Every Witch Way But Dead Page 21
He handed me a buttered roll. I bit into it. It was a delicious honey oat with herb butter tucked inside.
“How’d you get involved in Wicca?”
“It sort of evolved. I studied with my friend, Ouida. She’s a priestess of Vodou. Then I taught myself tarot, astrology and took other courses along the way. One day I was shopping with a friend and I saw a pretty pentacle, but I wouldn’t buy it. I said to her, I’m not a witch. She just laughed at me and said, ‘What do you think you are? You know everything that witches know’—so I studied books on goddess worship and that’s basically how it happened. How’d you become a cop?”
“I come from a family of law enforcement. My brother’s a lawyer, my dad was a cop, his father before him. My sister’s a parole officer and my mom was a retired nurse. So I was either going to law school or medical school. I decided I wanted to be a police officer.”
“But you lived on a farm?” I questioned him like a real detective now.
“Yes, but that was more for relaxation, for my folks. It wasn’t their main income. It wasn’t any income.” He laughed. “It’s their vacation home, only we lived there all the time. It was close enough to the city for the both of them.”
I was quiet for a moment, mulling over my next question. “Do you believe in reincarnation, Sean?” I made room for our food on the tiny table.
“I never did before. But, after Rita died and the experiences I had following her death, I changed my mind. Do you?”
“Absolutely. I don’t believe in coincidences, either. I think things happen for a reason, even if we don’t understand what that reason may be. I also believe people come into our lives who we’ve known before.”
“I guess perhaps that would explain why you seem so familiar. You think it’s possible we knew each other in another life?”
Gods, those eyes could strip all emotion down to the bare bones. I pondered his question. “I think it’s very possible. I also think it’s possible I knew the killer as well.”
He took a sip of his drink. “Really? Tell me what makes you say that.”
The waiter brought our food and refreshed our drinks, and as we ate our lunch, I described the experience I had with Ouida and my regression. I left out the part where he and I were married. My intuition told me to spoon-feed him small doses of my otherworldly jaunts into the past.
“When Kara said she saw the images of clef notes in her meditation, I figured that’s the music connection. That and the same blue eyes were in every vision. I realize you need concrete evidence, but I’ll bet my pentacle, out of your two suspects, the one with the blue eyes is your killer.”
“Yeah, and your trance experience, where he states he’s friends with the Arthurs. Unfortunately, I need physical evidence.”
As we ate, I noticed the women at the cozy little café staring at my handsome lunch partner. What I missed was the Jon Kane Construction truck pass by. My husband, on the other hand spotted me, along with another pair of icy blue eyes.
* * *
“What were you doing having lunch with him today, Angelica?”
“I was talking to him about the case, Jon,” I said while putting dinner together, a mix of leftovers.
“The case? Angie, I have a news flash for you, you’re not a cop! What’re you doing discussing the case with him?”
I turned on the oven. “I told you a woman filed a report on Lammas. She’s involved in some ritual gone wrong, the same kind of ritual I’ve been getting visions of—” I stopped short.
“No, you didn’t tell me. I suppose you talk to the detective about these things and not me. Why are you shutting me out?”
Pouring myself a glass of wine, I tried to explain. “Who’s shutting who out? Look, I know you’re not happy with me getting mixed up with all this stuff. I didn’t want to upset you.” I took a drink of my wine.
“What about these visions? Tell me about them,” he said, slightly calmer, though his face was still beet red.
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
He finished the beer he’d been drinking in one long gulp. “Just tell me.”
“It’s sex magick. The guy is using sex magick to raise power, and I was privy to some of the workings.”
“What does that mean?” he yelled, striding back and forth in the kitchen once more.
“I felt the sexual energy he was raising. It kind of took over, became a part of me,” I told him, my voice low and serious.
I hadn’t seen him this upset in a long time. “You’ve got to be joking! What did you do under this influence?” His hands banged the counter, his eyes pierced into mine.
“I made love to my husband, though it’s been a while since either happened. What’re you insinuating?”
