I Will Fear No Evil

by Debbie Viguié

  “What?”

  “She wasn’t as happy as she had once been. In fact she was getting more sullen, withdrawn. I suspected something might be upsetting her in her personal life, but she wouldn’t talk about it. Then she began questioning some of our most basic teachings. I could tell that she was no longer satisfied with our way of worship or the things that she was learning. She started asking a lot of questions of more established members, questions that had to do with the study of dark magic. She was making some people uncomfortable. She was becoming obsessed with power, how to achieve it, how to keep it, that sort of thing.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  “That she was focused on the wrong things. I told her Wicca was about being a part of something and not dominating something.”

  “Do you have any idea what she might have been after?”

  “Power, that is my only guess. If it was something more specific than that, I wasn’t privy to it. It had reached the point where we knew we were going to have to ask her to leave, which broke my heart. We try so very hard to be inclusive that it is a tragedy when we have to instead exclude. However, it seemed that she had tired of us long before we had tired of her. She quit the coven, said she’d found a better one, a coven that was more suited to her needs. We let her go with our blessings and a heavy heart.”

  “And you haven’t seen her since?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Matilda said.

  “Any idea about who this other coven was she had joined or where they’d meet?”

  “Not really, but two of our other members left at the same time she did and I figure they went on together.”

  “Who was this?” Mark asked sharply.

  “Peter and Vanessa. They were also drawn more to the darker side of things.”

  “Do you have contact information for either of them?”

  “I’m afraid not. I lost my phone while I was on vacation last year and with it all my old contacts. I’m usually the one who sends out reminders about meetings and things so I had everyone’s numbers. It’s possible someone else knows how to contact them. I can ask.”

  “That would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Consider it done. Is there anything else I can help with?”

  “Not that I can think of at the moment, but I’m going to leave you with my card and I’d appreciate it if I could get your contact information.”

  “Of course.”

  She gave him her number and he wrote it down in his notepad before handing her one of his cards. She tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. “Detective, there is actually something you might be able to help me with, if you don’t mind.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, somewhat surprised. Most people being questioned by a police officer, even if they were innocent, were still eager to see the officer go.

  “Something weird has happened. I have a black cat.”

  Mark couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

  She rolled her eyes at him in response. “I know, very cliché. Look, black cats are the least likely to be adopted and the most likely to be put down. I happen to be a cat person and I’m a sucker for underdogs. Well, my cat went missing a couple of nights ago.”

  “I’m more of a dog person myself, but isn’t that kind of normal for cats to come and go sometimes?” Mark asked.

  “Some cats, sure, but not mine. I don’t let her run around outside because I don’t want her to get hurt or killed by a car or another animal or anything. I have a screened in porch she likes to hang out in. Two nights ago I got home and I couldn’t find her. I looked everywhere. Then I noticed that there was a tear in the screen in the patio. It was just big enough for her to get through. The thing is, there wasn’t a tear in that screen when I left in the morning.”

  “Maybe she saw something on the outside she wanted, a bird or lizard maybe and clawed her way out.”

  “Ordinarily I’d think so, too. She was a rescue, though, and when I got her the previous owners had her front paws declawed. That type of damage would have been impossible for her to cause.”

  “That is odd,” Mark said with a frown. “Maybe she had a boyfriend, another cat who came by and sprung her loose?”

  “The only other cat on our block belongs to the little old lady across the street. When I went over to ask her if she’d seen Ebony she told me that she hadn’t and that her own cat Whiskers had gone missing the day before. Her cat, by the way, is also black.”

  “Is she also a-”

  “Born again Christian, so no, she’s not a Wiccan, if that’s what you were about to ask.”

  “I was going to say conscientious cat owner,” Mark fibbed.

  “Yes. Her cat does occasionally sneak out the back door, but he never goes far and he’s always back for dinner. We’ve called all the shelters, put up flyers, and there’s no sign of our cats.”

  “That’s tragic, but I don’t see how you think I can help,” Mark said.

  Matilda glanced around then stepped in closer. “My cousin works for the police department. He told me that there was an occult murder, human sacrifice.”

  Mark barely managed to keep himself from swearing. He did manage to keep his face neutral neither denying nor admitting anything.

  “Obviously I’m hoping it’s not true, and that whatever’s going on you catch the sick monster behind it. But it’s got me worried. A lot of shelters don’t adopt out black cats during the month of October.”

  “Because they’re afraid that once the Halloween party is over people will dump their black cats right back at the shelter?”

  She shook her head. “That’s not the worst of it. There are some sick people in this world, people who do things like what happened to that girl. Black cats get hurt a lot at this time of the year. I can’t stand the thought that someone might do something to Ebony and Whiskers. So, please, catch these people and tell the other officers to be on the lookout for black cats.”

  “I will,” he promised.

  “Thank you. I’ll call you in the morning with whatever information I can get.”

  “Good. I’ll talk to you then,” Mark said.

