“I’ve had enough already, thanks.”
“I’ll bet you have.” Etienne meant something other than alcohol, judging from his grin.
“Maybe you’d like to go somewhere else, Lenore,” he said. “We’re headed to a rather large party. If you’re not in the mood…”
She looked at him, faintly puzzled. “I’m fine,” she said. “I wanted to be with you. That’s why I came back.”
Derek blushed, wondering what Etienne and Nina would make of this declaration. Wondering, himself, how to take it. “Of course you’re welcome, I just thought…” He wasn’t sure what he thought. She fit in naturally here, as if she had known Nina and Etienne, as if she knew where they were going, as if all this had been planned and arranged.
“I’ll stay with you,” she repeated.
She came to me, he thought. She wanted to be with me.
“All right,” he said, putting an arm around her. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“You’re among friends now,” Nina said.
“That’s right,” Etienne joined in. “A great many friends. And we all know just what you’re going through.”
Do we? Derek thought.
“Now… just relax and have fun. Here we are!”
He looked up through his window then and saw great bright wheels of light spinning overhead, tendrils reaching for him. He took it for a vivid hallucination, then the legs of the freeway stepped into the limo’s headlights. Higher in the dark, where Derek didn’t need to look to see it, the overpass arched above the car like a massive black smirk.
Michael had never worn handcuffs before, but he feared that if he struggled they would tighten up and cut off his circulation. These were already gouging his wrist. It didn’t help that Lilith kept thrashing about, threatening the one-eared man and his thin, sad-eyed driver, in spite of Michael’s pleas to calm her down.
One-Ear sat up front, twisted half around so he could keep his eye—and his gun—fixed on them. Otherwise, he had a distant look, as if he were daydreaming in the midst of his vigil.
“If you don’t quiet down,” he told Lilith, “I will forget about ransoming you to Mr. Crowe. I will just give you to him dead, once he’s given me what I want. Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you? It’s not hard at all. What’s hard is not killing, once you’re used to it. A dirty habit, maybe; but very hard to break.”
“You might as well. If you don’t kill me, this one will,” she said, jerking so hard on the chain that Michael cried out.
“What do you mean?” he said, hurt and confused. “Why would I hurt you?”
“I heard what you did to that couple back in North Carolina. Were they your friends too?” She glared at One-Ear. “You two should be sitting up front together. You have a lot in common.”
Jesus, Michael thought. She’s talking about Tucker and Scarlet.
“You—you don’t think I did that?” he said.
“Derek told me about you.”
“But he… we…. It wasn’t us. It wasn’t anyone. It was the mandalas!”
That word drew the gun’s exclusive attention. “What about them?” One-Ear asked.
“They killed my landlord and his girlfriend, and left a big bloody mandala on the wall. We had to run from Cinderton because my wife was having problems, and we thought Derek Crowe could help us. I knew we’d be suspects, but I couldn’t help it. We had to run but we didn’t kill anyone. The mandalas would have killed us too, if we hadn’t run.”
“How do you know about… them? The mandalas?”
“From Crowe’s book. That’s where they came from. Well, first from Ms. A—” He glanced nervously at Lilith, who was watching him guardedly.”—whoever she is, and then from the book.”
“But there is no Ms. A,” Lilith said. Michael and One-Ear both stared. “Derek told me. There was no Ms. A. No hypnotic trances. No channeling. He made it all up. It’s time somebody blew this thing out of the water—it’s too far out of control. He invented this whole fucking cult that’s suckered you both.”
One-Ear gave her a sickly grin. “I’m afraid he can’t take credit for that. I’m not sure exactly where he came across it, but I know it existed long before Derek Crowe. I have independent confirmation.”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “These things are old. They’re not— they’re nothing he made up, believe me. I’ve seen what they can do.”
“He is involved in this with some other people,” One-Ear said. “You know of Club Mandala?”
“What about it?” Lilith said.
“Mr. Crowe is friends with them?”
“He hates them.”
“Hates? Then he’s had dealings with them.”
“He says he doesn’t know them.”
“He also says he created the mandalas. Can we really trust what Mr. Crowe says?”
“What is it to you, anyway?” Lilith said.
“I have a long-standing interest in these matters. Mr. Crowe or maybe his friends have something I desire. I wish to trade this thing for your safety.”
“Then for my sake I hope he does have it,” Lilith said. “But I’ve never seen anything. He made up the mandalas out of whole cloth. And if he lied about that, then he’s a sadder case than I realized.”
She fell silent then, and Michael watched her, wondered what she was grappling with. She had suspected him of being a murderer, a psycho. On the phone, back in Hecate’s Haven, she must have been calling the police. When she’d ostensibly gone out for her Tarot cards, she must have been planning to run and leave him there for the cops to find.
The car began to slow, pulling to the sidewalk. How long had they been circling around? Michael looked out the window and recognized the battered iron grate of Crowe’s apartment building.
“Now,” said One-Ear, “my driver has a gun, and he is very good with it. I will return shortly. I might have Mr. Crowe along. Or I might have something else.” He allowed himself a smile that looked like an additional scar in his ruined face. Then he opened the door and climbed out.
He waited by the gate for several minutes until a tenant went in. He caught the gate before it closed, and then rushed and caught the inner door as well. He was gone.
The driver sat impassively, facing forward with a mournful look.
“So,” Lilith said after a minute. “You thought Derek was going to help you?”
“I thought he was the mandala expert,” Michael said.
“Lenore was… is possessed. I’d tried everything I knew. Cast a circle. That was a mistake though. You—you’re in a coven, right? Wiccan?”
Lilith nodded. “Among other things. Yeah?”
“So, we cast a circle but the mandalas broke through it. The usual protection is nothing to them. They don’t recognize the old pagan symbols. I thought the mandalas were just symbols themselves, till I saw them.”
“Not part of your basic neo-pagan training,” Lilith said with an edge of sarcasm in her voice that made him realize she was starting to accept his story.
“Tell me about it! I didn’t know where to turn. I couldn’t reach Crowe. The only real grandmaster I ever knew, this old guy named Elias Mooney, was dead—though I tried to call him up, contact whatever matrix of energy he’d left behind.”
Lilith said, “You knew Elias Mooney?”
“Yeah! Did you? I know he lived out here. I never met him, but he sent me tapes. He helped me through some really bad times.”
“I don’t believe this,” Lilith said, and it was as if the handcuffs that connected them had turned to brilliant glowing gold, an intense bond that cut through all suspicion. “You could be telling my story.”