Devil Bones

“I understand you’re not feeling well today?”

“Just a flu. I’m much better now.”

“Hang on.”

I heard the receiver tap a desktop, footsteps, then a closing door. I pictured Je

“Sorry.” She spoke softly. “There are students in the hallway.”

“I think they camp out there to avoid paying rent.”

She laughed nervously. “You may be right.” I heard slow inhalation, release. “OK. This is difficult.”

Please, God. Not a personal problem. Not today.

“I read in the Observer that you’re investigating the altar discovered last Monday on Greenleaf Avenue.”

“Yes.” That surprised me.

“Human bones were among the objects recovered.”

“Yes.” I had no idea where this was going.

“Last Thursday, a headless body was found at Lake Wylie-”

“Je

“Please. Bear with me.”

I let her go on.

“The victim was identified as a teenaged boy named Jimmy Klapec. His body was marked with satanic symbology. Earlier, I haven’t the date, another headless boy was pulled from the Catawba River. I don’t know if that corpse was similarly mutilated.”

Obviously she’d heard, or been told of, Boyce Lingo’s tirade. I didn’t confirm or deny the information.

“The police have arrested a young man named Asa Fi

“Yes.” All that had been reported in news coverage. I didn’t mention that Slidell also suspected Fi

“They’ve arrested the wrong man,” Roberts said.

“The police are conducting a full investigation.”

“Asa Fi

“I have a rudimentary understanding,” I said.

“The public does not. Asa is a self-proclaimed witch, it’s true. Have you seen his Web site?”

I admitted that I had not.

“Go there. Read his postings. You will find the musings of a kind and gentle soul.”

“I will.”

“There is a Wiccan camp at Lake Wylie. Though I don’t know the exact location, I know that Jimmy Klapec’s body was found at Lake Wylie. That will not put Asa Fi

I didn’t mention the books by Anton LaVey, the resemblance to Rick Nelson, or the Ford Focus seen in the area the night of Klapec’s murder.

“In today’s climate of religious extremism, there are those who condemn beliefs they don’t understand. Responsible, intelligent Christians who would rather see people dead than following what they consider pagan practices. Their numbers are few, but these fanatics exist.”

I heard a voice in the background. Je

“Sorry. Where was I? Yes. County Commissioner Lingo has twice mentioned Asa Fi

“He has excellent counsel.” I didn’t mention names.

“Charles Hunt is a public defender.”

“Charles Hunt is very good.” In more ways than one. I didn’t mention that, either.

Je

“Asa Fi

How did she know that? I didn’t ask.

“The police are doing a thorough investigation,” I said.

“Are they? Asa Fi

I couldn’t figure Je

“I’m unclear what it is you want me to do.”

“Nullify Lingo’s poison. Make a public statement. You’re a forensic specialist. People will listen to you.”

“I’m sorry, Je

“Then talk to Lingo. Reason with him.”

“Why are you so concerned about Asa Fi

“He is i

“How can you know that?”

There was a moment of dead air, then, “We are members of the same coven.”

“You are Wiccan?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice. I’d known Je

“Yes.”

I heard an indrawn breath then silence. I waited.

“Come to Full Moon tonight. We are having an esbat ritual. Meet us. Learn our philosophy.”

My battered brain cells were screaming for sleep. I started to decline.

“You will see. Ours is a joyous religion born of kinship with nature. Wiccans celebrate life, we do not take it.”

The conscience guys piped a voice through the pain in my head.

While Slidell was drowning his grief in work, you were drowning yours in booze.

“When?”

“Seven P.M.”

Barring horrendous traffic, I could make it to the university and get home in time for a power nap before leaving for Full Moon.

I reached for my tablet.

“I’ll need directions.”

26

THE NAP DIDN’T HAPPEN. IRELAND INSISTED ON SHARING A BLOW-by-blow of her SEM prep process. Then I spent an hour creeping through a construction slowdown on I-85. I arrived at the A

Je

The sun was low, turning the woods into a collage of green, brown, and red. As I slipped in and out of shadow, crimson arrows shot the foliage and danced my windshield. I saw no other cars.

A quarter mile in, I spotted a wooden trellis curving eight feet above a pair of tire tracks taking off to the right. Following Je

Ten yards beyond the archway, the woods gave way to a clearing approximately sixty feet in diameter. At the far side, two dozen cars angled toward a crudely built log cabin. Another hand-crafted sign above the door a

Parking beside a battered old Volvo, I got out and looked around. No one approached or called out. Below the goddess, the cabin door remained closed.

The air smelled of pine and moist earth and a hint of bonfire smoke. Notes drifted from the trees beyond the cabin. Panpipes? A recorder? I couldn’t be sure.

Circling the building, I spotted a path and moved toward the music. The sun was down now, the woods in that murky limbo between dusk and full night. No birds called out, but now and then some panicked creature skittered away through the underbrush.

As I picked my way along, the music sorted itself into flute and guitar. A lone female voice sang lyrics I couldn’t make out.

Soon I saw the flicker of flames through the trees. Ten steps and I reached a second clearing, this one much smaller than that surrounding the cabin. Pausing at the edge of the trees, I looked for Je

The gathering was larger than I’d anticipated, perhaps thirty people. A few sat on logs placed around the perimeter of the fire pit. Others stood talking in groups.