Princess of Wands

Chapter One

Keep your eye on the ball, Allison!” Barb screamed as her daughter swung and missed. “That was way to the outside!”

“You really get into this,” Cindy Hudson said, grinning at the overwrought mother. Her own daughter had just struck out to a mild “Better luck next time, honey.”

Cindy was as short and dark as her friend was tall and fair. They knew they made an odd couple but up until the last winter they had spent most of their free time together, their families even taking combined vacations. But since Barbara’s trip down to the bayou and her car accident, Cindy had noticed a change in her friend. Sometimes she’d shiver as if from more than cold and get a distant look that was strange and hard. Something more than a car accident had happened on that trip but Cindy had never found it in her to ask what. She was afraid her friend had been raped, but there were simply things that nice Episcopal women, close friends though they were, didn’t ask.

The two were dressed in light coats against the early spring cold and surrounded by similarly dressed parents, grandparents, friends and siblings of the players. The clothing of the group ranged from the designer labeled jackets and jeans of Barb and Cindy to oil-stained jackets labeled only with their owners’ names, but on the stands the parents were one group, united in the belief that only their girls were in the running for the Redwater County Spring Season trophy.

“Anything you do should be done to the best of your ability,” Barbara said, taking a deep breath to control her anger. “Allison knows better than that. She’s letting the pitcher spook her.”

“They’re winning,” Cindy said in exasperation.

“Only because Charlotte’s kept the Panthers from hitting,” Barb said, taking a breath again. “Don’t tense up, Allison! Just watch the ball and do the job!”

The blond teenager didn’t appear to notice her mother screaming at her from the stands. She waggled the softball bat then settled into position. The pitches were full-up and the pitcher chose to send a fast ball straight in over the base. Allison swung and… missed.

“Strike three!”

“Just what was that all about?” Coach Sherman shouted as the girls gathered in the dugout. “If Charlotte hadn’t struck out most of their batters, we’d have been looking at the tail end of the season! If you girls can’t do better than that I’ll get a team of FIFTH graders and win! There’s an additional practice scheduled for Saturday…”

“But, coach…” Sandy Adams started to protest.

“I don’t want to hear about it!” the coach shouted. “I don’t want to hear about dates or dances or any of the rest. Eight PM at the West Park field. Tell your parents we’ll be playing late and I don’t want them there. This is about playing ball, not making faces for your moms and dads! We are going to take the tournament this season or there will be Hell to pay! Do you girls understand me?”

“Wasn’t the spring dance scheduled for this Saturday?” Barbara asked as her dejected daughter got in the Expedition.

“It’s not fair,” Allison complained. “I already had a date and everything…”

“Your batting really was bad,” Barb answered, tartly. “Were you thinking more about the dance than the game?”

“I don’t know,” Allison whined. “I just had a hard time concentrating. Mom, I don’t want to play anymore. I don’t like Coach Sherman. He’s not like Coach Foss.”

“Maybe that’s good,” Barbara said, finally getting out of the traffic of the parking lot and onto the one-lane access road. Despite the double line she passed a turtle-slow minivan ahead of her, whipping in and out of the lanes with the Expedition rocking on its springs. “Coach Foss was a very nice man, but he didn’t have the sort of winning record of Coach Sherman. We’re lucky he moved up here.”

“Have you ever talked to Coach Sherman?” Allison asked.

“Not directly,” Barb admitted. “Why?”

“He’s… weird,” Allison said, pouting. “He makes me feel creepy.”

Barbara paused for a moment at that. Sexual predators came in all sorts of guises, but positions of relative power and influence, like coaches, were one that all parents had to keep an eye on. The flip side was that Allison was more than capable of using her mother’s rather strong protective streak to get out of something she wasn’t enjoying anymore. And since she’d steadfastly refused to take martial arts this year, she only had cheerleading and gym besides softball to keep her in shape.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Barb said. “And I’ll admit that it makes the practice this Saturday questionable. But you’re going anyway. Since there are questions, you know the drill.”

“Don’t be alone with the adult,” Allison said, sighing. “If they ask for a private meeting, insist that another girl or adult female be there. File any questionable action or statement and report it afterwards.”

“And everything should be fine,” Barbara said, trying not to keep the worry out of her tone. Lately she’d gotten a crash course in how unfine things could be.

Barb, as usual, picked up her daughter from the late practice. Allison seemed to have enjoyed it since she was smiling as she walked to the SUV.

