The Hexed (Krewe of Hunters) (8 page)

The women and the circumstances were all similar.

The women were all young. They were all of similar height and weight, but with different coloring. All Caucasian, though. They had all been fully clothed, no sign of molestation.

They had all been found with a silver pentagram on a silver chain lying on their breasts. Cause of death appeared to be the same: throat slit by a double-edged blade that was six or seven inches long. The crime scenes had yielded no clues. No footprints, not even near Carly’s body. The killer must have taken the time to obscure them. No gum wrappers, beer cans, condoms or wrappers, not even any cigarette butts. No evidence that anyone had used any of the crime scenes for anything at all.

Frustrated, he picked up the photographs of the medallions. They were similar—and very much like the one Devin had—but from the photos, he couldn’t even prove that they’d been made by the same designer.

He stood. He wanted to see the medallions again. It was time for a trip to the evidence lockup.

* * *

Somehow Devin managed not to drop the mayonnaise. She groped toward the counter and set it down, never taking her eyes off the apparition still standing just inside the kitchen doorway.

“Come on now, Devin, dear,” Aunt Mina’s ghost said. “You didn’t think that a loving aunt would leave you so easily, did you, child?”

Aunt Mina sounded both sincere and worried.

A thousand responses ran through her mind. They ranged from, “You almost made me waste good mayonnaise” to a scream of pure astonishment. Or terror.

No, not terror. How could she ever be afraid of Auntie Mina?

Maybe she was just hallucinating, she told herself. After all, she’d recently discovered a dead woman. She was still not herself.

“Auntie Mina.”

The words came out like a croak.

“Make some tea, dear. That always helps everything.” Aunt Mina smiled broadly. “I’d be delighted to help you, but frankly, I’m just learning this ghost stuff. Manifestation isn’t easy. And I did die when I was over one hundred. But the good thing is that nothing hurts. Nothing at all.” Her smile faded. “I think I’m here for a reason, Devin. I think I’m here to help you.”

Devin was shaking. She walked forward and reached out to touch her aunt. She felt a slight chill in the air but nothing more.

“You can’t touch me, child,” Aunt Mina said sadly. “Don’t you think I wished I could stroke your hair last night? Try to soothe you?”

“You know what happened?” Devin asked.

“I saw the face at the window,” Aunt Mina said.

“A face at the window?”

“You weren’t looking or you might have seen her, too. You heard her, though—and then you found her. I haven’t managed to leave the house yet, but I did try to stop you from going out, but...well, you are the child I helped raise. Kind and compassionate. So you went in search of her. And when you came back with that officer, I figured out what had happened.” She shrugged. “And you did turn on the television and your computer.”

She might have died at a hundred and one, but Aunt Mina had known her electronics.

Devin’s knees felt wobbly. She wasn’t sure she could make tea without breaking something. She swept past the great-aunt she couldn’t touch and made her way to the parlor, sinking down on the sofa.

She was imagining things.

No, Aunt Mina had followed her.

Poe squawked. He flew over and tried to light on Mina’s shoulder, then ended up fluttering to the ground in confusion.

“Poe, my poor Poe,” Aunt Mina said.

“I’ll get him,” Devin muttered. She rose and scooped up the bird, who flapped agitatedly for a second and then settled into her hold.

The damned bird was seeing the same apparition!

“I can’t stay long, my dear. I haven’t mastered the skill yet, though I’m getting better and stronger every day. I practiced speaking when you were out, but...I had to pray that you would hear me when I finally showed myself. Not that I doubted you for a minute. Not really. After all, last night you heard the dead. And once you hear them...well, dear, I’m afraid you can’t just turn them off.”

Devin stood stroking the bird and staring at her aunt. Suddenly tears welled in her eyes.

“I loved you so much,” she said. “Still love you, of course.”

“Love lasts forever,” Aunt Mina told her. “And I love you, too. So very much. Since I never had children of my own, you are, in spirit, my child. Not to take anything away from your lovely mother, you’re just my child in a different way. And your books! They’re getting better and better. I’m so proud of you. What are you working on now?”

Devin told her, and Aunt Mina clapped her astral hands. Then she looked down and sighed. “The house is locked up tight?”

“It is.”

“Good. Oh dear, I’m fading already. Well, at least now you know I’m here.”

“Auntie Mina...?”

Too late. Aunt Mina was gone. And, Devin realized, darkness was falling quickly and she was still standing by the love seat, stroking the raven.

* * *

The night shift was on; the evidence room was quiet.

An Officer Buckley was manning the desk while Rocky sat at another desk in the back, studying the three medallions.

It had taken some doing to find the first. While Jack had been looking into the old case, he hadn’t gone so far as to request the medallion, which had been misfiled and hard to locate. After half an hour of studying the three pentagrams on their silver chains, Rocky shook his head.

