The Hexed (Krewe of Hunters)

“Wiccans didn’t do this!” she snapped.

 

“And Christians aren’t bad people, either—until they take religion and turn it into the excuse for an inquisition,” he told her. “I’m sorry—I’m not trying to fight. And I’ll defend this nation’s Wiccans just as I would her Christians, Jews, Buddhists and Muslims. It’s possible that someone is trying to make these deaths appear to be part of a Wiccan ritual of some kind. The more I understand today’s Wiccans in this city, the better I can figure out what’s happening.”

 

She was silent for a moment and then told him, “We’re going to a movie tomorrow night. You can pick me up around six-thirty.”

 

He was stunned. And appreciative.

 

“Thank you,” he managed.

 

“I’d ditch the suit, though,” she muttered.

 

And she hung up.

 

Rocky headed back to the hotel. Luckily, the bar there served food until eleven. He ate and went up to bed.

 

That night when he slept, it was Melissa Wilson who entered his dreams.

 

He was standing by her graveside in Peabody when she came up behind him, setting a hand on his shoulder.

 

“You couldn’t hear me,” she told him. “I kept crying out for you, but you didn’t hear me.”

 

“I did hear you,” he told her. “I just didn’t understand.”

 

“You have to listen,” she told him.

 

“I’m listening. Who did this?”

 

“He comes in the dark, he comes from behind,” she said.

 

He turned to her.

 

But she was gone.

 

He awoke sweating. He found a bottle of water and drained it, and looked at the clock. It was only four in the morning. He lay back and prayed for dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

5

 

Agent Craig Rockwell had taken her advice—he’d shed the suit.

 

When he picked her up he was wearing jeans and a light sweater. He wore them well.

 

She hadn’t ventured so much as a foot outside her door that day. Aunt Mina had appeared a few times, but now she was accustomed to her great-aunt appearing and disappearing. They’d had an enlightening conversation about ghosts. Aunt Mina had explained that spirits stayed because they had a cause, something or someone they had to take care of.

 

Aunt Mina’s cause, of course, was Devin.

 

“Some of those I saw when I was living...they stayed because they wanted to watch over the world they once knew, doing what they could to make folks remember the past and its values. Others stay because they have to finish something, in many cases finding justice for their own deaths. That poor woman the other night—she came for you.”

 

“Maybe she came for you. Maybe she knew you were a ghost and―”

 

“Oh, Devin. No, no. She came for help from the living. She needed you to find her. To make sure that the police started looking for her killer right away.”

 

“I never saw her,” Devin said.

 

“But you heard her. If you’d looked, you would have seen her. She was leading you where you needed to go.”

 

After that Aunt Mina had faded out again, as she was wont to do, but Devin knew she would be back again, most likely asking Devin to change the channel to one of her favorite programs. She was especially fond of Monk, and thanks to cable and the internet, Devin was always able to find it for her.

 

Aunt Mina wasn’t there when Agent Rockwell came to take Devin to the movie, as she had suggested, but just as he was closing the door behind them, she saw Aunt Mina hovering just inside.

 

“I approve,” Aunt Mina told her with a wink.

 

Devin rolled her eyes, but she doubted Aunt Mina saw, because by then the door was shut.

 

It seemed that either by instinct or training, Rocky moved with natural authority and had the manners of a gentleman. He set his hand lightly at the small of her back to guide her, then opened the car door for her. She wondered if he even realized what he was doing; he seemed to be distracted.

 

“Long day?” she asked him.

 

He set the car in gear and flashed her a quick smile. “Tedious day. Fact finding, reading missing-persons reports. Frustrating.” After a moment he admitted, “Long.”

 

“Do you usually solve cases in a day?” she asked.

 

He opened his mouth, closed it and then said, “No.”

 

She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to set a hand on his arm and tell him that she knew he was going to get to the truth. She barely knew the man. There was just something about him that she liked. He had integrity. He was able to work with clear-cut determination and yet feel the emotional impact of the situation, as well.

 

Heather Graham's books