The practice field was on the edge of Hernando State Forest on some land that the county had purchased from the state government to make a local park. Most of the county park was woodland with trails cut through it and a small lake. It was an out-of-the-way park, built in anticipation of continued growth and thus the practice field was almost always available.

“How was practice?” Barbara asked as the fourteen-year-old got in the van.

“Interesting,” Allison said, distantly. “Mostly it was about mental conditioning and focus. We hardly swung a bat.”

“Oh,” Barb said, frowning. Mental conditioning was all well and good, but it could have been done anywhere; it didn’t have to be in this out-of-the-way place.

“I was wrong about Coach Sherman, Mom,” Allison said as if reading her mom’s mind. “He’s pretty interesting. He’s got a different way of looking at things. I understand, now, why his teams won so much.”

“Okay,” Barbara replied, still frowning. Allison had been extremely changeable since she hit puberty, but rarely this fast. Barb had nearly had to pull her out of the house kicking and screaming. Two hours had made a pretty big change.

“Mark?” Barbara said as they were preparing for bed. Mark had spent most of the evening on the couch watching ESPN and she had the unChristian thought that her husband could do with a bit of dieting and exercise rather than munching chips in front of the games.

“Uh?” Mark replied, sitting down on the bed and pulling his shirt off to drop on the floor.

“What did you say about Coach Sherman?” Barb asked, rubbing lip gloss on to keep her lips from chapping overnight. She also hoped Mark would take the hint for a change. Lately the “magic,” a nice euphemism for sex, had started to fade from the marriage. She wasn’t sure if it was something she was doing or if Mark was just falling off with age. But it was simple fact that they’d slowed down from just about every night to no more than once a week.

“Allison’s coach?” Mark asked, tossing the rest of his clothes, excepting underwear, on the pile. “Bob Ruckert said he’d been the big thing down around Mobile. His teams got the county championship three or four years running and even took state one time.”

“So why’d he move?” Barbara asked, lying back on the pillow and arranging her hair fetchingly.

“I dunno,” Mark said, crawling in bed and settling in. “Got a new job? They don’t work for their coaching pay, you know.”

“I guess that’s it,” Barb said, rolling over to look at her husband and leaning up on one elbow so her breasts created a very nice view of cleavage under her low-cut nightgown. “Mark?”

“Hmm?”

“Does this make you think of anything?” Barbara asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mark rolled over and looked at her for a moment and clearly reconsidered his plans for the rest of the night. On the other hand, Barb could see the struggle on his face.

“I guess not,” Barbara said, lying back and crossing her hands on her stomach.

“Honey, you look great…” Mark said, rolling back over. “But I’m really tired.”

“I understand,” Barb said, calmly. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night.”

“Another Saturday night practice?” Barbara asked, incredulously.

“Coach Sherman says that there’s no such thing as too much preparation,” Allison said as she climbed in the SUV. The team had gotten another win, with Barb had to admit much better batting this time. “And it’s not really a practice. Coach calls it a team-building exercise. We’re supposed to wear walking stuff; we’re going to go on a hike in the woods.”

“At night?” Barbara asked, curiously.

“That’s part of the team building,” Allison said. “He said that you have to know the dark in yourself to bring out the light. So we’re going on a night hike to get accustomed to looking at the dark.”

“O-kay,” Barb said, shaking her head. “I guess if it helps you win…”

Allison was not nearly as chipper when Barbara picked her up at the darkened field the next Saturday. In fact, she looked as if she had been crying.

“Are you okay?” Barb asked, worriedly.

“I’m fine,” Allison said, getting in the front seat and keeping her head down.

“Team building was kind of tough?” Barbara asked, pulling out of the parking lot. The night was dark and overcast but the half moon was struggling to shine through the clouds.

“Yeah,” Allison said, keeping her head down.

“So what did you do?” Barb asked.

“Nothing I want to talk about,” Allison said, turning to look out the window.

“Allison, I want a straight answer,” Barbara said, sharply. “Did anything wrong happen?”

“No, Mom!” Allison answered, looking up at her. “It was just what the coach was talking about. We just… went for a walk and… talked.”

“Just walked and talked, huh?” Barb said. “So why were you crying?”

“I wasn’t,” Allison said, looking away again. “I just got something in my eye.”

“You’re a lousy liar, honey,” Barbara said, softly. “You get that from me. Why were you crying?”