“I don’t know—but I’m not happy about this, not at all. Why did you have to discuss this with the detective?” He reached for another beer and flipped off the cap.
“I wanted to know if he’d gotten any reports about ritual magick. That’s all I asked about. I wanted to speak with the High Priestess who took part in the ritual.” I hated this feeling. He’d become my parents, and I had to explain myself to him.
He took a long swig of a Corona. “What ritual?”
“The ritual that took place on Lammas.” I took a longer sip of my wine.
I knew what he was thinking. “Did you? Did you get to talk with her?” He eyed me up and down, taking in my outfit now with new eyes, as if I were dressing differently than I normally would.
“Yes, she came by the shop this afternoon, she told me what happened and she recalled some really vital information.”
“Such as?”
“A tattoo on the guy’s arm that she hadn’t remembered up until our discussion, and his name. I wanted to let Detective Bennette know about it.”
“Why couldn’t the woman tell him?” He ran his hands through his hair.
“I suppose she could’ve, but I did. Why are you acting like this? I wish you’d calm down.”
He huffed. “I can understand his name being important, if he used his real name, but what was so important about a tattoo, anyway? Can you trace it back to anyone? I don’t understand the significance of finding out about a stupid tattoo.”
“Yes, they can go to the local tattoo shops and find out if he had it done here. And you know they take a photo copy of your driver’s license when you get a tattoo. The owners of the shop would have his address, and even if he isn’t the same guy, at least they’d get a nut off the street that wants to kill priestesses. Why’re you so upset that I met with him?”
“Why? How can you ask why? The guy has got a serious thing for you. You seem to be the only one that doesn’t see it.” He finished his beer and opened another. In four long gulps, he finished it.
“What?” I gasped. I could not believe what I was hearing or seeing. My husband was on a mission, and getting hammered was the outcome. It was a good thing Amber and Jake were at my mother’s. I’d hate for them to have witnessed this.
“Come on, Angelica, Marisa thinks the same thing.” He sighed, sitting across from me.
“You spoke to her about this?”
“Rich told me she thought the cop had a crush on you.” His eyes would not leave mine as he stared at me, trying to read my emotions.
“You know how people get when they know I’m their only link to a lost loved one. He misses his wife. I’m just the local pipeline to her,” I reminded him. “This has happened before, and you know it.”
Jon became silent as he thought about my explanation, but under the quiet, I knew he was stewing. He got up, took another beer out of the refrigerator and popped the top. This time he took a frozen mug and poured the beer into it, adding a slice of lime from a plastic bag in the refrigerator. “You sure about that?” he finally asked, sitting back down.
At least he’d taste this one. “Absolutely. You’ve seen it happen before with other people. He’s no different.” I put my hands over his and gently squeezed them.
“Sweet Marisa is a romantic, she thinks everyone has feelings for me, even George, my music distributor. She thinks Lucy from the Healthy Harvest has a thing for me.”
“Lucy?” His eyes opened wide.
“Yeah, she’s gay and comes to the shop around once a week. Do you see what I mean? I love you.” I came around to his side and placed a kiss on his cheek.
He pouted. “I’m just uncomfortable with him around you.”
“I’m uncomfortable with you around that realtor. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I said, hoping to assuage his hurt feelings.
“Neither do you. It’s just that I feel between the two of us…we’re so busy lately. We need to take a vacation, just us. You seem so preoccupied with what’s going on with the Arthurs, and I’m caught up with this deal.”
“I’m sorry, and that’s a great idea. How about we go to Salem for a long weekend, maybe around Samhain?”
“Sounds good to me,” he agreed as he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tighter than he had in a while.
I kissed him tenderly and got back to dinner. “Me, too. Now let me get dinner going or we’ll never eat.”
We finally made love that night.
