Linda Robertson - Vicious Circle

“Don’t be coy, Miss Alcmedi. It doesn’t become you.”

I wanted to smack that smug smile off her smirking face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do. As a solitary, perhaps you don’t realize how information and details sometimes come out during spiritual discovery. It can be like hypnosis and therapy and confession all rolled into one. And you’re not a good liar.”

I stared. My meditations were like confessional therapy, but they were private.

“I know what you did to Lorrie’s stalker. Simply do it again.” She shrugged. “This guy deserves it even more. He didn’t just threaten her; he murdered her.”

I could not believe what she was proposing or the gall it took to propose it. “Who the hell are you to be pushing for this? You’re not an Elder. You’re just a high priestess in Cleveland.”

“A high priestess with goals, Miss Alcmedi. And a plan. WEC can’t deny me a seat if I save their asses, now can they?”

Still I would not acknowledge anything to her. “Contrary to whatever Lorrie may have told you—”

“I pay well. Say…a hundred thousand?”

I tried to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head. This witchy coffee-shop manager had a hundred grand of disposable income? What the fuck was in the coffee here?

The mention of the dollars jazzed me and cooled the heat of her earlier insult. Nana had very little money—enough, basically, to keep her in cigarettes and blood-pressure pills. Since college, I’d made a fluctuating income as a freelance writer. After landing a few well-paying magazine articles and doing some sporadic technical writing, and through constant frugal living, I had managed to buy a house on twenty very rural acres. I could keep it only because farmers rented the acreage and my little column was running in multiple newspapers now. It had been nine papers until last week; now it was six. A certain newspaper conglomerate had been acquired by another, whose owner had lost family to a wære attack a decade ago and had no intention of running a column designed to create sympathy for those afflicted with the virus. I could’ve handled the resulting decrease of income, but now that I would be providing for Nana too, it would hurt.

Vivian’s money would be a welcome financial cushion—but no. I wasn’t a killer for hire, nor did I want Vivian to have leverage of any kind on me. Lorrie’s story was hearsay, and Vivian had no proof. If I admitted it, she might try to blackmail me. If I didn’t, she had nothing. I wondered if her office was bugged or if I was being filmed by a hidden camera.

I slung my purse and velvet bag over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ms. Diamond. I think you clearly misunderstood Lorrie.”

“Two hundred thousand?”

After giving her a nasty look, I turned to leave.

She didn’t let me get far. “What about poor Beverley?”

I stopped with my back to her, my hand hovering over the knob. Grab it, turn, and stay out of this. My conscience was torn. You have to help Beverley! No one else will!

I turned back to Vivian. “If you were Lorrie’s friend, you’d tell the police what you know. But you’re a coward who’s chosen to hide instead.”

“I’m not hiding!” Vivian stood. “Lorrie’s will names me as guardian for Beverley. I have an appointment with the Department of Social Services at ten.” She sank back into her chair. It rolled a few inches, though she didn’t seem to notice. “Granted, it indicates more of a connection to her than I’d like the public to be aware of, but…I never thought I’d get custody. Nobody ever thinks the worst will actually happen.”

I wasn’t willing to sympathize with her. In fact, I was wondering how Lorrie could have come to think so much of Vivian as to make her Beverley’s guardian. I felt a stab of jealousy that Lorrie hadn’t picked me.

“You don’t understand.” Vivian sniffled and wiped her nose with another tissue. “I can’t raise Beverley like this. Not with me being the reason her mother’s dead!”

You’re the reason Lorrie’s dead? Explain.”

Vivian returned my stone-cold stare with a steady, self-satisfied look that said she knew she had me now. That really ticked me off. “You already understand what danger I put her in, Miss Alcmedi.”

“Yeah, I do. But when did you know?”

“From the start.” She glanced down. “I knew she was a wære from the start.”

“Then why? Why would you let her risk it? Why risk it yourself? ‘An’ it harm none.’” I quoted the Rede’s first phrase.

Vivian hit the desktop. Her glare blazed. “Don’t you dare quote the Rede to me as if I don’t know it! You have no right to quote that to me, hypocrite.”

I admit it was rude; as high priestess, she had to know the Rede and all the various codes and laws backwards and forwards. But calling me a hypocrite? “You’re not spotless either.”

Vivian looked me up and down, then squinted at me, thinking so hard I almost expected to smell smoking brain cells. But her heated anger eased, slowly. Drawing little circles with her finger on the top of her desk, she finally said, “My interaction with Lorrie wasn’t risky. We met privately at her home once a week. We never did energy-or spell-work. It was just a faith and prayer Goddess thing for her. She needed it.” Vivian paused, swallowed, and continued piously: “Lorrie continued to kennel for her monthly security, but she came to me for her soul’s solace. She needed spiritual guidance in her life as she dealt with what she’d become. She feared hurting Beverley or, worse, that Beverley would come to fear her and run away.”

Her self-righteous tone did nothing to endear her to me. “Did you warn her of the danger?”

“Lorrie wasn’t ignorant! She knew the dangers and, yes, of course, we discussed them. As I said, I simply counseled her on issues of faith.” Her gaze strayed along the edge of my newspaper. “I didn’t know the bill for guiding her spirituality would be this high. I didn’t think the council would find out.”

“Wait a minute. The council? You mean the Witch Elders Council?”

Vivian nodded grimly. “WEC did this.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I sat in the folding chair again. “Are you saying they knew you were spiritually counseling a wære and because of it they—as a group—violated the Rede to have her murdered?” Me breaking the “An’ it harm none, do as ye will” law was bad, but I’d done it unintentionally. For the council to sanction law-breaking knowingly was a different matter.

Vivian re-situated herself in her chair. “Not WEC exactly, but…”

“But?”

My tone was harsher than I had meant it to be. Vivian latched onto it with a snotty little smile. “Am I ruining your perfectly naive concept of the world?”

I really, really didn’t like her. “I’m not naive.” Am I?

She sat back in her chair, exuding arrogant confidence. “The Elders aren’t above the temptation of corruption, deary girl. And they’ve never had a deep love for PAW.”

PAW was the acronym for Packs and Allied Wæres. The wæres’ version of WEC, they administered the “responsibility policy.” I copied Vivian’s position as best I could, right down to the impassive expression. “You better start explaining why WEC would feel it necessary to take such actions.”

“The less you know, the better.”

“I disagree.”

“Too bad.”

“Then the answer is no. I’m not buying you an Elders seat and I’m not getting involved in a WEC versus PAW pissing contest.” I got up and left her office without looking back. This time, it was easy.

As I crossed the wide seating area, however, my steps grew sluggish. I felt so sorry for Beverley. Her devoted mother was dead, and nobody was going to do anything about it. Not one governmental agency would do a damn thing to help her or solve the case. There would be no justice for Beverley unless I did something…