Sekhet

  At 10 a.m., she got what she wanted. Not as friendly as she had hoped, it was still substantially superior than expected. Molly was safe, which was an adequate amount of information, considering the circumstances. Her whereabouts? Lucy hadn’t a clue, but for now, Lucy decided she would talk to Sarah about her state of mind with the hope of figuring out exactly how far Sarah was willing to go in her quest for vengeance. And to leave Molly out of it.

  “She has been dead for months!” Sarah shouted. “It’s been months and still nothing! How can they have no leads? As if her life meant nothing? She was my baby girl, Lucy, and her husband destroyed her. Do I want revenge? You’re damned straight I do, and I will have it!” As she was moving closer with every snappish word, Sarah’s anger was so palpable it seemed to seep through her pores.

  Lucy was done playing this game of blame. Sarah had to see what was happening around her before it was too late for them all. “And in the meantime, you are putting my daughter in the line of fire!”

  “Molly brought this on herself,” Sarah screamed, “and you know it!”

  “Be careful, Sarah,” Lucy warned through clenched jaws, her fingers burning a spell built up within, beseeching its release.

  Breathing deeply, Sarah took a step backward, gathering her wits about her as she took a seat, whispering something so low not even Lucy heard. Lucy did know that it wasn’t a spell, though, since nothing happened.

  Sarah lifted her head and looked Lucy dead straight in the eye. There it was. A mother’s broken heart for the child she couldn’t help. “You know,” she said softly, “when Lily was younger, she was so talented.” The memory of a young witch who refused to hide what she was made her smile. Of course, that had all changed by the time she was in college, where wanting to fit in outweighed advancing into greatness. “I always imagined she would take my place on the Council, but she changed so much, I no longer knew her.”

  “What transpired between you?” Lucy asked with sudden compassion.

  “She became ashamed of who she was.” Wiping the tears from her face, Sarah giggled an uneasy titter. “She blamed me for passing such a curse down through my bloodline into hers. As if I could help it.” No longer finding the least bit of amusement in the recollections, Sarah’s smile died out. “What about Molly?”

  “Where do I start?” Rolling her eyes, Lucy managed a small smile. “She has hated me since childhood. Of course, I haven’t helped matters. I have never been the noblest of teachers in right and wrong. But honestly, I never would have thought I would see the day she would turn to black magic and dealings with Hell Demons. It’s a darkness I have no control over. Having to come to the realization that what powers I possess are, and will on no account ever be, in the same category as anything Sekhet can convey has been one of the toughest instances of pure and utter failure I have ever had to accept.”

  “We will get to the bottom of this.” Sarah’s response was firm and level, leaving no question to what her meaning was. “After all, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

  “I don’t know…die.” Lucy’s response reeked of sarcasm.

  “Ha! Well, yes, there is that,” Sarah replied.

  CHAPTER 12

  A Seer in Hiding

  The sky was a midnight blue-black and while stars shone brightly. Joe hadn’t been able to sleep. They call it astral projection, where your consciousness travels while your body remains behind in a state somewhere between sleep and attentiveness. The ability to reach one of the slowest frequencies of your mind, known in the world of psychology as Theta brainwaves. An ability that, on occasion, had been useful to Joe, but not tonight.

  While some called it the act of yogis, Joe’s ability to sense and perceive information hidden from the normal senses of those around him was outstanding. Unlike Eddie Coyne or Sylvia Canavan, he never used his ability, or powers of encouragement, to sway people into giving him money for information. Before these people realized it, they were being manipulated and their life savings were being extracted from their soon-to-be dying hands.

  Fame and power had lost its charm after Joe had paid, yes paid, to see Sylvia Canavan at the Tacoma Dome in all her fabulous glory. Strobe lights, booming music, and hundreds upon hundreds of people praying for something, only they had no clue what it was they were praying for.

  The chance to be brought on stage? The numbers to next week’s lotto draw? Joe had left, amazed at the stupidity surrounding him, and irritated when he became conscious of the fact that deep down, he realized that, without even trying too hard, he could have blown her out of the water. She was a con artist living it up in her Beverly Hills seven-bedroom, six-bathroom home bought with fools’ money.

  It was just part of him, but not a part he wanted known. The very notion of being seen in the same light as a fortune-teller who could make predictions without the use of elaborate tools was too much to handle.

  Joe was not as holy as some would like, but what the hell? He was a seer, and yoga was a part of his daily ritual that helped to keep his mind calm and focused. He knew that scans of meditating brains actually showed increased activity in parts of the brain. He could see what others couldn’t.

  Sometimes Joe remembered the times both he and Victor could have been killed if he hadn’t tapped into his energies the way he could. Not as hated and thrown to the dogs, or burnt at the stake, as Molly’s ancestors most certainly were, seers went back as far as the second Book of Samuel, chapter 9. Joe did find reading about prophets, dating back to Phthia, constructive in a weird and wonderful way. Although he liked to think he never spoke complete and utter gibberish as Pythia had been noted to have done, he found her fascinating. A high priestess with balls bigger than any man’s.