“Well…” Allison said then shrugged. “We were talking about things that bother us. It was, like, therapy, I guess. That was why I was crying. That’s all, Mom, honest.”

Barb started to reply and then decided it was the wrong time.

“Are you going to have another one of these ‘team-building’ exercises next week?”

“No,” Allison said. “Next week is spring break, remember?”

“Yes, I’d remembered,” Barbara said. “I was hoping that Coach Sherman had.”

The season started up with a bang after spring break with two games in three days, both of which the team took. So far the Algomo Middle School Girls’ Softball team had a series of straight wins and the magic of Coach Bobby Sherman seemed to be rubbing off on his new team.

The coach had scheduled two more “additional team-building” exercises that week, however, and the hours that the girls were putting in was starting to tell. By the end of the week, Allison was getting bags under her eyes from late night team-building exercises combined with her homework load, cheerleading and gym classes. Then she came home with a permission form for an “all day team-building exercise” on Saturday. The girls were to be dropped off at noon and picked up at midnight.

“This is too much,” Barb said, waving the form in the air as she practically screamed over the phone to Cindy. “Is he nuts?”

“You’re the one that’s always pushing for the girls to do better,” Cindy said, unhappily.

“They’re fourteen,” Barbara pointed out.

“Barb, I’m with you on this one,” Cindy said. “But Coach Sherman’s making these things mandatory for continuing in the team. I’m thinking of pulling Brandi, frankly. She’s getting really worn down.”

“So’s Allison,” Barbara said, bitterly. “And I’m not all that happy about a man I don’t know very well spending all this time with my daughter in conditions in which parents are not welcome.”

“Well, call him,” Cindy said. “You’d be better at that than I am. And I’m pretty sure we’re not the only ones that are getting tired of all this ‘team building.’ ”

Chapter Two

Coach Sherman was surprisingly hard to run down. But she’d managed to contact his wife, a colorless woman on the phone, and arranged a meeting at the Hazelwood Mall Starbucks. The coach, as it turned out, worked in the Claire’s Boutique in the mall, which eliminated “a better job” as the reason for the move. Unless he’d worked at a McDonald’s in Mobile.

Sherman was middling height but gave the impression of size. He had broad shoulders and strong looking arms as if he’d been a serious athlete when he was younger. Over the years, though, he’d run to fat and had a large beer gut. His hair and skin were dark with a look of either Hispanic or maybe Native American in his features. He had dark eyes that were remarkably piercing, though. Barb had only ever seen him from a moderate range and hadn’t realized how startling his eyes were. She could see why Allison would have dubbed him “creepy” when she first met him. He also had a small, blurred, tattoo on the web of his right thumb. Barbara couldn’t quite make it out.

She suspected that some women would find him very attractive. Barb was not one of them. He came across far too much the “macho man.” Barbara counted among her friends both members of special operations groups and Special Circumstances operatives who faced death from both natural and supernatural causes, often on a daily basis. This guy wasn’t even in their class.

“A pleasure to meet you, Coach Sherman,” Barb said, standing up from her table and shaking his hand.

“My pleasure, I’m sure,” the coach replied, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was looking at her chest. She’d dressed conservatively for the meeting so there wasn’t even cleavage on display. But his eyes went right to the breasts. After a long moment’s perusal he looked her in the eye and winked. Then when he withdrew his hand from hers, reluctantly, he ran his thumb across the palm of her hand.

Barb had had the trick done to her before and, as always, it gave her a shiver of sexuality. She also thought it was about as low a trick as you could play on a female; the reaction was entirely involuntary and had little or nothing to do with actual attraction. It was the equivalent of a goose in her mind.

Barb realized right then that she wanted Allison off the team. Wins or no, this guy was a predator. He wasn’t just flirting, he was making an overt move on her. Given that she was married and a mother of one of the girls on his team, he either had to be crazy or he thought it would help his case. Which was just as crazy.

Furthermore, he gave off the “seducer” feel. He had a bag full of tricks that probably worked on women or girls who had never been up against a seducer. Barb had been to far too many company parties, and had far too many covert and overt offers when she was selling real estate, to be even slightly interested. Teenage girls were something else.

“I wanted to talk to you about all these extra practices,” Barb said, ignoring the wink and the thumb. “Some of the parents, and I’m among them, feel that the girls are getting a little worn out by all the time they’re putting in. Among other things, most of the girls are involved in more than one activity. Spending all this time on softball alone is wearing them out.”

