Every Witch Way But Dead Page 18

  Marisa’s crystal kept spinning, which meant in all likelihood he wasn’t in the New York area. In the silence of the kitchen, my cell phone went off.

  “Hello.”

  “Angie, it’s Sean. I wanted to let you know about the DNA samples. The Jehovah, Joe Carver, has been ruled out, and Kevin Murray as well.” He paused. “Has your husband changed his mind yet?”

  “Sort of. Hey, you couldn’t by any chance get me a sample of that blood?”

  I heard him laugh. “No, I couldn’t. Why?”

  “Oh, it makes scrying for him easier,” I explained.

  “Sorry, I’d lose my job. Let me know when he changes his mind, for certain.” He hung up.

  “Do we have a Connecticut map?” I asked Jon, who was pacing back and forth.

  “I think so, in my truck. I’ll get it.” He went out to the garage.

  “This is awful,” Marisa whispered. “Poor Ronnie, poor Becky—ugh, it’s just atrocious. Andrea’s singing career is going to be put on hold for now, there’s no way she’s getting in the middle of this shit.”

  I picked up a double terminated crystal and held it in my left hand. “Everyone’s singing career is going to be suspended. They can’t seriously consider going out on tour, even if they had someone to sing background vocals.” I rubbed the back of my aching neck, allowing the crystal to remove the building tensions.

  “Mmm… We have to do something, Angie, something magickal. This is really getting ridiculous. The police have no ideas yet? No other test results came back? Have you seen Joseph lately, the Jehovah dude?”

  I took in a deep breath and slowly released it. “This passed ridiculous a long time ago. No, I haven’t seen Joe. Not recently. I’ve seen the other Jehovah’s, but not him.” After putting the crystal in some Kosher salt, I went to the refrigerator to get a drink, avoiding her question. I couldn’t betray Sean’s trust. “You want something to drink?”

  “No, thanks. Of course we have to do some heavy duty protection spells for sure. They haven’t located the ex-boyfriend yet, have they?” she added, making a to-do list.

  I poured some seltzer into a glass. “Paul? They’re supposed to get a DNA sample. I’m not sure. Unless Sean got a sample from his apartment. They’re pretty much checking all the guys Sally was involved with. We have to do a spell for justice, too, something that’ll bring him out and get the cops on his trail,” I said, thinking of my dream, trying to piece it together.

  Marisa looked at me with her golden eyes alight. “Sean? You’re on a first name basis?”

  “Marisa, get your mind out of the bedroom,” I said. I drank down the cold sparkling water, watching my friend. I knew where she was going with this.

  “He’s quite good looking, if you like that movie star, male model, GQ type,” she teased. “You know who he looks like, the guy from that movie, ‘Sweet Home Alabama’.”

  I played along. “Dr. McDreamy? He has dark hair.”

  “No the other guy, the ex-husband.”

  I thought about it for a moment. She was right. “Yes, he does. Anyway, back to business,” I said, letting her know I was not going there, that topic was off limits. She’d have to ply me with more liquor to get me to talk.

  “What’re you thinking?” she asked, seeing my wheels turning.

  “Sean, Detective Bennette, wants me to go to the crime scene and see what I pick up there. Jon doesn’t want me to. If we can’t find him in the area, then I want to do this. Marisa, I have to go to the scene.”

  “Angie, this is police business. We’re talking murder and rape. This guy’s a whacko to the tenth power and beyond.”

  “Yes, I know that, Jon said the same thing, but I’ve been drawn into this for some karmic reason. I don’t fully understand why. Maybe someday Ivy can do a full past life regression and all the pieces’ll come together, but until then I’m in this whether I like it or not. And trust me, I don’t like it at all. Listen—if Sean won’t let you come, give me your crystal pendulum. If there’s blood, hopefully some of the killer’s, I can swipe your crystal in it and we can use that to get a better fix on him. Then maybe the scrying’ll be more accurate.”

  “Good idea.” Marisa patted my arm. She could be so maternal. “You like this police business, don’t you?”

  “What? No! Well—maybe feeling needed and useful. I certainly don’t like the fact that people are getting killed.”

