Ophelia was surprised when she remembered the "witches" who had been burned at the stake. She knew that the searing burn in her shoulder and the sharp pain was nothing compared to what they had felt. She also sensed that the pain gave her strength. She could feel the energy in her muscles, which were constantly being soothed.
At first she woke up in the ambulance, but because she was twitching, one of the paramedics tied her down and gave her something that sent her back to the land of dreams. The second awakening happened during her surgery. She wasn't awake for long, the big nothingness took her again. Then the face of the detective emerged from the timeless darkness. She was lost in the smaller and deeper wrinkles, the worried, icy gaze, the dark hair in wavy and straight curls, the bristles of his beard. As if the detective's being were a kind of lake in which to bathe. But then the awakening took her again.
It was morning, at least, with cold light shining through the window. The detective had changed into a kind, worried, handsome face. Behind his glasses, a spark of relief flickered, and he stroked Lia's hand on her chest, exhaling a long breath.
"You scared me to death!" Chris groaned, and again a sweet smile rippled across his features.
"What happened?" asked Lia hoarsely.
"You've been hurt, you've had an operation and the anesthetic has worn off now," he summarized succinctly. "As soon as I heard you were hurt, I got on my bike and didn't stop until I got here."
"That's very thoughtful of you," Ophelia glanced at the vase on her bedside table, which was full of red roses. "I'm all right now," she moved to pull herself up. Chris instinctively helped her.
Lia looked at herself; she had a large bandage on her shoulders. She grimaced, knowing it was nothing like in the movies or in novels. The protagonist might drive to the hospital with an injury like that, or he might fight the bad guys, and by the time he's done, there's only a bruise on his skin. But she's been knocked out... She knew that even though her life was a crime thriller these days, the rules were different.
Chris had just opened his mouth to speak when, after a brief knock, the door of the room opened and the detective entered, clutching a flower that looked more like a weed than a plant. Like Chris, Lia turned towards him. The blond man's eyes flashed a piercing coldness she had never experienced before.
Chris stood up and flew straight at the detective's throat:
"What are you doing here?" He asked, forcing himself to remain calm, but his whole body was pulsing with anger.
"I just wanted to know if she was all right," the detective replied curtly, nodding towards Lia.
"You saw that she was fine. So you can go now. Forget about her!"
"Hey!" interjected Ophelia, "My mother had no say in who I could be friends with, so let's not start now!" she looked coldly at Chris, who swallowed his anger as Lia turned to the dark-haired man. "It's very kind of you to come," she glanced at the flower he hadn't had a chance to hand over.
"Kind?" Chris freaked out. "You almost died because of him!"
"It was not his fault."
"But, as a matter of fact, it was my fault," a pang of remorse appeared in the detective's eyes. "But Miss Goodwin is a full-grown woman," he looked at Lia bitterly. "Send me away yourself and I'll leave without a word. But your lawyer isn't a strong enough reason," he scanned the blond man doubtfully.
"I see you don't know who you're talking to. I have friends in high places, they could get you thrown in jail for life for endangering a civilian," he stepped towards the detective threateningly. "I don't want you hurting Lia again."
"I know, that's why," the detective sighed, looking at Ophelia in a way she never allowed other men to do, because she always broke up with them first. "Would you leave us alone?" he asked Christ, who let the air out of his lungs nervously, then stepped up to Lia, gave her a kiss on the forehead and left unwillingly.
"I'll be in the corridor."
Lia nodded, then fixed her gaze on Chris as he left. As soon as the door closed behind him, Detective Harper took Chris's seat. He set the plant down on the night stand unwillingly, but said nothing. Lia glanced at the fidgeting detective.
"I'd kill for a fag," she sighed, faintly.
"Come on," the detective jumped up, who was already uncomfortable in Chris's seat.
Lia was alone in the ward, so she didn't bother others. She smiled, her feet touching the cold stone as she adjusted the clothes she'd been given at the hospital. When she stood up, she felt dizzy, so the detective had to catch up and hold her. Lia was filled with the man's spicy scent, a scent she didn't want to leave, as if she'd always belonged there. Ophelia couldn't help herself, her head pressed against his chest for a moment as the detective wrapped his arms around her and guided her towards the window. Ophelia felt at once weak and very strong, a strange mixture of sensations in her swirling emotions, like two currents meeting, or a river flowing into the sea.