  He turned and he and Liam made their way swiftly back to their cars. Once there Mark leaned against his, trying to regain his composure.

  “So, what are you going to want me to help with?” Liam asked.

  ‘Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Go, enjoy the rest of your vacation, but do me a favor and stay close to your phone.”

  “Will do,” Liam promised before driving off.

  Mark got into his own car. It was past time he made it home to Traci. He just wished he had something new to tell her about the whereabouts of her sister.

  Cindy, Jeremiah, and Traci were sitting around Traci’s kitchen table drinking orange juice. As Cindy poured herself another glass she reflected that at least Traci seemed much calmer than when they had first arrived. It had also been kind of fun to help her put the babies to bed. She still couldn’t believe how fast the twins were growing.

  After that they had been discussing the case and how it could pertain to Lizzie while they waited for Mark to come home. Well, that, and there was some brief discussion of the upcoming costume party. Cindy was disgusted that Jeremiah still was not on board with the whole couples costume thing.

  “Wasn’t your grandmother’s sister a Wiccan?” Jeremiah asked Cindy out of the blue.

  “She was. How did you know that?”

  “You told me about the Easter you spent at her house when we were swapping worst holiday meal stories.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Cindy said with a grin. “The ham my dad kept stabbing with her ceremonial knife while my brother was screaming that it was resurrecting.”

  Traci shook her head. “And I thought my family was weird,” she said, trying to be funny.

  It fell a little flat and on impulse Cindy reached out and hugged her.

  “Is your great aunt still alive? Maybe she could provide some perspective,” Jeremiah sugg
ested.

  “Unfortunately no. She died when I was in college. And even if she hadn’t I’m not sure she would have been that helpful. After the whole Easter dinner incident she pretty much shunned our side of the family.”

  Jeremiah’s phone rang and he pulled it out. “Hi, Marie, what’s up?”

  Cindy could hear the other woman on the phone. Her voice was shrill and hurried as if there was something terribly wrong.

  “Slow down. When did this happen? I see. Have the police been notified? What did they say? Okay, we’ll hold a vigil for her tomorrow morning. Yes. I’ll be there.”

  He hung up the phone and she could tell from the look on his face that it was bad news. She could feel her heart begin to pound. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “One of the girls from the synagogue just ran away from home.”

  10

  Both Cindy and Traci expressed their concern with how terrible that was. Jeremiah shook his head as he put away his phone. “We’d all kind of seen the writing on the wall for the last few months. Meghan had been desperately unhappy at home and nothing anyone did could seem to make it better. I know her older sister, Sarah, pretty well and I know she’s been struggling to understand Meghan, and be there for her, but it’s been hard on everyone.”

  “What do you need to do?” Cindy asked.

  “There’s nothing I can do right now but pray for her. We’ll be holding a prayer vigil at the synagogue in the morning for friends and family to come and unite together hoping that our prayers will help bring her home. The police have been notified and they’re keeping an eye out for her. Hopefully one of them will pick her up somewhere and take her home none the worse for wear.”

  “I still wish I knew what happened to Lizzie,” Traci said in distress. “She took her toothbrush which means she had to go wherever she went on purpose, right?”

  “It would seem like it,” Cindy said. “You and I have both been kidnapped and no one gave us time to pack a toiletry bag,” she said.

  Traci stared at her for a moment and then, to Jeremiah’s surprise, started giggling. “You’re right. The thought’s absurd.”

  “I know,” Cindy said with a grin.

  He shook his head. Cindy always managed to bring out the best even in dark situations. It was one of her gifts.

  “Hey, you never told us what happened at the doctor’s office,” he realized.

  “Oh,” Cindy said, rolling her eyes.

  “This must be good,” Traci commented.

  “The doctor ran a bunch of tests and what he came up with was a minor allergy to ragweed and a major allergy to acacia trees.”

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  “That’s it. Weird, huh? I was expecting dust, fungus, witchcraft, you know to be allergic to one of those.”

  Traci belted out a laugh this time so loud it even startled her.

  “Sorry,” she said, covering her mouth sheepishly.

  “I live to amuse,” Cindy countered.

  “Then long live you,” Traci said, raising her glass of orange juice.

  He and Cindy did the same in the impromptu toast.

  “Acacia trees. Are there many around here?” Traci asked.

  Cindy shrugged. “The doctor said they’re more prevalent up in Northern California, but they are down here along the coastal areas as well.”

  “So, what was eau de acacia tree doing in that basement?” Traci asked. “I mean, if that really was what set off your allergy attack.”

  “I have no idea,” Cindy said. “I mean, I noticed a weird smell in the basement, but you know it was musty and gross down in there and it could have been anything really. I mean, I wouldn’t even know what acacia smells like to be able to tell if they had some weird air deodorizer going with that in it.”

  Jeremiah shook his head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You honestly think someone put a room deodorizer in that house?”

  “I know, it sounds ridiculous, but how else do you explain it?”

