Ceremony In Death

"Is that what you consider yourself, a magician?" Eve glanced toward the still burning fire with a mild sneer. "That's nothing more than trickery and distraction of the eye. You can be licensed to juggle on the streets for two thousand credits a year."

Selina's muscles quivered as she sat forward. Her eyes were burning now, as the fire did. "I am a high priestess of the dark lord. Our numbers are legion, and I have powers that would make you weep."

"I don't cry easily, Ms. Cross." Ah, a temper, Eve thought with satisfaction. And easily ruffled pride. "You're not dealing with an impressionable eighteen-year-old girl now, or her frightened grandfather. Which one of your legion called Alice last night and played a tape of chanting threats?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. And you're begi

"The black feather on the windowsill was a nice touch. Or simulated feather, I should say, but she wouldn't have known that. Are you into droid pets, Ms. Cross?"

Idly, Selina lifted a hand, skimmed it through then down her hair. "I don't care for… pets at all."

"No? No cats and ravens?"

"How predictable that would be."

"Alice believed you were a shape-shifter," Eve said and watched as Selina smiled. "Care to give us a demonstration of that little talent?"

Selina's nails began to tap again. Eve's tone was as insulting as a backhanded slap. "I'm not here to entertain you. Or to be mocked by your small mind."

"Is that what you call it? Were you entertaining Alice with cats and birds and threatening chants over her 'link? How could she feel safe in her own home? Was she such a threat to you?"

"She was nothing to me but an unfortunate failure."

"You were seen selling illegals to Frank Wojinski."

The abrupt switch had Selina blinking. When her lips curved now, the smile didn't reach her eyes. "If that were true, we wouldn't be having this discussion here in my home, but in Interview. I'm an herbalist, again licensed, and I often sell or trade perfectly legal substances."

"Do you grow your herbs here?"

"As a matter of fact, I do, and distill my potions and medications."

"I'd like to see them. Why don't you show me your work area?"

"You'll need a warrant for that, and we both know you haven't cause for one."

"You're right. I guess that's why Frank didn't bother with a warrant." Eve rose slowly, spoke softly. "You knew he was onto you, but did you suspect he might get in here, inside? You didn't see that in your magic ball, did you?" Eve said when Selina's breath shortened and thickened. "What would you think if I told you he was in your house, and he documented what he saw, and what he found."

"You have nothing. Nothing." Selina sprang to her feet. "He was an aging man with slow wits and bad reflexes. I made him for a cop the first time he tried to tail me. He was never in my home. He told you nothing when he was alive, and he can't tell you anything now."

"No? Don't you believe in talking to the dead, Ms. Cross? I make my living at it."

"And do you think I don't recognize smoke and mirrors, Lieutenant?" Her spectacular breasts strained against the material of her dress as she struggled to even her breathing. "Alice was a foolish girl who believed she could flirt with dark forces, then run back to her pathetic white magic and tidy little family. She paid the price for her ignorance and her cowardice. But not at my hand. I have nothing more to say to you."

"That'll do for now. Peabody?" She started toward the archway. "Your fire's going out, Ms. Cross," she said mildly. "Pretty soon you're going to have nothing but a mess of ashes."

Selina stood where she was, shaking with rage. When the door closed and security engaged, she balled her hands into fists and screamed with temper.

A panel on the wall slid open. The man who stepped out was tall and golden. His chest gleamed and rippled with muscle. The tattoo over his heart was of a horned goat. He wore only an open black robe carelessly belted at the waist with silver cord.

"Alban." Selina ran to him, threw her arms around him.

"There, my love." His voice was deep, soothing. On the hand that stroked her hair was a large silver ring carved with an inverted pentagram. "You mustn't unbalance your chakras."

"Fuck my chakras." She was weeping now, wildly, pounding on him like a child in a blind tantrum. "I hate her. I hate her. She has to be punished."

With a sigh, he let her go to storm the room, cursing, smashing crockery. He knew the temper would pass more quickly if he stood back and let it purge.

"I want her dead, Alban. Dead. I want her to suffer agonies, to scream for mercy, to bleed and writhe and bleed. She insulted me. She challenged me. She all but laughed in my face."

"She doesn't believe, Selina. She has no vision."

Exhausted as always after a fit of temper, she collapsed on the settee. "Cops. I've hated them all my life."

"I know." He picked up a tall, slim bottle, poured her some thick, cloudy liquid. "We'll have to be careful with her. She's very high-profile." He passed her a chalice. "But we'll think of something, won't we?"

"Of course we will." She smiled again, sipped slowly at the brew. "Something very special. The master would want something… inventive in her case." Now she laughed, full-throated, head thrown back. The police had been the bane of her existence – until she'd discovered a higher power. "We'll make a believer out of her, won't we, Alban?"

"She'll believe."

She drank deeply now, felt the lovely haze coat her tangled emotions. And let the chalice drop. "Come here, and take me." Eyes glittering, she slid down. "Force me."

And when he covered her body with his, she turned her head, bared her teeth, and dug them into his shoulder to draw blood.

"Hurt me," she demanded.

"With pleasure." he replied.

And when they lay apart, their violent passion sated, he lay quiet beside her. She would revive now, he knew. She would cool and she would calm, and she would think.

"We should perform a ceremony tonight. Call together the entire coven for a Black Mass. We need power, Alban. She isn't weak, and she wants to destroy us."

"She won't." With affection now, he stroked her cheek. "She can't. After all, she's only a cop with no past and a limited future. But you're right, of course, we'll call the coven. We'll perform the rite. And, I think, we'll provide Lieutenant Dallas with a distraction – or two. She won't have the time or inclination to worry overmuch about little Alice for long."

Fresh arousal rippled through her, a dark wave that flooded into her eyes. "Who dies?"

"My love." He lifted her, speared her, sighed when her muscles clamped viciously around him. "You have only to choose."

– =O=-***-=O=-

"You really pissed her off." Peabody struggled to ignore the light sweat of fear that dried on her skin as Eve drove away from the building.

"That was the idea. Now that I know control isn't her strong point, I'll be sure to piss her off again. She's all ego," Eve decided. "Imagine, thinking we'd fall for a second-rate trick like the fire."

"Yeah." Peabody managed a sickly smile. "Imagine." Eve tucked her tongue in her cheek and decided against ragging on her aide. "Since we're into witches, let's swing by and check out this Isis at Spirit Quest." She slid her eyes right. Well, maybe she'd rag just a little. "You can probably buy a talisman or some herbs," she said solemnly. "You know, to ward off evil."

Peabody shifted in her seat. Feeling foolish wasn't nearly as bad as worrying about being cursed. "Don't think I won't."

"After we deal with Isis, we can grab a pizza sub – with plenty of garlic."

"Garlic's for vampires."

"Oh. We can have Roarke get us a couple of his antique guns. With silver bullets."