just a few questions for you, GreenSpirit,” he added, as if he’d already spied her, but that wasn’t possible because they’d closed their circle around the altar, concealing their leader, and their faces, from view. After a moment, as naturally as the circle had closed, it opened, unabashed as a flower.
GreenSpirit had vanished. It was as if they’d rehearsed, but what Forensia found inspiring and dauntingly mysterious was that they’d reacted instinctively, almost primordially, to protect her. Guard the Craft, the Secrets of the Craft, and all your brothers and sisters.
Then she realized that every second of her life had been preparation for these moments.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Suze whispering “Oh, shit” over and over, as if profanity were the only mantra that mattered. Forensia realized why—it was inevitable now that Suze’s father would know that she and Christy had been here, naked and with other Pagans. Even if the news report blurred Suze’s features, Jason Robb would tell everyone.
Kellison said, sharply, “Where’s GreenSpirit?”
“What are you talking about?” Forensia quickly stepped in front of Suze, blocking the camera’s view of her friend. “If you mean that woman on the news, she’s not here.”
The other Pagans agreed.
“You said she was here.” Kellison turned to Jason.
“She was. I saw her. I talked to her. But that was,” he glanced at his watch, “an hour ago.”
“He’s a liar,” Forensia said. “A total bullshitter.”
“Everyone knows that,” Richtor said, “except you, I guess.”
“He probably made you pay him to bring you down here,” Sang-mi chimed in. “We’re here once a month, and he’s done this kind of thing before.”
“Most of the time he just takes money from perverts,” Forensia said. “We just wish he’d grow up.”
Kellison and his cameraman hurried along the perimeter of the clearing, shining the strong camera light into the woods. Then they stormed off, taking their gear and their anger but not their discredited guide: Jason stared at Forensia.
“You fucking lying bitch. You fucked me royally.”
“Just leave and don’t come back,” Forensia said.
“You’re not gettin’ away with this, you fucking bitch.”
“You’re an asshole just like…”
She stopped herself, but not soon enough to quash the memory of Jason’s dead brother—or to hold on to the magic and mysticism she’d felt during her initiation.
Jason lunged for her neck, nearly seizing her. Richtor pushed him down and the other Pagans crowded the young man on three sides.
“Go,” Richtor shouted. “Get out of here.”
Jason scrambled to his feet, brushed himself off, and glared at them. After a moment, his gaze focused on Forensia. She felt the heat of his anger as if he were clawing at her skin; she had to force herself to stand boldly before him. Under his stare, her ankh, long revered as a symbol of life, felt like a target, teeming with the imminent dreadfulness of violent death.
CHAPTER 9
Jenna’s stomach started to swirl the second she spotted the black Ford Fusion waiting outside her building. She loved the silence of the day’s awakening hour, when she’d rise at three thirty to a strangely subdued city, but that stillness vanished with synaptic speed when she spotted the shiny beast that signaled the beginning of the morning blur.
Before she made it to the curbside, the spry driver was holding open the rear door of the hybrid. She eased into the backseat, more intensely awake than usual because Dafoe had promised to meet her at five by the unobtrusive side entrance that everyone on The Morning Show, including visitors, was expected to use. In the spirit of reciprocity, Jenna had offered Dafoe her guest room. But he said he’d get up just a little earlier and drive down; Forensia, he’d explained, would be fresh from her initiation and wouldn’t be able to take over for him until “the cocks crowed.”
“Can she handle the whole operation?” Jenna had asked him on the phone.
“Forensia can handle anything,” Dafoe had answered. “Plus, she’ll have Bayou keeping his eye on the herd. She’ll be good to go.”
But would Jenna be “good to go” with Dafoe watching her race through all her primping and prep for The Morning Show? Not until this instant, driving toward the studio, had she realized that she’d never invited a love interest to the set.
Just be on time, Dafoe. It would be a huge hassle with security if he ran—
Ah, there he was, standing by the entrance, chatting to one of the black-suited security staff. About … cows, she overheard as the network’s doorman helped her out of the Fusion. That subject sure