“I know. I can’t figure it out either,” he admitted. “They must have known it would create an uproar.”
Understanding dawned on her. “They didn’t just anticipate an uproar—they engineered one!”
“I don’t follow.”
“Remember when we saved Katie?”
“Of course.”
“It took more energy than I alone had, so I pulled some from you.”
“I’m not likely to forget.”
“If they’re actually going to pull off a resurrection spell, it will take an overwhelming amount of energy, more than they have in and of themselves. I should have thought of it before. This is the witch capital of the world, and all these murders have been happening right around here. The Halloween parade always draws huge crowds. This year, with all the attention and the craziness, there will be even more people here, some of them decrying witches, some defending them. Think of all that emotion, all that energy, all those people focused on witches in one way or another. The amount of power they’ll generate will be astounding. The coven is going to kill the final victim once people are crowded into downtown when they can siphon off the energy of the crowd, the fervor of the protestors.”
“They’re going to do what you did to me on a grand scale?”
“Yeah. All those people are going to help bring about a monstrous thing.”
“Great. There’s no way to stop the people from coming either. Some of them are probably already here.”
“Sorry about that,” one of the waitresses said, bustling over. “What can I get you?”
Samantha ordered quickly while Ed just sipped his coffee. As soon as the waitress had left, he put down the mug. “How exactly does a resurrection spell work?”
“There’s two parts to it. The first part involves the taking back of the soul. To do that requires the sacrifice of eight young women, all completely pure. Think of it as a bribe to the devil, or whatever it is that has the soul, to let it go.”
He grimaced. “We know they’re at least up to five. Heaven only knows if there’ve been more. So, what’s the second part?”
“The second part is the hardest, the one that requires vast amounts of energy. In order to do a resurrection spell, the body has to be restored.”
“Restored? So it looks like the person and not like a rotting corpse?”
“Exactly. Matter is never created or destroyed; it just changes form. So with enough energy, specific matter can be called back to a form it once had.”
He stared at her, clearly not quite comprehending what she was saying.
“Say, for instance, that one of the women who was killed this morning was to be resurrected. Any hairs that she had on her head, any bit of skin that was on her neck where the mark is, anything that was a part of her right before she died, has to be called to wherever the body is. So if you found, for instance, a lock of her hair at the crime scene and you put it in evidence, the hair would have to be transported from that baggie in the building to her head in the coroner’s office.”
“Wow. Okay. But they need enough energy that they have to siphon it off thousands of people to do it?”
“Not in the example I just gave you. But if someone had been dead—say, for sixteen years—parts of them could be scattered everywhere. Drops of blood or saliva that were found at the scene and cleaned up or just left. Any minute particles that didn’t get buried with them could be in a number of places. And what has been buried, well, if the coffin has decayed to the point where worms could get at the body, then you’re going to have a huge problem.”
“Because worms could travel,” he said, turning ashen. “They could be eaten by birds or other animals. They could end up on a fisherman’s hook and from there get into a fish and then into a human.”
“You’re starting to see the possibilities, and that’s just assuming the dead person was buried instead of cremated with their ashes scattered. Suddenly you’ve got parts that need to be recalled from all over the world.”
He looked down at his cup with a look of disgust on his face. “And that’s what they need all that energy for.”
“Yes.”
“And let me guess—there was nothing neat and clean about the death and burial of whoever they’re trying to resurrect.”
“Nothing at all.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he admitted.
Samantha picked up the envelope and opened it, peering inside at the top image without taking it out. It was horrific, with yet another bloody-looking pentagram on the girl’s forehead. Judging by her clothes she looked like a waitress.
“Waitress?” she asked.
He nodded. “All-night diner. That’s ketchup on her forehead. Though I don’t know why they don’t just use blood.”
“Probably because the pentagram’s not part of the ritual.” Samantha frowned. “But blood is, and I would think they would have been taking blood from some of the victims, although it seems they haven’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But thank you for bringing me these.”
“I hope it helps.”
She put the envelope next to her on the table. “I just hope I can stop this soon,” she said, fear and exhaustion showing in her voice.
Ed reached across the table and took her hands, holding them while he looked into her eyes. “You’ve got this. You know why? Because you’re the best. And besides, you’ve got me.”
She laughed. “What would I do without you?”
“Let’s never find out,” he said.
A figure suddenly loomed next to them and Samantha glanced up to see Anthony, his eyes burning with curiosity. Before she could say anything he turned to Ed. “Hello. My name’s Anthony Charles. I’m a friend of Samantha’s.”
He stuck out his hand and Ed let go of hers to shake it. “Ed Hofferman. Nice to meet you.”
Anthony looked stricken and turned accusing eyes on her. Samantha opened her mouth quickly to explain, but he cut her off. “See you around, Mrs. Hofferman.”
He turned and stalked out the door. Ed chuckled. “He’s your asset?”
