Witchcraft

in front of Ariel. The older woman's eyes were wet with tears. "She's crying, Cavenaugh ." "Yes, so she is." Cavenaugh said gently. "Go make the phone call, Kim." "It's all so sad," Kimberly said several hours later as she reached into her cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Cavenaugh Riesling. "Aunt Milly is going to be crushed when she hears how Ariel was deceiving her." Cavenaugh took the bottle from her and inserted a corkscrew. With a smooth, thoroughly expert movement, he removed the cork and started pouring the wine. "I don't feel so good about it myself. When I think of how none of us suspected what a fruitcake Ariel really was, I get cold chills." He swore softly and took a large swallow of wine from one of the two glasses he'd just filled. "What a fool I was." Kimberly watched him from under her lashes. This was the first time they had been alone since the authorities had come to collect Ariel and her pals. There had been endless questions and statements and explanations. But finally everyone had left. "I know how you must feel," Kimberly said softly as she picked up her own glass of wine. "But no one realized what she was really like." He looked at her broodingly. "It was my responsibility to protect my family and you. I blew it." Kimberly picked up a platter of cheese and French bread she had prepared. "Nonsense. You saved us all.
    And I for one am extremely grateful." She led the way over to the two chairs in front of the fireplace. "You do realize what was on the agenda for me this evening? Ariel was going to make me the star attraction in her first sacrifice ceremony. Nothing like being a guinea pig in some witch's act." She shuddered and flopped back in one of the chairs. Cavenaugh followed slowly, pausing to stoke up the fire he had started an hour earlier. For a moment he stood staring down into the flames. "Are you sure you feel okay?"
    "What? Oh, you mean am I suffering any aftereffects of that herb Ariel used on me. No, I'm fine, really I am. As brilliantly clear-headed as I've ever been." His mouth crooked faintly in spite of his mood. "I'm not certain that's very reassuring." Kimberly grinned briefly. "Poor Cavenaugh . You've had a rough time of it lately, haven't you? And all because of me."
    "I wasn't the only male who was having trouble with females this morning. I almost felt a twinge of sympathy for poor Emlyn ."
    "E mlyn !"
    "Well, he was only playing at being a witch because he really thought Ariel's plan for kidnapping Scott would work. After it fell apart, I guess she convinced him she had another scheme up her sleeve. It must have been a shock when he realized what a real nut she was."
    "I wonder how he and Zorah met Ariel."
    "The cops are wondering, too. They promised to let me know the whole story when they've finished dredging it out of those three. The first thing they'll have to do is find out Emlyn and Zorah's real names!" "I thought they sounded a bit on the theatrical side," Kimberly noted. "How did Ariel become such friends with Aunt Milly ?"
    Cavenaugh's face hardened. "They met in a garden club." He winced. "I can still remember Milly telling me what a "magical" touch Ariel had with herbs."
    "She does know a lot about them. Probably from studying all sorts of arcane books. Ariel really feels she's this generation's keeper of some sort of witchcraft mysteries. I'll have to work her into a book ... "
    "Just as long as you don't feel you have to do any hands-on research," Cavenaugh growled forbiddingly. Kimberly's response was a yawn that she barely managed to cover. "My God, I'm exhausted. You must be, too."
    "I am. In spite of what you may be thinking, this really has been a slightly abnormal day, even for members of the Cavenaugh household," Cavenaugh said with real feeling. Kimberly smiled briefly and then fixed him with a very earnest expression. "But it's all over now. You've more than kept your promise. You've fulfilled the responsibility you felt you had toward me. I want you to know that, Cavenaugh . You don't owe me anything else." It was important to her that he understood he was free in that sense, Kimberly realized. "You've kept your promise. "My promise to take care of you? Kim, I want to talk to you about that." He walked over to the other over-stuffed chair and lowered himself into it. Kimberly watched him obliquely. She liked watching him, she reflected. There was an easy, masculine grace in his movements, even when he was simply taking a seat. "What's to talk