In Death 05 - Ceremony in Death

-- '' She let out a quiet moan, squeezed her eyes shut. "Headache. Vicious. Excuse me one minute." She got shakily to her feet and hurried into the back.
    "Jesus, Dallas, this is getting way too weird. Do you know what she was talking about?"
    "His death was necessary for your life.'' Her father. Eve thought, fighting off a shudder. A cold room, a dark night, and blood on the knife clutched in a desperate child's hand.
    "No, it's just jibberish." Her palms were damp, infuriating her. "These people figure they have to pull out some magic tricks to keep us interested."
    "I studied at the Kijinsky Institute in Prague," Isis said as she stepped back into the room. "And was studied." She set a small cup aside, managed a smile as the headache eased. "My psychic abilities are documented -- for those who need documentation. But I apologize, Dallas. I didn't intend to drift in that manner. It's very rare for it to happen without my consciously controlling it."
    She came back to sit as she spoke, spread the skirts of her robe gracefully. "It would be sheer hell to be privy to thoughts and memories without some power to control and block. I don't like to pry into personal thoughts. And it hurts," she added, gently rubbing her temple again. "I want to help you do what Alice wanted, so she can rest. I want, for personal and selfish reasons, to see Selina pay the proper price for what she's responsible for. I'll do whatever I can, whatever you'll allow me to do, to help you."
    Trust didn't come easily for Eve, and she would check very thoroughly into Isis's background. But for now, she'd use her. "Tell me what you know about Selina Cross."
    "I know she's a woman without conscience or morals. I would think your term would be sociopath, but I find that too simple and too clean for what she is. I prefer the more direct term of evil. She's a clever woman with a skill for reading weaknesses. As for her power, what she can read or see or do, I can't say."
    "What about Alban?"
    "About him I know next to nothing. She keeps him close. I assume he's her lover and she finds him useful or she would have -- dispatched him by now."
    "This club of hers?''
    Isis smiled thinly. "I don't frequent such... establishments."
    "But you know of it?"
    "One hears rumors, gossip." She lifted her broad shoulders. "Dark ceremonies, Black Masses, the drinking of blood, human sacrifice. Rape, murder, infanticide, the calling up of demons." Then she sighed. "But then, you might hear such talk about Wiccans from those who have no understanding of the craft and who see black draped crones and eye of newt when they think of witches."
    "Alice claimed to have seen a child murdered."
    "Yes, and I believe she did. She couldn't have invented such a thing. She was in shock and ill when she came to me." Isis pressed her lips together, shuddered out a breath. "I did what I could for her."
    "Such as encouraging her to report the incident to the police?''
    "That was for her to decide." Isis lifted her chin again, met the iced anger in Eve's eyes. "I was more concerned with her emotional and spiritual survival. The child was already lost; I had hoped to save Alice from the same fate." Her eyes dropped now, and dampened. "And I regret, bitterly, that I didn't act differently. And that, in the end, I failed her. Perhaps it was pride." She looked at Eve again. "You'd understand the power and the deception of personal pride. I thought I could handle it, that I was wise enough, strong enough. I was wrong. So, Dallas, to atone, I'll do anything you ask, avail you of all knowledge and any power the goddess grants me."
    "Information will do." Eve angled her head. "Selina treated us to a little demonstration of what she'd call power. It impressed Peabody."
    "It caught me off guard," Peabody muttered, studying Isis warily. She didn't think she was up for another demonstration. To Peabody's surprise, and Eve's, Isis threw back her magnificent head and laughed. It was like hearing silver buoys clang in pearly fog.
    "Should I call up the wind?" With one hand pressed to her breast, she chuckled. "Summon the dead, strike the cold fire? Really, Dallas, you believe in none of that, so it would be a waste of my time and energy. But perhaps you'd be interested in observing one of our gatherings. We have one at the end of next week. I can arrange it."
    "I'll think about it."
    "You smirk," Isis said lightly, "yet the pledge you wear on your finger carries the ancient symbol of