Hallowed Circle (Persephone Alcmedi 02)

by Linda Robertson

  Until the police came in with fingerprint cards and ink, I don’t think it occurred to any of us that we were suspects … or that a killer might be among us.

  We were questioned individually in the kitchen by a short, balding male officer with glasses. His badge had the name Moore on it. During my turn, he wrote down my name and asked, “All right, miss, where were you when you heard Mandy scream?”

  “On my cot trying to sleep.”

  He scribbled in his notes. “And for the half-hour preceding that?”

  I explained about being in the kitchen, then returning to the holding room.

  He scribbled more. “Did you go to the bathroom at any time?”

  “No.”

  “You just laid on your cot and stayed there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see anyone else leave?”

  “I was aware of the door opening and shutting a few times, of walking back and forth, but I didn’t see who. My eyes were shut.”

  He let me go back to the holding room alone, after asking me to send in Holly. The doorless stretch of hallway must have been deemed safe enough for us to walk alone—and no one could escape from it. As I reached the last curve before the holding room door, I heard Morgellen arguing with another police officer. “We are conducting an Eximium! Every one of the contestants has been given a dagger. Every Elder has one as well, though I cannot be sure if any of us brought ours. I didn’t bring mine.”

  “We will have to have everyone’s dagger,” the officer said. “For forensic testing.” He radioed to another officer and requested thirty evidence bags be brought.

  “You may take the daggers and proceed with your investigation, young man, but we must continue with our competition.”

  “That may not be possible—”

  Despite the horror I felt that someone was dead, I was ready to cheer about getting out of the interview with the Elders. But Morgellen cut him off mid-sentence.

  “I assure you it is,” she insisted, her voice firm. “We will keep to the Great Hall. You may do your work here.”

  “In all likelihood, ma’am, one of them is guilty! I want them all confined to the holding room below ground for now.”

  “I don’t doubt that, young man, but the rest of them are not killers and a high priestess will be chosen from among them. These women are foresworn to compete, and face dire consequences should they refuse to participate, let alone leave these grounds before the night is over. We Elders see no reason to halt the contest.”

  “Someone has taken a life, ma’am. Your consequences are clearly less of a deterrent to the killer than the threat of life imprisonment or capital punishment.”

  “Perhaps, Officer Detrick, but our prize is probably the motive for the murder. Our proceeding may help you find the murderer.”

  I stepped into view as if I hadn’t been listening out of sight. Still, I felt the weight of Morgellen’s gaze as I passed.

  Rejoining the others, I said to Holly, “Officer Moore will see you next.” She left as I sat on my cot.

  Overhearing Elder Morgellen and Officer Detrick confirmed to me that Suzanne had been stabbed to death and one of the ceremonial daggers we’d each pulled from the cauldron was the most likely weapon.

  Hot, I removed my sweatshirt, folded it, and laid it under my cot. I smoothed the copper Henley down.

  Why would anyone kill her? As I understood it, none of us contestants knew each other, beyond what would be revealed in holding-room chatting. I thought about each person in the room, considering Morgellen’s suggested motive. Who might have done it?

  I noted Holly’s empty cot; she was answering Officer Moore’s questions right now.

  As the runner-up, if one person was out of the running, she was in for the next round and therefore had a one in ten shot at advancing. If she remained the runner-up, she would compete, but it would not even be counted unless one of the other ten refused.

  Or died.

  I remembered how she had glared at Suzanne in the kitchen when Suzanne spoke of being “vigilant for our cause.” Among us, Holly was the only one who seemed to have any benefit from Suzanne’s death. Did the paper tiger have real claws?

  *

  Morgellen had convinced the police to let the Elders proceed with the Eximium. I had no idea how she managed it but the fact that she was an Elder left me wondering if she would use her power to compel him into giving his permission. Unethical, but considering the situation, I wouldn’t rule it out. Even if she was sincere in her belief that we would aid in the killer’s capture if we continued, allowing us to do so with a killer loose among us was quite a risk to take.