The detective opened the window, tilted Ophelia against the sill and window frame, then handed her a cigarette. Lia wanted to light it in the usual way, but a flamethrower shot out of her finger, so she was afraid to set off the fire alarm. With a fierce but firm gesture, the detective disabled the system, which made her smile. They finally managed to light the cigarette using the traditional method.
They didn't speak for a long time, and then, after a few more refreshing puffs, Lia asked:
"What happened to Sanchez?"
"Parker wouldn't let me near him, so he's still alive," the detective replied coolly. Lia didn't know whether to take this as a joke or if he was serious. "In any case, she'd interrogated him, and there was a ton of incriminating evidence against him in cocaine and a few kilos of pills. So that's enough to put our friend in jail for a couple of years, if not for life."
"And did you find out anything about the murder?" Lia asked.
"Parker questioned him about that, but he said he loved Miss Swanson, so he had no reason to kill her. They're checking his alibi now."
"And Dorothy?"
"She was slightly injured by the exploding bullet. We let her go. As promised, she was released in exchange for rehab and some community service."
"I'll try to get myself together by Saturday," she glanced at the cool gaze of the detective, who shook his head, then stubbed out his cigarette under the sill and flicked it out of the window. Ophelia did the same, then asked for another, knowing she wouldn't be allowed out for a while. Lyra hated smoking, so she didn't want to ask her friend to bring in a pack for her.
"Listen," the detective began to break up with her. Lia couldn't help herself and interrupted:
"Look, I know what's coming. I know you're trying to get rid of me. I'm hurt, so what? This job is dangerous. It was my fault, because I was the one who made the bullet explode and wounded many people, including me. You don't have to fire me for that."
"Yes. I do," he said categorically. "You have no idea what it was like to see my new partner lying on the ground."
"So I'm your partner," Ophelia grinned defiantly, making him shake his head.
"I see you're getting the gist of it."
"I'll offer you a deal," she blew out a long puff of smoke.
"No deal."
"Saturday will be a pleasant seance anyway, where you'll have a chance to ask questions. You won't get in without me, so you'll need me."
"You forget that the killer will probably be there."
"You've forgotten that I can take care of myself, and if you'd just listen to me and stop making up crazy plans to get yourself shot, you wouldn't get in trouble, and neither would I. We should also talk about what happened before the gun was fired," Ophelia questioned the disturbed detective with her eyes.
"There's nothing to talk about," he nervously lit a second cigarette.
"Just because you bury your head in the sand doesn't mean it hasn't happened."
"I don't even know what really happened," he shook his head.
"Has anything like this ever happened to you before?"
"If it had had, I'd have asked for a referral to the loony bin," he grinned bitterly, which brought a big smile to Lia's face.
"I have a hunch that our minds were connected in some way, but you know where we can find out more about that..."
"On Saturday, at your friend's father's estate," he said, bored. At that moment, the door to the room opened and the nurse appeared, freaking out about the smoking in the room. Arguing loudly, she immediately ordered Lia to bed and told the detective to leave the ward. The two just laughed and Lia went back to bed like a good girl.
Chris's worried face appeared in the ward. He slumped down in the chair he had been sitting in for not so long, as if the pain of a thousand years had weighed on his shoulders.
"I know you're worried," Ophelia took his hand. "That's what I'd be if it were the other way round. I have a gathering on Saturday, invited by Lyra's family. I'll be yours afterwards, I promise. We'll go and rest in the hills, as you asked."
Chris said nothing, but leaned closer to her and planted a long, hot kiss on her lips.
***
Lia had a thousand missed calls from her mother. She had to reassure her that everything was fine, but Teresa threatened to visit her again.
The next day she had various tests, but when everything was found to be fine, she was kept in for one more night and then released. During her days in hospital, she had been visited by Davie, who was disappointed to learn that the detective was not with her. Brenda had brought her bonbons, which they ate together, while she rambled on at length about how her boss had once again poured tons of shit down her throat at work, trying not to choke from. She barely had time for Tom and the kids. Lyra had been a frequent visitor to Lia, who drove her home when she was finally released.
