Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(74)
“You don’t see a dark, sinister meaning behind all this?” Reed waved a hand over the photos.
“Look, paganism gets a lot of bad press, but all the term really means is one of the primitive non-Christian religions. There are many different religions within paganism, including Wicca, Druidism, Native American shamanism, and voodoo. Satanism is one very small sect within the large group. Wiccans and Druids are peaceful. Their gods are tied to the natural world. They worship water and forest deities. Celebrate the seasonal changes. It’s all very organic.”
“How about these engravings?” Jayne butted in. Reed shot her an annoyed look. Ellen didn’t spare her a glance, but Jayne insisted. “That looks like a pentagram.”
Ellen’s eyes stayed on Reed as she gave Jayne’s comment an indulgent head-shake-and-sigh combination. “The pentagram also gets a bad rap. It has nothing to do with evil spells. It’s a symbol of protection for Wiccans. The points represent the four natural elements plus one more spiritual one.” She paused. One blue-veined finger traced the repeated spiral pattern. “The spiral is a symbol for power and the natural cycle of the world, for life, death, and rebirth. Mother, maiden, and crone. All of these markings are common for the time. There’s nothing inherently evil about them.” Ellen hesitated. “But the crow feathers…They make me uncomfortable. Did you know that a group of crows is called a murder?”
Reed opened his laptop. “Great. There’s a wireless signal here.”
Jayne’s phone vibrated on the chrome-edged table. She pressed the OK button. Her eyes swept the display.
“Pat says he won’t be here until evening. A bridge washed out in New York State. Big detour.” Jayne set the cell down between their place settings.
Reed turned the computer to face her. He’d have her a few more hours. A heavy ache settled in his chest. He was torn at the prospect of Jayne’s leaving. On one hand, while she was in his sight he was positive she was OK. On the other, there was the strong likelihood she’d be safer in Philadelphia. No promises there, though. The bastard seemed determined to have her. What would keep him from following her back home?
Not a damned thing.
He had no way to keep her safe no matter where she lived. The pressure against the inside of his rib cage amplified. He reached into his pocket for a roll of Tums and popped three into his mouth. Despite his broken promises to his son, Reed wouldn’t, couldn’t stop until he found her tormentor. He doubted he’d sleep again until the guy was caught and Jayne was safe.
“Reed, you OK?”
His response dried up in his tight throat as he chewed the antacids. Ice water didn’t improve the nasty fake mint taste in his mouth. All he managed was a nod as he swallowed his fear along with the chalky wash.
“OK then.” Her eyes lit up like aquamarines in the sunlight. “I’m online. Thanks to our favorite old witch, at least we’ve confirmed my personal weirdo has a fixation on the ancient Celts or Druids or both and is probably planning some sort of ceremony.”
Reed peered over the screen as she two-finger-typed the words Celt, bannock, and mistletoe into a Google search and tapped the Enter key. “What came up?”
Her face creased into a studious frown. “A couple articles on winter solstice ceremonies and some links on bog bodies, whatever they are.”
Reed paused. A memory flickered. “Why does that sound familiar?” He turned the laptop sideways for a better view.
“You’re familiar with bog bodies?” Jayne’s eyes widened.
“I think I saw a documentary on bodies found in peat bogs in Great Britain.” Reed scrolled down the list for a site that looked legit. He glanced up at Jayne’s amused expression. “What? The winter is long and cold up here.”
“If you say so.”
“Aha. I knew it. I saw this on TV.” Reed gave himself a mental head smack. “I guess I just verified my geek status.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Jayne’s hand landed on his shoulder.
Contact with her palm felt solid and right, as if she was what he’d been missing all his life. Reed’s hand moved toward hers, automatically wanting to confirm the physical connection. He stopped the movement halfway. His fingers curled and he lowered his fist to the table. Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong everything. It wasn’t meant to be.
Hurt flashed in Jayne’s eyes, dropping another brick onto the load on Reed’s chest. But separation was necessary. She needed to get away from Huntsville, at least until this guy was caught. Her safety had to be the top priority. But the pain in her gaze nearly shattered his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and keep her there forever.
He tore his gaze away and turned back to the computer. The screen blurred. Reed squeezed his lids tight for a second to clear his vision, then clicked the link. The computer chugged for a few more seconds before the window opened.
He scanned the article, the details of the TV special flooding back. “There it is. Every once in a while, an ancient body turns up in a peat bog in England or Ireland. The most famous recent one is Lindow Man. Scientists found mistletoe pollen and charred bread in his stomach. Some historians think he was a nobleman sacrificed to ward off the Roman invasion.”
When he looked up at Jayne, sadness had been replaced with stoic determination. Her eyes shifted over his shoulder as the waitress set down their order. Reed’s ham and Swiss on rye didn’t look as appealing as it had sounded five minutes ago.