, how utterly seduced I was by the power, the pure selfish greed of the other side. I hadn't performed any of the rituals, not then. I was still observing. Then I met her, and the one they call Alban."

"Alban?"

"He serves her." Alice lifted a hand, laid her fingers against her mouth. "That night still isn't clear in my mind. I realize now they cast a spell over me. I let them lead me into the circle, strip off my robes. I heard the bells ring, and the chant to the dark prince. I watched the sacrifice of the goat. And I shared in the blood."