“I realize that, Mrs. Everette,” Sherman said, leaning forward to look her in the eye and sliding immediately into “professional coach” mode as if the original “lounge lizard” had never existed. “All I can say is that these methods work. My job, my mission, is to have a winning team. Not just this year but every year. I’ve honed my Focus-On-Win program and I know that it works. I’ve proven that it works. If the parents want just a regular team, win a few, lose a few, it all evens out in the end, I’m not your coach. If you want a team that wins, then they have to stick to the program. And that program is not an easy program. I put that in the information sheet when I sent it out with the girls at the beginning of the season. If Allison wants to quit the team, that’s up to you and Allison. But if she wants to play, she practices when I schedule a practice. Or a team-building exercise. The mind is as ten-to-one to the body in sports. The girls have to get their minds around Focus-On-Win. To do that they have to be cleared of all the detritus that people pick up and see themselves, and their teammates, clearly. They have to know their personal strengths and weaknesses and those of their team. And they must be a team. Every step of their training, every practice and every team-building exercise is for the purpose of building on those points. Batting and catching come after the mind is prepared, as automatically as breathing.”

He leaned back and nodded, picking up his mocha with a very straight posture as if daring Barb to debate him on his area of expertise.

“I can see that,” Barb said, sipping her decaf vanilla latte. She’d decided on decaf since she was pretty sure she didn’t want to lose her temper in this meeting. “Can I ask a couple of questions?”

“Sure,” the coach said, warily.

“Why’d you come up here from Mobile?” Barb asked. “Mobile is a much bigger league and you were a pretty big fish. You didn’t move for the job, so…”

“I’m ambitious,” Sherman admitted. “Yes, Mobile is a bigger and more noticeable league. But the high school positions are all filled with people that, however, incompetent, are in there for life. It’s very much a good-ole-boy network, no outsiders allowed. I want to be a professional softball coach and to do that you have to get into one of the colleges. Any college will do. To get to college you either have to know some rich alumni or you have to have been successful at coaching high school teams. Really successful. I looked at a lot of areas and I really liked the Sirens. This team. I want to coach them this year and then go on to coach at Algomo High School. If I can take this team, and the girls that are following them, through high school I can take state. Not just one year, but several. And if I do that I can get into a college spot. And the bottom line is that my methods work. Some people say it’s about learning to play the game. Bullshit, pardon my French, ma’am, but it’s about winning. And if you let me, your girls will win. And if they can’t take the heat, they’re not going to make it as high as I intend to take them, anyway. Up to you.”

Barbara had to admit that the coach had her number. Barb believed in winning against any odds. If she didn’t, she’d be a skeleton in a Louisiana bayou.

The flip side was that she didn’t trust this guy as far as she could throw him. Of course, it was a bad analogy; he’d be surprised as hell just how far she could throw him.

Take a different tack.

“I can see that as well,” Barbara said, nodding her head and not letting that piercing stare apparently affect her at all. “There is one small problem, though. This is… not the fifties. There are understandable concerns about males spending significant private time with, frankly, susceptible young girls.”

“Which is why I’m never alone with any single girl at any time,” Sherman replied, nodding sharply. “I have never had an allegation of sexual harassment laid against me, Mrs. Everette. Not one.”

Barbara believed that about as much as she believed the rest of the spiel, but she didn’t let it show on her face. On the other hand, it was possible. Especially if he was threatening enough. Vast numbers of sexual predation reports waited years until someone was willing to break the code of silence surrounding them. She hoped that Allison would come to her if anything happened. But it was better that nothing happened in the first place.

“So what you’re saying, Mr. Sherman, is hang everything else,” Barb said. “If we want the girls to win and win big, we have to go with your program or our girls are out of the team.”

“That was in the introduction sheet,” the coach said, nodding sharply, again. “If you want the girls to be guaranteed to win, you have to go with my program. And I do guarantee it.”

“Nothing is guaranteed, Coach Sherman,” Barbara said, softly. “Except the End of All Things. Even death is not immutable, as the Lord Jesus Christ proved in the case of both Himself and Lazarus. Taxes, admittedly, are close,” she added with a slight smile.

“I hadn’t realized you were… that staunch a Christian, Mrs. Everette,” Coach Sherman said, uncomfortably.

“I don’t wave a Bible, Mr. Sherman,” Barb replied, quietly. “But faith in the Lord is very strong in me.”

“Faith in Jesus doesn’t win softball games,” Sherman replied.

