"We probably won't be there until elevenish," Jade told Megan. "I want to go back to the shop and try to find out what else I can."
"Sure." Megan smiled at her. "Are you going to dress up? You should, you know. It's fun. A lot of Morwenna's Wiccan friends frown upon the ghoulish costumes, but to most of the people, they love the chance to be famous folk, living or dead, and monsters."
"Maybe, we'll see."
"You could do Frankenstein's monster and his bride—Lucian is so tall," Megan said.
"We could," Lucian agreed.
"Hey, he'd make a great vampire, too, huh?" Finn asked, setting his arms around his wife's shoulder, as he, too, smiled at the friends who were practically strangers—and yet, a very sudden and odd lifeline as well.
"A vampire. Hm," Jade murmured. "Maybe we'll just come as Wiccans. We'll see."
"Come just as you are, if you choose," Megan said. She hesitated, then gave Jade a quick, fierce hug.
"Thanks."
"It's our pleasure to be here," Lucian assured her.
Finn thought there was something underlying in the words, what, he couldn't tell.
"Someday, you may need to give us a hand, "Jade said lightly. "Hey, we'd all better get going."
She waved, and turned with Lucian back toward the direction of the bookstore. Finn led Megan down the street, since they were several blocks from the common and the car.
"Nice folks, huh?" Finn said to Megan.
She looked up at him after a moment. "I can't believe some of the things I said to him."
"Oh?" Finn queried, startled by a sudden little jab of jealousy.
"No, I mean… most people would have thought I was crazy. Wait—do you think they might be crazy? I mean, you say the word 'demon' and they don't blink an eye or give so much as the hint of a smile.
Maybe they're dangerous themselves? Crazy people who think that they're magicians, or… or… I don't know! Maybe they've been doing occult articles and have begun to believe in their own fantasies.
Maybe… Finn, maybe they're as crazy as everything else going on."
Finn didn't answer her right away. Her fingers cinched around his. "Finn?"
"Let's hope they're legitimate," he said softly. "They seem to be all we've got."
She walked along in silence beside him. An eerie sensation seemed to scrape against his neck and he suddenly stopped, turning back.
"Megan."
"Yes?"
"Don't look now—I mean, really, don't stop and stare! But there's a guy behind us in a long brown duster who just stopped to light a cigarette."
"So… ?"
"I think he was standing outside the coffee shop."
"I'll pretend to fix my shoe."
Megan did so, dropping down. She stood again, linked her arm with his, and started walking.
"Well?"
"I don't think I've ever seen him before."
"You sure?"
"Pretty sure. He's not as tall and dark as you and Lucian, but… pretty darned cute. I'd have noticed."
"Oh."
She laughed at his tone.
"Don't tell me you don't still notice cute girls?"
"I give more attention to dynamite women."
She was still smiling. He was glad she could still do so, and startled when she said, "Maybe we're beginning to get the entire trust thing right again."
"Maybe."
She grew serious. "Honestly, I don't think I saw that man outside the coffee shop. But then again, I wasn't really noticing people."
The car was right ahead of them. Finn was glad.
No matter what Megan had said, he had noted the man before.
And he was damned convinced that they were being followed.
"Finn," Megan said suddenly, pulling back.
"What?"
"I want to… I want to stop by the church down the street for a minute."
Finn paused. They had just reached the car. Going to the church meant backtracking, and taking up time he wasn't sure that they had. "You want to see Martha—but you want to stop by the church first?"
"Finn, please, it's important to me." She squared her shoulders. "I'm going with or without you."
"You know I'm not letting you go anywhere alone."
She smiled, and turned. He quickly caught up with her.
Despite the crowded streets, Megan managed to keep up quite a pace. But when they reached the church, she hesitated on the steps and turned back to him. "Are you coming in?"
Finn stared up at the building. It wasn't particularly old—certainly not from the seventeenth century, more likely the nineteenth century or even early twentieth century. He wasn't sure why, but as he approached, he felt a strange burning sensation.
"I'm coming, yes," he said, surprised by the irritated tone that came from his lips.
Megan frowned, but started on in. She hesitated again at the door, as if afraid that it would be locked.
