The party was in Pacific Beach, the north end, a small house a block and half from the beach.  I got there around 9:30, not wanting to be early to a party where I didn’t know anyone. Hope wasn’t there yet, but I introduced myself as her friend and was invited in by a woman in her early fifties wearing black and what appeared to be Native American jewelry. The scene I walked into looked pretty much like any other party of grownups you’d go to, except for the large number of tattooed, Goth, and new-age looking sorts, though nobody was truly overdone.   I said a few hi’s and began pouring myself a glass of wine when a blonde woman in her early thirties wearing a sleeveless purple shirt that revealed a flower-tattooed shoulder approached.

“Hey, I know you, don’t I?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.  “I’m not sure.  I live in O.B.  Maybe I’ve seen you at the Magick Shoppe?”

“Maybe…No, I don’t think so.  I’m not really a hard-core Wiccan.  Wait,” she stopped and pointed at me, “Were you a lifeguard?”

“Actually, I was, in high school and college, well, for the two years I went, anyway.”

She laughed, a not unattractive smile crossing her face. “That's how I know you.  We spent everyday of the summer there in high school.  We,” she laughed, “haunted that place. I’m Susan.”

“Jay,” I replied, taking her extended hand in mine.  At this, I felt a touch on my shoulder and turned.  It was Willow.

“Hey,” I said with a start, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek, realizing that I was taking a bit of liberty, though it was a party, and I had a half empty glass of wine in my hand, “When did you come in?”

“I was in the kitchen,” she answered, her smile suddenly turning to a frown.  “Your aura is very muddy.”

“Nice to see you, too.” I responded, feigning coolness, my casual façade already fading in the glow of her strength and benevolence.  “Things have gotten a bit crazy, I suppose.”

“Is your friend coming?” she asked, still not really smiling, but without hostility.

“My…Oh, you mean Hope? She said she’d be here.” I paused, wondering at what I was about to say, then said it, “She invited me.”  At this, as if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Hope came in, followed by Seth and the two of the goons from the previous night’s soiree.  Hope was playing it cool, but I could see that she was rattled.  I made quick eye contact with Seth, which did nothing to reassure me, then walked up to Hope, kissed her on the cheek like nothing could be wrong, and turned to the whole group of them, “Can I get anyone a drink?”

“Excuse me,” said Willow, at this point walking up to Seth and the two goons.  “I don’t believe I know you.” This is Willow's house... her party!, my mind suddenly screamed, as I tried to focus on the situation at hand and regain my balance.

“Her car broke down,” said the first goon, the guy with the goatee and bad teeth.  “We gave her a lift.”

“Yeah,” said the other guy, who I recognized as the new initiate, a somewhat dumpy guy of average height and weight, with male pattern baldness and apparently a little drunk, and feeling it. I watched him, unable to get the image of him giving William Wilkes head from my mind. “We’re being good neighbors.  She ran out of gas…”

“You can stay for one drink, but then you have to leave,” cut in Willow, eyeing the goons.  “This is a private party.”

“Someone’s got to give her a ride home,” said bad teeth guy, revealing all of them with a slimy smile, and also more than a bit drunk.  Seth shifted his weight and grinned a bit.  I didn’t like it.

“I’ll take care of that,” I asserted, maybe a bit too energetically, with bad teeth guy narrowing his eyes at me.

“Oh.  OK.  Just wanted to help,” cut in Seth, leering.  “Being good neighbors,” and reached over and patted Willow on the ass. I stiffened, but didn’t move. Bald and dumpy giggled and Seth clasped him on the shoulder.  Willow took two deliberate steps toward them, reached around, and pulled the door wide open. The two goons hesitated, then turned to leave, and Seth followed without even a glance my way.  As the door closed behind them, Hope whispered, “I ran out of gas, but I filled up yesterday.  They had guns…I think one of them might be a cop.”

When they had left, a house-cleansing candle was lit with some sage, and, led by Willow, some of the guests chanted a little prayer.  Hope had two quick glasses of wine, which seemed to bring her back to herself.  I told her she should spend the night at my place.  She refused.  Then I told her I’d have to stay at hers. She initially resisted, but finally consented, which relieved me greatly, and probably shouldn’t have. I finished my glass of wine, poured myself another and found myself wishing for that kitchen table full of soul-numbing meth from the night before that had been so good at soothing the creeping sore of ooze that was growing inside me, but there were just hors d’oeuvres, and I suddenly wasn’t hungry.  It was clear that Seth was playing an angle, and it was also clear that he either hadn’t had the chance to fill me in on it, or had simply decided not to.  I found myself for a moment wondering if somehow he had gone over to the other side, but clamped down on that thought in a frightened hurry.  We were in the end-game now.  The time for doubts was over.  I was in the tube of a big wave. There was nothing to do but ride it.

The cleansing rituals seemed to calm people, though I caught more than one snippet of conversation about the persecution of pagans.  Willow was the picture of serenity, which worried me more than if she’d been upset.  Hope kept refilling her glass and was the life of the party, smiling and joking, singing along with the music.  But behind it, I could see the steely cold that had come to her eyes since her son’s death.  I’d seen the video.  She had to know when she approached me that night in the diner that it might come to this.  I politely suggested a couple of times that maybe we should go, but she merely brushed me off.  At about ten to one, we were the last to leave, except for a couple of girls from the store who had stayed to help clean up.  The ride home was quiet.  Once she got in my car, she became pensive and didn’t say much, but when I pulled into her driveway and parked, she stumbled out drunkenly and laughed an icy, cold laugh that split the quiet of the previously still night air.  I admit, I’d had a few drinks, too, and now I wished I hadn’t. I patted my revolver on my left shoulder for reassurance, but we got to her front door without a problem and I relaxed a bit as Hope jingled her keys into the lock. But before Hope took two steps into her dark living room glowing faint blue with the Christmas lights that commemorated her son’s death, someone jumped out from the shadows and grabbed her.  I reached for my gun, but was caught from my left with something hard and heavy to the side of my face, my right arm then pinned to the door jamb. I twisted away and threw a side kick that landed with a crunch and a groan in time to see a glowing blue Hope tackled from behind, her ritual dagger glinting faintly in the darkness. Then came the thud at the back of my skull as the blue lights blinked out, and I was knocked cold for the second time in less than two weeks.

Chapter 14 coming 11/1 (or so…)!!!