Barbara tried not to furrow her brow at the reply. There had been a very slight emphasis on the name “Jesus.”

“Faith can work miracles, Coach Sherman,” Barb said, her eyes narrowing.

“Well, on that we agree,” Sherman said, obliquely. “So are you going to oppose my practices? I get the feeling that if you do, there’s not going to be a team.”

“I’m going to discuss it with the other parents,” Barbara said, her face poker blank. “For the girls to continue at the current pace will require them to drop other activities. That’s a major change.”

“If you do, if you stay with my program, we will win,” Sherman said. “If you don’t want that, then make up your own minds. I know what wins. Despite our wins, this is a tough league. Maggie Anderson at Shipman is one of the best pitchers in her age group in the state. If we’re going to win the championship, it’s going to take more than faith in Jesus, Mrs. Everette.”

“Foundation for Love and Universal Faith.”

“This is Barbara Everette, could I talk to Sharice, please?”

“Hold a moment, Barb, I’ll transfer you.”

“Sharice, May the Lady Bless.”

“Sharice, it’s Barb,” Barbara said, biting her lip as she weaved through traffic with the cell phone clamped to her ear.

“How are you, Barb?” Sharice asked. “Is the family well?”

“I think so,” Barbara said, accelerating and cutting left in front of a semi, just missing the bumper of the car in front of her, which was slowing. She hadn’t been thinking about the maneuver, she was driving in alpha state. “I need some information for something that has me worried.”

“I see,” Sharice said, slowly. “Barbara, I take it from the background you’re on a cell phone?”

“Yes,” Barb admitted.

“Perhaps you should talk to one of your friends in the area about this, dear,” Sharice said. “I’m sure it’s a private matter and you wouldn’t want anyone with a scanner listening in.”

“Oh,” Barbara said, her face coloring as she cut back into the right-hand lane and then slid sideways to make the exit. “I suppose I should.”

“If it’s a very important matter, I’m sure someone can come talk to you right away,” Sharice said.

“Not at this time,” Barb said. “It might be nothing. Just a bad feeling about someone.”

“I can tell you that there are no issues that the Foundation is paying attention to in your area,” Sharice said, obliquely.

“What about last year in Mobile?” Barbara asked.

“Hold on a mo, dear.”

Barb checked left and pulled out in a cloud of tire smoke so she wouldn’t slow down the oncoming truck. By that time Sharice was back.

“I think you should probably talk to a friend, dear,” Sharice said. Barbara could almost see her forehead crinkling in perplexity. “We were tracking an issue in the Mobile area last year but the local chapter didn’t turn up much. If you have a bad feeling and it relates to Mobile, it might be wise to discuss it with a friend.”

“Got it,” Barb said, pulling in at a convenience store. “I’ll do that.”

“Lady bless and keep you, Barb,” Sharice said.

“And may the goodness of the Lord be with you as well, my friend.”

“Good day, Mr. Patek,” Barbara said, picking up a packet of chewing gum and tendering a five-dollar bill.

“Good day, Mrs. Everette,” the Hindu said, nodding at her. “May Vishnu light your way.”

“And may the Lord be with you,” Barb said as the convenience store owner slipped the note behind the five into his register.

Three of the girls left the team rather than keep up the pace but Barbara and Cindy both kept their girls there, pulling them out of gymnastics and dance, respectively.

And the team continued to win. There had been more “team-building exercises” and Barb continued to worry about Allison, who had gotten less and less communicative about the “extra practices.” She was also bothered that she hadn’t heard anything from the Foundation. She’d had to turn down one assignment when Mark had thrown a fit about going out of town for another week. A call she’d gotten, from Julie Lamm, indicated that the investigation had turned out to be nothing but a “normal” serial killer with delusions of grandeur. Other than that, she hadn’t heard anything.

Late one Saturday, however, she had passed a stop sign near her house and seen a small Maltese cross sticker on it. She’d just dropped Allison off at a late “team-building” activity so she had more than enough time to stop by the Fast Mart.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Patek,” Barb said, picking up her usual stick of gum. She didn’t chew it and since she didn’t like the kids chewing, either, it was given to Mark or, more often, thrown away.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Everette,” the proprietor said. “I wish you well. I have the pamphlet on the similarities between Vishnu and Christ you asked for.”

“Why thank you,” Barbara said, taking the folded pamphlet with a cross and a picture of Vishnu sitting on a lotus on the cover. “That is very nice of you.”