  “I know that, I know the type of person you are, it’s just that you seem more lively lately. It’s a good thing, baby cakes, not an insult.”

  Sitting at the table, I gave serious thought to what she said. “I don’t know, maybe I’m having a mid-life crisis. It feels good to be productive. I guess finding little Joey Carbone last year put a bee in my bonnet, eh? I mean, you help people on a physical level with your Reiki, reflexology and massage. What do I do, answer the same mundane questions, when will I get married, is he cheating on me—blah, blah, blah.”

  Marisa sat next to me. “You’ve helped a lot of people locate missing family members. Remember the woman you practically dragged you to the doctor because you sensed something wrong with her heart? You do help people.”

  “But this is different.” I sighed. “There’s something else, and I haven’t really said anything to you.”

  “I knew it. I knew there was something else going on with you. You have been acting a little…strange sometimes.”

  I eyed her cautiously. “Yeah? How?”

  “The day the preacher was causing a ruckus at the shop, I was watching you. Now, I know you sweetie—there was something off in your aura. You’re always emanating blues and violets, even greens, but when the preacher came over—you were all red.”

  Taking a deep breath, I went for it. “It wasn’t because of the preacher. It’s those premonitions of sex rituals. It’s not your normal sex ceremony, though,” I confessed. “And I think I saw the killer. I have this vague memory of talking to him, but I don’t remember what was said, I just remember the intense feelings. If he wanted to kill me, he’d have done it then.”

  Marisa stared at me.

  My eyes widened. “What? Say something.”

  She hesitated. “It explains the Devil card in the readings I’ve done,” she finally sputtered. “And the Moon card—things kept hidden from you—from us. He must’ve been the one that was talking to you at the store when you found the dead bird.”

  “And why I couldn’t remember. For the longest time I hardly recalled it. It’s this vague memory that’s on the fringes and I can’t quite see the whole picture. I’ve a karmic connection to the killer, you saw it yourself. During the vision I had a while back, in the tub? I felt as if I were being drawn into the energy of the ritual. I was so turned on. It was weird, Risa, that’s all I can say. I never experienced anything like it. It happened the night we had the healing circle, when someone keyed my car. I didn’t go right home after that, I went to the park.”

  “What about the park?”

  I finally spilled my guts to her. “I went there to clear my head and saw two people performing what looked like the Great Rite. It’s happened a lot lately. It’s all revolving around him. He must be the one that left the dead bird at the shop.”

  Tapping her pen on the table, I could sense her wheels were spinning in sync with mine. “And the Isis statue. I felt the energy build up, too, at the full moon. When you tuned into the ritual, did you see who was performing it?” she asked.

  “No, that’s the point. The only thing I could make out from all the times I’d been drawn in were the eyes…blue eyes. That, and the connection to the Egyptian lifetime.”

  She gasped. “All the times! How many times has this happened and you never said anything?”

  I looked at her apologetically. “That’s the thing, every time I was going to tell you, something always came up. Plenty of times I started to—I tried to tell you and Heena—but something always got in the way. That’s another thing that’s so weird, he seems to have this
spell that prevents me from recalling certain things. I did say something to Ouida about all this, but it was the night Sally was killed. I guess I assumed she’d tell you.”

  “Well, I had no idea it was connected to really…evil shit and sex ceremonies! What exactly did happen?” she asked.

  “Sometimes I see a circle with candles lit and I just feel the sexual energy. It somehow affects me. That’s probably why I was talking the way I did at Lammas. He must have been performing a ritual and I got hooked into it. It’s embarrassing, Risa. I can never see the face, either, just like when Sally was killed. I couldn’t see the face, just the eyes. Both times there were those eyes, blue eyes.”

  “Just be careful. Does Jon know?” Marisa asked, with undertones I wasn’t sure I comprehended. “Hey—your detective friend has blue eyes.”

  She caught me off guard with that remark. “Of course I’ll be careful—Sean? No way he’s involved…not the way you mean. I would feel it. Wouldn’t I?” I was getting flustered. “I couldn’t tell Jon this, he’d flip out. Not that he complained about the after-effects. I wonder if Jon’s…lack of interest, shall we say, is somehow connected?”