  Another officer came to the holding room and bagged and tagged each of our daggers individually. A watchful and silent female officer stayed in the room with us when he left.

  When I was called to my interview at ten after nine, my feet felt heavy. Escorted upstairs by Lydia and the dagger-bagging cop, I trudged along, my legs like iron weights. How could I shield? How could I hide? At the bottom of the steps to the Great Hall, I stopped. This was my formal meeting with the Elders. Nana had warned me about this.

  Would they detect that I was the Lustrata? That I carried a stain? Would I, in the next few moments, be condemned to be Bindspoken? Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it would nullify the stain.

  But I couldn’t imagine not feeling the vibration in a stone, or the elemental’s spirits standing guard in a circle, or not hearing the call of a ley line.

  Determined to clear my mind and keep my secrets my own, I started up the steps. The handrail was cold under my sweaty palm as I ascended into the dark, and turned to the dimly lit center of the vast floor.

  “Come, child,” said the Eldrenne.

  I went.

  The candlewicks had receded deep; the flames were no longer atop the pillars, but housed inside thin walls of wax, dimming the already low light until the Elders’ faces were shadowed under the brims of their hats, wrinkles deep and forbidding as they appraised me.

  “Merry Meet,” I said, bowing in formal greeting, “Elders and Eldrenne. I am—”

  “You are Persephone Alcmedi, of Eris Alcmedi, of Demeter Alcmedi, of Clio Alcmedi, of Thalia Alcmedi, of Elpis Alcmedi,” Elspeth said.

  “Yes,” I answered. My Greek witch lineage went back centuries. I was grateful she didn’t want to list it all.

  “As the local nominee, we all anticipated you would breeze through the written portion of the test, as surely the acting priestess made a wise choice in you. We were not disappointed. We are assured by your very nomination that you not only know the Rede well, but strictly adhere to it.”

  Fighting against swallowing the lump forming in my throat as it would be a telltale sign, I worked at mastering the blankness within me and without and making the lump shrink so it wasn’t choking me.

  “Being high priestess is many things,” Elspeth continued. “What concerns us here is how, in some ways, it is akin to being the owner of a business. There is a budget to consider—funds must come in, and they must flow out as well. What would you do to keep that flow of funds coming, and what would you do with it once you were in control of the Venefica Coven finances?”

  Whoa. I didn’t actually want this job. Suddenly, I was willing to bet Hunter had a business degree. Vivian had run a coffee shop, so she had a degree of sorts, or experience anyway. What experience did I have? “I honestly don’t have experience with a business’s finances but I am self-employed, so I understand money management and documentation. I maintain savings, handle investments with the help of a qualified professional, and live within my means. Do you have guidelines, training, or assistance in this area?”

  Elspeth’s mouth crooked wickedly on one side. It was not a smile; more like a cat’s mouth twitching before it pounced. “You readily admit then, that you are not experienced enough to take this position and would need help.”

  “Yes, if it is available. If left to my own, though, I’d pull the book
s and study what was spent where and for what purpose in the past, and compare that to the budget at the time. I could create my own guidelines that way.”

  “What would you do to raise funds?”

  “Find a successful coven and ask their priestess to share her techniques with me.”

  “Bah!” She thumped her staff on the dais and shook her head, irritated. “Do you know what the annual goals for this coven are? The long-term goals?”

  “No.”

  “Are you aware of the policies and politics? The promises and commitments made to local government?”

  “No.”

  “Have you read the Coven’s business minutes? Have you even shown up to a sabbat?”

  “No.”

  She screeched questions at me in a rapid-fire manner, but there she paused. “What makes you think,” she taunted ruthlessly, “the members of this coven would accept you as their high priestess?”

  My face turned to the floor. I felt so damn small in that giant room, like a mouse that had left its hole in the wall and scurried into the middle of the room only to have a big cat leap in front of me. “I don’t.” I felt cold, as if a draft blew over me; I should have left my sweatshirt on.