  He couldn’t frankly. Every possible answer that came to mind was more ridiculous than the one before it so he finally gave up.

  “You don’t think they use acacia in any kind of weird rituals, do you?” Traci asked suddenly.

  They both turned to stare at her.

  “That might actually make sense,” Cindy said. She hopped to her feet.

  “Where are you going?” Jeremiah asked.

  “To borrow Mark’s computer for a minute. I can’t believe I didn’t think about looking it up earlier.”

  “In what time? You’ve been pretty busy since your doctor’s visit earlier,” Traci said.

  Almost as if compelled to do so they both stood up and followed her into the office. Jeremiah hesitated in the doorway. The last time he’d been in that room he’d had to come clean with Mark about his past and try to tell Cindy that he had to leave. The memories came flooding back to him. That had been a terrible day. Yet, they had gotten past it and here they were again. Once Mark made it home the circle of crazy would be complete.

  Cindy did a quick web search and then started scrolling through links before clicking on one. The color slowly drained out of her face as she read.

  “What is it?” Traci asked.

  “You were right. It is used in rituals,” Cindy answered.

  “What kind of rituals?” Jeremiah asked sharply.

  “From what I’m seeing it has a strong association with death in early Egyptian, Jewish, and Christian culture. It’s also a symbol of immortality and initiation through resurrection.”

  She scrolled down the page farther while both Jeremiah and Traci leaned in trying to get a better look.

  “Ah! It says here that it is burned on charcoal in rituals to enhance someone’s individual power.”

  “All of those are bad things,” Jeremiah said softly.

  “It’s possible someone was trying to do an initiation through resurrection spell or a power spell,” Cindy said. “If they were burning the acacia that could have been that strange odor, and I could have had that reaction to it.”

  “If it was still that present, then the police couldn’t have gotten there that long after the killer left,” Jeremiah pointed out.

  “If the killer even left,” Cindy countered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “At one point I could swear I heard someone whispering to me, a voice outside my head. What if the killer was there but in a hidden room or something and the acacia was still burning?” Cindy asked.

  “A hidden room, how likely is that?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, how likely was it to find a ritualized human sacrifice in a basement in a house in California?” she challenged.

  Meanwhile next to them Traci had gone ash white and was shaking.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning to her and putting a steadying hand on her arm.

  “It says you can burn it to gain power. That’s what Lizzie was obsessed with. Power. She’d had a taste of it and she wanted more. I warned her that it would never be enough, but she didn’t want to hear it.”

  Cindy reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m sure Lizzie had nothing to do with that girl’s death.”

  “How can you be sure?” Traci asked.

  “I can’t, but I have a hard time believing a sister of yours would be capable of something like that.”

  Traci nodded slowly, but didn’t say anything.

  “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, and we’ll get Lizzie back, you’ll see,” Cindy said, giving her a brilliant smile.

  They heard the front door open and a minute later Mark joined them in the office. He looked around at all of them. “What did I miss?” he asked.

  Traci threw her arms around his neck and burst into tears.

  It ended up being a late night with the four of them exchanging information, theories, everything. Mark was dragging come morning, but had agreed to meet Trina for a late breakfast to confab and strategize.<
br />
  When he got to the restaurant he realized he’d missed a call on his phone from the Sweater Girl. He listened to her message and she apologized, but said that no one else had the phone numbers of those other two people. That was not the news he was looking for.

  He slid into the booth at the restaurant and a minute later gave the waitress his order. Once Trina had ordered and the waitress had headed off, he turned and looked at her.

  “By the way, thanks for the tip last night. Apparently it was a good night to hold a coven meeting. I found the wiccan coven I was looking for. They seemed harmless enough actually, so I’m not sure they’re the wiccans you’re here to chase down.”

  “I’m not here chasing wiccans,” Trina said.

  “Then with all due respect, who are you here chasing?” Mark asked.

  She picked up her coffee, took a sip of it, then set it down. “Witches.”

  “There’s a difference?” he asked.

  She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Yes, the former is a religious group practicing an earth religion and bound by a certain moral code.”

  “Which would be what, exactly?”

  “It goes ‘and it harm none, do what thou will’. There is also a belief, a warning principle, that whatever you put out into the universe comes back on you sevenfold. So, to put out anything evil would be to visit it back on yourself seven times worse. They respect the earth, draw power from it.”

  “So, overly religious hippies,” he said.

  Now she was outright glaring at him. He had no idea if she herself was a wiccan, but he was certainly getting under her skin. That’s what he wanted to do, people often revealed more about themselves, their knowledge, and their intentions when you egged them on.

  “Moving on,” she said tartly. “Witches, specifically dark witches, don’t necessarily practice a religion of any sort, what they practice are a bunch of spells and magic that they think will bring them power and personal gain. Their rituals can range from the merely dark to the obscene.”

  Her words chilled him to the bone. It wasn’t so much the description of their rituals but her description of the kind of people that fell into that trap. It must have shown on his face because Trina leaned forward.