“…So listen, Row,” Ben’s voice suddenly replaced the mechanical tick-ticking static of the hold button, “I gotta go have a second look at a crime scene, so I may not be around when you get here. If I’m back in time, you wanna grab lunch? I’ll buy.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Especially if it’s on you!”
“Good deal. I’ll catch ya’ then. Later.”
“Bye.”
I was just settling the phone back onto its base when my eyes fell across the message pad. At first, I dismissed the concentric circles and figure eights of blue ink gracing the page as simply the random scrawling of my unoccupied mind. It was only upon the second glance, as I was tearing the page from the backing in order to discard it, that something struck me as odd. More than just meaningless scratches, the curves and lines twisted around, traced and retraced, forming numbers.
2218.
An obscure remembrance in the back of my head told me that I had dreamt this number earlier this morning. I stared at it for a long moment, wondering at its significance, before discounting it as a bizarre coincidence and crumpling the page in my fist. As I dropped it in the wastebasket, a pair of flannel-covered arms hooked about my waist, and a soft, curvaceous body pressed against my back. Any remnant of the puzzling number left in my mind was immediately and thoroughly replaced by thoughts vastly different.
“Aye, who were you talking to this early in the morning, then?” Felicity’s sleepy voice murmured.
“Ben,” I answered, turning in her embrace and squeezing her gently. “I was just checking in to see if I was still supposed to give that lecture this morning…what with the snow and all.”
“What did he say?” she asked quietly.
Her warm breath tingled my skin as she nuzzled in closer, her soft lips roaming up my neck.
“Still on. It’s set up for ten. I guess I need to be there by nine-thirty or so.”
“Mmmmmm… You smell good.”
“Thanks…You don’t smell so bad yourself.”
Clouds of her loose auburn curls floated about her lightly freckled face as she looked at me with drowsy, jade green eyes. She was a perfect picture of her own Irish-American heritage, and the Celtic lilt in her voice tied the package together. While normally a singsong note simply underscoring her words, she needed only to spend a few short hours with her family, or be tired as she was now, to re-kindle a heavy brogue that even included occasional lapses into Gaelic.
“So what time is it now?” she cooed, rubbing cat-like against me and nibbling lightly at my earlobe.
“About eight.”
“I don’t have any clients scheduled this morning…” she whispered, referring to her profession as a freelance photographer.
“Good for you.”
I was feigning ignorance of what she implied, but she continued undaunted. When Felicity had set her mind to something, there was little I knew of that could stand in her way.
“…And you’ve got some free time,” she breathed.
“Uh-huh.” I was rapidly starting to melt.
“I’m loving you a whole bunch right now…”
I wasn’t exactly late, but it was close. I didn’t arrive at the Saint Louis city police headquarters until five minutes to ten.
CHAPTER 2
“Really. Trust me on this,” I said in a calm but very firm tone. “Witches DO NOT have lurid orgies by the light of the full moon for the purpose of spawning demon children. I don’t care WHAT that newsletter says.”
The bulk of the lecture was finished and by all accounts had gone very well. For the better part of ninety minutes, I had outlined the philosophy of WitchCraft and the Wiccan religion. Taking great pains to stress their benevolence, I recited the Wiccan Rede and focused on its most important covenant- An it Harm None, do what ye will. I had covered the rituals and the symbols of the two, most especially, the Pentacle and Pentagram. For centuries, negative connotations had been placed on the five-pointed star hemmed by a circle. It had obviously come as a shock to the group that the true meaning of the symbol, no matter how you turned it, was that it represented man and his relationship to the elements. Nothing evil. Nothing Satanic. Of further distress to their preconceived notions was the fact that Witches don’t even believe in Satan. They weren’t entirely sure what to do when I informed them that Lucifer wasn’t our boy, but theirs and theirs alone. That fallen angel was simply a deity more closely associated with Judeo-Christian practices and held no place in the Wiccan faith. Even so, there was still at least one of them who remained unconvinced. Because of him, I was now explaining to a room full of blue-uniformed police officers why a particular right-wing publication he flaunted like a shield was factually incorrect.
“My best guess on this would be that they are drawing an incorrect conclusion from two basic facts. One, that Witches and Wiccans often hold their ritual circles on the full moon… And two, that there are certain groups which hold their meetings in a manner known as skyclad . And yes, that very simply means that they are ‘in the buff’ so to speak.”
“So you are confirming what the article says then.”
The cocky challenge issued from the young buzz-cut-sporting officer who was responsible for bringing the literature in question. He had made it obvious from the beginning that he intended to discredit me in some fashion consistent with his own beliefs. His momentary false impression of victory told me that he sincerely believed he had just caught me in a lie. Thick, red anger was seeping through from his comments, and I was certain that I wasn’t the only one aware of the obvious chip on his shoulder. In the back of my mind, it frightened me that someone as prejudiced as he was allowed to wander the streets with a loaded gun on his hip.
“No, I am not,” I returned, biting back my own rising impatience. “ Skyclad means just what I said. They aren’t wearing any clothes. Being nude does not presuppose sexual activity.”
“So you’re saying you are completely nude when you practice this religion?” Another officer interjected her question. “Doesn’t it get a little cold for that this time of year?”
A light-hearted chuckle hopscotched through the room, rending a hole in the balloon of tension and deflating it to a much less explosive level. I added my own laugh to that of the group.
“Yes, I suppose it is a bit chilly on a day like this. But I, personally, am not nude when I perform a ritual or practice my religion. There are some groups who do worship skyclad, and there are many others who don’t. I happen to be one of the don’t crowd.” I smiled back at her. Though we were still on the subject of nudity, her query was of great relief to me. “Like I told you earlier, there are several traditions of The Craft and Wicca, as well as many other Pagan and/or alternative religions.” I made quote symbols in the air with my fingers to punctuate the word alternative. “To assume that they are all exactly the same would be as ludicrous as saying that Catholicism and Judaism are exactly the same thing. You all know, and accept I might add, that there are numerous facets of Christian and mainstream religions… There are the Catholics, the Baptists, the Lutherans, and the Jewish… just to name a few. It is the same for other faiths as well. The whole reason behind this lecture is to show you that just because someone doesn’t follow what is considered by the masses as a mainstream religion, it doesn’t make them evil. Being a Druid, Buddhist, or even an atheist doesn’t mean that you have any more proclivities toward violence than anyone else. This seminar could be given by any open-minded individual of any religion. It just so happens that I am a Witch.”