She didn't think it would be so comforting to come home. Lyra ordered her to lie down on the couch while she made her herbal tea. They sat together, stirring the hot drink, while Lia thought about telling her friend what had happened. Should she even tell her, since it was not only her responsibility, but the detective's as well.
"I know what you're thinking. Ever since you got involved in this case, I've had more sleepless nights and comic books in the making. I could publish them soon, if I had a sick publisher who would print them," the redheaded woman said jokingly. It was then that Lia noticed the grey circles under her eyes. "The detective and you have a magical connection..."
"Do you have a reasonable explanation?" she took a sip of the hot drink, which made her tongue burn, so she put it aside for a moment.
"No," Lyra sighed, "I just know that it's getting on my nerves and yours."
"We'll find out on Saturday..."
"Do you really think the murderer will be at my father's house? Just thinking about it gives me the creeps."
"It's far from certain," Ophelia took her friend's hand as she looked her in the eyes, "but that's where we have the best chance of running into people who know Wicca, who might have some motive and..."
"The ones who kill?!" Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"Whatever happens, it's not your fault, Lyra. Then I'll stop for a while."
"I know, Chris invited you. I'm glad you're happy at last, and you can forget about..."
"Alpha? I could never forget him. Chris is a bit like the sun; he brings light into my life, he makes me feel alive."
"Is Detective Harper your moon then?"
"He's different," Lia sighed, "I don't understand him, and I'm not sure I should. When I'm with him, things just happen on their own."
"You don't have to give up the investigation if it's that important to you," Lyra sighed. "If you like, I'll join you."
"Don't worry, I'll be fine!"
"That's something you can't know in advance. And unfortunately, neither can I."
"I hope we can get to the bottom of this case soon and close the investigation."
"You are very naive if you really think you can part so easily," Lyra shook her head. "But you're right, let's wait and see!"
Ophelia had come to the same conclusion herself. When they had finished their tea and moved on to lighter topics, there was a knock at the door. The two women looked at each other, then Ophelia stood up to answer the door. She was surprised to recognize Clyde pacing up and down the corridor.
"You?" came the surprised question from Ophelia's mouth.
"I called Harper, but he didn't answer, so I traced his mobile and found the signal at your house. Can I speak to him?"
"He's not here," Lia frowned as she opened the door and the man stepped inside. Clyde's gaze slid to Lyra, and Ophelia saw his eyes light up.
"I'm Clyde Evensson," he offered her his hand as Lia heard someone approaching up the stairs. She didn't even realize it, and the detective was already standing in her living room.
"Harper, I thought you were here."
"I was just... buying something at the local tobacconist's," he grumbled, since it was clear to Lia that Clyde must have been tracking the signal for at least an hour, and the detective hadn't shown any sign of being anywhere near there since.
"Are you watching me?" she asked, her eyes open wide with indignation.
"I'm sorry, but you left me no choice. I don't want you to get yourself in trouble."
"You'll have to let me go," Ophelia said, anger flaring up in her, and she confessed rashly. "I'm spending next week with Chris at his cottage, perhaps you'd like to follow me there?" The detective didn't answer, just grumbled something as his eyes flashed darkly.
"We'd better hear what Mr. Evensson has found instead," Lyra suggested, smiling sweetly at him. This made Clyde straighten his back, clear his throat, and stack a few pictures on the table while Lia closed the door behind the men, but didn't offer them coffee. She was too angry with the detective for that.
"Harper, I wanted to show you this first and foremost, but since we're here..." Clyde started. "I was looking through the photos in Miss Swanson's file and found this," he pointed to a necklace of Triskelion.
"Yes, it's Dorothy's," Lia nodded.
"When I was browsing online, I came across this," he showed them a printed photo from a website.
"This is Mr. Harrison's mother's shop."
"Was she a jewelry maker?" Lia asked, puzzled.
"Exactly, and she makes jewelry like this. Look familiar?" asked Clyde, as Ophelia tried to put her best foot forward, since theoretically she was with the detective to help with the linguistics part.
"Yes, they're Wicca symbols," nodded Lia, then recalled everything she'd heard from Davie. "They are symbols of water, fire, air and earth."
