“Ritual?”

“We tried to call you up at the meeting last week, but I didn’t think it worked because I didn’t draw the circle of power with a virgin blade that had been quenched in blood.”

“What did you use?”

“A nail file.”

There was a pause. Had she offended the Earth spirit? Here was the first evidence that her magic could work and she had blown it by compromising the materials called for in the ritual.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but it’s not easy to find a blade that’s been quenched in blood.”

“It’s okay.”

“If I had known, I…”

“No really, it’s okay.”

“Are you offended, Great Spirit?”

“I am about to bestow the greatest power in the world upon a woman who draws circles in the dirt with nail files. I don’t know. Give me a minute.”

“Then you will grant harmony to the hearts of the women in the coven?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” the voice said.

“That is why we summoned you, O Spirit — to bring us harmony.”

“Oh, yeah, harmony. But there is a condition.”

“Tell me what you require of me, O Spirit.”

“I will return to you later, witch. If I find what I am looking for, I will need you to renounce the Creator and perform a ritual. In return you will be given the command of a power that can rule the Earth. Will you do this?”

Rachel could not believe what she was hearing. Accepting that her magic worked was a huge step, yet she was speaking to the evidence. But to be offered the power to rule the world? She wasn’t sure her career in exercise instruction had prepared her for this.

“Speak, woman! Or would you rather spend your life collecting gobs of hair from shower drains and fingernail parings from ashtrays?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I was destroying pagans when Charlemagne was alive. Now, answer; there is a hunger rising in me and I must go.”

“Destroying pagans? I thought the Earth spirits were benevolent.”

“We have our moments. Now, will you renounce the Creator?”

“Renounce the Goddess, I don’t know…”

“Not the Goddess! The Creator!”

“But the Goddess…”

“Wrong. The Creator, the All-Powerful. Help me out here, babe — I’m not allowed to say his name.”

“You mean the Christian God?”

“Bingo! Will you renounce him?”

“I did that a long time ago.”

“Good. Wait here. I will be back.”

Rachel searched for a last word, but nothing came. She heard a rustling in the leaves outside and ran to the door. In the moonlight she could see the shapes of cattle standing in the nearby pasture and something moving among them. Something that was growing larger as it moved away toward town.

19

JENNY’S HOUSE

Jenny parked the Toyota behind Travis’s Chevy and killed the lights.

“Well?” Travis said.

Jenny said, “Would you like to come in?”

“Well.” Travis acted as if he had to think about it. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“Give me a minute to go in and clear a path, okay?”

“No problem, I need to check on something in my car.”

“Thanks.” Jenny smiled with relief.

They got out of the car. Jenny went into the house. Travis leaned against the door of the Chevy and waited for her to get inside. Then he threw open the car door and peeked inside.

Catch was sitting on the passenger side, his face stuck in a comic book. He looked up at Travis and grinned.

“Oh, you’re back.”

“Did you play the radio?”

“No way.”

“Good. It’s wired into the battery directly; it’ll drain the current.”

“Didn’t touch it.”

Travis glanced at the suitcase on the backseat. “Keep an eye on that.”

“You got it.”

Travis didn’t move.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Well, you’re being awfully agreeable.”

“I told you, I’m just glad to see you having a good time.”

“You may have to stay the night in the car. You aren’t hungry, are you?”

“Get a grip, Travis. I just ate last night.”

Travis nodded. “I’ll check on you later, so stay here.” Travis closed the car door.

Catch jumped to his feet and watched over the dashboard while Travis went into the house. Ironically, they were both thinking the same thing: in a little while this will all be over.

Catch coughed and a red spiked heel shot out of his mouth and bounced off the windshield, spattering the glass with hellish spit.

Robert had parked his truck a block away from his old house and walked up, hoping and dreading that he would catch Jenny with another man. As he approached the house, he saw the old Chevy parked in front of her Toyota.

He had run through this scene a hundred times in his mind. Walk out of the dark, catch her with the guy, and shout “Ah ha!” Then things got sketchy.

What was the point? He didn’t really want to catch her at anything. He wanted her to come to the door with tears streaming down her cheeks. He wanted her to throw her arms around him and beg him to come home. He wanted to assure her that everything would be fine and forgive her for throwing him out. He had run that scene through his mind a hundred times as well. After they made love for the third time, things got sketchy.

The Chevy was not part of his preconceived scenes. It was like a preview, a teaser. It meant that someone was in the house with Jenny. Someone who, unlike Robert, had been invited. New scenes ran through his mind: knocking on the door, having Jenny answer, looking around her shoulder to see another man sitting on the couch, and being sent away. He couldn’t stand that. It was too real.

Maybe it wasn’t a guy at all. Maybe it was one of the women from the coven who had stopped over to comfort Jenny in her time of need. Then the dream came back to him. He was tied to a chair in the desert again, watching Jenny make love with another man. The little monster was shoving saltines in his mouth.

Robert realized he had been standing in the middle of the street staring at the house for several minutes, torturing himself. Just be adult about it. Go up and knock on the door. If she is with someone else, just excuse yourself and come back later. He felt an ache rising in his chest at the thought.

No, just walk away. Go back to The Breeze’s trailer and call her tomorrow. The thought of another night alone with his heartbreak increased the ache in his chest.

Robert’s indecision had always angered Jenny. Now it was paralyzing him. “Just pick a direction and go, Robert,” she would say. “It can’t be any worse than sitting here pitying yourself.”

But it’s the only thing I’m good at, he thought.

A truck rounded the corner and started slowly to roll up the street. Robert was galvanized into action. He ran to the Chevy and ducked behind it. I’m hiding in front of my own house. This is silly, he thought. Still, it was as if anyone who passed would know how small and weak he was. He didn’t want to be seen.

The truck slowed almost to a stop as it passed the house, then the driver gunned the engine and sped off. Robert stayed in a crouch behind the Chevy for several minutes before he moved.

He had to know.

“Just pick a direction and go.” He decided to peek in the windows. There were two windows in the living room, about six feet off the ground. Both were old-style, weighted-sash types. Jenny had planted geraniums in the window boxes outside. If the window boxes were strong enough, he could hoist himself up and peek through the gap in the drawn curtains.

Spying on your own wife was sleazy. It was dirty. It was perverse. He thought about it for a moment, then made his way across the yard to the windows. Sleazy, dirty, and perverse would be improvements over how he felt now.

He grabbed the edge of the window box and tested his weight against it. It held. He pulled himself up, hooked his chin on the window box, and peered through the gap in the curtains.