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“Weren’t you?” Eve said dryly.
“Some are, and some, like me, are simply drawn to the craft. I became interested in Wicca through my studies, and the more I learned, the more I felt a need to belong. I was drawn to the rituals, the search for balance, the joy, and the positive ethics. I didn’t share my interest with my family. They wouldn’t have understood.”
She dipped her head and her hair flowed down like a curtain. “I enjoyed the secrecy of that and was still young enough to find the experience of going skyclad at an outdoor celebration slightly wicked. My family…” She lifted her head again. “They’re conservative, and a part of me simply wanted to do something daring.”
“A small rebellion?”
“Yes, that’s true. If I had left it at that,” Alice murmured, “if I had truly accepted my initiation into the craft, and what it meant, everything would be different now. I was weak, and my intellect too ambitious.” She picked up her drink again, wet her dry throat. “I wanted to know. To compare and analyze, rather like a thesis, the contrasts of white and black magic. How could I fully appreciate the one without fully understanding its antithesis? That was my rationale.”
“Sounds logical.”
“False logic,” Alice insisted. “I was deluding myself. The ego and the intellect were so arrogant. I would study the black arts on a purely scholarly level. I’d talk to those who had chosen the other path and discover what had turned them away from the light. It would be exciting.” She smiled tremulously. “I thought it would be exciting, and for a short time, it was.”
A child, Eve thought, in the body of a stunning woman. Bright and curious, but a child, nonetheless. It was pitifully easy to tug information from the young. “Is that how you met Selina Cross?”
Paling, Alice made a quick forking gesture with her forefinger and pinky. “How do you know of her?”
“I did some research. I didn’t walk in here blind, Alice. As a cop’s granddaughter, you shouldn’t have expected me to.”
“Be afraid of her.” Alice compressed her lips. “Be afraid of her.”
“She’s a second-rate grifter and chemi-dealer.”
“No, she’s much more.” Alice gripped her amulet again. “Believe that, Lieutenant. I’ve seen. I know. She’ll want you. You’ll challenge her.”
“Do you believe she had something to do with Frank’s death?”
“I know she did.” Tears swam into her eyes, deepening the soft blue. One huge and lovely drop spilled over and slid down her white cheek. “Because of me.”
Eve leaned closer to comfort, and to block the tearful face from any onlookers. “Tell me about it, about her.”
“I met her nearly a year ago. On the sabbat of Samhain. All Hallow’s Eve. More research, I told myself. I didn’t realize how deeply I’d already been drawn in, how utterly seduced I was by the power, the pure selfish greed of the other side. I hadn’t performed any of the rituals, not then. I was still observing. Then I met her, and the one they call Alban.”
“Alban?”
“He serves her.” Alice lifted a hand, laid her fingers against her mouth. “That night still isn’t clear in my mind. I realize now they cast a spell over me. I let them lead me into the circle, strip off my robes. I heard the bells ring, and the chant to the dark prince. I watched the sacrifice of the goat. And I shared in the blood.”
Her head drooped again as shame whirled inside her. “I shared in it, drank of it, and enjoyed. I was the altar that night. I was tied to the stone. I don’t know how or by whom, but I wasn’t afraid. I was aroused.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. The music changed, slid from strings to drums and bells, cheerfully sexual. Alice never lifted her gaze.
“Each member of the coven touched me, rubbed oils and blood over me. The chanting was inside me, and the fire was so hot. Then Selina laid over me. She…did things. I’d never had any sexual experience. Then while she slid up my body, Alban straddled me. She watched me. His hands were on her breasts and he was inside me. And she watched my face. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop looking into her eyes. It was like she was the one—the one inside me.”
Her tears plopped on the table now. Even though Eve had shifted to sheild her from most of the room, and Alice’s voice was barely more than a whisper, several heads were turning curiously.
“You were drugged, Alice. And exploited. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Her eyes lifted briefly and threatened to break Eve’s heart. “Then why am I so ashamed? I was a virgin, and there was pain, but even that was arousing. Unbearably. And the pleasure that came with it was huge, monstrous. They used me, and I begged to be used again. And was, by the entire coven. By sunrise I was lost, enslaved. I woke in bed, between them. Alban and Selina. I’d already become their apprentice. And their toy.”
Tears were running down her cheeks as she drank again. “Sexually, there was nothing I would not allow them, or one of their choosing, to do to me. I embraced the dark. And I
became careless in my arrogance. Someone told my grandfather. He would never give me a name, but I know it was a Wiccan. He confronted me, and I laughed at him. I warned him to stay out of my affairs. I thought he had.”
Saying nothing, Eve slid her water across the table. Gratefully, Alice picked it up, drained it. “A few months ago, I discovered Selina and Alban were performing private rituals. I’d come down from college a day early. I went to their house, and I heard the ceremonial chant. I opened the door of the ritual room. They were there, together, performing a sacrifice.” Her hands shook. “Not a goat this time, but a child. A young boy.”
Eve’s hand closed tight over Alice’s wrist. “You saw them murder a child?”
“Murder is too tame a word for what they did.” The tears dried up in horror. “Don’t ask me to tell you. Don’t ask me that.”