"If I had a guess, Mama was really into this."
"But why would she kill her own son?" Lyra asked, puzzled. "It doesn't make sense."
"Everything makes sense; we just don't see the connections yet. Let's question Harrison's mother," the detective immediately headed for the exit.
"Now?" came the stunned question from three mouths. The man spoke and looked at Lia.
"Right, you and your friend stay here."
"You bet! I didn't get into all this just to get benched. Like it or not, I'm coming with you."
The detective couldn't answer. His phone rang. He was reluctant to answer it for a moment, but he did.
"It's Harper speaking," he said urgently. After a few moments his whole body tensed. "I'll be right there."
"What's the matter?" asked Lyra and Ophelia at the same time, while Clyde was late in joining them, his eyes on Lyra.
"Harrison's mother had committed suicide. The neighbors reported it."
"Fuck!" cursed Ophelia. "Around this case, many people are dropping off like flies."
"I understand her," sighed Lyra. "After all, she had just lost her only son."
"It still stinks to me," the detective started for the exit, not stopping even as the other three started to follow him.
Ophelia's adrenaline was rushing through her body, but she quickly calmed down, because by the time they got there, the corpse had been removed and the coroner found no signs of foul play. They interviewed the neighbor and local witnesses, but they all said the same thing; the woman had taken her own life in agony.
Ophelia and Lyra entered the woman's workshop where she had made the jewelry. They didn't need to talk to know they were both looking for the same thing. But no matter how many times they looked through the half-finished or fully finished pieces, they could not find a single Triskelion necklace.
***
Ophelia stood in the living room in a black, low-cut, long lace dress. She pinned up her dreadlocks, and put black ear tunnels with a variety of signs in her ears to match the occasion. She was adjusting the tie over the expensive suit of the detective. The man muttered a few grumpy words, which Ophelia was getting used to.
"Calm down, I didn't tie a leash around your neck."
"Your friend has gone the extra mile for us," he held up the watch he had fastened around his wrist, "It costs more than a month's salary."
"Especially if you're giving your money away," Lia thought back to her meeting with André. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.
"I don't have enough money to support you too, so I'd rather you didn't get into trouble!"
"The score is tied. I walked into the situation and you were too confident in my strength to do anything stupid."
"That's true, no matter what happens. I trust you, though I must admit even you are not omnipotent."
"I am definitely not," Ophelia smiled, then frowned, "and neither are you. Remember that!"
The bell rang, and the limousine came to pick them up. The detective was not happy about not making the journey in his own car, but he had to give in and sit in the back seat next to Ophelia.
They traveled for over an hour, leaving Gaxburn as the coven gathered on a nearby estate. Ophelia's eyes widened, astonished at the sight, for she had suspected, but never before experienced face to face, her friend's wealth.
The path led past a stone fence and then came to black, barred gates. There was an entry phone, but they didn't need to check in, the gate could sense their presence as it opened by itself in front of them. On reaching the estate, they were greeted by a stony path and a vast meadow. There were fountains of running water, the lawn was fresh and green, and it looked as if it had been well kept. At the turning, cars were already gathering as if preparing for a soiree.
Ophelia could see by looking at the detective that he was uncomfortable in his own skin, squirming and looking with disgust in his eyes at the huge stone building that could have been a palace.
"Calm down, I won't let you be charmed," she turned to the detective.
"Very funny," he growled.
"I'm here for this purpose anyway," Lia added jokingly, but Detective Harper's cold stare split the fabric of her soul. She cleared her throat and got out of the car that had been opened for her. "But only in a strictly professional manner," she added.
"By the way, wasn't your lawyer friend offended that you hadn't made him your escort tonight?"
"I insisted," Ophelia winked at him, and the detective scratched the back of his head in confusion, then went after her.
The door was opened and a woman in a red, expensive dress greeted them. Not far from them, she had been talking to elegant company, which was interrupted by their arrival.
"My child, I am so glad you accepted our invitation," she embraced Lia as if they had known each other for a thousand years.
She returned her embrace and smiled:
"Mrs. Hamilton, thank you for the invitation," she tried to put on her nicer self. It was difficult, especially around the detective. The man's presence had pushed her into a dark melancholy of pain, which could only be broken and soothed a little by Chris's natural 'light'. She turned to the man to introduce him to Lyra's mother.