“May the High Ones preserve you, Mrs. Everette,” the Hindu said, making change for her.

“And may the Lord bless, Mr. Patek.”

Chapter Three

Barbara stopped in the Wal-Mart parking lot, comfortably close to the front of the store, and read the information printed on the inside of the pamphlet by the interior light.

Broad rumors of a Satanist cult associated with a girls’ softball team in the Mobile area were picked up by the FBI and Mobile police. Mobile police declined to investigate but local Special Circumstances personnel performed a cursory investigation. The leader was reported to be a Satanist High Priest named Robert Sherman who had struck a deal with Lower Powers for wins in softball, offering the young women of the team as acolytes and potential sacrifices, some certified to be virginal. One young woman of the team was reported missing, however no trace of her was ever found and her disappearance appeared to be unrelated to the rumored Satanist activity. There was a note left that indicated unhappiness with home-life and police treated it as a normal runaway. No trace of otherworld emanations were detected by the operatives in the area, but they were first level operatives with limited field experience.

The rumors came about after a championship softball game when some of the winning girls bragged about “making a deal with the Devil.” Questioning by teachers and school psychologists revealed that Sherman had done something involving “special team building” with the girls but none of them were willing to divulge the nature of the activities.

Robert Sherman may be a person using the pseudonym of Monereaus who was involved in a low-level Satanic cult in Central Florida. Reports indicate that he has background in Santeria and has a small tattoo of an angel, indicative of Santeria and Marielitos sympathies, on the web of his right thumb. The particular tattoo is indicative of a member of the Cuban underground with a specialty in entrapping young women for immoral purposes. This leads to the suspicion that Robert Sherman is an alias. The Central Florida LeMayean cult was not noted for Special activity and appeared to be purely mundane. There are no current reports on the whereabouts or activities of Robert Sherman.

“There are, now,” Barb muttered to herself, furiously. She ground her teeth and tried to control her temper. If that bastard had—

“The Lord is with me,” Barbara said, quietly, controlling her breathing. “I shall not descend into the abyss of hate and anger.” She used her Christian faith to control the temper that was bequeathed to her with the strawberry-blonde hair. Her mother called it “The Irish Side” but Barbara was pretty sure, after dealing with Janea, that it was more like the Viking side.

The question was what to do with the information. Technically, she should call the Foundation and report the “whereabouts and current activity” of one “Robert Sherman.”

The problem was that the report specifically stated that there was no hard evidence of Special Circumstances. If they were actually working on raising a Lower Power, the emanations would be detectable. And Barb hadn’t felt anything from Allison. Her gut told her that something very bad was happening, but that might just be a protective mother’s instinct.

Well, she was a Third Level Adept… darnit. She should be able to conduct her own investigation. As Daddy said, it was always easier to act first and ask permission later.

She pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the out-of-the-way ballpark.

Mark and the kids had never asked about the blue and yellow bag in the back of the expedition. It was the sort of bag that was used for work-out clothes and Barbara certainly had enough activities in that area. But the bag never left the back of the Expedition for the very simple reason that Barb never knew when she might need it. She’d been caught out once. Never again.

She slowed down the Expedition as she approached the park, looking for the road she’d noticed on previous trips. It was a service and supply road for the Welcome Center that avoided the main road into the park. She didn’t intend to even take it all the way to the Welcome Center for that matter.

She checked her watch as she pulled to a stop and nodded. More than enough time to do a penetration and reconnaissance before she was supposed to pick Allison up. If Mark wanted to know where she was, she’d just tell him she was having an affair. No, that was anger talking. He’d probably never notice she hadn’t come home as usual.

She got out of the Expedition after turning off the interior light, and went to the back.

The black-toned digicam coverall went on over her street clothes. The digicam had crosses subtly added to it, a mod that had cost the European branch a pretty penny but that had surprised the Hell out of more than one supernatural entity. The material was also flame proof, which occasionally came in handy, and had an attached hood and mask that could be pulled up if needed. Next to the folded garment were Eagle tac-boots which zipped up the side for easy on and off by the undercover operative.

Then the body armor came out. It was useless against the supernatural, but it sure came in handy if the perp had a weapon. The particular body armor was heavier than normal, for that matter, since it included a layer of mail plated with silver, courtesy of Hjalmar.