  Jon finally came in with the maps. “Okay James, I’ve got Connecticut and Jersey maps. Do your thing.”

  “Let’s see what we get.” I got down to business.

  Chapter Twenty

  Amethyst pendulums are accurate “occult tools”. That is, they make known that which is hidden. Pendulums are habitually used to find answers to questions about life, love, career and more. They are also often used in healing and to locate lost objects or hidden resources (such as water). (Scrying) Methods for using the pendulum do not vary much, since the times when it was used to find out who would be the next emperor. ~ From Marisa Arrucci’s Book of Shadows.

  “Mrs. Kane, Angelica, I’m stretching the rules here letting you in—I can’t have your friends, too. I’m sorry. For now, anyway, let’s just see what you find,” Sean said, trying to get me to understand his complex position.

  “Okay, Detective. Sean,” I acquiesced. “I understand.”

  I had convinced my husband that I was going to the crime scene. I wanted to see what, if anything, my psychic feelers would pick up. He, having no choice, conceded under one condition. He had to accompany me. The detective reluctantly agreed, but Jon would have to wait in the car.

  Sean had an officer pick us up in an unmarked car and bring us to the crime scene. It was the same scenic ride as before and predictably, the closer we got the more tension I felt. I couldn’t get Marisa’s words out of my head, either. Sean had blue eyes. But he was my husband in the past life, not Khaldun. Maybe I misunderstood the regression, perhaps I switched identities unknowingly, or the killer influenced the outcome. My head throbbed with all the what-ifs.

  I smudged with sage, including my amulets, consecrated myself with protective oils and prayed to Isis for her help. The rest was up to the Goddess. I had enormous faith in her and she never let me down. Ever.

  * * *

  We walked over to the complex, Sean and I. Secluded in the back, on the second floor was Becky’s apartment, with a terrace that faced a thicket of blackberries. When we rounded the corner I could see she’d kept potted tomato plants and a small hibachi grill on her patio, for summer entertaining, I imagined. On the ground level there were picnic tables scattered along the perimeter. As apartment complexes went, it was lovely and old-fashioned.

  Yellow tape draped the area, announcing this was a crime scene. Neighbors milled about, nervously chatting about how awful this was and wondering how this could happen. A young woman’s wailing broke the stillness. From the looks of her, she had to be a relative. There was definitely a family resemblance. I prayed nobody recognized me from the news. I saw some women looking and pointing. I wasn’t sure if it was my outfit, which had Kokopellis all over it, or they recognized me.

  I took a few deep breaths and walked into the ransacked apartment. The living room was a disaster. The coffee tables were upside down. Broken mirrors, glass and soil from her potted plants that earlier stood on either side of her glass doors spilled out onto the floor. Her kitchen table lay on its side; blood pooled on the tiled floor that once had been a pristine white.

  My body felt heavy and the room slowly dimmed, lit by a few candles. The leather couch was in front of the glass doors and I felt a breeze hitting the back of my neck. I realized I was now viewing the scene from the position on the couch, and Becky’s point of reference. She’d been watching television. The screen door was open, letting in the cool night air.

  Then, without warning, I plunged into darkness. My head was pinned down to the back of the sofa. The sweet smell that accompanied the vision of Sally Shaw penetrated my nasal passages again. I felt long nails digging into flesh, tearing away the mask of sweet-smelling fumes. I turned to face my attacker. Cold blue eyes stared back at me.

  “Hello, Becky.”

  Unsteady on my feet, I grabbed the coffee table to balance myself. He leapt forward at me. I dodged him somehow and ran into the kitchen. I flipped the table over, trying to knock him off-balance. He swerved out of the way and lunged for my hair, tackling me. I knocked over the potted plants. Scrambling to my feet, I took a statue of a mermaid and flung it, breaking the mirror behind him.

  I started to scream and then he hit me, closed-fisted. I fell into the kitchen. “Wake up darlin’—little Miss High and Mighty—come on, bitch! Wake up!”