"It's a sincere pleasure," she offered him her hand, then looked them in the eyes of one and then the other. "We're all brothers and sisters here, no need to be polite, come on in."
Ophelia glanced around, and saw that she was in for a reception, for there was pleasant music playing, tables were lined with food, and many of the guests were drinking champagne, gathered in groups, chatting lightly.
"Brothers and sisters!" Liliana clinked her glass to get everyone's attention "I am delighted that on this special day we have in our company our sister, Ophelia Goodwin, blessed by the power of the Goddess herself."
There were nods of recognition and applause from several quarters. Ophelia felt like a trapped animal in the company of hunters. Instinctively she moved closer to the detective, seeking protection. The backs of their hands touched, causing them to glance at each other and then pull away.
Lyra's mother chuckled suggestively:
"Looks like Ophelia isn't the only special guest today. Let's give a friendly welcome to the detective!" At this, several people looked at each other, but greeted him kindly.
"What did you mean by that?" Lia asked curiously, and Liliana glanced at one of them and then at the other, giggling but not answering, just waving the couple closer to introduce them one by one to the other guests. Her light movements made them want to follow her.
They were joined by Lyra, who embraced Ophelia with exuberant joy.
"I'm so glad," giggled the redheaded woman, like a child in a candy shop when her basket was being filled.
Ophelia couldn't help but follow Liliana's pace as one by one she moved to the other group, introducing them to everyone who mattered. Her gaze caught on a curious couple who were almost glowing. The man was young, tall, bearded and very handsome. The woman was blonde, wore bright lipstick, and her dimples made her kind face even friendlier.
"This is Yvonne and Jeremy," Liliana introduced them.
"We've been looking forward to meeting you tonight," the man said kindly. "Yvonne told fortune by cards and said the evening was going well."
"That's right," she took Lia's hand as if they were friends for a thousand years and hugged her. "Jeremy knows all about mysticism, so feel free to ask him," her smile brought out the dimples in her cheeks that gave her a girlish look. "Jeremy knows all about magic books and the occult," the blonde woman touched Lia's elbow sweetly.
"That's a literary exaggeration," a black-haired, blue-eyed, bespectacled figure appeared around them. He had an ordinary appearance, but his sternness made him obnoxious. "My name is Timothy Andrews, and it's a pleasure to meet you," he offered Lia his hand, which she accepted compulsively. He then turned to the detective and shook his hand. "I seem to be the only one in this screwed-up company who cares what a detective is doing in our circle and whether he suspects us of anything."
"Come on, you've obviously come here for Ophelia," the red-haired Liliana retorted.
"In any case, we are all, with the exception of Claire Hopkins, good people who make up a community. There's no room for outsiders in this group," Timothy flashed a menacing glare and moved on.
"Never mind him! Tim has always been a sour man," Liliana tried to save the day.
"Who is Claire Hopkins?" Detective Harper asked, and for the first time since they'd been there, curiosity flashed in his eyes.
"She" Liliana nodded her head towards the woman in one of the corners, who was alone with a glass of champagne in her hand, but there were many people staring at her. Ophelia had to admit that she was a beauty beyond compare. Her black hair was shoulder-length, her creole skin and brown eyes reminiscent of Queen Cleopatra. Her graceful figure made several men turn to look at her, but the men there scowled at her from afar, looking at her as if she were covered in blood.
"She' s a simple dentist, Liliana whispered to them. I think she left half her salary for that dress," she nudged him with her chin. "She likes scandal and male company, if you know what I mean..."
"She's coming over," Lyra pressed her lips together as Ophelia turned to face the new arrival and had to admit, she was a lovely woman. She held out her hand kindly, and spoke graciously:
"Since you've shared gossips about me, allow me to introduce myself! I'm Claire Hopkins, dentist and old book connoisseur."
"Nice to meet you," Lia accepted her hand, but she dropped two kisses on her cheeks after the handshake. For the first time, Lia felt like she wasn't swimming with sharks.
"So you're a doctor," the detective hummed. Lia knew what he meant, and the thought set her thinking as well, but she didn't let it sit on her face.
