Witchcraft

them. Kimberly bit her lip as she reflected on her own pride. Cavenaugh had been right about that aspect of her personality. Just as he'd been right about the fact that she had nothing to fear in meeting her grandparents.
    Cavenaugh was no doubt right about a lot of things. But that didn't mean he was the right man for her to love, she told herself. Unfortunately, telling herself that and learning to unlove him were two entirely different matters. In spite of the turmoil of her emotions tonight, she knew that she loved the man. The anger and resentment that had driven her from the hotel in search of solitude had faded into a dull, sad ache by the time Kimberly pulled into the drive of her darkened beach house.
    The storm was really raging at this point on the coast, and she was exhausted from fighting it for the past hundred and fifty miles.
    Lightning crackled as she stood on the porch, fumbling in her purse for the key. She had changed into a pair of jeans and the full-sleeved white blouse she had intended to wear on the drive back to the Napa Valley, but she hadn't brought along an umbrella. The rain had almost drenched her just during the short dash from the car. Her fingers trembled slightly as she finally located the correct key and thrust it into the lock. It seemed that every nerve in her body was being delicately probed with a razor. It was no wonder that she was suddenly so shaky. It was nearly four o'clock in the morning. She had been through a great deal tonight and the drive through the worsening storm had not helped. What she needed was a glass of wine and bed. Taking a grip on herself, she turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. And saw at once that the last things she was fated to get tonight were a glass of wine and the privacy of her own bed. Panic smashed through her, scattering her senses for a timeless instant. It was the candle burning in the middle of the pentagram that caught her eye first.
    The ancient, magical symbol had been drawn on her living room floor and the candle glowed evilly in a low, squat metal holder that sat at the center of the design. The candlelight was the only light in the room but it was enough to illuminate the hooded figure who sat cross-legged on the far side of the pentagram. "Come in, Kimberly Sawyer. You are expected." Kimberly flinched at the familiar voice but before she could react two other figures stepped out of the darkness and into the faint light of the candle. They were both hooded and robed but one had his hand extended and in it was a gun. "Close the door," a man's voice commanded from the depths of the flowing cowl. Kimberly desperately tried to weigh her chances. He could kill her easily before she could dash back thro ugh the door, she realized. She might have been able to outrun a knife but no one could outrun a bullet. Slowly, she closed the door behind her. She felt a distant kind of surprise that her chilled muscles responded to the silent effort. The door seemed very heavy.
    "The power is strong tonight, my lady," murmured the second standing figure. "It has brought her here, right into our grasp." There was awed wonder in the tones and also a touch of familiarity. Kimberly knew she had heard that voice sometime in the past, too. "The power," intoned the woman who remained seated in front of the pentagram, "grows stronger every day. Have I not told you that?" She lifted her head so that her features were illuminated beneath the shadowy hood. "Good evening, Kimberly." Kimberly stared back at her, calling on a kind of pride that only tonight she had learned was inherited from her grandparents. That pride was all she had to get her through this terrifying encounter.
    With an effort of will she forced a measure of cool mockery into her response. "Hello, Ariel. Graduated from tea leaves to the big time, I see." The sardonic comment startled her because it didn't reflect the panic that seemed to have invaded every corner of her mind. She discovered that managing the cool remark gave her a measure of courage, however. Kimberly seized on that spark of strength. Ariel Llewellyn smiled back at her, but the cheerful, scatterbrained expression of the woman who had been virtually a member of the Cavenaugh household for almost a year was gone. A hint of madness gleamed in her eyes and there was an unnaturally serene smile on Ariel's mouth, as if she could see into the future and found it satisfying. "You have been incredibly foolish, Kim. And now