by Ani Gonzalez
The door chimes rang.
"Yoo-hoo, Fiona," Kat's voice rang out. "Ready for the ritual?"
"Coming," she called out.
She grabbed the black cardigan she kept behind the kitchen door—handy for covering up wax stains and burnt shirts—and headed out, carrying her books. Kat was standing by the counter, also wearing a cardigan. Hers was a mourning-appropriate dark gray.
Good, apparently she'd nailed the dress code. What did one wear to a pagan mourning ritual which wasn't quite a funeral?
Dark cardigans seemed to be the answer.
Kat laughed. "Great minds think alike."
"I guess," Fiona replied, putting the books on the counter. "I'll be ready in a sec. I just need to get these ready to return to the library."
Kat smiled. "Scrying? Good for you, girl."
Fiona let out an exasperated breath. "Good, nothing. It didn't work at all. I think I'm going to leave the magicking stuff to you and Luanne."
"No you won't," Kat replied, smirking. "It doesn't—"
"Work like that," Fiona interrupted. "So you keep telling me. Well, for me it's not working at all. All I get is random shapes that mean nothing. It's like a bizarre Rorschach test that I'm flunking."
"Oh, I doubt that. You're just not interpreting things correctly. It can be a little hard at first."
"It's not just hard, it's impo—"
She was interrupted by the frantic jangling of the front door chimes. She looked up as Gwen slammed open the door and stepped into the store.
"Are you still open?" she exclaimed, eyes frantic.
"Barely," Fiona replied. "We were just heading to the ritual."
"Thank the goddess," Gwen replied. "Do you have matches? The nice, long wood ones?"
Fiona laughed. Everyone forgot about matches. "Of course, I have them in different colors."
Gwen gave a sigh of relief. "You're a lifesaver. Do you have blue? Or is that too much to hope for."
"What kind do you want?" Fiona asked, walking around her counter toward the shelves that held the matches. She always kept them near the register, where customers wouldn't miss them. "I have light blue, dark blue, blueberry, and indigo."
"A half-dozen of each," Gwen said, leaning against the counter. "You have no idea how happy you've just made me. We have torches, of course, but who wants to use a battery-operated utensil during a ceremony? It's a mood-breaker."
"You wouldn't want that," Fiona said, reaching into boxes and grabbing purple-colored matches. Once she had the requisite number, she turned and found Gwen staring quizzically at her books.
"Scrying?" she asked.
"Just some research I'm doing," Fiona replied, wrapping the matches up.
"It's a very difficult craft," Gwen said. "But these are probably a good place to start."
"Do you study divination, Gwen?" Kat asked.
"Oh, I dabble," Gwen replied, covering up the bottom part of a book.
"Wait, let me see that," Kat exclaimed, reaching for the book.
Gwen relinquished it with fake reluctance.
"You wrote this?" Kat asked, eyes wide with amazement. "You wrote the book?"
"It's just a little something I worked on," Gwen said, modestly. "Nothing special."
"That's fantastic," Fiona said, putting the matches in a logoed bag. "Well, if you know what a heart, an arrow, a sun and flowers mean, let me know."
She immediately regretted the words. Gwen was, after all, part of Alicia's coven. If there was a special meaning to the items Fiona had viewed, Gwen would probably figure it out.
The young witch, however, did not react to Fiona's list.
"Sounds like a broken heart," she said. "One that will soon be mended."
Fiona relaxed. "That's something to look forward to. The flowers looked like gloves, so I'm wondering if I'm supposed to do some shopping too." She handed Gwen the matches. "Here, these are on the house."
"Thanks," said Gwen, snatching the matches and heading out the door. "I have to run. Bye."
"Good luck," Kat called out.
The door slammed behind Gwen and Kat turned to Fiona. "Wow, I can't believe she wrote that book. I should ask her to sign a couple of copies for me."
"I'm sure she'd love to," Fiona replied.
"Hope so," Kat replied, arching a brow. "And speaking of love, you're seeing hearts and flowers in your scrying? Why didn't you mention that?"
"I didn't," Fiona blabbed. "That's not what I was looking for."