"I only work with teeth, healing people and animals is outside my field of expertise," she said with simple ease.
"So you know all about demons," Lia grinned, as Liliana would have made the sign of the cross if she had been a Christian, but she only raised her hands to her chest in dismay.
"Come and see me if you need info on them," she winked at her, and Ophelia let Lyra lead her away by the wrist. Although everyone despised Claire, she was sympathetic. Lia looked at the detective and sighed. She knew she had a knack for making the so-called 'wrong choices'.
"Come, I'll introduce you to Vyvienne Calderon, everyone wants to be like her," Lyra smiled sweetly as she and her mother led their guests to a woman in a tight gold dress, wearing a huge hat on her head. Ophelia immediately thought of Lady Gaga because of her tanned skin, blonde hair, but mostly because of her dressing style. There was something regal about her. She was standing in the company of men and chatting, but she didn't smile, even when jokes were being told around her.
"Vyvianne, this is Ophelia and Detective Harper."
"Nice to meet you," she said, still not smiling. She greeted the pair with a soft handshake, while Ophelia wondered if she was afraid that the laugh lines would deepen on her face over time, and so she gave in to eternal melancholy.
"Ah, Leslie's here, I must go," smiled Liliana instead of Vyvianne too, who stepped up to her husband and picked up a glass of champagne to hand to Mr Hamilton, who was about to propose a toast:
"I greet you, my brothers and sisters, on this special occasion, for we welcome Ophelia Goodwin into our community, who, through the goodness of God and the Goddess, has active power. Please," he glanced at her as he held out his arms in friendship, "show us your power!"
Ophelia was afraid of this request, so she swallowed hard, opened her arms and stepped forward. All the people in the room fell silent, the music stopped, and all eyes fell on her. The only thing she cared about was the detective's nod of encouragement, so she decided to start with a basic example. So far, not many people knew of her powers, and even fewer had experienced them first hand, so it was no wonder she was excited.
She held out her hand, jet of flames shooting from her fingertips. Several of the community screamed and jumped backwards, as Lia hadn't expected her power to work so scorchingly. She explained to herself that she had recently been seriously injured and the detective was with her...
"The Goddess", whispered the people present, as similar, yet different, words came from the guests around the detective:
"The God, Lord," they whispered.
"Come, brothers and sisters, let us welcome these two special people in our company," Lyra's father invited the gathering people, while the detective was visibly feeling more and more uncomfortable. Lia didn't know what to expect, but she soon found out. The coven members moved as if they had done this in their lives; they were natural and fast.
Lia and the detective looked at each other as the others drew a circle around them and marked the cardinal points. Soon, a pentagram was drawn in black ink on the white, expensive paving. When they were done, they all found themselves inside the circle. Leslie and Liliana had disappeared, while the others brought food and drink and lit various incense burners. They even found a small altar-like mobile structure decorated with flowers and plants.
When Lia looked at the detective, she could see that he thought they were crazy, but there was also a spark of doubt in his eyes. Ophelia knew that it would take time to get used to this world in which he was immersed because of her. She had to admit to herself that it was strange even for her. The people present were arranging various garlands of flowers. Some stayed in their expensive clothes, others wore togas, like Leslie and Liliana. They led the ceremony.
"I invite the four elements: water, fire, earth and air! You are welcome!" Lia saw that small bowls with symbols of the elements were placed in the center of the circle, fire was lit, water was brought, and potting soil was placed. The air was also symbolized by an empty jar.
Mr. Hamilton continued his speech with a friendly smile on his face:
"The Lady and the Lord have sent you to us, because They have put power in your hands. We are all part of the universe's cycle, the great plan and will of God and Goddess. As the Lord protects and nourishes our Lady, so your lives are bound together. It is an unbreakable, eternal bond, which will be present in this life and in others. Rejoice, have fun! I give thanks for the power of God and Goddess, for wise spirits, for the creative and destructive sides of nature. Accept the sacrifice that we offer you," he placed the food on the altar and poured wine on the ground. Ophelia could hardly believe her eyes when she saw the gaps between the stones absorbing the liquid and guiding it along. It spread almost all over the room as several liters of wine spilled during the sacrifice.