“Yes,” she said.
“He also the guy in your room the other night?”
“Yes,” she snapped, her irritation growing.
“Looks like you’ve got multiple people to explain things to.”
She glared at him and then got up from the table. Ed threw down a couple of dollars and followed her out.
On the street she looked for Anthony but didn’t see him.
“You want me to talk to him? You know, man to man?” Ed asked.
“Stop enjoying this,” she hissed.
“A guy’s got to find something funny at times like this.”
She took a step toward Essex Street and then stopped as ripples of air washed over her and three familiar figures rounded the corner a block away.
Samantha swore under her breath and quickly turned, pretending not to have seen them. Ed was still grinning at her, enjoying her obvious discomfort.
She shoved him against the building and then kissed him. His entire body tensed and he tried to push her away, but she whispered, softly enough that only he could hear, “We’re being watched.”
And then he wrapped his arms around her and began kissing her back. “I want you so bad,” he said, loud enough to be easily overheard.
“All good things come to those who wait,” she said. At last she pulled away and made a show of straightening her dress. “Now, be a good little boy and run along,” she said.
Ed walked away. When she finally turned to watch him, she came face-to-face with Autumn, Karen, and Randy staring at her.
“I saw his badge and his gun. There’s no doubt about it,” Autumn said, as if finishing a conversation Samantha had not been privy to.
“Then the only question left,” Randy said, crossing his arms, “is what were you doing with him? He’s a cop.”
17
“
Idiots! Of course he’s a cop,” Samantha snapped, rolling her eyes. “Someone has to clean up your mess.”
“You mean you seduced him?” Autumn asked skeptically.
Samantha laughed. “Of course.”
“How?” Karen asked eagerly.
That’s why she’s here. Wicca forbids the casting of love spells on particular people. And there’s someone she wants badly enough that she’s willing to break that rule, and more.
Her heart was racing. If they had seen her and Ed just a few minutes earlier… The envelope with the crime scene photos was tucked into the back of her waistband, beneath her shirt. She wasn’t out of the woods yet. She felt sure she could control Karen and Autumn. She would just have to use that against Randy, who was still somewhat of an unknown in the equation regardless of his participation the day before.
“Has no one taught you, sweet Karen?” Samantha said, dropping her voice slightly.
She shook her head.
“How about you, Autumn?” Samantha said, pinning the other with her eyes.
“No,” Autumn said, licking her lips.
Samantha cocked her head to the side. “Are you attracted to me, Autumn?” she asked, making her voice sound husky.
“Of course not. I’m into guys.”
“Really?” Samantha asked. She took two steps closer so that she invaded Autumn’s comfort zone. Had the girl not been standing with her back to the wall, she would have tried to retreat a step or two. Her discomfort with the closeness was immediately apparent.
“Do you know what… lust… desire… is?” Samantha asked, her voice softer.
“Of course. It’s when you want—”
“It’s a chemical reaction in the brain,” Samantha said, interrupting her. She lifted her hand and stroked Autumn’s cheek, letting mild electricity from her fingers tickle the nerve endings in the woman’s skin.
“Stop,” Autumn said, her voice higher, panicky.
“That’s what you say,” Samantha said. She took a step closer so that their bodies were nearly touching. “But it’s not what you mean,” she whispered.
Autumn had begun to tremble. Samantha let her fingers trail down her jaw, then the side of her neck, down her shoulder and arm, and then she took Autumn’s hand in hers. She accelerated Autumn’s heart rate, forced her lungs to take more shallow breaths.
“Desire,” she said, “is just a physical reaction. You, me, our bodies touching.”
She leaned closer so that her lips were less than an inch from Autumn’s. “Our breath mingling together.”
Autumn’s pupils had dilated wide and Samantha stared deep into them. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” Autumn whispered.
Samantha stepped back and smiled. Autumn stood, blinking at her, clearly confused and unnerved.
“That’s how you seduce someone, Karen.”
Karen was staring at her, eyes bugging out of her head. Next to her Randy snickered.
“Problem?” Samantha asked, raising an eyebrow.
He raised his hands. “Not in the least.”
He was strong and he was confident. He’d been the last one standing of the four witches that attacked her the day before. And he was the only one unscathed.
“How’s your friend with the chest full of table?” Samantha asked.
His face darkened. “She’ll live,” he said abruptly, then turned away.
Samantha turned back to the two women. “I’ll see you tonight,” she said.
They both nodded. Autumn still looked dazed. A woman walked out of the restaurant, brushing past Karen. Karen didn’t even seem to notice the contact, but instead kept staring admiringly at Samantha.
She wants to learn how to do that to someone.
“See you,” Samantha said again, eager to leave. She quickly walked away, heading for the main street, anxious to put the others behind her. As soon as she got to Essex Street, she looked around but saw no sign of either Ed or Anthony.