Kat glanced down at the books. "Well, it must have been in your mind. Otherwise, it wouldn't have showed up during your spell."
Fiona grabbed her tote bag and pushed the books inside quickly, hiding the evidence. "There's nothing like that going on."
"Oh, really?" Kat sounded disappointed. "Is that the problem? Gavin is being a little slow?"
"That's not—"
"That's how he is, very careful and methodical."
"This has nothing to do with him," she said. "I don't care—"
"Yes, you do," Kat replied.
"No, I don't," Fiona replied, stuffing the last book into the bag. It was the aggressively pink dating guide, and she didn't want Kat to notice it.
She'd never live that down.
"Time to go," she suggested in a cheerful tone. "We wouldn't want to miss the sending off ritual."
Kat looked glum. "Actually, I could totally miss it. It sounds dreary, and the fact that Luanne thinks something is going to happen doesn't help."
"Does she? What is she predicting?"
Kat waved a hand airily. "Oh, you know her. It's all Mars in Scorpio and Saturn in retrograde and stuff. I can't make any sense out of it."
Fiona frowned, trying to recall what she'd read in Scrying for Fun and Profit. It wasn't an astrology guide, but it discussed the zodiac in some depth. "Rules are broken and goals are pursued aggressively?"
"Something like that. It doesn't sound that bad, does it? Luanne, however, seemed to think that it's horrible. She even sent the sheriff to check it out."
Fiona grabbed her bag and turned off the lights. "That doesn't sound good."
Kat followed her out of the shop, closing the door. "Nope. I wish Luanne would focus on the more upbeat readings and horoscopes. All this doom and gloom is bad for business." She slammed the door closed and paused, as if thinking.
"Did you say something about flowers?" Kat asked, brow furrowed. "And gloves?"
Fiona laughed. "That's from the seashell divination I did. It made no sense. Maybe I need to buy some flower-pattered gloves?" She grimaced. "That's not my style."
Kat shook her head, a concerned look on her face. "Not flower-gloves. Flowers shaped like gloves. Ring any bells?"
Come to think of it, it did sound familiar.
"Foxglove," Kat said. "What you saw was foxglove."
CHAPTER TWENTY
"WE GATHER today to say farewell to a dear friend and colleague," Richard LeFay intoned in a deep, sonorous voice. "Who touched so many lives and did so much good..."
Gavin scanned the area as the platitudes droned on and on. Witch memorials, it seemed, were every bit as clichéd as the mundane sort. The members of the Salem coven were all dressed in black, some in robes and some in regular clothes, and gathered around a pile of logs. A pentagram had been drawn on the dirt and red, orange, and gold candles were placed around the perimeter.
The red had thrown him at first, but it was, he was told, a mourning color in some Asian cultures and Richard also intended for it to symbolize the Isle of Avalon, also known as the summerlands. Avalon was the pagan equivalent to heaven and it seemed to involve a surprising amount of fruit.
At least the venue was breathtaking. The sun was setting over the creek, giving the water a warm, orange glow. Richard had chosen red as the sacred color for his part of the ceremony, and the sunset matched that. The whole horizon seemed to be on fire.
A proper send-off for Alicia LeFay.
Richard seemed to agree. The young man was t
eary as he glanced at the horizon. Gavin was standing well outside the circle, but he could still hear the emotion in the coven leader's voice.
"She would've loved this," Richard said, voice choking. "It's a Viking funeral."
"Actually," Gavin muttered under his breath. "She would have loved not dying a lot more."
"Too true."
The voice came from behind him. Crap, he hadn't meant to say that out loud. He turned and met Fiona's blue eyes. She was dressed in dark clothes that fit the occasion and her face was somber.
"It's a lovely ceremony," Gavin noted, trying to sound less callous.
Fiona glanced around. "With an awful lot of police and firefighters around. Is this because of what Luanne said?"
"Luanne? What does this have to do with her?" he asked, confused.
"Oh," Fiona frowned. "I guess nothing is happening then?"
"No," he replied. "Something is definitely going to happen. It just has nothing to do with Luanne."
At least as far as he knew. The local fortune teller had her ways and they were mysterious indeed.