Having them right there in front of him didn’t tell him anything that the photographs hadn’t. None of them carried an artist’s mark, which was what he’d been hoping to find.

Had they been designed by the same person or not?

He couldn’t tell. But he did know that he was going to have to get to know Gayle Alden and find out if she really was Sheena Marston, not to mention whether she’d created these pentagrams as well as Devin’s.

At nine o’clock he locked up the medallions in their boxes and got ready to head back to his hotel.

Since he knew he would be plagued all night if he didn’t, he called Devin Lyle.

“I’m just checking on you,” he admitted immediately. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not a bit, thank you. And I’m fine,” she told him.

He hesitated. He should just hang up. He’d checked; she was fine. But he took a chance.

“I’d like to get to know your friends at the shop better,” he said.

“Oh?”

“I need to learn more.”

“About pentagrams?”

“Yes, and Wiccan traditions and—”

“Wiccans didn’t do this!” she snapped.

“And Christians aren’t bad people, either—until they take religion and turn it into the excuse for an inquisition,” he told her. “I’m sorry—I’m not trying to fight. And I’ll defend this nation’s Wiccans just as I would her Christians, Jews, Buddhists and Muslims. It’s possible that someone is trying to make these deaths
appear
to be part of a Wiccan ritual of some kind. The more I understand today’s Wiccans in this city, the better I can figure out what’s happening.”

She was silent for a moment and then told him, “We’re going to a movie tomorrow night. You can pick me up around six-thirty.”

He was stunned. And appreciative.

“Thank you,” he managed.

“I’d ditch the suit, though,” she muttered.

And she hung up.

Rocky headed back to the hotel. Luckily, the bar there served food until eleven. He ate and went up to bed.

That night when he slept, it was Melissa Wilson who entered his dreams.

He was standing by her graveside in Peabody when she came up behind him, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“You couldn’t hear me,” she told him. “I kept crying out for you, but you didn’t hear me.”

“I did hear you,” he told her. “I just didn’t understand.”

“You have to listen,” she told him.

“I’m listening. Who did this?”

“He comes in the dark, he comes from behind,” she said.

He turned to her.

But she was gone.

He awoke sweating. He found a bottle of water and drained it, and looked at the clock. It was only four in the morning. He lay back and prayed for dreamless sleep.

5

A
gent Craig Rockwell had taken her advice—he’d shed the suit.

When he picked her up he was wearing jeans and a light sweater. He wore them well.

She hadn’t ventured so much as a foot outside her door that day. Aunt Mina had appeared a few times, but now she was accustomed to her great-aunt appearing and disappearing. They’d had an enlightening conversation about ghosts. Aunt Mina had explained that spirits stayed because they had a cause, something or someone they had to take care of.

Aunt Mina’s cause, of course, was Devin.

“Some of those I saw when I was living...they stayed because they wanted to watch over the world they once knew, doing what they could to make folks remember the past and its values. Others stay because they have to finish something, in many cases finding justice for their own deaths. That poor woman the other night—she came for you.”

“Maybe she came for you. Maybe she knew you were a ghost and―”

“Oh, Devin. No, no. She came for help from the living. She needed you to find her. To make sure that the police started looking for her killer right away.”

“I never saw her,” Devin said.

“But you heard her. If you’d looked, you would have seen her. She was leading you where you needed to go.”

After that Aunt Mina had faded out again, as she was wont to do, but Devin knew she would be back again, most likely asking Devin to change the channel to one of her favorite programs. She was especially fond of
Monk,
and thanks to cable and the internet, Devin was always able to find it for her.

Aunt Mina wasn’t there when Agent Rockwell came to take Devin to the movie, as she had suggested, but just as he was closing the door behind them, she saw Aunt Mina hovering just inside.

“I approve,” Aunt Mina told her with a wink.

Devin rolled her eyes, but she doubted Aunt Mina saw, because by then the door was shut.

It seemed that either by instinct or training, Rocky moved with natural authority and had the manners of a gentleman. He set his hand lightly at the small of her back to guide her, then opened the car door for her. She wondered if he even realized what he was doing; he seemed to be distracted.

“Long day?” she asked him.

He set the car in gear and flashed her a quick smile. “Tedious day. Fact finding, reading missing-persons reports. Frustrating.” After a moment he admitted, “Long.”

“Do you usually solve cases in a day?” she asked.

He opened his mouth, closed it and then said, “No.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to set a hand on his arm and tell him that she knew he was going to get to the truth. She barely knew the man. There was just something about him that she liked. He had integrity. He was able to work with clear-cut determination and yet feel the emotional impact of the situation, as well.

Or, she wondered, looking at the road, was Beth right? Had she simply not realized just how attractive the man was when they’d first met? In the dark, sitting next to him, she wished that they were on a date. Going to the movies...dinner. That exciting time early in a relationship when you met someone and made sometimes inane conversation, even exchanged bad jokes as you got to know each other, all the while wondering if you were going to end up together or out again at all—much less go home together.