Chapter Twenty-three
Crystal Balls ~ Natural quartz crystal balls are cut from naturally occurring veins of crystals. These usually have inclusions or veils. Inclusions are cracks inside the crystal. Veils are like wispy clouds inside the ball. The scryer can use these to his or her advantage. For instance, when the scryer enters the crystal ball, these natural fissures can become a landscape through which the scryer may journey, or they may assist him or her in achieving a trance state (as candle light reflects from them). The veils and inclusions also can resemble doorways or windows into psychic realms. ~ From Angelica Kane’s Book of Shadows
For now, all was quiet on the otherworldly front. The only other positive note was that there were no more threats to Veronica Arthur. But that did not fool me. I felt the killer’s rage and knew it was just a matter of time before he struck again. I had no more visions, sexual or otherwise, and that was a welcomed relief.
My friends had come for a visit one lazy Sunday afternoon and lounged on the front porch while I dabbled in my herb gardens. Heena had just announced to us that she and Nan were expecting a baby, and we all felt like celebrating. Marisa brought over snacks and sparkling apple cider, and Ivy brought a peach pie.
I’ve always found peace and tranquility in my gardens. Soft, warm breezes embraced my skin as I plucked the few remaining weeds from around my lemon balm, rue and Mexican sage. I’d put on my cut-off shorts, tossed off my shoes and walked barefoot through my gardens, surveying what needed to be harvested and what could wait. Ivy helped, preferring to get her hands dirty rather than to lounge around.
Sean showed up unannounced, startling me, as I checked the progress of my small pumpkin patch.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he shyly apologized, his eyes roaming from my gourds to my gourds. “Hi, Ivy, ladies.” He waved to the girls sipping their mint tea and sparkling cider.
“Hi. That’s all right, I’ve been a bit jumpy lately. Not sure if it means anything or not.” I smiled, my eyes cast downward. Ivy got up.
“I’m thirsty, Angie, you want a drink? Detective?”
“No thanks,” he said.
I wiped my hands across my backside, trying to get some of the dirt off. “I’m okay, Ivy, you go ahead.” We both watched as she joined Kara to indulge in some sparkling cider.
“I wanted to let you know we found out Paul Sumner was the head of the east coast fan club for your friend’s group, but the DNA we got from Paul doesn’t match any of the DNA we have on file. We tracked down the tattoo artist and got the address of the owner of that piece of art but he’s long gone. It’s Cliff Kendle. The ex-roadie.”
“That’s good news. Now you know who you’re looking for.” I looked up at him, the backdrop a floral collage bursting with color. I wished I had my camera. It was a Kodak moment.
He kicked his feet at the grass. “Yeah, we just can’t locate him.” He looked as I imagined he would on his parent’s farm, if he lost the suit.
“Nobody knows where he could be? No friends or family?” I wiped the sweat from my lip and tossed back my hair. I must have looked a mess.
“None. He kept to himself, mostly. His family’s scattered all over, from the west coast to up north, and down in Texas. No one’s claiming to have heard from him, recently, that is.” He leaned over and touched my face. “Dirt,” he said as he wiped it away.
“That’s too bad.” I realized how that sounded. I let it go.
“You haven’t gotten any more visions, have you?” he asked. Our conversation suddenly sounded strained. I wondered why.
“No, I would’ve called you if I had.”
“All right, well—I was just checking because, I thought maybe—” he stopped in mid-sentence.
“What? You thought what?”
“Look, I wasn’t going to say anything, but…your husband called me,” he gushed, unable to sidestep the issue anymore. “He called a while ago and more than once, recently.”
“What? Why?” I was shocked, as thoughts of “how dare he” raged in my mind.
“He doesn’t want me involving you. I—I don’t blame him. Really, I mean, if you were my wife, I would feel the same way. He’s protecting you. I wouldn’t want you in danger, either,” he said with total sincerity. “I mean, I don’t want you in danger.”
My voice headed up the scale towards screech. “Are you saying I’m in danger?”