"Sean's going to arrest Manny?" Fiona whispered.
"I can neither confirm nor deny," he answered quietly.
Her eyes narrowed shrewdly.
"It wasn't oleander, was it?" she asked, her tone suspicious. "It was foxglove."
"How do you—?"
"Kat guessed," she answered. "Oleander smoke symptoms would be mild. A death from inhaled oleander smoke would be pretty rare. Foxglove, however, is another story. That will kill you, and the symptoms would be similar to oleander."
"Pretty much identical, yes."
"So Kat was right," Fiona mused. "But, if it was foxglove, it wasn't in the smoke. It must have been swallowed or injected."
He nodded. That was the conclusion Sean had come to. The implications were unpleasant, to put it mildly.
They stood in silence, observing the members of the coven as they performed the ritual.
"How was the poison administered?" Fiona asked, echoing his own thoughts.
"We don't know yet." The sun was setting over the horizon. The coven members walked around the circle, replacing the red candles with purple and blue. They started a low, monotone chant as darkness fell over the glade.
Gwen's portion of the ceremony was starting. The rival coven leader appeared flanked by Manny and a portly man with a face tattoo. The chant grew louder. As Gwen strolled around the circle, Fiona gasped.
"What?" Gavin asked her.
"Nothing," she said quickly. "It's just the sun symbol that she wears on her robe...I thought I saw it somewhere."
He started to reply, but then Manny, a blue shawl draped over his shoulders, entered the circle.
He was carrying a large, gold chalice.
"That's the same one they used during the Beltane ritual," Fiona whispered. "Did Alicia drink from it?"
Gavin nodded, following her train of thought. The poison had to be administered somehow. What better vehicle than the ritual vessel?
"But, they're all supposed to drink from it, aren't they?" Fiona continued. "That's the way these events go."
"They didn't get the chance because everyone started getting sick."
At least that's what Sean and his deputies had gathered after questioning the witnesses. Some of the coven members suspected that Alicia had accidentally put something harmful in the drink as well as in the fire pit. That had seemed like a plausible explanation until the toxicology report came back.
No one would put foxglove in their drink, particularly not an expert herbologist like Alicia LeFay.
They watched in silence as Manny walked around the circle, holding the bowl with a solemn expression on his face.
"We came from water," he intoned. "We return to water. To the depths were all life began. Ashes rise, then sink into the dark."
Sandy, a metal gong in her hand, matched his utterances with a resounding clap. A group of coven members picked up the drums that lay at their feet and started a slow and solemn rhythm. Gavin tensed as Gwen threw some powder into the fire, causing the flames to change color to a greenish-blue. The compound, however, seemed to have no ill effects.
The rite was quite impressive. He had to hand it to the Salemnites. Despite their grief and even during a protracted succession struggle, they'd managed to create a beautiful memorial to their deceased leader.
"In the water, there is not male or female," Manny recited, his voice rising. "No saint or sinner. No punishment or reward."
Sandy's hand stilled, the hammer poised over the gong. She frowned, as if confused.
"There is only the depths and the mother cradling her child to her breast," Manny continued.
The coven members sneaked sideways glances at each other. This, it appeared, was not part of the script. Richard was frowning. He bent towards Gwen, whispering in her ear, but she just shrugged, as if she had no idea what was going on.
Manny kept on talking, growing increasingly less coherent. Gwen motioned to Sandy, who was standing, transfixed. Sandy then picked up the hammer and rang the gong in a steady rhythm. The drummers picked up the tempo, and, at this signal, the group started a chant.
Manny jerked, surprised, but raised the chalice and joined the singing.
"Sounds like someone was improvising," Fiona muttered.
"Yes," Gavin answered. A guilty conscience perhaps?
The drumming hit a crescendo and the group shouted in unison, making Fiona jump. The cathartic scream resounded through the clearing.
"Alicia was a wonderful person," Manny started. "When I first attended the coven I was practically a shut-in." He took a breath. "I had my job, which I did from home. I made money and I played games. That's all." He smiled. "I was pretty good at the games, but that's not the point."
