April looked away, and her shoulders began to tremble. I thought she was going to cry, but she didn't. The trembling stopped. She turned back to me, sighed deeply. "No, Robert. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't make sense. You're right when you say that Esobus must exist: Frank mentioned the name, and it's in this boy's book of shadows. But the Esobus you hear stories about would never share a coven with beginners like Frank or the boy who wrote this book."
"Don't covens accept novices?"
She shook her head emphatically. "Any coven that Esobus headed would have only thirteen members, and every one of those members would be a sophisticated and highly skilled adept. By rights, neither Frank nor this boy should even have been able to meet a ceremonial magician, much less participate in a ritual with one."
I absently traced my index finger along one of the symbols inscribed on the book's cover. The metal felt greasy and warm. "What's 'scrying'?" I asked. "It's mentioned in here a number of times."
April smiled wanly. "Scrying is a method of divination-looking into the future. It usually involves crystal gazing, but flame or water can also be used. The person who kept this book would have been nowhere near a point where he could even begin trying to scry."
April's matter-of-fact tone surprised me. "You're saying you believe there are people who can divine the future?"
She took a long time to answer. "Yes," she said at last. "I believe Daniel may be able to. I scry, but I use it for meditation. You'd be surprised how deep into your mind flame or water can take you." She blinked, added distantly: "Maybe that's where the future is anyway-inside ourselves." Suddenly she shuddered and gripped my arm tightly. "Robert, can we find a telephone? I want to call the hospital."
"Right. And I have to call the police about the body."
I put Bobby Weiss's book of shadows on the floor of the car and drove out on Houston, where we found a pay phone. When April got out to make her call I leafed through the book again, thinking of amateur witches in a supposedly top-secret supercoven of ceremonial magicians. From the notes in the book, it was clear that the corruption and decline leading to Bobby's death had begun with his admittance to the coven.
Suddenly I was startled by a banging sound at the side of the car; April was pounding on the window, struggling frantically to open the unlocked car door. The concern and grief that had been etched in her face had turned to panic, as though she had just passed from one nightmare into another even worse. In her panic, she couldn't even operate the door latch. I quickly reached across the seat and opened the door. April fell into the car, bumping her head on the frame.
"Robert!" she gasped in a strangled, breathless voice. "My daughter's dying!"
Daniel-gaunt, disheveled and hollow-eyed-was already at the hospital when we arrived. I had no idea how he'd learned about the emergency, and he wouldn't even look at me when I spoke to him. He put his arms around his stunned sister, and they both sat down on a small, worn sofa in a corner of the waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit. April sobbed on his shoulder while he stared vacantly at the floor. This particular ceremonial magician had lost at least twenty pounds since I'd seen him last.
A half hour later, Joshua Greene emerged from the room where he and his team of specialists had been working on Kathy. Greene's face was haggard, and his surgical smock was stained with sweat. He motioned us into a smaller, more private anteroom. Daniel, walking very stiffly, led the way, with April leaning on his arm. I hesitated, feeling like a stranger now, but Greene indicated with a nod of his head that he wanted me to join them.
"We understand and accept, Doctor," Daniel said evenly as I entered the room and closed the door behind me. "Kathy's dying, and there's nothing you can do to save her."
Greene slowly shook his head. "We-"
"It's not necessary for you to say anything, Doctor," Daniel said abruptly. "We don't need your comfort."
"What's happened, Joshua?" I asked quietly.
Greene shifted his gaze to me. "We don't know," he said, his voice almost cracking. "A few hours ago Kathy's heart began beating arhythmically. There doesn't seem to be anything we can do to control it. We've tried drugs, but they don't sustain her. She gets weaker after each episode."
"You can't help her?" I asked tightly.
Greene slowly shook his head. "The problem is systemic. Whatever was given to her has worn down her resistance to the point where her body is giving up. We're doing all we can to save her, but in all likelihood. ."He took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. His black flesh was chalky. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Marlowe," he continued in a choked whisper. "In all honesty, we don't think Kathy will. . survive much longer. I feel you. . should prepare yourself for the worst."
"We are prepared," Daniel said evenly.
"How long?" I asked.
Greene thought about it for a long time, then said, "Perhaps twelve hours, if Kathy continues at her present rate of decline."
"What-" My voice caught, and I swallowed, trying to work up some moisture in my mouth. "What would Kathy's chances be if we could still somehow find out what's wrong with her?"
"I don't know, Mongo," Greene said hoarsely. "I just don't know."
Daniel came across the room and reached out for me. I instinctively shied away, but his hand gripped my shoulder and held. "Frederickson," he said softly, "I thank you for all you've done-and tried to do-for my niece. I'd offer you money, but I know you wouldn't accept. I hope you will accept my friendship; April will tell you that my friendship is the most precious thing I can offer you." He released my arm, stepped back and smiled almost gently. "This matter is finished. April and I are a part of wicca; we can accept death as a part of life. You accept it. Leave us in peace."
"We've still got twelve hours, Crandall."
The ceremonial magician shook his head. His smile was gone. "No. The battle is over;. I feel it. Now I wish you'd leave us alone."
"April?" I said, turning to the woman.
She'd been softly crying. Now she looked at me, tried to smile but couldn't. "It is over, Robert," she sobbed. "Daniel knows these things." She moved closer, kissed me, pressed her wet cheek against mine. "Thank you, Robert. You must go now. Leave Daniel and me alone; we know how to console each other."
I couldn't think of any of my more traditionally religious friends who could have taken Greene's kind of news better than April and her brother. Yet the serenity these two witches seemed to enjoy in the face of Kathy's approaching death only served to transform my own frustration and desperation into anger. "She's not dead yet!" I shouted, wheeling on Daniel. "We still have time! Twelve hours, one hour-what difference does it make? Let's use the time! Work with me! We'll go out-"
"No!" Daniel said firmly. "I've talked to everyone there is to talk to!" He sighed angrily and shook his head. Now he made no attempt to hide his pain. "I couldn't find out anything, Frederickson. If I can't, you can't."
"This time we'll work together. I think I've got some leads that-"
Daniel stepped back and cut me off with a wave of his hand. His eyes had gone cold. "Go! You're not family. April and I don't want you here!"
I glanced back and forth between the brother and sister, the witch and ceremonial magician. I knew there was nothing more I could say to them, nothing more either of them wanted to say to me. Joshua Greene, his head down, was holding the door open for me. I wheeled and walked through it.
I went down to my car and drove across town toward Garth's precinct station. It was one o'clock in the afternoon, and the crosstown streets were plugged with traffic that I hardly seemed to notice. I knew that every minute counted, yet I felt strangely serene; all of my options had been narrowed down to a very small set of choices, and it was almost a relief. At the moment, there was nothing I could do about the traffic, and I didn't waste energy worrying about it. I felt as though I were looking down a tunnel twelve hours long; at the end, brightly illuminated, was the answer to the question of how I was going to spend those hours.