Then the tactical armament. The .45 in attached thigh holster, short-barreled shotgun with five rounds of 00 buck up the tube, holy water mixed with silver nitrate one-shot thrower, silver-plated knife, one-shot stake thrower. The one-shots were small and tucked into the back of her vest. She didn’t carry a bell, a book or a candle since nobody in Special Circumstances had ever found a use for any of the three. Last, a long “cold iron” custom knife the size of a short sword that hooked on the left side. The Murasaki blade was sitting in her bedroom closet at home. If she needed it for this mission she was going to be really sorry it was there.

“Lord bless me this night,” she said, looking into the dark woods. “Bless and keep my daughter as well and give me the strength, courage and knowledge to do Your work. Amen.”

With that she slipped into the underbrush like a gray phantom.

“Lord Satan, bring to us your strength!” Coach Sherman intoned.

Allison bit her lip and tried not to cry. She had a hard time figuring out how the whole team had gotten this far into nightmare. It had happened so slowly, so subtly, that she couldn’t tell exactly where they’d all crossed the line. At first the “team-building exercises” had been just that. Going out on walks and sitting around fires and getting to know each other better. Coach Sherman had said that that was just the first step to being a really winning team and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with that. Then the talks had gotten deeper and stranger and the coach explained that there was only one way to be sure they would win. That it was secret and that they’d all have to take oaths not to talk about it.

The coach had told them that the power he was calling would make them better players, make them a better team. And it seemed to work. Without much more practice than she’d already been doing, she’d just done better. She could catch better, she could bat better and she could keep concentrated better. Everybody talked about it, quietly. It had to be an external power, they all knew that. And it didn’t seem wrong. Then.

But, when Corine and Cheryl and Shelly left, they’d gotten deeper into the “mysteries.” The coach had finally told them where the “power” was coming from. Now there didn’t seem to be any way to turn back. She was a good Christian girl, well, okay, a fairly good Christian girl. She wasn’t like her mother that damned saint, but she didn’t fool around and she tried to be nice to people. And here she was trying to call in the power of the Devil to help them win some stupid softball game.

And the coach had brought a cat. She’d thought it was, like, his familiar or something. But he was going to sacrifice it. He was just going to cut the poor little kitty’s throat to “raise the power.”

It wasn’t right. But try as she might, she just couldn’t open her mouth to protest. Nobody else was, either. They’d said too many things, made too many oaths. She felt like her soul was already lost. They might as well just do it and get the power. If her soul was already lost, winning the softball game was at least something to show for it.

The coach was babbling in some language, maybe Latin but a lot of it sounded like Spanish or even just gibberish. He’d tied the feet of the cat together and had it pinned on a log.

She had to turn her eyes when the knife came down but she could hear the squall that was cut off in a horrible gurgle and the crunching of the knife.

“The way is opened,” Coach Sherman said, raising the bloody knife to the full moon. “Let the power flow through this circle, Lord Satan, that your powers can bring us victory over our enemies!”

Barb paused at the edge of the clearing, letting her eyes adjust to the firelight without looking directly at the fire. The girls were in a semi-circle vaguely facing her. Which was problem one. Oh, not tactically, magically. She’d studied enough rites at this point to know that anything that Sherman was going to do using this type of rite would require a full circle. The whole team was there though, and she saw Allison’s head, as well as others, turn aside as the knife came down.

She could see what was happening but what she couldn’t do was feel a thing. And that was problem two. There was a miasma over the whole group, but she’d come to realize that was more on the lines of empathy through her channel than anything. There wasn’t a touch of power. Nothing. This guy had just killed a poor little black cat for nothing.

She froze as the coach raised the bloody knife and then said something to the girls. Some of them shook their head but a few came forward hesitantly. When he dipped his finger in the blood, though, she had had enough.

“This stops right now,” she muttered, striding into the red firelight.

Allison’s eyes flew wide as a ghostly figure just seemed to appear in front of them. The person, a woman from the voice, was clad from head to foot in some sort of camouflage that just seemed to blend her into the background. It was hard to even look at and she felt her eyes start to water.

“In the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ this farce will end now!” the woman said, striding determinedly up to the “altar.”

“You have no power here!” Coach Sherman said, but there was a quaver in his voice.

“That is what you think, you impostor,” the woman said. “You don’t know the first thing about power! There is no power here. You’re no more a High Priest than I am the Virgin Mary. This isn’t a rite, this is just some idiot butchering poor defenseless animals!”