The crowd chuckled. Manny paused, staring at the cup.
"The point is that Alicia stepped in. She made me go out and meet people. She showed me that there was another way."
He raised the chalice.
"To Alicia. May she find a well-deserved rest."
The group echoed his words. Manny drank from the chalice then passed it to the next person, a tall brunette with a nose ring.
"Alicia LeFay changed my life," the brunette said. "I'd just left a group with an abusive leader who had completely wrecked my self-esteem. It was a very hard time for me."
Fiona watched her, smiling. It was a very touching tribute. Gavin's attention, however, was elsewhere. He was staring at Manny, who was swaying slightly on his feet, his face flushed.
Gavin scanned the crowd, finding DeShawn standing on the other side of the circle next to Olivia; he was wearing the department's EMT backpack. The backpack was a standard precaution in Banshee Creek, where PRoVE and the other paranormal groups got into trouble regularly. At a signal from Gavin, DeShawn moved hastily toward Manny.
Who promptly collapsed, clutching his chest.
Fiona gasped. The brunette speaker paused, looking confused.
"Not again," Gwen shouted.
Richard stepped forward to take the goblet from the brunette. "Don't drink it," he warned.
Gavin ran, taking out his radio. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sean and Olivia holding the coven members back.
"Ten-eff-four-four," Gavin barked into the radio, giving the code for ambulance assistance. "Banshee Creek Park. Ten-four-five-code-two for suspected poisoning. Probably digitalis or a similar cardiac glucoside. EMT on scene."
Richard LeFay was staring at them, stricken. The rest of the coven stood still, frozen in shock. Fiona remained at the edge of crowd, her face pale.
Gavin turned to DeShawn. "You have the AC?"
The firefighter was taking Manny's pulse. "Put it in the bag this morning, like you asked."
Good, activated charcoal would absorb at least some of the poison.
"Paramedic is administering AC," Gavin said into the radio. "Alert the hospital and ask them to have some digibind ready."
He leaned in to help DeShawn, cursing under his breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"WELL, THAT was exciting," Kat grumbled, with a sharp tug at the steering wheel. "Why didn't Luanne warn us?"
"She tried to," Fiona said. "She just wasn't very clear about it."
Kat was driving her back home in her sturdy yellow Datsun. They'd just left the park. The ambulance had taken Manny to the hospital some time ago, and Richard and Gwen had disbanded the distraught coven. There was nothing left to do.
"She never is," Kat grumbled. "That poor guy. Did you see his face?"
"Yes," Fiona replied, unable to erase the memory.
"Cardiac arrest," Kat said. "They said that the poison hits the heart. It must work quickly because he collapsed right after he drank it."
Yep, it hits the heart...like an arrow. That image, along with the foxglove flowers and the strange sun symbol now haunted her. How could she have misread the signs so thoroughly?
"They found a suicide note," Kat continued. "He asked forgiveness for killing Alicia. I don't know what to think about that. It's horrible."
"Yes, it is," Fiona replied.
But it wasn't because Manny had killed Alicia. At least Fiona didn't think so. She wanted to go to Sean and Gavin with her suspicions, but who would believe her? All she had were a couple of shells and some creepy coincidences.
She needed something concrete.
"Can you drop me off at the shop?" she asked Kat. "There's something I need to take care of."
"Sure," Kat said, heading down Main Street. "Need any help?"
"Not really. This is something I have to do myself."
Kat left her near the back entrance to the shop, then drove off. Fiona opened the door to the kitchen and stepped in. She headed for the fridge and got a cold drink. After tonight, she needed it.
It had been a horrible evening. Kat was right about that.
It hadn't started that way. The ceremony had been lovely. The dueling leaders had come together to create a beautiful memorial for Alicia. The tributes were moving, and everyone seemed to get along.
Then Manny showed up with the chalice.
It all fit, she had to admit. He'd lied about the bowl and, according to the hysterical coven members, he was as good with herbs as Alicia. The suicide letter claimed that Alicia had minimized his health concerns for a long time and his resentment had built up. He'd come up with the oleander idea to give her a taste of her own medicine. It had, however, all gone wrong.