"I like the design of the room," the detective whispered in Lia's ear, who smiled, because the man's rational self was now in the foreground.
"Please," Liliana's voice broke the idyll, pointing to the food that had been prepared. Ophelia took the hint and with her bare hands she lit the sacrifice, which smoked blackly and burned quickly. As soon as this was done, Leslie spoke again:
"Thank the Lord, the Lady, and the guardians of the four corners of the world for visiting us, I now dissolve our magic circle. Eat, drink and be merry! The night is long, my brothers and sisters!"
Loud music was playing, the guests were eating and drinking, having fun. Ophelia, with a bite of food in her hand, went towards the detective, who had not yet recovered from what had happened.
"I know, this is too much for you," she sighed.
"Do you think what they say is true? Are you their goddess and I am their god incarnate? Is that why we have this strange bond that keeps me awake?"
"Keeps you awake?" she frowned. She saw in the detective's eyes that he had made a slip of the tongue; he bowed his head and pretended to consider for a moment whether to tell her what he thought. "Spit it out!"
"It won't make any difference," he growled.
"I have no secrets from you, though I didn't plan it, but that's the way it is." Ophelia just shook her head, and as he didn't speak, she was about to leave him in the lurch. But the detective took her wrist, spun her around to the beat of the music, and pressed her forcefully against the wall so that she felt the force of the impact in her spine.
"I've been dreaming about you lately. It's always the same," he hesitated, as if there was still time to turn back at this point. Ophelia closed her eyes for one long second and filled her lungs with the man's spicy, sandalwood-like scent, then tried to break free again, but his body blocked her way. Lia was lost in his cold blue eyes, and cursed herself for having, if not forgotten Alpha and Chris, felt as if they were on the periphery of her vision.
"I'm sorry I can't leave you alone even in your sleep," she moaned forcibly, and he laughed bitterly. He leaned closer to whisper in her ear, which sent a pleasant tingling of goose bumps all over Ophelia's body:
"I see you with him... in your apartment, on the counter, in bed, in the office... Always in his arms..."
"And that bothers you?" Ophelia steeled her features. She thought it was the only way to save herself from falling into his arms. She had overplayed her part, for a cheeky grin even appeared on her face, which made the detective's eyes grow wide with shock and then anger.
"You can fuck whoever you want, I just don't understand why I have to watch."
"Admit it, it's nothing more than a fantasy," she licked her upper lip, and a flame of anger and some kind of deep-seated arousal rose in his eyes. His bear like body tensed, as if the last of his defenses had crumbled, and he wanted to throw himself on her, to have her all to himself.
"There you are," Jeremy appeared with a kind smile on his face. Detective Harper let out an involuntary grunt, then they both looked at the newcomer. "Leslie asked me to tell you a little bit about the Wicca religion, about our traditions, because Lyra says you don't know much about it," he smiled at Ophelia.
Harper immediately slipped back into his detective mode and pulled away from her. They had chosen a pleasant corner for themselves, where four armchairs stood around a fancy coffee table. They settled down as the detective asked:
"How many people can draw circles like that?" He poked his chin at the remains of the circle used in the ceremony.
"All the members of the coven," he smiled as he too settled himself comfortably in one of the armchairs opposite the pair.
"The Wicca religion, though seemingly new-fangled, has ancient roots. It derives from Gardner '54, and the name is similar to the English word 'witch'. There are several branches, such as Gardnerian or Alexandrian, and there are freelance believers, but they all really believe in the same thing."
"The abracadabra?" the detective asked, with some irony in his voice.
"You could say that," laughed Jeremy, who seemed to take no offence at the detective's remarks.
"Wicca is a modern mystery religion, and as such it combines mysticism and religious doctrine. We use magic for various rituals."