Ed, hopefully, was on his way back to Boston. She turned right toward Anthony’s museum, hoping to catch him there. The street was more crowded than it had been earlier and she couldn’t help but think of what Ed had said about people planning to come in to protest the witch persecution.
Finally she reached the museum. A couple of people were inside, looking at the displays in the front. She walked to the back, eager to find him and set things straight. As she worked her way through the museum, though, her anxiety was slowly replaced by anger. He had called her by name in public. She was just lucky she hadn’t given him her real last name. Her frustration over his assumption about Ed, the fury she felt at herself for caring what he thought, and the lingering fear about being discovered by the witches added to that annoyance, until when she found him at last, working on one of the displays, she was out of control.
He stood up and looked at her. “What do you want?”
She wanted nothing more than to wipe the scornful look off his face.
She slapped him across the face, shocking both of them.
“What was that for?” he demanded.
“I told you not to use my name in public,” she said. “And for jumping to conclusions.”
“Sorry—what’s a guy to think, though, when he meets a girl’s husband?”
“He is not my husband,” she said fiercely. “Did you even stop to think that he could be my brother… or a cousin? Did you?”
“No, I guess I didn’t,” he said, blinking in surprise.
“That’s right—you didn’t. He wasn’t supposed to come here; it’s too dangerous. But he had information he had to share about the latest victims. And now it’s all a mess. Three witches saw him talking to me and they figured out he was a cop.”
“So you are a cop!” he said.
“Do you want me to hit you again?” she asked, a note of warning in her voice.
“Not particularly.”
“Then just stop. Anthony, I’ve told you: The less you know about who I am, about what I am, the better… for both of us.”
“But I can’t help myself. I want to know. You’re such a pile of contradictions it’s driving me crazy.”
It had been a mistake coming here. She should have known better. There would have been no harm in letting him continue to think the way he did. In the long run it would have been much safer, much easier. But she couldn’t entirely control herself where he was concerned.
She had been devastated when she realized he thought she was married. The attraction she felt for him would have been dangerous, something to avoid at all costs, if she was merely undercover. But coupled with the history they had together that he was unaware of, that attraction made being around him deadly.
“I don’t know what I’m thinking,” she said. “It’s too dangerous for us to be near each other. I have a job to do and you’re just distracting me from it. Making me think things I shouldn’t.”
She turned to go, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. “There’s something here—don’t you feel it?”
“All too much,” she whispered.
She was staring across the room, right at the display case that held her artifacts. And even though she was much farther away than she had been the other day, the goblet was beginning to glow. She spun to face him, desperate that he not see what she was looking at.
“I don’t understand you. You’re a witch and yet you hate witches. You want to destroy them, but you won’t let me help, not really. One minute you seem attracted to me and the next I feel like you hate me. And that’s just you. I’ve got so many conflicted feelings about you. My life has always been simple. I like simple. I understand simple. You are very, very complicated. And I think that’s one of the things that fascinates me about you.”
She looked into his eyes. “Anthony, I’m too complicated,” she said. “Trust me, you don’t need what I’d bring into your life.”
“Shouldn’t that be my choice, not yours?”
He was close to her, close enough t
o kiss her. He leaned down, but before their lips touched, his eyes grew wide and he jerked.
“What on earth?”
She could tell what he was looking at, didn’t need to see for herself. The glowing goblet was reflected in his eyes. He let go of her and moved as one in a dream toward the display case that held it. She turned around to watch but took a few steps back, struggling to put more distance between herself and the cursed thing.
“Do you see that?” he demanded, but he didn’t look at her. He just kept walking forward.
Staring at the goblet in horror, she didn’t answer. What was worse, she knew the goblet was hers, knew that it was used in certain types of rituals, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what kind.
When Anthony reached the case, he placed his hand on the glass, staring for a moment. Then he pulled a key ring out of his pocket and moved toward the lock.
“No!” she shouted, lunging forward. She reached his side and grabbed his arm before he could unlock the case. “Don’t open it!”
“Why? What does it do?” he asked in a hard voice.
“I—I don’t know, but whatever it does, it’s active right now. Touching it could be incredibly dangerous.”
He nodded slowly and then turned troubled eyes on her. “But why now? I’ve never seen it glow before.”
She shook her head, wishing she had an answer she could give him. “Maybe there’s something triggering it.”
“You’re here,” he said.
She licked her lips. “I suppose it’s possible that the presence of a magic user, the disturbance in the environment, could—”
“But it wasn’t glowing when you were here the other day,” he interrupted, running a hand through his hair.
So he hadn’t seen it that day, she realized as relief swept through her. She chose her next words carefully. “You said that this belonged to the coven that killed your mother.”
He nodded.
“Maybe something the coven I’m hunting is doing is triggering this. If we knew what kind of ritual it was used for, we might be able to find that out, even pinpoint the location of the coven.”
The Thirteenth Sacrifice Page 18