She was appalled by the thought. She never went home with anyone on a first date. In fact, for her grand old age of nearly twenty-seven, she was woefully behind. But she’d always wanted something real and serious; she’d just never been the type to go out and party, and hook up just to hook up—whether for fun, companionship or even to satisfy the biological instinct for sex. Sadly, her two “great affairs” hadn’t ended well. She didn’t even want to think about her last—there were many ways to betray someone, and her last lover had betrayed her both emotionally and professionally. Before that? Well, there had been her three-year college fling that had sizzled...and then just fizzled.

She didn’t regret the way she felt about relationships, about them needing to mean something.

Except for tonight.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.” She turned back to him. “So, you want to find out about the local Wiccans? As you probably know, there are a number of covens in Salem. Some—most—are very traditional. Wiccans just like everyone else. They eat and drink the same things you do, they wear what they choose and they don’t tithe their income to some mystical spirit. You could have one as your neighbor and never know.”

He looked at her, smiling. “I swear, I am not against anyone believing whatever they see fit to believe. I just want to solve these crimes,” he finished softly.

“But you really think that Gayle makes those pentagrams using a...a pseudonym?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Body language.”

“You saw that much body language in a ten-second conversation?”

“When I asked, Gayle and Beth exchanged a glance. Beth was asking Gayle if she wanted to own up to being the artist. Gayle didn’t, so Beth kept quiet about it.”

“All that from one glance?”

“Yes. Aren’t writers observant?”

“Apparently not all,” she said.

They parked in the same garage as last time and made their way to the shop. Gayle and Theo were outside waiting for them.

“Beth is just closing up,” Gayle said. “She’ll be right here. Rocky, so glad you’re joining us.”

“I’m delighted to be invited,” he said.

“How long are you staying in town?” Theo asked him. “Long enough to look around and get to know the area?”

“I’m not really sure yet—and I already know the area. I grew up in Peabody. I might take a tour, though,” Rocky said. “Just to catch myself up.”

“If you do, I know just the one. Mine.”

Devin was surprised to see Brent Corbin coming toward them, grinning, his hand outstretched toward Rocky.

“Hey. Brent Corbin. I heard about you from Beth. You’re a friend of Devin’s. Great to meet you.”

“Pleasure. You do a tour?” Rocky asked him.

“The best in town. Right, Devin?” Brent asked.

“Wow, put me on the spot,” she teased. She turned to Rocky. “Brent and Beth and I went to school together.”

“They were incorrigible,” Gayle said. “They drove me crazy.”

“Yeah, but we were still her best students, sadly,” Devin said.

“Hey, we were good students,” Brent protested. “Gayle taught politics and history—and she was a fantastic teacher. She made it fun. And she was pretty dramatic, which made us pay attention.”

“Thank you,” Gayle said.

Theo lifted his hands. “I can’t comment. I wasn’t living here at the time.”

“Brent’s tour company is excellent,” Devin said to Rocky, bringing the conversation back to the present.

Rocky laughed. “Then I’ll be happy to take it.”

“Speaking of which, why aren’t you giving it? I thought Friday night was your favorite,” Devin said.

Brent grinned at her, then looked assessingly at Rocky. “I came to meet your mystery man. Why have employees if not to cover for me when I want time off?”

“Hey! We’re going to miss the movie,” Gayle protested. “Chitchat after.”

“Right, right, just...Devin, you’re okay, right?” Brent asked her soberly.

“Yes, thank you, why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.

“Maybe because they found that poor woman right by your house?”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Devin murmured.

“Don’t make her nervous. She’s okay, and she has Rocky to see her home,” Beth said cheerfully.

“You all need to be careful,” Brent said.

“I’m not worried,” Gayle said. “I’m sure one of you fine gentlemen will escort me home. And the same for Beth,” she added sternly.

“Of course,” Brent said.

“You know it,” Theo agreed.

It was an easy walk to the theater from Beth’s store. Rocky bought the tickets quickly, before anyone could protest. “Newcomer’s treat,” he said. “I’ve heard in some places it’s the law.”

“That leaves me with the refreshments—way more expensive,” Theo said.

“We’ll split the cost,” Brent told him.

They were there in plenty of time for the movie, but the theater was already crowded, thanks to its central location and the movie being a big action picture featuring an equally big star.

Rocky sat next to her as if it was a matter of course.

She was surprised by the way the night had gone so far. He seemed at ease. Her friends were having fun.

Only
she
was tense.

The movie barely distracted her.

When it was over, the others were excited; it had apparently been a good movie.

They chose a late-night restaurant/bar at the end of the pedestrian mall for dinner and drinks.