"Like that clever trick with the wine and the gap between the stones?" the detective nodded, but Jeremy took no offence, explaining patiently:
"We believe in a higher will, in the logic of the world and in the power that created the universe, or multiverse for that matter, but we have nothing to do with it, because it carries a level of knowledge that we cannot access. But the power of the Lady and Lord, also known as the Goddess and God, is unquestionable. This is how our world is built, birth and death, their harmony is the basis of everything. The Sun, but especially the Moon, plays an important role in our religion. The new moon symbolizes the girlhood, the full moon the womanhood, and the waning moon the old age. It is our mother nature we respect most, and we have a close relationship with her for the power she once gave us. She is the Goddess, supported and protected by God," the man smiled as he surveyed the odd couple. Ophelia lowered her eyes as the detective squirmed with agitation, but they didn't speak, both listening in silence to Jeremy's further words:
"The principles are simple: if you do no harm, you can do as you wish. This principle was broken by the demons, and that is why we fought them for centuries, until they mingled with humans and diluted their blood. And we have lost our power, except you, Ophelia."
"And why do you think it was me? Why was I given this power while Lyra sees the future?"
"Because dark times are coming, the demons are rising, and you must fight them."
"There are no demons, only bad people..." the detective interjected.
"Whatever you call it, what's the difference between bad and evil, detective?"
"What other principles are there?" Ophelia asked.
"They are very simple: respect of nature, the cycle of life and death. That's why healing is important, and your friend Lyra, or even Yvonne, can teach you."
"Then tell me, why does one kill by disemboweling others and drawing magical marks around the corpse? After all, you are hippies, aren't you?"
"We're not hippies, although the love and appreciation of life and others is an important factor for us," Jeremy replied without flinching at the sarcastic remark.
"If I could see a photo of the crime scene, I could tell you more," he offered, as the detective dug into his phone and soon pushed a series of images in front of his face, some of Hannah, some of Samuel.
"Terrible," Jeremy's eyes darkened as he put his hand to his mouth.
"We think a sacrifice was made," Ophelia explained.
"Although it has recently faded, there was evidence of human sacrifice, but note the location of the organs. May I?" he reached for the phone, then turned the screen towards his two students as if he were a teacher. "The cardinal points have a meaning. Fire is the southern celestial sphere, you see, here at the victim's feet are the symbols for fire, water is west, earth is north, air is east. The organs and symbols representing these were placed facing the appropriate cardinal points, the position of the victim gave the direction.
"And what about the cemetery and the basilica where we found them?" the detective asked, as Lia leaned forward, the subject and the explanation becoming more and more fascinating.
"The ceremonies must be performed on holy ground. It doesn't matter which religion consecrated it, the important thing is that it is holy and pure. They could have been performed in a synagogue, it doesn't change the point."
"And what is the point?" Ophelia asked, resting her face on the palm of her hand.
"I think they want to gain some kind of magical power from the sacrifices. When was the first murder?"
"The penultimate day of March," said the detective.
"So nine days after the festival of Ostara," Jeremy mused.
"Three weeks later happened the next one," said the bearded man. "Does it matter?"
"Of course! Numbers and holidays have great significance."
"The second was on the twenty-first of April," said Ophelia.
"So it's twice three weeks so far," sighed Jeremy.
"What's next?" asked the detective.
"The first of May is Beltane's holiday, and then on 22 June Litha is one of our biggest holidays. If I had to guess, the series runs from the spring equinox to the summer solstice."
"But then why didn't it start on 21th of March?" Ophelia frowned.
"If all this is true," the detective interrupted her after she'd got her phone back and dived into the calendar app, "then the next murder will be on 11 May, the next on 1 of June, and the last on 22 June, The last one on Litha's day."
"Nine days between holidays and murders," Ophelia sighed.
"Three times three, that' s nine," nodded Jeremy.
"So we know when he kills, but not exactly what the motive is or why the victims are the ones he kills," the detective summed up.
"We've already made some progress," Ophelia enthused.
"Who do you think would perform such a ritual?"
"I don't want to point fingers, Detective," Jeremy leaned back in his chair, "but if you ask anyone in this room, they'll all say Claire Hopkins, because she's not one of us. Maybe she's performing the rituals to gain admittance to our ranks. She's our black sheep."
"Where is she now?" Ophelia looked around the room, but didn't see her. The detective jumped up and hurried straight to their hosts. Liliana offered them a glass of champagne each.
"Where is Miss Hopkins? Have you seen her?" asked the detective, leaving the obligatory courtesy behind. She shook her head and said:
"I heard she left about half an hour ago."
Lia looked at Detective Harper, and immediately understood from the gleam in his eyes what he meant; they finally had a suspect.