The door opened, and she entered.
Finn, still feeling somewhat hampered and on fire, stood at the door. It was a church; yet he was disturbed to feel that he shouldn't enter, that he didn't have the right.
No.
That he couldn't enter.
Megan walked on in. An eerie feeling assailed his spine. He turned. The man he had seen watching them at the coffee shop was on the street, apparently engaged in conversation with a group of costumed children.
Finn gritted his teeth and walked in.
Megan stopped by the little font at the entrance, crossing her forehead with holy water. Finn came up to her. "Do it," she said.
"Do what?"
She sighed with impatience and dipped her own forefinger into the holy water and quickly drew a cross on his forehead.
He staggered back, stunned by the burst of pain that threatened to split his skull. Megan was unaware.
She was already walking down the aisle to the pews directly before the altar. Finn stumbled forward, catching hold of the backrest of the nearest pew, trying to steady himself. Black waved before him. He had to grasp each pew to move forward, to reach Megan.
Finally, he came to the pew directly behind the one where she knelt. He nearly fell into it, then down to his knees. He didn't bow his head so much in prayer as he did because he could no longer hold it upright.
"Are you all right?"
Startled, Finn looked up. He hadn't heard the priest arrive. The man was probably about forty, well groomed, his priestly attire immaculate. He had concern on his face.
"Halloween," the priest said wryly. "It gets crazy out there. Um. We create our demons, huh?"
"Yes."
"There are services here tonight and tomorrow and the next day—All Saints' Day, you know."
Megan turned. "Father, could you bless us both?"
"No," Finn heard himself mutter.
The priest was studying him strangely. Almost as if he wished that he could back away, but would not do so.
"Father?" Megan said.
"Are you Catholic?" he asked her.
"Yes."
"And you?" he said to Finn.
The pain was pressing horribly into his temples again. I'm whatever she wants me to be! he wanted to say. Catholic'? Am I anything? Have I ever really believed in anything?
"Please, Father," Megan said.
He kept staring at Finn, then at last turned to Megan. "It would be best if you came to the service tonight."
"We can't. We're working."
"Ah. Tomorrow, then."
"Please. Before tomorrow."
"Come to the altar, then."
They both knelt before him. He set his hands upon their heads, and said the words of blessing.
Finn bowed his head, gritting his teeth, fighting the explosion of pain that erupted within his head.
The priest drew his hand back quickly when he was done, and seemed to favor it, as if his palm had been burned. He spoke to Megan. "Go with God, child."
Finn, desperate now to reach the cool air outside, was already hurrying down the aisle. He was vaguely aware that the priest told Megan, "I'm Father Mario Brindisi. Please, if you can, come to Mass tomorrow. And… if you need me, call me."
Finn burst out onto the street.
As he did so, the pain cleared from his head. Megan joined him. "What was the matter with you in there?
You were so rude!"
"Head… headache," he said.
"We'll buy some aspirin, then!" she said angrily.
He gripped the rail going down the concrete steps back to the street, and paused. "No… no, it's all right now. We've got to get moving, if we're going to make work on time tonight."
Megan was still staring at him. He forced a smile and grabbed her hand, and hurried down the walk. The staggering pain was gone, but…
He could still feel a burning. In the shape of a cross, right on his forehead. Tell her, tell Megan! he thought.
No, he couldn't have her running from him. Not now. Not when he was convinced that she was in so much danger.
Again, he forced the smile, winding his fingers more tightly around hers. "Happier?" he asked her.
"Yes," she said simply.
Smiling as well, she kept pace with him and they hurried back to the car.
He looked around, certain that they were still being followed. But he didn't see the stranger who had been watching him.
He was still certain that the man was near.
Lucian spent the late afternoon roaming the streets of Salem as any tourist might. With little time left, he stopped by the newest museum.
He stared at the building a long time, then walked toward the ticket counter. The woman on duty was dark haired. He could see the many piercings in her ears and face, devoid now of jewelry.
Gayle Sawyer.
As he reached the counter, she opened her mouth to speak, then fell silent, staring at him. He smiled.
