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I’m sure it was mere coincidence that led her to choose the exact place where Lucien Dumond had died.
Logically, it made sense. The large clearing that opened onto an expanse of rocky riverbank provided enough room for plenty of observers to congregate and observe Lilith’s ritual. Probably more than would fit in my designated area on Chuck’s ranch, even though I tried to remind myself this wasn’t a competition.
Right.
Also, with the running water only a few feet away, and the ritual fire I was sure she had planned, she would be able to combine all four elements of her ceremony with everything the setting itself had already provided.
All in all, it did seem like an ideal place for her to work. Problem was, a man had died violently there only two months earlier. I knew Lucien’s spirit was long gone — I’d had one last convo with him before he moved on from this plane — and yet even if his ghost wasn’t an issue, the psychic residue of that kind of violence could linger in a spot for a very long time.
And that meant the place would really need to be thoroughly cleansed before it could be deemed safe for any kind of magical working.
I tried to tell myself that Lilith wasn’t an amateur, and so of course she’d make sure the clearing was swept clean of any other energies. For all I knew, the tribal elders had informed her that a crime had taken place there, and that it was probably a good idea to choose another location. From what I’d seen of Lilith Black so far, however, I’d gotten the impression she wouldn’t listen to their warnings. If she’d decided the clearing was the place to be, then that was where the ritual would happen.
Which meant there probably wasn’t any point in me trying to issue my own warnings. If she wasn’t going to listen to the tribal elders, then she sure wasn’t going to listen to me. Any prophesies of doom coming from my lips would be viewed as a transparent ploy to get her to use a less picturesque location for her ceremony.
The buzzer for the back entrance to the building sounded then. I glanced at the clock. Exactly seven.
I had to admit that I liked a man who was on time. My Neptune in Capricorn asserting itself, probably.
Archie, who’d been fed an hour earlier and was lying on the rug in the entryway, shot me a baleful glance. “So much for not dating the quarterback,” he remarked.
“Isn’t there a statute of limitations on how long being the high school quarterback is a determining influence in your life?” I shot back. “I mean, the guy is in his early thirties.”
“So you admit you’re going out with him.”
“We’re going to dinner,” I said. “That’s all.”
“Hmph.”
And then Archie stalked off toward the living room and jumped up on an arm of the sofa. He knew I didn’t like him getting on the furniture…which of course was exactly why he’d done it.
Because Chuck was waiting downstairs, I didn’t have time to get into an argument. No, I just grabbed my purse from where it had been sitting on the hall table, then engaged the alarm system before I let myself out and locked the door behind me.
Most likely, the security system was overkill, but I felt better knowing it was there.
As I hurried down the stairs, I wondered what the heck had put Archie’s nose out of joint. After all, why should a cursed cat who’d formerly been an asexual man care who I was going out with? He couldn’t bejealous,could he?
I decided that theory was way too self-serving. While I could look in the mirror and determine in an objective way that I was pretty, I certainly had never been one of those women who thought that every man — even a man in a cat’s body — was dying of love for me.
“Sorry,” I said breathlessly as I emerged on the back stoop and saw Chuck waiting there. “I had to get everything locked up and the alarm system turned on.”
One eyebrow lifted. He’d exchanged the faded work shirt for a crisp button-up in a nice shade of teal, and his jeans looked newer, but those scuffed cowboy boots were still on his feet. I couldn’t help wondering if he wore them to bed.
Not that I had any intention of finding out.
“You expecting a crime wave?”
I managed a not very convincing chuckle. “No, but I’m from L.A. Old habits die hard.”
He seemed to accept that explanation, because he nodded and said, “Ready to get going?”
“Sure,” I replied, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. It wasn’t nerves about going on a dinner date with Chuck Langdon as much as my worry that we might bump into Calvin at the casino’s restaurant. Even though I’d tried to tell myself I was fretting over something that probably wouldn’t even happen — nothing Calvin had said or done had made me think he ever visited the casino, except in a professional capacity — I couldn’t quite ignore the sensation of impending doom that had been hovering in my mind ever since Chuck had told me where we would be going for dinner. In most instances, such a sensation was something that could be dismissed as anxiety and nothing else, but when you were psychic, you ignored those feelings at your peril.
However, I couldn’t back out now. I tried to seem as calm as possible as Chuck opened the truck’s door for me, then waited until I was safely in the passenger seat before he closed the door and went around to his side of the vehicle.
Quite gentlemanly, actually. It wasn’t the sort of courtesy I’d gotten from the men I’d dated back in Los Angeles, but it seemed that in Globe, people were still raised with old-fashioned manners.
Mostly,I thought, recalling my brusque treatment at Chief Henry Lewis’s hands, although I supposed his rudeness had mostly stemmed from irritation at my butting into the investigation of Lucien Dumond’s death. Even though I’d been instrumental in outing Lucien’s murderers, Globe’s top cop still wasn’t too thrilled with me.