The girls started to back away from the fire but Allison stood rooted. She could swear she knew that voice…

“What do you know about power, Christian,” Coach Sherman spat. “Your God is weak! All you do is sing hymns and-”

“Weak?” the figure hissed. “I have fought demons from Hell manifest upon this Earth, you poser. I’ve defeated monsters that would freeze the blood in your veins, you loathsome imbecile. And I’m not about to let you use your pretty stare and seducer ways to twist these girls!”

Allison could swear there was a blue glow forming around the woman as she stepped to the altar and picked up the still dripping cat.

“Lord,” the woman said, dropping her head and holding the cat in front of her, “this is as much a battle for the souls of these innocents as any that I have performed for you in the past. I ask You, Lord, for the power you have given me in battle. Fill me, this night, Lord, that these children can see the light and the beauty of God and His only begotten Son, the Lord Jesus Christ. Let the Holy Spirit fill me, Lord, as it has filled me in battle against Almadu and Remolus.”

There was no question about it, now. The woman, her mother? was surrounded by a blue-white glow that was beginning to wash out the light from the fire. Allison turned her head away as the glow became too bright to look at.

Barb cradled the cat to her chest, unsure even of what she wanted. She just knew that she had to show these girls, and Allison especially, that God was stronger than any machinations of the Enemy. She could feel the power flowing through her and it seemed that she could feel every vein and sinew in her body straining in the rush of power to do something. She could also feel the cat, not as a light weight, but as a live thing that… could be again.

Something seemed to ask a question in her mind, an important question. She wasn’t sure of even the nature of the question, just that it was terribly important. She was being asked to give up something, something vital. She was asked for a sacrifice. But in this place, with the example of the Lord and Savior, she could do no more than acquiesce.

She felt every part of the cat now as something reached through her and knit flesh and veins, closed the gaping wound and even cleaned the blood from the fur. Then she felt more as life seemed to flow from her veins into those of the cat. Last there was a terrible wrenching, as if something had been pulled out of her heart, her head, her whole body, a bit of her very essence, the central core of her soul, and flowed out of her and into the creature in her arms.

She opened her eyes and looked across the tree stump at the “High Priest” as the recently dead cat in her arms first sat up, then mewed quietly, then climbed up onto her shoulder.

And she watched as Coach Sherman fainted.

Epilogue

Barb looked at the note in her hand and nodded.

Barbara,

The time has come to resume God’s work. A ticket has been prepared for you to Chicago. Delta Flight 386 from Jackson to Chicago on Thursday. You must be there, E Nomine.

Augustus

She got out of the Expedition and let Lazarus climb up onto her shoulder, then walked into the house.

Allison was washing the dishes and Brandon was sweeping the kitchen floor as she walked through. She’d never spoken to Allison of the night in the woods nor did she intend to any time soon. And while her face had been covered, her voice was impossible to disguise. Then there was Lazarus.

For whatever reason, the teenager no longer complained about going to church, or even Sunday school. And did her chores with remarkable speed and efficiency. She was even learning to control her temper and manage the younger kids. She was, in other words, trying to be as much like her mother as possible.

Which told Barb all she had to know about that night in the woods.

Mark was parked in front of the TV watching Fox and she sat down, letting Lazarus slip into her lap.

“I hate that cat,” Mark said, glancing over at her and then back at the TV.

“Nonetheless,” Barbara said, smiling faintly, “he is here to stay.”

“He’s spooky,” Mark said, not looking at the black cat calmly watching him from her lap. “I don’t think it’s right for us to have a spooky black cat in the house. The neighbors think it’s funny. And he’s always following you around or hanging on you. He even acts like you. It makes you look like a witch.”

“Mark, I have to go out of town,” Barb said, ignoring the ongoing argument.

“Not that again,” Mark said, angrily, as he turned away from the TV. “It was a complete disaster when you left the last time.”

“Mark, this is the work of the Lord,” Barbara said, quietly but firmly. “I’m going to be leaving on Thursday. I’ll explain to Allison what has to be done in my absence. But I must go.”

“This religion thing is getting out of hand,” Mark snapped. “I go to church, too, you know, but I remember my responsibility to my family! You can’t just go off at a whim. I swear, Barb, sometimes…”

She paused and waited for what the “sometimes” would be, but when it was clear he was finished, she simply nodded.

“I’d better go pack,” she said, standing up.

“That’s it?” Mark said, surprised. “I said I didn’t want you to go!”

“God does,” Barbara replied quietly. “You may be the lord and master of this house. But I am, first and foremost, a Servant of God.”