Ceremony In Death

This was acknowledged by a brief nod and a short formal statement. The holograms winked off.

Roarke eased back, amused. "People aren't always grateful when you give them large quantities of money, are they, Caro?"

"No, sir." She was tidy, with hair shockingly white and gloriously styled. She rose, taking both the hard copy and the record disc of the transaction for filing. Her trim, rust-colored suit showed off beautifully shaped legs. "They'll be less grateful when you turn ScanAir into a financial success. Within a year, I'd say."

"Ten months." He turned to the translator. "Thank you, Petrov, your services were invaluable, as always."

"My pleasure, sir," He was a droid, created by one of Roarke's science arms. His body was slim, garbed in a well-cut dark suit. His face was attractive, but not distractingly so, and formed to simulate trustworthy middle age. Several of his line were leased by the UN.

"Give me an hour, Caro, before the next. I have some personal business to tend to."

"You have a one o'clock lunch with the department heads of Sky Ways to discuss the absorption of ScanAir, and the publicity strategies."

"Here, or off site?"

"Here, sir, in the executive dining hall. You approved the menu last week." She smiled. "In anticipation."

"Right. I remember. I'll be there." He moved through the side door and into his office. Before going to the desk, he engaged locks. It wasn't strictly necessary. Caro would never come in una

At his desk unit, he engaged the jamming field that would block any scan by CompuGuard. The law frowned on unauthorized hacking, and the penalties were stiff.

"Computer, membership data, Church of Satan, New York City branch, under direction of Selina Cross."

Working… That data is protected under religious privacy act. Request denied.

Roarke only smiled. He'd always preferred a challenge. "Oh well, I think we can change your mind about that." Prepared to enjoy himself, he slipped off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

– =O=-***-=O=-

Downtown, Eve paced Dr. Mira's pretty, designed-to-soothe office. She was never completely relaxed there. She trusted Mira's judgment; she always had. More recently, she had come to trust the doctor on a personal level. As much as it was possible. But it didn't make her relax.

Mira knew more about her than anyone. More, Eve suspected than she knew about herself. Facing someone with that kind of intimate knowledge wasn't relaxing.

But she hadn't come to talk about personal matters, Eve reminded herself. She was here to talk murder.

Mira opened the door and stepped in. Her smile was slow and warm and personal. She always looked so… perfect, Eve decided. Never too glossy, never undone, never less than competent. Today, instead of her customary suit, Mira wore a slim, pumpkin-colored dress with a single-button matching coat of the same above-the-knee length. Her shoes were of a slightly darker tone and boasted the ski

Mira offered both hands, a gesture of affection that simultaneously baffled and pleased Eve.

"It's good to see you back in fighting shape, Eve. No problem with the knee?"

"Oh?" With a faint frown Eve glanced down, remembering the injury she'd suffered while closing a recent case. "No. The MTs did a good job. I'd forgotten about it."

"A side affect of your job." Mira settled in one of her scoop chairs. "I'd think it would be a bit like childbirth."

"Excuse me?"

"The ability to forget the pain, the trauma to both body and mind, and go on to do the same thing again. I've always believed women make good cops and doctors because they're inherently resilient that way. Won't you sit, have some tea, tell me what I can do for you?"

"I appreciate you fitting me in." Eve sat, shifted restlessly. She always felt inclined to bare her soul once she was settled in this room with this woman. "It's about a case I'm working on. I can't give you many details. There's an internal block."

"I see." Mira programmed tea. "Tell me what you can."

"One subject is a young woman, eighteen, very bright, and apparently very impressionable."

"It's an age for explorations." Mira took out the tea steaming fragrantly in delicate china cups, offered one to Eve.

Eve would drink it, but she wouldn't particularly like it. "I suppose. The subject has family. Close family. Though the father is out of the picture, there is extended family – grandparents, cousins, that kind of thing. She wasn't – isn't," Eve corrected, "alone."

Mira nodded. Eve had been alone, she thought, brutally alone.

"The subject had an interest in ancient religions and cultures, was studying same. Over the past year, she developed a certain interest in the occult."

"Hmm. That's also fairly typical. Youth often explores various creeds and beliefs in order to find and cement their own. The occult, with its mystique and its possibilities is very attractive."

"She became involved in Satanism."

"As a dabbler?"

Eve frowned. She'd expected Mira to show some surprise or disapproval. Instead, she was sipping tea with that slight attentive smile playing around her mouth. "If that means was she toying with it, I'd say she went deeper."

"Initiated?"

"I'm not sure what that involves."

"Depending on the sect, there would be slight variations. Broadly, it would entail a waiting period, the taking of vows, a physical mark on the body, generally on or near the genitalia. The initiate would be accepted into the coven with a ceremony. There would be an altar, a human one, probably female, within a circle. The princes of hell would be called while the initiate or initiates knelt. Symbolism would include flame, smoke, the ringing of a bell, graveyard dirt, preferably from an infant. They would be given water or wine mixed with urine to drink, then the high priest or priestess would mark the initiate with a ceremonial knife."

"An athame."

"Yes." Mira smiled, as though pleased with a bright student. "And though it's illegal, if the coven is able, they will then sacrifice a young goat. With some, the blood of the goat is mixed with wine and consumed. Once done, the coven engages in sex. The altar may be used by all or many. It would be considered both a duty and a pleasure."

"Sounds like you've been there."

"No, but I was allowed to observe a sabbat ceremony once. It was quite fascinating."

"You don't actually believe that stuff." Stu

Mira lifted a smoothly arched brow. "I believe in good and evil, Eve, and I don't by any means discount the likelihood of an ultimate good, or an ultimate evil. In my profession, and yours, we see too much of both to deny it."

Humans committed evil, Eve thought. Evil was human. "But devil worship?"

"Those who choose to focus their lives – and shall we say souls – on this creed generally do so for its freedom, its structure, and its celebration of selfishness. Others are seduced by the promise of power. And many by the sex."

"It was just sex." That's what Wineburg had said, had sobbed, Eve remembered, before he died.

"Your young woman, Eve, was likely drawn in first by the intellect. Satanism is centuries old, and like most pagan religions, predates Christianity. Why does it survive, and in some eras even prosper? It's filled with secrets and sins and sex, its rites are mysterious and elaborate. She would have wondered, and coming from a close and likely sheltered homelife, was at an age ripe for rebellions against the status quo."