chair, leaned her elbows on the table.
“I knew something was wrong.” Audrey fiddled with one of her earrings. A line of studs and rings ran around each ear. Riga thought the piercings must have hurt like hell. She dropped her hand, twisting restlessly, then ran it through her flaming red hair, making it stand up in short spikes. “I should have done something.”
Lily sniffed, delicately blotting her nose with a tissue. “What could you have done?” Her white-blond hair flowed in waves past her shoulders, and with her eyes pink from crying, she reminded Riga of the White Rabbit.
Audrey stood abruptly, knocking over her chair. “Gone to her house, checked up on her. Something.” She righted the chair and, grasping the back of it with her hands, leaned heavily upon it, her head lowered. The coppery buttons on her vest gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights of the café.
“She was found by the lake,” Riga said. “I don’t think you could have done anything.”
“Sit down,” Lily said gently.
Audrey sat, and pulled a burnished metal lighter from her vest pocket. She flipped its hinged cap open and closed, open and closed. “Shit.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone.” Lily tucked her hair behind her ears. They were faintly pointed, giving the slender woman an elfin air. “The last time I saw her, we talked about… nothing. She asked me for some passion tea. I was going to give it to her at the next meeting. It was all so superficial. Of course, I didn’t think someone would…” She bit her lip.
Riga asked Lily, “Passion tea? Is that passion fruit?”
She smiled wanly. “No. Passion , sex, romance.”
Ah. A magical tea, then. “Was Sarah in a relationship?”
“I don’t think so,” Lily said. “She never mentioned anyone. Did she say anything to you, Audrey?”
“No.” Audrey snapped the lighter shut. “It must have been unrequited.”
“Why?” Riga said.
Audrey raised an eyebrow. “She would have told us otherwise.”
Tara returned, carefully setting two mismatched, delicate-looking teacups on the table. She slid one toward Riga and the yellowish liquid slopped over the rim. “No, she wasn’t seeing anyone. Sarah was single and happy. I wish I had her joie de vive.”
“It might have been part of a spell for someone else,” Lily said. “She was so insistent about having to have it soon, but I was out. I had to make more.”
Riga sank a spoon full of sugar into the tea, disturbing the flecks of chamomile at the bottom of the cup. “I didn’t realize Sarah was a spell worker.”
Audrey and Tara darted glances at each other.
“We all are, to some extent. Sarah and I are Wiccan.” Lily colored, realizing what she’d just said. Sarah wasn’t part of the present tense anymore.
“Part of a local coven?” Riga asked.
“Solo practitioners,” Lily said. “Sometimes we worked together but two don’t exactly make a coven. You?”
Riga shook her head. “I’m not a Wiccan and I work alone.” Too many magicians had top gun complexes, wanting to prove themselves better than their peers, often with deadly results. She imagined it was a bit like being a gun fighter, with other fighters out to make a name for themselves by bumping you off.
Tara shifted, her bulk settling into the wooden chair. “You said you spoke to the Sheriff?”
“He seemed to think Sarah was killed in a ritual involving black magic.” Riga stirred her cup, the teaspoon clinking gently. Her stomach rumbled, and she glanced again towards the glass counter. It had not magically filled with baked goods since her arrival.
Tara slammed her palm down upon the table, making the teacups rattle. “No way,” she sputtered. “That’s ridiculous! Sarah? She was a Wiccan, not a Satanist!”
“I don’t think that was what the Sheriff was suggesting,” Riga said.
“She was a victim of
“I knew something was wrong.” Audrey fiddled with one of her earrings. A line of studs and rings ran around each ear. Riga thought the piercings must have hurt like hell. She dropped her hand, twisting restlessly, then ran it through her flaming red hair, making it stand up in short spikes. “I should have done something.”
Lily sniffed, delicately blotting her nose with a tissue. “What could you have done?” Her white-blond hair flowed in waves past her shoulders, and with her eyes pink from crying, she reminded Riga of the White Rabbit.
Audrey stood abruptly, knocking over her chair. “Gone to her house, checked up on her. Something.” She righted the chair and, grasping the back of it with her hands, leaned heavily upon it, her head lowered. The coppery buttons on her vest gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights of the café.
“She was found by the lake,” Riga said. “I don’t think you could have done anything.”
“Sit down,” Lily said gently.
Audrey sat, and pulled a burnished metal lighter from her vest pocket. She flipped its hinged cap open and closed, open and closed. “Shit.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone.” Lily tucked her hair behind her ears. They were faintly pointed, giving the slender woman an elfin air. “The last time I saw her, we talked about… nothing. She asked me for some passion tea. I was going to give it to her at the next meeting. It was all so superficial. Of course, I didn’t think someone would…” She bit her lip.
Riga asked Lily, “Passion tea? Is that passion fruit?”
She smiled wanly. “No. Passion , sex, romance.”
Ah. A magical tea, then. “Was Sarah in a relationship?”
“I don’t think so,” Lily said. “She never mentioned anyone. Did she say anything to you, Audrey?”
“No.” Audrey snapped the lighter shut. “It must have been unrequited.”
“Why?” Riga said.
Audrey raised an eyebrow. “She would have told us otherwise.”
Tara returned, carefully setting two mismatched, delicate-looking teacups on the table. She slid one toward Riga and the yellowish liquid slopped over the rim. “No, she wasn’t seeing anyone. Sarah was single and happy. I wish I had her joie de vive.”
“It might have been part of a spell for someone else,” Lily said. “She was so insistent about having to have it soon, but I was out. I had to make more.”
Riga sank a spoon full of sugar into the tea, disturbing the flecks of chamomile at the bottom of the cup. “I didn’t realize Sarah was a spell worker.”
Audrey and Tara darted glances at each other.
“We all are, to some extent. Sarah and I are Wiccan.” Lily colored, realizing what she’d just said. Sarah wasn’t part of the present tense anymore.
“Part of a local coven?” Riga asked.
“Solo practitioners,” Lily said. “Sometimes we worked together but two don’t exactly make a coven. You?”
Riga shook her head. “I’m not a Wiccan and I work alone.” Too many magicians had top gun complexes, wanting to prove themselves better than their peers, often with deadly results. She imagined it was a bit like being a gun fighter, with other fighters out to make a name for themselves by bumping you off.
Tara shifted, her bulk settling into the wooden chair. “You said you spoke to the Sheriff?”
“He seemed to think Sarah was killed in a ritual involving black magic.” Riga stirred her cup, the teaspoon clinking gently. Her stomach rumbled, and she glanced again towards the glass counter. It had not magically filled with baked goods since her arrival.
Tara slammed her palm down upon the table, making the teacups rattle. “No way,” she sputtered. “That’s ridiculous! Sarah? She was a Wiccan, not a Satanist!”
“I don’t think that was what the Sheriff was suggesting,” Riga said.
“She was a victim of
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