Devin wasn’t sure how he did it, but Rocky managed not only to end up next to her but across from Gayle, the perfect place for conversation.

Devin placed her order, and when she turned back to the table she realized that the conversation had turned to human sacrifice.

“Well, for years,” Brent, sitting beside Gayle, said, “everyone assumed that the belief that druids engaged in human sacrifice was all a lie spread by their oh-so-civilized and advanced Roman conquerors. But scientific discoveries proved them wrong. ‘Lindow Man’ was discovered in England in the 1980s—so well preserved that they know he had manicured nails, and that he ate well and might have been one of the druid elite himself. And the evidence made it very clear that he was a victim of ritual sacrifice. There was a rope around his neck, his head was bashed in and his throat was slit. Scholars believe that when the ligature was tightest, that was when they cut his throat. That would mean a lot, lot, lot of blood, right, Gayle?”

Gayle rolled her eyes. “I’m sure I wasn’t that grisly back when I was teaching. I can’t speak to the amount of blood, since I’m not a doctor, but I
can
tell you that current thinking is that he was sacrificed to halt the Roman troops, probably about 60 AD. Obviously the sacrifice didn’t work very well, since the Romans wiped them out pretty thoroughly, but there’s plenty of evidence that the druids kept trying. About one hundred and fifty victims were found in a mass grave cave in Alveston, England. They’d had their heads bashed in, as well. There are also signs on the bones that suggest cannibalism. But, due to the deterioration of soft tissue, there was little else they could tell.”

“Hey! We’ve just ordered dinner,” Theo said.

“Now you all understand why I’m a vegetarian,” Beth said.

“The problem is,” Theo said, lowering his voice, “some people think of it as a direct line. You know. Druids are pagans are witches. Druids practiced human sacrifice, so witches—
Wiccans—
must practice human sacrifice, too.”

“Oh, please!” Beth said.

“Hey, don’t jump down my throat. I’m a Wiccan,” Theo said. “I’m just telling you how some people see it.”

“There are always people who will see what they want to see all the time, on any subject,” Rocky said.

“That’s true,” Beth agreed. “I’ve seen it myself. A group of us were setting out for our Midsummer Sabbat one night and right here—right on Essex Street—I heard a mother telling her little girl that I carried a knife so I could kill goats.”

Theo laughed. “You? You won’t even kill spiders that come into your store.”

“Perception—especially when it’s wrong—can be frightening,” Rocky said. “Do all Wiccans carry knives?”

“We call it an athame, and like a sword, it’s a symbol of fire,” Beth explained. “The five points of the pentagram stand for the soul or spirit, then the elements—fire, earth, wind and water. And each one has a symbol. In whole, it stands for the soul, with each point being one of the elements of the world we live in. We don’t walk around with swords, not in my tradition, because our circles can be small and we don’t want to accidentally stab one another. The cup, or chalice, is like the cauldron of folklore, and it symbolizes water. The wand symbolizes air, and the pentagram, the earth. Our religion comes from ancient traditions. It’s about the earth and drawing strength from the earth, and finding magic—good, positive magic—in our faith. It’s about our care of the earth.”

“So all practicing Wiccans would have those tools?” Rocky asked.

Devin couldn’t stop herself from jumping in. “Wiccans might have them—but so would anyone else who wanted one and had a few dollars to spend in a store or on the internet,” she said, realizing too late that her tone sounded more aggressive than she’d intended.

Beth looked at her strangely and then smiled. “I don’t think Rocky was attacking me or Wiccans in general.” She looked at him. “Devin isn’t one of us. I think she’s just an out-of-time-and-place hippie, like her parents. I love them, but they’re not entirely part of the twenty-first century.”

Rocky smiled at Devin, then turned to Beth. “I’m still so enchanted by those necklaces—like the one Devin got from you. Silver stands for purity, doesn’t it? And you said the artist only works in silver?”

Beth nodded.

“Is there symbolism in the silver?”

“Well, silver is associated with the moon, femininity and with clarity, single-mindedness, purpose.... I particularly like the idea of purity,” Beth said.

“It’s a beautiful metal, and easy to work with,” Gayle said. “And I think the association with purity explains its popularity in the Wiccan religion. It’s associated with the color white, snow...things that are themselves considered pure.”

“And this association between silver and purity has been around a long time, right?” Rocky asked.

“Oh, yes, back to the Greeks, the Celts...the Romans,” Gayle said.

“Please do tell me as soon as you have more of Ms. Marston’s jewelry in stock,” Rocky said to Beth.

“I will,” she promised.

The conversation turned to other topics at that point, and eventually they all parted for the night. Theo was going to make sure that Beth got home safely, and Brent would walk Gayle home. She actually lived in the old jail. Though it had once been slated for demolition, the haunted structure that had witnessed many an execution had been saved and turned into very nice apartments.