I failed in my attempt to talk Seth out of coming to the bar with me, though I didn’t try very hard. He came back to my house, took a shower, and I lent him some clothes -- we always were the same size. I made coffee and pasta, and we talked. With the stereo on. Seth was afraid somebody was listening in. He had a sixth sense about that kind of thing.

Seth confirmed everything my web-research had found. The word from ‘up above’ on the San Diego PD was that these guys from O.B. were to be “left alone.” But people were dying suspiciously and being reported as suicides. I told him about my trip to the bar, and about my dinner with Hope, most of it anyway. But he guessed the rest. He could always tell when I was falling for someone. This led right into a discussion of Wiccans and witchcraft, which then led into my making unfavorable comparisons to “these Christians,” which also then led to me finding out something that I didn’t know – Seth had become born-again.

“Mary, who you never got to know, comes from a very religious family, and I got saved for her. But,” he added, before I had a chance to comment, “I like it. I mean, it’s not perfect, but I really like it. It adds something to my life that was missing. These people,” he went on, hitting these words hard, “are not Christians.”

“Ok,” I answered, pausing, and suddenly feeling the years between us that my marriage to Sara had caused. “You’re right, of course. And,“ I said pausing to look him in the eye, being sure to hit these words hard as well, “I’m sorry…but, these…Wiccans and their ‘witchcraft’ are no less Christian, or holy, or…whatever, than you.”

“You won’t get an argument from me. Something else you don’t know about me, is that just before I met my wife, I briefly dated a girl who worked there. I thought it was a bit strange, but I never thought it was evil. If I sounded like I was belittling it, I’m sorry. Now,” he said pausing for a moment, “what are we going to do?”

Seth was even-tempered, and he had a quiet strength in him that I’d never seen in anyone before, or since, and now I knew how much I’d missed it. We needed a plan. This was no longer just about finding out what happened to Hope’s son. It had become much bigger than that, and Seth and I both knew it. And we also both knew that if we failed, it might cost us our lives.

That night we hammered out a plan, like the old days when we were kids, staying up late into the night plotting our futures, only this time, it was for real. Seth left at about two. I passed out shortly after, despite the mix of beer, then coffee, then one more beer, and slept restlessly. When I woke at 11:00, Gray was curled up on the pillow next to me, as if keeping watch. When I reached over to pet him, he skittered nervously off the bed and out of the room. There was nothing to do but wait until 9:00 that evening when I was supposed to meet Seth. It was still only the third week in February, and the morning was a bit chilly. The chill air and the clear sky gave a good little jolt to my weird gray hangover that I was wearing like a musty pair of old pajamas when I stepped out for the paper, and started me thinking something I hadn’t thought in a long time. I sat drinking my coffee, picked up the paper, then put it down, then picked it up again, then put it down once more, giving up. I refilled my cup, threw on a pair of pants and a sweatshirt and shuffled outside around to the back of my house to the little shed I’d built years before. Originally, it was for my boards, wet suits, and related surfing gear, but Sara had shoved all of my stuff into a corner and commandeered it for her gardening supplies, which, not surprisingly, had been packed up with the rest of her junk, with the exception of one half-empty bag of potting soil. There were half a dozen boards I’d collected over the years, long and short, a couple of old wet suits, one more beat and cracked than the other, a couple of saw horses I used for working on the boards, my lifeguard gear, and a couple of dusty trophies. I laid my cup of coffee down on a flat spot on the grass where I was sure it wouldn’t topple, and began pulling out the boards. My best one had split down the side, probably from the time Sara had used it as a workbench for one of her craft projects, but the others were more or less in one piece, so I took another swig of coffee and began hosing them off. After a quick breakfast and a shower, I headed out to the surf shop I used to haunt, where I knew no one would know me anymore. I bought some wax, a new leash and a cheap wet suit. While I was there, I found out from one of the guys that the surf was pretty rough. That wasn’t too good since I hadn’t been out in so long, but the surf had been rough for me for a while, so I decided it would have to be all right.

On the way back, I ran into Willow sweeping the walk in front of her store.

“I would have expected you to have one of your girls out here doing this,” I fronted, feigning the best casual I could.

“Usually I would.” She said pausing, and completely ignoring my attempt at calm. “But now I think I know why I did. I had a dream, Jay. I think you’re in danger.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Listen, Jay,” she said, broom in her left hand, my shoulder in her right. “I’m not going to try to tell you not to do what you’re going to do. I just need you to know this – You’re not alone.”

I tried to look away from those blue eyes, but I couldn’t. I tried to concentrate on her cardigan, which hung a little too loosely in some places, a little too tightly in others, but I only sank deeper. Then I went back to those eyes, where safety lay pooled. I stood there, swimming in them, wishing more than anything that I could stay there forever and knowing I couldn’t. I saw when I looked, though, that Good was strong, too. Maybe even strong enough. Me, and Seth, and Willow. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe we could ride this riptide of darkness long enough for that wave that would finally come along and wash us in, clean and saved, pulling the rotting refuse off the beach and back out into the sea. I hoped it would be. I wasn’t sure. But now I had hope. I broke her gaze, grabbed her hand off my shoulder and held it.

“I’ve got to go. These guys are watching me.” And, for the benefit of my invisible adversaries, I kicked the broom out of her hand and walked on.

By the time I got out, the waves had died down a bit, and, I have to admit, I was relieved. It only took a minute to discover how out of shape I was. After an hour, I finally got one good ride. Then I gashed the inside of my face on the next one when I was slow getting in and got crushed, and called it a day. When I got home, I hosed off my new wetsuit and my second-best board, which was now my best, and propped them up outside the shed. I made two tuna sandwiches, ate them hungrily, ignoring the cut in my mouth, and showered. When I was done, it was only five, so I decided to lay down for a nap and, surprisingly, slept. As I felt myself drifting off, the late afternoon breeze seemed to pick me up, and right at the moment when my mind began to worry about who would catch me, I dreamed of tall gray cliffs and steel gray waves and being caught out in the middle of them without my board and water crashing all around me.

Seth woke me up with a call at 7:30 saying he was going to be late, that he was being held up at work and wouldn’t be able to get there until 10:00 or 10:30, and that I shouldn’t head over without him. I assured him that I’d wait, and lied. That was how it began.

Chapter 11 coming 8/1 (or so…)!!!