  So he had seen the answers before Mrs. Long uttered the words, but he still needed to have it on file. It wasn’t as if he could walk into the captain’s office and declare he had seen it coming. If he did, the captain would have him sent for a relaxing weekend of counseling. Again. Only this time, it wouldn’t be for anger management issues.

  Joe’s downfall was that there were certain things he still hadn’t mastered. He’d had no idea Molly was leaving for Twisp, for instance, nor had he seen that Lily Davis’s mother was a current resident there. Nor could he see who she was. He also didn’t foresee that Victor would not be meeting him for after-work drinks to discuss what each of them had found, as they had agreed to do. It would seem that Olivia had dug her nails deep-seated this time and wasn’t letting go. But who was he to begrudge his friend getting laid? To stop a night of great sex? At least one of them was getting some. Or, he had to admit, maybe there was a lot more to Victor’s feelings for Olivia.

  Growing up in a household like the unpredictable one he had grown up in, especially when he realized he could see the future, had been mentally draining. He had known about every beating before it came, and in time, learned to defend himself and his younger siblings. Joe was aware that the time would come that he would leave. He could see himself in a uniform, but he never knew when it would happen, or what kind of uniform, until the night before he left, when he envisioned himself getting off a bus in Seattle with nothing but the clothes on his back. Leaving Mona, his sister, whom he adored caused much of his pain. He hadn’t seemed to have been blessed with anything that could aid her growing up in the environment they were subjected to.

  After several hours passed with no sleep, Joe decided to throw on a pair of sweats and take a walk to the nearest coffee shop. Generally, he had a preference, but right now, anything that would save him brewing it himself was good enough. The world never slept in Seattle.

  People having already left for work miles away from home, and the twenty-four-hour homeless, were always milling about. Joe couldn’t help but want to complain about their lack of aspirations for something better, but how could he say anything? Having dealt firsthand with the abuse that could come from people who felt disgusted by an unwashed person, Joe would go out of his way to help at one p
erson on his way to purchasing his savior – coffee. Joe was always plunged into his own memories as a homeless person when he had first arrived in Seattle. He remembered a woman shouting at him: “Homeless people aren’t homeless! Go home! Get a job!”

  Though she had drawn attention from those passing by, none of them stopped to help Joe, instead deciding to look abashed on his behalf. He had been humiliated, embarrassed, and ashamed. No matter how silent he remained, she had continued to spit verbal abuse in his direction. Finally, he had gotten to his feet and brushed himself off as best he could, which wasn’t much of an improvement. Considering the box he had been sleeping in had collapsed around him, following a long night of somewhat heavy rain, he felt that his situation was understandable.

  The woman’s face in front of him, yelling, had been a mass of wrinkles, but her eyes were a piercing, severe, glassy blue. Smiling at her, Joe had bid her a good afternoon tottering away with his shoulders pulled back, chin high, and eyes focused on what he had to do. She hadn’t uttered another word as he disappeared from view.

  Pulling himself out of his memories, Joe dug in his pockets and pulled out a twenty, handing it to a young woman who looked frightened as he walked in her direction. “Take it,” he said, holding the money out to her.

  She hesitated, eyes scanning the road in both directions, then said what she felt she ought to say before it was too late. “I don’t give sex for money. I don’t want it.”

  “Please, take it. All I ask is that you buy food, or a hot beverage to warm your insides. I know you must be cold.”

  “Really? You know?” her voice held mockery, which he didn’t blame her for. Life on the streets hardens people, and Joe, of all people, knew it too well.

  “Just take it.” Without another word, Joe put the money down at her feet, along with a social worker’s card, the very man who had helped him. Walking away before he got dragged into a quarrel, by this time Joe had seen what she was going to do with the money. She would follow him, walk into the coffee shop behind him, pretending to know him, and later pay for his coffee.

  He would let her, but only after he convinced her to call the number on the card. She would go to the shelter, have a warm shower, something substantial to eat, and in two days, she would contact her parents. It was well worth the twenty dollars.

  As the dark began to fade into daybreak, Joe walked from the coffee shop, pulling his cell out of his pocket. Dialing Victor’s number, he sat down on the curb, waiting for the usual fourth ring before Victor answered and a curse sounded down the line.

  “Still haven’t unpacked yet, huh?”

  “Nope.” Victor replied with a small laugh of amusement, even though he was obviously still in a haze of sleep.

  “You realize normal people unpack when they move into a place right.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Dude, seriously? That’s your excuse?”

  “I hate unpacking,” Victors moaned, “Why bother? This way I know exactly where everything is.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “You know what? You’re beginning to sound like Olivia.”

  “Whoa!” Raising his hands in defense, even though Victor could not see him, Joe huffed about being compared to the woman he thought a control freak. “We need to get to Twisp, and we undoubtedly need a little chat with Molly,” said Joe, not taking a breath.

  “You really do have it bad for Molly, don’t you, Partner?”

  “It’s nothing like that,” Joe answered defensively, much to Victor’s entertainment. “She must have known Lily Davis, Victor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her mother moved to Twisp some years ago, and it would seem Frankie Davis had a habit of calling her names.”

  “Hold on. We have to go to Twisp because Frankie Davis called his mother-in-law names? Okay, Joe, I’m lost. What kind of names did he call her that has you so worked up?”

