Ceremony in Death (In Death #5)(25)

Peabody shifted in her seat. Feeling foolish wasn’t nearly as bad as worrying about being cursed. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“After we deal with Isis, we can grab a pizza sub — with plenty of garlic.”

“Garlic’s for vampires.”

“Oh. We can have Roarke get us a couple of his antique guns. With silver bullets.”

“Werewolves, Dallas.” Amused at both of them now, Peabody rolled her eyes. “A lot of good you’re going to do if we have to defend ourselves against witchcraft.”

“What does it to witches, then?”

“I don’t know,” Peabody admitted. “But I’m damn sure going to find out.”

CHAPTER SIX

Shopping wasn’t something Eve considered one of the small pleasures in life. She wasn’t a browser, a window shopper, or a electronic catalogue surfer. She avoided, whenever possible, the shops and boutiques in, above, and below Manhattan. She shuddered at the very thought of a trip to one of the sky malls.

She imagined her outward resistance to the consumption of merchandise was the primary reason Isis pegged her as a cop the minute she stepped into Spirit Quest.

As stores went, Eve considered it tolerable. She wasn’t interested in the crystals and cards, the statues and candles, even though they were attractively displayed. The background music was soft, more of a murmur than a tune, and the light was allowed to play over the edges of raw crystals and polished stones in pretty rainbows.

The place smelled, she thought, not offensively of forest.

If witches were what she was dealing with, Eve decided, Isis and Selina couldn’t have been more dramatically opposed in appearance. Selina had been pale and slim and feline. Isis was an exotic amazon of a female with gypsy curls of flaming red, round black eyes, and cheekbones that could have carved wood. Her skin was the soft gold of a mixed-race heritage, her features bold and broad. Eve measured her at just over six feet and a well-packed and curvy one-seventy.

She wore a loose, flowing robe of blinding white with a belt studded with rough stones. Her right arm was wound with gold coils from elbow to shoulder, and her large hands winked and flashed with as many as a dozen rings.

“Welcome.” The voice suited her, oddly accented and throaty. Her lips curved, but it was a smile of grieving rather than pleasure. “Alice’s cop.”

Eve lifted a brow as she took out her shield. She figured she looked like a cop. And, since Roarke, her face had been in the media relentlessly. “Dallas. You’d be Isis, then?”

“I would. You’ll wish to talk. Excuse me.” She walked to the door. Graceful, Eve observed, the way an athlete is graceful. She turned an old-fashioned hand-lettered sign to Closed, pulled the shade over the glass of the door, and flicked a thumb latch.

When she turned back, her eyes were intense, her mouth grim. “You bring dark shadows into my light. She clings — such a stench.” At Eve’s narrowed look, she inclined her head. “Selina. One moment.”

She went to a wide shelf and began to light candles and cones of incense. “To purify and shield, to protect and defend. You have shadows of your own, Dallas.” She smiled briefly at Peabody. “And not just your aide.”

“I’m here to talk about Alice.”

“Yes, I know. And you’re impatient with what you see as my foolish window dressing. I don’t mind. Every religion should be open to questions and change. Will you sit?”

She gestured to a corner where two chairs flanked a round table etched with symbols. Again, she smiled at Peabody. “I can get another chair from the back for you.”

“No problem. I’ll stand.” She couldn’t help it; her gaze traveled the room, lingering now and then wistfully on some pretty bauble.

“Please feel free to browse.”

“We’re not here to shop.” Eve took a seat, shot Peabody a withering glance. “When did you last see or speak with Alice?”

“On the night she died.”

“At what time?”

“I believe it was about two a.m. She was already dead,” Isis added, folding her large, beautiful hands.

“You saw her after she was dead.”

“Her spirit came to me. You find this foolish; I understand. But I can only tell you what is, and was. I was asleep, and I awoke. She was there, beside the bed. I knew we’d lost her. She feels she’s failed. Herself, her family, me. Her spirit is restless and full of grief.”

“Her body’s dead, Isis. That’s my concern.”

“Yes.” Isis picked up a smooth, rose-colored stone from the table, worried it in her hand. “Even for me, with my beliefs, it’s difficult to accept her death. So young, so bright.” The huge, dark eyes swam. “I loved her very much, as you would a younger sister. But it wasn’t meant for me to save her in this life. Her spirit will return, be reborn. I know we’ll meet again.”

“Fine. Let’s concentrate on this life. And this death.”

Isis blinked back the tears and managed a quick, genuine smile. “How tedious you must find all of this. You have such a logical mind. I want to help you, Dallas, for Alice. For myself, perhaps for yourself as well. I recognize you.”

“I gathered that.”

“No, from another time. Another place. Another plane.” She spread her hands. “I last saw Alice alive on the day of her grandfather’s memorial service. She blamed herself, was determined to make an atonement. She’d strayed for a time, been misled, but she had a strong and bright heart. Her family was dear to her. And she was afraid, desperately afraid of what Selina would do to her — body and soul.”