She started reading. It turned out that Hank Brisbin’s wife had also disappeared mysteriously. There was a photograph of him in one of the books. He had the narrow-faced, evil-eyed countenance of all four mannequins. Maybe the mannequins had been designed from this picture.
She picked up another of the books. Victor Milton’s presumed victims had also been found in the local cornfields. He had never been apprehended or brought to trial, but the locals had been convinced of his guilt.
She yawned and stretched, about to reach for the next book, when her cell phone rang.
It was Eve.
“Hey, you,” Rowenna said.
“What are you doing?” Eve asked her.
“I’m at the museum. Reading.”
“Can you come over here? Right now?”
Rowenna glanced at her watch. It was only ten-thirty.
“Are you at the store?”
“Yes, and I need you to hurry. He’s gone now, but he’ll be back.”
“Who’s gone? Did you see someone you recognized?”
“No! Adam. I’m talking about Adam. Please, Rowenna, please!”
“All right, I’ll be right over.” Brad wouldn’t be back to pick her up for another hour and a half. And Jeremy wouldn’t be back from Boston at least till then, either.
“Hurry. Please.”
As soon as she hung up, Rowenna carefully closed the book she had been reading, rose and headed out.
She averted her eyes from the mannequins as she passed, ridiculously afraid that if she looked at them, they might come to life.
She stopped at the desk on her way out and told Daniel that she would be back in a bit, warning him that he had the key, so she hadn’t been able to lock the door and some unauthorized tourist might wander into the sanctum sanctorum.
He grinned and assured her that he would take care of the door.
Outside, the day seemed colder than when she’d arrived. The sky was an iron-gray, and not even the brilliance of the fall leaves could combat its oppressive effect.
Maybe the tourists felt the same way she did, because the streets were nowhere near as crowded as they usually were this time of year. Everyone was probably inside, drinking coffee and hot chocolate, fortifying themselves to face the cold on the streets.
The minute she entered the shop, Eve grabbed her arm, locked the door and hung a sign that read Back in Five Minutes—Promise!
“What on earth is the matter?” Rowenna asked, genuinely worried by her friend’s behavior.
“You have to see this,” Eve said urgently and dragged her into the back of the store. There were two small curtained-off rooms near the door to the storeroom, separated from the rest of the store by deep cobalt velvet drapes embroidered in gold thread with the sun, the moon and the planets. One was the room Eve used when she did readings, and the other was Adam’s.
Eve led her to Adam’s.
A tapestry covered a small table holding a crystal ball and a deck of medieval tarot cards. The only decoration in the dark-painted room was a Colonial candle holder with a scented candle, standing on a small desk along the back wall.
Rowenna looked at Eve. “Okay…I’m supposed to see…what?”
“I’ll show you.”
Eve walked around the table, opened the top drawer of the desk and produced a book.
“Is it on Alistair Crowley? Satanism?” Rowenna asked, still baffled as to why her friend was so upset.
“No. It’s a spell book,” Eve said.
Rowenna lowered her head to smile. She would never mock Eve or her beliefs, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to believe that mixing a few herbs together and reciting some words could create a love spell or any other kind of spell.
“Eve, you have tons of spell books in—”
“Open it to the marked page,” Eve told her.
Rowenna did, but could barely read what was written. The light in the room was too dim, and it didn’t help that the printing was archaic. Finally, as her eyes adjusted to the low light, she began to make it out.
“‘Seven,’” Rowenna read aloud. “‘The number is seven. And when the seventh is taken in the prescribed manner, the man becomes the god. Be it known that the god is male, and that woman is subservient to man, and so shall it be. But he who would be the god must perform the prescribed sacrifice, and the number is to be seven. The harvest must be fed, and nourishment must be returned to the earth.’” Rowenna looked up at Eve.
“Keep reading,” Eve said.
“‘The god must first be a man, and act in the carnal way of man,’” Rowenna went on.
“She was raped, right?” Eve demanded.
“What?”
“Dinah Green. She was sexually assaulted,” Eve said.