  The Elders began whispering and murmuring to themselves as if they were a mental group in a nursing home. But there was a cadence to it, a rhythm, and I knew it was more than mad ravings.

  “The local nominee,” the Eldrenne whispered and her voice silenced the others, “is not indifferent to her coven. She is a solitary, who knows nothing of the coven model.”

  My head lifted. She had her palm out to me. No wonder I felt a draft; she was searching my aura. “That is true,” I said. I hoped like hell she couldn’t see things I didn’t want her to see. I centered my thoughts on what experience I did have.

  “The acting priestess has nominated a woman who cannot hope to run the coven!” Elspeth cried in outrage.

  The Eldrenne’s blind eyes seemed locked on me; her lids narrowed.

  I went utterly still.

  The Eldrenne gestured dismissively and the cool draft dissipated. “Lydia’s a wise witch. She would never waste her nomination,” the Eldrenne countered. “Tell us, Persephone Alcmedi, what qualities does Lydia see in you that make you worthy for this honor, despite your weaknesses?”

  “I have many strengths,” I said with conviction. “I am well known in my community for my skills with divination and counseling, especially with Tarot. I write a syndicated newspaper column, so I am well aware of local and national views on not only witches, but waeres as well. And I am always learning more about vampires and fairies. I have become something of a champion for the other-than-ordinary community, though admittedly I think that public battle will continue for some time. My long lineage affords me access to several Books of Shadows. I can organize people, set goals, form and implement a plan. I am responsible, fair, and hard-working.” As I spoke, I realized I was getting angry and defensive. I couldn’t help adding, “And I’m wondering why you aren’t asking me about my spirituality and moral compass, which pantheon I prefer, and what elemental quarter-calls I use.”

  The Eldrenne laughed; it was a heh-heh-heh chuckle. “I think we know what Lydia saw in you,” she said. Her hand returned to her lap and her face dropped down again. It seemed a kind of signal.

  Elspeth resumed her questioning. “What is it you hope to accomplish, should you become high priestess?”

  I hadn’t thought about answering questions like this. I should have. Now was not the time to be formulating such ideas.

  “You are hesitant to share your hopes?”

  “No. No. It isn’t that. I just …” I paused again, knowing I was not getting off to a good start. “Vivian pandered to the kind of witches who are mostly show and talk. I didn’t like that and it kept me rooted in being a solitary. It seemed she snubbed those who wanted to practice the witches’ ways of magic and spirituality.”

  Elspeth gestured to indicate the geo-dome. “Her ‘pandering’ paid off well for Venefica Coven.”

  “Yes, this facility is an admirable Covenstead.” My hands slipped meekly into my pockets.

  “You would snub those curious souls who gave deeply from their personal finances?”

  “No, never.” I paused. “I don’t have a grand speech to pitch myself to you. What I know is that most of those who paid for this wanted a place to brag about, a place to be toadied to as they are at their country clubs and spas. Their donations were generous, but they were also strategic tax deductions.” I pulled my hands from my pockets. “Vivian was good at schmoozing the wealthy. But, for the rest … take Mandy, for instance. That girl is a seeker, and she’s thirsty for knowledge. She idolized Vivian, and Vivian took advantage of her. What does Mandy have to show for her loyal service? I’m not sure Vivian taught her anything. Mandy, and those like her, are the future. They are you”—I gestured at the dais—“decades from now. What groundwork is being laid for them? What ethics and standards are they being taught? Any?”

  “So ethics and standards are important to you?”

  “Yes. Personal responsibility, accountability, and a true sense of kindness. What is a high priestess if not a teacher? What will anyone learn from someone who cares nothing for them?” I hushed myself there. This was not a soapbox. I wasn’t here to preach at the Elders.

  “What else is important to you?”

  “Justice.” I said it without thinking.

  Elspeth raised a white brow at me.

  Had I just opened a trap for myself ? Given them a clue I didn’t want them to have?

  “Justice,” Elspeth repeated slowly, her expression pensive.

  “Curious,” another Elder murmured.