  I opened my eyes and stared into the same ones that leered at Sally, grimacing at me. His face was visible, but somehow I was never able to remember it afterwards. I tried to program myself to remember once the trance was through. He tugged on the oversized tee shirt and pawed at my panties, ripping them down. He shoved a cloth into my mouth, her mouth. I had no energy to fight back. “Why’d you make your hair darker again? You looked so hot as a blonde and what a body you have, honey. That bitch not want any competition? Has to be the only blonde on stage? Afraid you'll outshine her? Damn you’re gorgeous! I‘m afraid I can’t take it slow with you, time is of the essence."

  He had his pants undone. I couldn't move. He raped me, hurriedly and angrily.

  Though it was happening to Becky, in the ethers it felt all too real to me.

  Tears fell, blurring my vision. I tried desperately to plead with him, but I couldn't speak and was fading. He smacked my face and pulled at my hair.

  “Don’t you like this honey? You fallin’ asleep on me? You know if it would’ve been you on stage, that would’ve made my life a whole lot easier. I didn't have anything against Diane—she being gay and all, it’s not her fault. But you—too good for me, huh? You and that fucking bitch. The whore.” He took his anger out on me until he couldn’t hold back any longer and called Ronnie’s name out as he violently climaxed. It seemed to last forever, but only took a few minutes.

  He got up and off me and I saw him walking away. I felt relieved. He was leaving, finally, thank God—I morphed between feeling what Becky felt and my own thoughts. It physically made me dizzy.

  He buckled himself up then grabbed a knife out of the butcher-block holder on the counter. “I’m gonna fuck her life up like she did mine,but first…I'm gonna get me some of what Marc’s been hogging all to himself. We were friends, him and I—did you know that, Becky? Sure you did.”

  Then there was nothing.

  The void.

  The warmth of blood streamed down my neck and I viewed the scene from above, my life force out of its body, her body. As he turned toward the doors, he wrote in blood on the wall: You're next, witch.

  Slowly I made my way back to reality. My body shook slightly as I got my bearings. The detective waited for me to speak. He didn’t seem sure if I was going to be sick or not. “Are you okay?”

  “He wants to get at Ronnie, he blames her for something. He raped Becky, too.

  He also took the knife that he used to kill her. I need some water,” I said, somewhat out of breath. Sean listened eager
ly.

  I sat on the couch and sipped the Kabala water from a bottle that Jon remembered to take from home and stuck in my bag. Sean watched me with eagle eyes, making certain I wasn’t going to pass out. “Is anything wrong, Angie?”

  “I’m fine.” I tried to reassure him. “He’s not going to give up, Sean. He has tunnel vision, and the only thing on his mind is getting to Veronica, now. And if he can’t convince her to go with him, he’ll kill her. There’s so much rage in him. It’s eerie, I don’t understand.” The word betrayal echoed in my ears.

  Sean shook his head. “Understand what?”

  “Why her? What about the abusive boyfriend, Paul? Any news about him?” I asked, rubbing my temples. I tried to piece together what I’d just witnessed with the other information I had. I couldn’t get two plus two to equal four. I forgot about the karmic equation.

  “We were able to get prints. Paul Sumner was bonded a few years ago. We’re working on his DNA. There’re only partials on the boat. We’re hoping to lift some prints here. We’re still trying to locate that other guy, Cliff Kendle.” He sat next to me on the couch. “Did I tell you we did some background checks on this guy, Cliff, and found that he worked as a roadie for the band? He may have a grudge.”

  I put the water bottle back in my bag. “I met a guy named Cliff, he was looking for Sally. I wonder if the guy I met is the same Cliff Kendle. He came into the store about six weeks ago. He looked…so normal, no…negativity.”

  Sean took more notes. “Could you describe him to a sketch artist?”

  “No. I just remember I felt nothing unusual about him. Like I said, he seemed normal.”

  Sean looked over at me. “There are plenty of people walking around that look perfectly normal.”

  Frustration laced my voice. “But I should’ve picked up something,” I said. “Whoever it is has an obsession with Ronnie. That guy Paul’s a fan of the music, too. He bought the tickets for Sally. He’s got a temper. Sally said Cliff was protective of her—” I stopped suddenly. “Whoever it is, is also into magick.”