  “Witch.”

  It was all Joe had to say to have Victor’s full attention. “Damn!”

  “My thoughts exactly. But that’s not all.”

  Victor cringed at those words, especially coming from Joe. A couple of years of knowing how the man’s mind worked had Victor on edge. “Do I want to know?”

  “I’ve seen some things, Victor, things I can’t explain. But there is an obscuring cloud over Twisp right now, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere fast.”

  “Meet me out front in twenty.”

  “Make it ten. I’m already on my way – oh, and Victor…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your father is already on his way to Twisp.”

  ***

  Driving over to Victor’s apartment, Joe felt as though time had stopped altogether. What had Molly gotten herself involved in? Victor was right in what he had said, no matter how much Joe might try to deny it – Joe had feelings for Molly. Feelings that had, for some time now, taken over his mind every time he set eyes upon her.

  But right now, he couldn’t catch sight of her, couldn’t capture a glimpse of what she was doing, and as much as he hoped he was wrong, he knew that whatever was going on in Twisp was directly over her head. The question was, what would he do if she really was in trouble, and refused his help? If he had been a teenager, people would call him a stupid boy. He had let her in without even knowing it, making him feel every bit the sucker.

  Joe could see Victor closing his apartment door, and pressed his foot harder on the pedal, speeding through traffic on the hill. Car horns sounded from behind as he turned the corner onto James Street. City Hall Park was only a block away; it was the first place he had met Molly, and was less than four blocks from the police station.

  Unlike Victor, he liked to live that little bit farther away from his workplace. Victor was not just an ordinary police detective. He ate, slept, and shit his job. To Victor, being so close to the station was a bonus. Joe, on the other hand, liked to live close to Century Link Field, where he could catch a glimpse of his football team as they practiced every now and again. His guilty pleasure. The Seahawks. Not originally being from Seattle, or Washington for that matter, Joe had been on the receiving end of many jokes and snide comments because of his preference.

  Growing up, Joe had rooted for the Oakland Raiders. Not by choice, but at the insistence of stepfather number two, who decided Joe would either support his team or deal with the consequences. Joe learned the hard way not to embarrass his stepdad in front of his friends.

  So for two seasons, he had been a diehard Oakland Raiders fan. The next team jersey he had been handed was the San Francisco 49ers, and while he had to admit he liked to watch them play, that only lasted six months, and stepfather number three had up and left with every penny they had.

  The day he chose to follow his now local team, he had been delighted by the feeling of complete and utter freedom and control over his life that choice had come to represent. Victor, too, was a rabid fan. He told their fellow police officers that he would have a K9 start chewing legs off if they chose to continue to talk shit about his football team. Everyone laughed. Victor was serious.

  By the time Joe pulled up, Victor was out on the curb waiting, with his hand raised in greeting.

  “I tried to call Molly, but no answer,” Victor said as he jumped into the still-rolling car. “So I called Daniel to see if he knew anything.”

  “You actually called your father? And…?”

  “He hasn’t arrived yet. So he hasn’t seen her either. So step on it.”

  Victor’s voice held concern that Joe felt.

  Their journey to what was known by most as the heart of the Meadow Valley was underway. During the trip, they discussed in detail what each had learned, and tried to make a plan, but it seemed as they spoke about everything, down to the mood Molly had been in when each of them had last seen her, that they were still completely at a loss.

  First on their list was to find out who Lily Davis’s mother was, and whoever she was, she was first on the list
of people to talk to. Although Molly was actually first on Joe’s priority list, he had to keep it as professional as he possibly could, and if that meant pushing his feelings for her aside, that was what he would have to do. After all, he had a job to do, and the more he thought of it, the less anxious he felt. Twisp wasn’t exactly big, and it wouldn’t take much to accidentally on purpose run into her.

  As they pulled into a spot outside the local Twisp police department, Victor decided it would be best for Joe to take the lead. The chief of police behind the desk was not the same as when Victor was young and getting into trouble, but Victor really wasn’t one-hundred percent sure what he would be up against. Small-town police officers didn’t particularly like big-shot city detectives sauntering into their town and pushing their weight around.

  Victor and Joe could play the ignorant city dwellers who got lost in a mass of leads, chasing their tails all the way into their quaint little town of minimal crime and a lot of Roman Catholic Mass attendees. Or they could barge in, flash their badges, and hope not to feel the captain’s foot up their backsides on the way out the door.

  They chose the former and strode naturally into the strangely sweet-smelling front office, where they encountered a smiling woman in her mid-sixties. Clicking away on her keyboard while still managing to examine them in great detail, she made Joe feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. She reminded him of the elderly woman he had encountered on the street on that long-ago day when he was homeless in Seattle. Not that this woman was about to verbally abuse him, but he was uneasy all the same.

  Squinting at her nameplate on the left side of her desk, Joe beamed at her warmly, hiding behind a perfectly whitened smile, thanks to his new dentist, who, in his eyes, performed miracles. Having smoked for a few years, this was enough to make him take the jump into the whitening process. All the while, he was on tenterhooks, hoping he didn’t end up flashing a smile so white it made people cringe.