  The Eldrenne lifted her blind eyes again.

  Suddenly I said, “Someone died here tonight. Aren’t we all feeling the importance of justice?”

  “Yes,” the Eldrenne said. “Yes, we are.” Something about the curve of her lips said she was on track with my thoughts. She wasn’t going to be diverted from that course by any attempt of mine to link it to tonight’s crime.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  When my interview concluded, I was escorted back to the holding room. Drained and eager for a measure of sleep, I dozed off quickly. My napping filled the better part of an hour. It was enough to find unconsciousness, but not enough to stockpile energy or feel rested. I awoke to Lydia’s voice.

  “Contestants!” Lydia called from the doorway. “Witches! Join me in the Great Hall.”

  Climbing out of the cot was difficult. It made me feel a little better to see that I was not the only sluggish one. The rest of the group were moving slowly as well.

  Holly stood with Lydia. Her scorpion’s number had been the highest drawn, so hers had been the final interview.

  “You are drained from a day full of testing and weary with worry over the needless death among us, but rise as the witches you are! Rise with strength, knowing that for what comes next, you will need it.”

  Her words inspired us and made us wary. We took our places, forming a line like good kindergartners. And, in childish fashion, Hunter stepped in behind me and whispered, “How confident are you about your business plan, Persephone?”

  She obviously felt she’d aced the interview test and successfully impressed the buckles off the Elders’ hats. Good for her. But rubbing my nose in it: bad for her. I was tired enough to be easily incensed.

  Facing her, I scanned her up and down and said, “Business degree, check. Silver spoon, check. Massive ego, check. All great qualities for a high priestess, don’t you agree? I mean, if they want the trophy-wife version of a leader, you’re in. If they want someone who will do exactly what they are told because of misplaced loyalty to a politically motivated Elder whose ass you must have kissed, you’re in. But what if they want someone who can guide the spiritual and magical development of seekers? That is the primary function of a high priestess, unless I’m mistaken. If that’s what they’re looking for, th
en your GPA, your family connections, and your look-at-me-I’m-upper-class makeover are irrelevant. And your get-out-of-my-way-I’m-coming-through attitude? It becomes a hindrance.”

  I turned away, relieved to find the line had surged ahead. I got to stride forward with purpose to catch up. In the hallway, Moore and Detrick stopped and watched us as we passed. I heard Lydia call out a reminder that the officers were not permitted in the Great Hall as we conducted the ceremony and testing. I still suspected the police officers’ willingness to let us proceed had more to do with spellcraft than typical procedures.

  When we arrived at the stairway to the Great Hall, I realized that Hunter had fallen to the back of the line.

  The Elders were already seated on their thrones as we re-formed our east-west line before the dais. They must have ranked the interviews already. My stomach knotted hard enough to rival the heartache I had successfully been ignoring until that moment. Scolding myself harshly, I concentrated hard on what was about to happen. Best-case scenario: I had to prepare myself for being cut from this without having accomplished my goal of knocking Hunter from the running. Worst-case scenario: the Elders or Eldrenne read or detected my stain and my Lustrata-ness and meant for me to be Bindspoken.

  The Eldrenne gestured to her left. “Desdemona.”

  The Elder with silver ankhs embroidered on her lapels and cuffs said, “We have chosen, indeed, those who will proceed.” Her voice was shrill and a bit squeaky. She handed a scroll to Lydia, who broke the seal and turned to read.

  “In alphabetical order, the five finalists are: Persephone Alcmedi …”

  I blinked in surprise, but held on to the sigh that would release my tension. I didn’t want Hunter to know I’d been worried.

  Lydia went on. “Lehana Bosico. Hunter Hopewell. Amber Lantz. Maria Morrison. The runner-up is: Holly Price.”

  Beside me, a woman whose name was not called shut her eyes and sighed disappointedly. For the first time, I realized my participation was knocking out contestants who truly wanted the job. Someone removed from the running in this round might have dominated in the next one. Then again, if I had beat them out—how qualified were they to start with?