“No, of course not. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. That’s why when you asked if you thought you could be in danger, I was so certain you weren’t. Of course I want you to be careful, Angelica, regardless. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, either. That’s another reason I came by and checked on you. I—I worry about you.” He looked deeply into my eyes. I got the message loud and clear. Marisa was right. “I’m not a stalker, so don’t even think that. I just feel somewhat responsible for your welfare. I mean, you’ve helped me a lot and so I just—” He sighed, scrambling for the right words.
I came to his aid. “Thanks, that’s sweet of you. So, my husband called you, huh?”
“Oh, yeah—he’s pretty upset. I wanted to see if you were okay. I’m sorry if I caused any trouble for you. That’s the last thing I want to do.” He took my arm and rubbed it gently.
“More dirt?” I asked.
“Nah, no dirt. You’ll be all right?”
“Sure, Sean. I enjoy talking with you and helping, if I can. Jon is just feeling a bit insecure lately and overworked. He’ll be fine.”
“Good. I’d better go. I don’t want him coming home and finding me here. Take care of yourself, Angie.”
“You too, Sean.” That was odd, it almost sounded like good-bye.
His eyes locked onto mine for what seemed like hours, but then he was gone.
My friends joined me on the front lawn, full of questions for which I had only a few answers.
“That’s the handsome detective?” Kara prattled, her voice full of innocence.
“Yes, that’s him,” Ivy answered, handing me some mint tea. “What’d he want?”
“Just to fill me in on what’s going on with the case.” I smiled then sipped the thirst-quenching tea.
“Listen to her, the case!” Kara joked, poking me in the ribs. “He’s good-looking! Is he single?”
“Kara, you think all guys are gorgeous,” Heena teased.
“Yes, I admit it. I love men!” Kara laughed. “And women!”
“Sister, you know he has feelings for you that go past a casual friendship, don’t you?” Ouida asked boldly. Marisa stood smugly beside her, arms crossed. “We all see his aura around you. Just so you know. Don’t play with the man’s emotions. He’s still mending from a serious loss.”
; “I know, Oui. Marisa reminds me on a daily basis.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Emerald ~ Magickally, emerald is linked to the Earth Goddess and to Spring, Netzach, the Anahata or Heart Chakra and associated with Venus and Cancer. Emerald is May's Birthstone. The stone is said to ease the pains of childbirth. Emerald symbolizes psychic powers, purity and immortality. Legend has it that light-colored varieties of the gem were found in nests of griffins. Emeralds were often carried by sailors due to the belief that they could calm seas and ensure safe travels, therefore bringing good fortune. Associated with the heart chakra, emerald was thought to lose its color or turn brown if a partner was unfaithful and, as a charm, it was used to ward away lustful thoughts. ~ From Angelica Kane’s Gem Power Workshop
Marisa had been scrying to see if she could get a location on Cliff, but nothing ever came of the sessions. We knew from experience not to let our guard down. Our circle met and worked every protection spell we knew for the Arthurs and for Karen, the remaining singer.
Sean continued meeting me at the store rather than my home. He said he just wanted to make sure there were no more broken windows or dead animals left at the shop. He was impatient to get a lead on Cliff from Joseph, hoping Sally had said something to him that would be useful. But Joseph had abandoned the Jehovahs and began working with his father. The tattoo artist insisted his client was very quiet throughout the procedure.
Marisa continued to taunt me mercilessly whenever Sean came by the shop. She dropped little hints, seeing romance everywhere. She missed her calling; she’d have made a wonderful shadkhn.
Jon seemed to settle down in his uncertainty, but was still working long hours. We rarely ate as a family anymore and I noticed Amber had become withdrawn. She wouldn’t talk to me, except to argue that her friend Lance couldn’t possibly be the same demented Lance that I warned her of, so it was a stalemate. She spoke only to her best friend, Michele. Not even Jake could get a rise out of her.
The lingering cloud of tension that constantly peered down threatened to burst over us all, like the final curtain call. We held another healing circle, but I cut down my reading schedule to two days a week. We had other talented readers at the shop. If I couldn’t do the reading, I booked one of them and the customers were, so far, very happy.